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Happy 4th of July-Are We Standing Strong Today?

I know it’s the fifth of July, but I was wanting to spend my fourth hanging out with my brother, Leo, and friends eating an all-american hamburger, being outside, and playing board games to end the night with wine-because we’re old. Just kidding, we are all in our twenties, but anyway…

After going through my documents in my google docs of previous essays, case studies, and other research I had done for school about economics & politics, only because I was looking for my most recent resume, I realized something very sad.

I was in the car discussing with my brother about this sad thought. To reassure my thought, I was scrolling through twitter, facebook, and instagram…even more sad.

I turned to him and asked “don’t you think we are the weakest country right now?”

I think the American people are weak right now, but I am hopeful, which is why I also join in the president of the United States saying “let’s make America great again!” Why do I say all this, and will I get many attacks about this post?

If this was truly a free country, I should not. I welcome opinions and feedback, though, there is a difference. I see all over social media and the news, slander about people feeling disrespected, put down, and discriminated? What and why?

I am confused. Americans are saying yes to freedom of speech, so they preach what they want to preach, but when they do start opinionating, they feel oppression and get called out–and the complaining starts or the fighting. All lives matter.

I believe there are extremists, who can elevate something so valiantly fought for into something dangerous; however, instead of complaining about politics, go vote. Instead of hiding behind mobile devices and cyberbullying the leaders of America, go sacrifice privacy, be ready for constant public scrutiny, rumors, and threats if you get elected for ANY position in the United States.

I am not saying who I voted for or names, but I will say I support my country. I support the United States. It is embarrassing when I travel the world, and I have to explain to people asking me about where the American loyalty lies and if we will have a civil war again. Why turn against each other?

Many people do not even know who their state senator is or what their views are currently.

Instead of following up on the next meme, flash news on a magazine, or a public television station that is funded by people who have certain opinions—think for yourself. Yes, I think everyone should have opinions, but they should know why they believe in what they believe, not just because a crowd suggests it or even family.

I am an advocate for many different things and have many opinions. As a minority, I feel especially blessed to be in this country and try in all my power to participate.

Years ago, I was offered many times to be a part of an ethnic-specific sorority, but I chose to be in a sorority open to all–I did not want to segregate myself. Just an example of what Americans do to themselves at a young age.

Are you a true American? Vote. Many people do not have that option in their country. Unite, don’t make fun of people. How does putting down a first lady’s outfit or speech all over social media prove to the world how strong America is? How does making fun of our leaders promote strength, courage, and sacrifice that the men and women who serve our country promote, laying down their lives?

Either go vote, enlist, research, think for yourself, and support, regardless of mixed opinions, by doing so, you are fighting for our country. You can be a leader.

Let’s make America great again. Unite for the big picture and support.

 

 

From the Archives · Uncategorized

From the Archives: So You Think You Are a Starbucks Fan? Lessons Never Learned.

“Ready, Set, COFFEE…and GO!” seems to be the riddle of everyday life for most people. Why do we need coffee? Why do we like it so much? Why does it look good in pictures? