I’ve been super struggling with the job hunt this summer. Nobody wants a college student with a resume full to the brim with volunteer experience. I decided that I should probably play to my strengths, so I’ve recently started looking for secretarial/clerical jobs. My typing speed is about 110 wpm with 99% accuracy (I had this tested just in case I needed this information), I’m fairly proficient in computer literacy, and I’m an organized neurotic to a fault. 

But man, if there’s one thing I found out pretty quickly is that there is practically no such thing as an entry level secretary. All the job listings are saying that a typing speed of 70 wpm would be great (which gets me excited, because, oh boy, am I about to really knock their socks off and get hired right away), but then at the bottom, there’s the damning statement of: 3+ years clerical experience required. 

I’m lucky that when I’m home for the summer, I’m fortunate to have food provided for and a roof over my head. I’ve sent out probably 50+ applications since I’ve been home, and not heard back from one. Finding a job is not easy.

My mom and I just watched a movie where this smart college graduate got this super awesome job at her dream company and everything, and some dude that had a crush on her made her feel guilty for pursuing her dreams and her career instead of pursuing him so she quit her dream job to fly to New York to apologize for being successful and tell him that she quit and uprooted her whole life to be with him?? Even though it took her months to get that job??

Why didn’t she just dump this guy, keep her dream job, and get a dude who supports her like the goddess she is, I don’t understand.

It’s almost 4 AM and I can’t sleep because of allergies. I keep sneezing and almost sneezing (which is the literal worst) every three minutes and my eyes are watering so badly, I’m practically crying. What the fuck. My dad will be up for work in about 20 minutes because he went to bed 7 hours ago and I’m still awake because of allergies.

This is some bullshit, immune system.

I had to.
Thank you tumblr (and devil overlord?) for reading my word vomits and calling them art.

I rarely ever feel this, but lately I’ve been feeling pretty. I mean, I know that I’m not this knockout bombshell of a girl, and I never will be, but I’ve been looking at myself in the mirror like, “yeah girl, you lookin pretty good!” Even if others don’t agree, at least I’m loving myself! Which is important and yes to positivity!


ARTIST: Ed Sheeran
TRACK: All Of The Stars
ALBUM: The Fault In Our Stars

musicstomyears:

Ed Sheeran - All Of The Stars

It’s just another night
And I’m staring at the moon
I saw a shooting star
And thought of you


ARTIST: Sam Smith
TRACK: Lay Me Down (acoustic)

biancatogo:

Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?
No words can explain, the way I’m missing you

edgeandvoidlit:

morbidfiction:

The writer couldn’t write anymore the irony didn’t escape her although to be truthful she used irony too loosely. She looked at the page as if it might devour her (to be truthful it would have excited her if it were different times) but she still had a soft gaze towards as if it were her true demon and only she could kiss it. There was this cognitive dissonance that became embedded in her soul after she took that trip to the other world. She wept because her words were stale like old moldy bread, there was this ring that sounded dead.

She understood why, understood why the words couldn’t become unclogged from her hair. The reason the sink was always running and why the curtains wanted to smother her in her sleep. Change. Everything had become a past page something that had already been read. So stuck in the nostalgia that the writer didn’t realize that life had passed her by and she wasn’t the same anymore.

Different. Unknown. So many beliefs were broken, so many things were taken and given. Lost in self pity and grasping for the past that she forgot the most important thing about writing. It wasn’t meant to return to old habits but to bring life to the present her, the her that she wanted to be. Lost in the woulda,coulda,shoulda repetition inside her mind…the sentences become silent nothing more but mantras of another era.

She changed, grew. Forgot what it meant to write from the core. Tried to regain what she lost. 

The writer looked at the page and she knew one day she would write again beautifully, authentically, and unreserved. Till then she might go to planet X49 to be with her two dick lover. Then again she was always a bit uneasy about actually touching a breathing body, she liked them dead after all. It made it more peaceful looking at the things that once were.

I’ve always laughed at the whole “if you take a girl’s glasses off, she becomes prettier” trope in movies because haha, that shit wouldn’t fly with me since the bottom part of my frames actually conceal my dark circles and eye bags.

