oneiro: (Default)
Oh! Almost forgot. I deleted my facebook over two years ago, but I just recently made a new one because I wanted to be able to keep in touch with new friends, and unfortunately, living in the digital age, it is very easy to lose touch with new people that I meet in person if I don't have a facebook. So I sucked up my pride, and made one. Still, I refuse to get sucked into the album nonsense. That shit is insidious!

So if you have a facebook and would like to be friends, go ahead and add me here!
oneiro: (Default)
The essays have wracked themselves up. This week I have:

- Essay on poem. Don't even remember the poet/poem. Terrible. Due Thursday. O_O

- 15-20 page paper on Book of Khalid/Sufism/Shamanism/Entheogens. Due next Monday. Double O_O

- 5-7 page paper on Wee Free Men/Kant comparison. I always pick the strangest paper topics. Due next Tuesday.

Tomorrow morning: Interview for Poets & Writers internship.

By next Tuesday I will be heaving the biggest sigh of relief, holy fucking shit.

Last night was a wonderful reprieve from my academic insanity. My dad was the photographer for this tiny event in the city at the Sony Building in which crazy rich people paid up to $25,000 to see world renown Grammy-award winning pianist Emanuel Ax perform. Of course I wanted to see him perform, so I got to go with my dad, and helped out by greeting guests at the elevator and telling them which floor to go to. Alan Alda was there, and some New Jersey housewife. Kinda cool, lol. Well, moreso about Alan Alda. New Jersey housewife, meh. W/e.

I got to sit next to Emanuel Ax too while he waited to go on stage and I hope that some of his talent rubbed off on me. He seems like such a kind man. And he played beautifully. Shubert, Debussy, and Chopin. Perfect. :)
oneiro: (Default)
It makes me sad when my family members are bigoted.

oneiro: (Default)
Hey. So. I have a short story workshop class, should email my story to the class by tomorrow eveningish (sooner the better though, it would be cool if I could later tonight), just finished it tonight, and it's a bit rough. It barely makes 8 pages, double spaced, Times New Roman. Anyone up for beta reading, advice on cleaning the ending, anything at all? Shit I may have missed?

It's a mini mini mini little quick review/editing/beta/proofreading/editorial/blablablah project.

ummm what else should I whip out to elicit sympathy...

There. Wooper implores you to help me!

(oh my god I am an insufferable dork.)

oneiro: (Default)
Well, not quite. =P But still, this is interesting nonetheless...

So, my mother is from Thessaloniki, Greece, right? Thessaloniki is the "de facto capital of the Greek region of Macedonia." I've never been exactly clear on what the deal is exactly with Macedonians, but apparently they're somewhat separate from Greeks... Although Greece alleges that Macedonians are not a distinct people, Macedonians say otherwise. This site explains a lot of it: and I'm not really sure why I'm linking it because this applies to like, no one but me, but ya never know. 

Anyway, the other day my dad and I were talking about how people from Greece look, and how he could be mistaken for Middle Eastern or Turkish or Israeli, or anything like that, because he's darker and basically swarthy(side note: I'm never sure or not if swarthy is offensive, I just looked it up and it doesn't seem to be unequivocally offensive but if I'm missing something, let me know.) My mother, on the other hand, could not. She's pale and, like many from Northern Greece, doesn't have that dark Mediterranean look. My grandmother, her mother, is blonde with blue eyes. My dad said they're descendants of Macedonians, which explains the difference.

Anyway, I dunno. It's just interesting to me, and I want to do more research on it. Backgrounds and things like that are fascinating to me. And Alexander the Great was Macedonian, so hey, if I have Macedonian in me, I'm not complaining. :D

I really really really want to do this Basically traces your paternal and maternal roots way way way back, and I just think that's awesome. And I'm totally prepared to be shocked, I don't think it will bother me much. Not bothered in the sense that there's some group of people I don't want to be a part of, nothing like that, just bothered in the sense that I have always thought of myself as a fully Greek person and have identified with the history, so it might be a bit unsettling to see I'm more of something else than Greek.

My teacher used it and said he was personally relieved to find that the bulk of his roots were from Mesopotamia, so it wasn't some big identity shock for him. But I'm totally willing to be surprised, bring it on. I may be a little sad if I'm not as Greek as I thought, because Greeks are cool and it's not that I'm necessarily proud of myself for being Greek, because that's just silly, but I am proud of my peoples' history on the whole.

oneiro: (Default)
This isn't a post about my opinion on his death. That's been talked about enough, and let's just say I'm happy he's dead and I don't care about the sanctity of his life. It may sound jingoistic but I don't think it is.

This post is about the potential backlash, and how it's freaking me the fuck out.

I live in New York. I'm about 40 minutes from Manhattan. I go to the city for various things like shows, shopping, etc.

