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Warning: This post contains inappropriate/obnoxious use of caps lock. 

okay so long story short some jerk on twitter stole the internet handle I have been using since I was eleven years old and IT IS NOT OKAY. I’ve been daydreaming for weeks about all the cool hashtags I was gonna use and how fun it would be to retweet The Hater and now all those dreams have gone up in flames.

Paulina Melgoza Hdz has tweeted exactly ONE time in the last year, she has ZERO followers and is only following SIX other tweeters (five of whom are famous celebrities, and one is the Morelia Film Festival).

It’s been like 10 years since I’ve had to come up with a new username for something. I’m so upset I can’t even communicate how upset I am in more than 140 characters. I don’t even want a twitter anymore.


#fffuuu #thatsnotyourname #actuallyistillwantatwitter


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1999 – My brother chips my front tooth in a Hide-and-Seek-related rage attack
2010 – I re-chip the same tooth with a cereal bowl 
2011 – I re-re-chip the same tooth (and swallow the missing piece) eating a fried tortilla

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September 24, 2006

“Twenty-five years ago, my mom and dad kissed for the very first time.

Angelica Ledesma Ledesma and Francisco Lopez Jimenez grew up in a town in Mexico where the most romantic spot was on a bridge over a river. The river has more oil and grease than water in it. Want to hear a story? One day, someone lit a match and threw it in the river. If it were any other river on the planet, the match would’ve gone out. But this was Salamanca and the match didn’t go out, it lit a patch of oil on fire and people had to hose down the river to set it off.

Sometimes if there’s enough light, you can look down at the river and see rainbows on the water from the oil that’s sitting on the surface. I wonder if my parents caught a glimpse of them when they kissed for the first time on that bridge, or if they were too happy to notice.”

– 16-year old me, the first page of an old journal.

I know the L word is pretty heavy and at the risk of overusing it, I’d like to say the following: I love my parents, I love that they love each other, and I love that I exist as a byproduct of what started on a bridge overlooking a river of oil and rainbows.

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Highlights of my day:

1. Getting two FREE mini-boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats at the grocery store
2. Eating fried rice
3. Making a ton of salsa

Lows of my day:

1. Running out of milk
2. Having to share my salsa with 40 people

This inspires me to write a personal manifesto in haiku form:

All I care about
Is what’s inside my stomach
And inside my fridge. 

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Educational Policy

So I was doing what all the cool kids are up to these days and reading 70 pages on educational policy in Georgia. As it turns out, The Atlanta Public School Agreement of 1973 is not as page-turny as you might think.

And then, two thirds into the article, I got to the Tootsie Roll center of the Tootsie Pop:

        “The plaintiffs initially insisted that there had to be enough busing to raise the percentage of black students in every school to at least 50 percent. The Board of Education negotiators refused to budge. Back and forth the discussion went, with no one willing to yield on the point of principle and everyone eager to explain why he or she was absolutely right. 
       As the evening grew later, the talkers grew hungrier. At 9:15 p.m., they sent out for several buckets of fried chicken and a crate of Pepsi Cola. Their appetites were obviously as ravenous as their capacity for talk was great. Only an hour later, they sent out for more buckets of chicken and another crate of Pepsi. The meeting lasted until about 12:30 a.m., but they still had not reached an agreement on the question of student desegregation. They had met, talked, munched chicken, and guzzled Pepsi for seven and one-half hours with nothing to show for it. “
I don’t know if Joel L. Fleishman had me in mind when he wrote his article, but I think I speak for all of academia/pseudo-academia/Carleton College when I say that I’ve never been so rewarded for doing late-night political science readings. 

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El Grito

Oh hey, Blog. Guess what I’m doing tomorrow.
 Washing the Mt. Everest of dirty clothes in my closet? No.
 Spending five hours making a plaster sculpture? No.
 Eating fried rice for the third night in a row? No.
 Messing with Texas?

In other news, my phone is in a coma. In other other news, I feel like the only girl on campus who didn’t get a boy haircut over the summer.

un video en honor del pais mas bello del mundo:

Viva Mexico!