Also, I’m really close to legally blind without them, so there’s that too.

would anyone like to hire a 20 year old college student with no prior work experience but way too much friggin community service because, hello, here i am. 

when i’m lonely

One saved message. First saved message. From, “Home.” Received, January 3rd, 2006 at nine-thirty p.m. 

Hi my baby girl. What are you doing? Me and daddy miss you. Call us soon. I love you, baby. 

Saved. There are no more messages. Main menu. To hear your voicemails, press one, to send a voicemail, press two. For personal options, press three. To make a call, press eight. To exit, press star. 

One saved message. First saved message. From, “Home.” Received, January 3rd, 2006 at nine-thirty p.m. 

Hi my baby girl. What are you doing? Me and daddy miss you. Call us soon. I love you, baby. 

Saved.

There are no more messages. 

Goodbye

fartsofhappy asked:
Hey that poem needs more notes! :) when did you leave Vietnam? That poem speaks volumes about immigrant parents and sometimes their fear for their kids not becoming successful for various reasons..

Hey, thank you! I appreciate it! I haven’t written anything seriously in almost half a year, so it means a lot to me that you enjoyed it. I was actually born and raised in America, but yes, my parents are both immigrants from Viet Nam. They both definitely sacrificed a lot in order to give me my best chance at success, but I don’t want to gain it through forgetting where I came from. 

my Asian

Mother tells me to reduce my Asian; to wear glasses that will magnify my eye size and to never wear the color red. She makes me cut my hair before it gets too long, telling me that if it gets below my forearm, I’ll look like I came from “the country.” She tells me to sip my noodles quietly, to keep my elbows off the table. She tells me that I must make myself look and act as close to White as possible in order to have any chance at touching success.

On the contrary, I actively try to increase my Asian. I slurp my noodles in public places; if I’m really comfortable, I may even prop my foot up on my chair, using my knee as leverage to support my rice bowl. I scarf down my rice the way my father does, treating each grain preciously. I step out of the house smelling like eucalyptus oil and nuoc mam. I wear red when I can because I look good in it and because it makes my mother tell me that I look like a young Vietnamese Communist (which is just funny). And I hope that my obvious differences make others uncomfortable when they feel like a foreigner has taken too much of their breathing room. I hope they feel confused when they meet my steady gaze, when they meet my firm handshake, when they hear my clear voice. All contradictory of their narrowed expectations; quick pop trivia they learned from Kill Bill and Memoirs of a Geisha.

I hope they’re fearful of me, wondering at night if the quiet Vietnamese girl with an American name will take their job or impress their boss or win over their coworkers.

My mother tells me that I must make myself look and act as close to White as possible in order to have a chance at touching success.

I obviously haven’t listened.
She obviously wasn’t right.

Hard work and mental breakdowns really do pay off! I’ve met the requirements to join any university wide honor society of my choice by next Spring during member installation (assuming that I don’t fail hard next semester)! And by any, I mean 2 because they’re the only ones that apply to me and aren’t major-specific.

Golden Key or Phi Kappa Phi? They’re both reputable and they both seem to have equal membership benefits. They both would make me look super good for grad school and they both give me pretty cords and sashes to wear for my graduation. One title is in super America maverick English, the other is in fancy Greek. Ughrhr, I can’t make decisions for myself.

I’m mildly upset that Sac State doesn’t have an honor society for speech path students, especially considering how that’s the school where California SLP students flock to. Oh well. Are you proud of me yet mom?

Of course you’re not.

book covers and stuff

When you download books from the internet, sometimes the cover art is just the title and the author typed on white. It’s such an eyesore and until now, I never knew how I could edit this because iBooks doesn’t have that functionality. So I just downloaded this program that will allow me to change the cover art for those ebooks. And I’m really excited and super pumped because now all of my ebooks will have pretty covers. 

But I just realized— I could edit all of the covers. Which means I could even use other international covers that I find prettier. So not only will my physical book collection look super beautiful, so will my electronic book collection, and ald;flsaw I’m so excited. Not only does this program allow me to edit the covers, but it’s also a book organizing program so that I can keep track of all of the million books I’m constantly shoving through my eyeballs. Bless whoever made this program. 

I don’t know how I have friends and a boyfriend who love me. I rarely get this excited over anything else other than pasta.