I'm going to the city in two weeks for an internship interview. If I get it, I'll be traveling to the city a few times a week for the summer.

I'm really scared. I don't want to skip the interview and I don't want to refuse the internship if I get it.

But I just watched a clip where a counter-terrorism expert was saying that in the short-term, there is risk of backlash in the form of low grade terrorism, so I guess that's things like subway/building/street bombings. They'll want to prove their relevancy after the death of their leader, but they can't exactly plan a mass murder on a scale anywhere close to 9/11.

Please don't tell me that me being scared means they won. You know how they win? If I die. I don't want to die. I know I can't let myself be irrationally crippled by fear, but I can be reasonably cautious. I have a fiance, I want to have a life with him, I want to have our family. I'm really really really scared. I don't know what to do.

I would regret it forever if I refused the internship and nothing happened, which I suppose is the most likely scenario, but still. I'm just really scared.

Yesterday I found myself wishing that subways had similar security to airports. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? That's how scared I feel.

It doesn't help that I'm an anxiety-ridden person in general. And I know this is going to make my OCD have a fucking field day with way it can threaten my mind with.

And it's affecting me in other ways that I don't even want to mention... it's just really warping my mind to a horrifically embarrassing degree.

I think I need to try to go to sleep. I just needed to get this off my chest.

Edit: I didn't sleep because I started crying at the thought of how my boyfriend would be if I died.

So I googled stuff.

Reading stuff like this helps NOTHING:

New York's police chief says people need to remain vigilant beyond this week.

Ray Kelly said: "New York is the number one target. That's the stark reality.

"This is seen as the most important city in the world to these types of terrorists so I don't see that changing as a result of the death of bin Laden."


oneiro: (rainbow smoke girl)
Beethoven seemed to realize the value of musical therapy long before it came into general use. When the Countess Ertmann (a fine pianist as well as friend, one of the greatest interpreters of his piano music) was inconsolable having lost her last child, Beethoven invited her to his studio, and said: “Now we will talk, but in notes, not words.” He opened the piano and improvised for her for over an hour; and the Countess understood the message and left feeling at peace and comforted.
oneiro: (Default)
You know that age old question, who would you rather date, someone with plain looks and an amazing personality, or someone with amazing looks and a plain personality?

I've decided that anyone who chooses the latter either has no idea what it's like to be in love, or has been in love and was so thoroughly scarred that they're actively trying to avoid it. Or, ya know, they're not looking for love. But there's no way they could want love, and pick the latter.

This isn't a comment or anything on my boyfriend's looks by the way - I'm grateful enough to be with someone who is my best friend, the person I have the most fun with ever, and who is also the most gorgeous person in the world to me. And I know it's objective because he was the first guy I found hot in high school, when I was but a little freshman, and he was a cool upperclassman strutting the hallways. Fun fact.

Anyway. Yeah. I was just thinking about it, and it came to me. There's just no other way.

I have a lot of work. Normal, overly long, rambling posts to come soon.
oneiro: (Default)
I make music. I've been playing piano since I was about five years old, classically trained, and played percussion/sang all throughout middle school and high school. Music was my main passion for a long time. I took two years of music theory, got a 4 (out of 5) on my AP exam, and was fully ready to go to a music conservatory to study music composition.

Life got in the way, I don't really know how to explain it, but now I'm here. ya know. Writing. And I wouldn't change it.

But I still love music. The passion hasn't lessened. But it's true, I've been focusing less on music because I've started focusing more on writing. And I don't want to lose it.

As far as composition goes, I mostly improv on piano, and have handwritten scores. However, in 2008 (wow... so long ago, fuck), my boyfriend got me Logic 8 Express for the Mac. It's a music making program, like Fruity Loops.

My boyfriend is an incredible composer. I know that is a dubious claim to make, especially considering I am his girlfriend, so I don't expect anyone to take that seriously. But hopefully one day he will release the iron grip he has on his music, and then I'll be vindicated. :D I have zero doubt that he would be successful if he did.

Anyway! Point being, he inspired me to start making music electronically. This includes anything from techno to orchestral to piano. Electronic doesn't necessarily mean the electronica genre - it can be anything.

So I'm trying to get back into it. I have a sectionz artist page (secionz is an electronic composition community), and if you're interested, you can check it out. There's only one song on there now, and it's the first full song I ever composed electronically, so it's pretty simple and not that great, but it's not horrible either. I've done much more, and once I complete more compositions, I will post them. If you're a music person, feedback is very much appreciated. Thanks. :)

my sectionz page

(note: don't feel obligated to comment on the song that's there, "Beetle Elegy," unless you really want to. It's an old piece, nothing crazy. I'm more concerned with how my newer work is doing.)
oneiro: (Default)
Just wanted to make a quick post to celebrate the birthday of my favorite wordsmith. I actually think his birthday was yesterday, but it doesn't matter.

I owe much of my literary passion to Nabokov. He showed me the true power of words, and how much you could really do with them. His usage of language blew my mind in ways that I can only compare to listening to Beethoven. Really. Others have had similar effects, and there are many authors that I deeply admire, but Nabokov is the author to whom my literary heart is most devoted to.

One of my favorite excerpts, from Lolita:

"There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita)."

And this passage is from the final pages of Lolita. It is long, but it stirs something in me that, again, I can only compare to the effect of something like Beethoven's 7th. It is just beautiful, and if you are a writer, or if you care about the power of words, you should read it.

"One day, soon after her disappearance, an attack of abominable nausea forced me to pull up on the ghost of an old mountain road that now accompanied, now traversed a brand new highway, with its population of asters bathing in the detached warmth of a pale-blue afternoon in late summer. After coughing myself inside out I rested a while on a boulder and then thinking the sweet air might do me good, walked a little way toward a low stone parapet on the precipice side of the highway. Small grasshoppers spurted out of the withered roadside weeds. A very light cloud was opening its arms and moving toward a slightly more substantial one belonging to another, more sluggish, heavenlogged system. As I approached the friendly abyss, I grew aware of a melodious unity of sounds rising like vapor from a small mining town that lay at my feet, in a fold of the valley. One could make out the geometry of the streets between blocks of red and gray roofs, and green puffs of trees, and a serpentine stream, and the rich, ore-like glitter of the city dump, and beyond the town, roads crisscrossing the crazy quilt of dark and pale fields, and behind it all, great timbered mountains. But even brighter than those quietly rejoicing colors - for there are colors and shades that seem to enjoy themselves in good company - both brighter and dreamier to the ear than they were to the eye, was that vapory vibration of accumulated sounds that never ceased for a moment, as it rose to the lip of granite where I stood wiping my foul mouth. And soon I realized that all these sounds were of one nature, that no other sounds but these came from the streets of the transparent town, with the women at home and the men away. Reader! What I heard was but the melody of children at play, nothing but that, and so limpid was the air that within this vapor of blended voices, majestic and minute, remote and magically near, frank and divinely enigmatic - one could hear now and then, as if released, an almost articulate spurt of vivid laughter, or the crack of a bat, or the clatter of a toy wagon, but it was all really too far for the eye to distinguish any movement in the lightly etched streets. I stood listening to that musical vibration from my lofty slope, to those flashes of separate cries with a kind of demure murmur for background, and then I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita's absence from my side, but the absence of her voice from that concord."

Thank you, Vladimir Nabokov, for always fighting for the pure beauty and aesthetic of the written word. Thank you for championing the art, the structure, the technical mastery and stylistic devotion when it comes to books, over all else. Also, thank you for being an endearing asshole at times. :)

It's pretty much Nabokov and Beethoven that are the two answers to the "Who would most like to meet" question.

oneiro: (Default)
So. She has the stents in. They're removing this balloon pump thing tomorrow. Doctor is optimistic. Everyone's in much better spirits. I would say I am like... 1% worried, just because she's my grandma and I love her so, so much, and I would be destroyed if anything happened to her. But I don't think it will.

I rebooked my flight to Cali. Leaving at 6:05, and arriving in Ontario at 5:47 PM. It's a double connection flight so I'll be moving around a lot but... whatever. It'll be an experience. My mom thinks I'm a complete moron and she thinks I'm going to like, die. It's not like I'm going to be navigating dark alleyways or something, I'm going to be in an airport. No one can kidnap me if I don't let them, and I'm not going to - I'm really not that stupid.

Anyway. Whatever. I'm excited. :) We'll still had three full days plus some of Thursday to have fun. So all is well.

-big sigh-

oneiro: (Default)
I'm trying to distract myself with dumb shit before we leave to go to the hospital, but I'm in a good mood so it's not too bad now.

So ufaodjfdas oh yeah, ok, if you have a twitter, add me. I finally started using this twitter nonsense. I may just add you too if you have one.
oneiro: (Default)
OMgo gomgofmoagmdokfmdafd

i think things are better

she's getting operated on now

so i guess options opened up

fingers crossed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(she's getting stents)
oneiro: (Default)
At hospital. Things aren't going well. Cancelling my flight tomorrow. Really scared. It's serious.
oneiro: (Default)
My grandma is in the hospital. She might have heart failure.



Edit: Ok, so... she has a weak heart. They gave her medication to slow down her heart rate. Tomorrow they're going to give her surgery... put stencils (or stents) in her or something like that...? Not really sure. My mom is worried, crying a little. But I was like "it's not completely over or anything, right?" and she said "no," so I hope that wasn't a complete lie, and I mean... she's not a 100% wreck or anything, so... I guess that's good. I'm scared. :( I'm really scared. I just really hope there IS some actual hope, and that we're not all just being delusional. I think there is though. Trying to be strong.


Apr. 19th, 2011 09:59 am
oneiro: (DJ)
My life has completely changed these past few days. I cried more than I have ever cried in my life, I screamed, I felt like I was going to die, I purged everything, I turned myself inside out...

And then...

I feel like I'm on ecstasy. Really. It's kind of scary. My whole body is tingling. I feel like I just came or something. Filled with endorphins. Warmth everywhere. I'm so alive. I used to want to sleep and sleep and stay sleeping because I was so depressed and scared. Now, I just want to live. I want to shout out my love for everyone and everything.

I am so. Fucking. HAPPY. I feel SO overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

I can't wait to start my life with him. We are finally at the place we deserve to be. No more bullshit. I can't even explain what hell we have gone through these past few years. How completely miserable and wretched I felt.

And now... oh my god... I'm in the clouds. I can't. I sobbed and sobbed yesterday out of pure happiness and gratitude. That has NEVER happened to me before.

I'm buzzy and warm all over. I can't sleep. It's early. I no longer want to remain sleeping so I can forget the pain in my heart. I want to live live live live live.

I love everyone and I want to get to know everyone and reach out and just... oh my god... !!!

I love life. I'm ready for everything. One step at a time.
oneiro: blue haired beauty (vocaloid)
I miss Greece. Being a first generation American, I have strong ties to where my family is from. It's so beautiful there, and there is nothing like relaxing in the morning on a Dodecanese island, watching the Aegean and the distant islands, sipping your coffee. I love it.

Those are the two places I'm from. The first is a small village called Nikia on the island of Nisyros. It's one of the Dodecanese islands, and it's located near Turkey. The second place is Litohoro, which is a small village near the city of Thessaloniki. It's located at the base of Mount Olympus, which you can see in that picture.

I love both these places so much. There is nothing like Greek morning air.

And Greek salad. Real Greek salad. :D

I miss having that view with my own eyes.

Hopefully next year...
oneiro: (Default)
A supreme pleasure in my life is having books delivered to me via UPS. It's materialistic, but I love to unwrap and hold my shiny new books close. :]

Anyway! Point being - I just got a new book last night, aaand I'm quite excited to read it. And I'm curious if anyone else has ever heard of it?

It's called The Maze Game, by Diana Reed Slattery.

Here is the synopsis, courtesy of

The Maze Game, a science fiction novel, tells the story of a cult of mortal Death Dancers who, for 2000 years, have kept the immortal Lifers riveted with the brutal beauty of combat in a maze made of the visual language, Glide. The Dancer is pitted against an immortal Player, and, though the Dancer may win many times, the maze game always, eventually, ends in the spectacle of the Dance of Death. Now, the survival of the game itself is threatened. Dancemaster Wallenda and the four young Dancers of the Millennium Class battle Joreen, the drug lord plotting to regain control of the game. Wallenda is forced by Joreen to reveal the dark secrets of the maze game’s origin, at the risk of destroying his students’ commitment to Dance.

But the greatest force undermining the game is love. The young Dancer Daedelus must choose between the delicate T’Ling, willing to die for love, and the fiery MyrrhMyrrh, who would kill for it. The cyborg, Angle, struggles with the longing to replace his human flesh and the knowledge that cold chrome repels the warmth of human touch. As they train for and compete in the Millennium Games, each Dancer confronts the shifting faces of love and idealism, and comes to terms with the multiple meanings of the maze game, the Glide language, and the Dance of Death.

How fucking cool does that sound? 

And there's a whole website where you can play around with the Glide language or something (as seen in the entry title).

Diana Reed Slattery is a xenolinguist, so I assume this is related. I dunno, as cool as everything I've been reading sounds, I'm still a little confused because I'm a dummy. But I'm actually going to go jump into the book right now, so if it's as awesome as I am expecting, I may keep dreamwidth world updated.

oneiro: lain (bed)
I played Magic of the Gathering for the first time ever tonight.

Considering I was high as a kite, I caught on pretty fast.

It was fun.

(Yes, that warranted an entire update.)


Oh, me.

Apr. 12th, 2011 06:20 pm
oneiro: (michiru)
Just started a new story. Have NO idea WTF it is that I even think I am doing with this one. It's very bizarre. Very abstract. Very... just... weird. At the moment, it consists of a man whose house bloomed from a lotus flower, and lives on a moor that turns into a sea every fourth Sunday of the month.

I dunno what my brain is.

Perhaps it will be added to that word count thing, depending on where it goes.

I need to stop doing this.

But it's so damn tempting.


oneiro: (Default)

April 2012

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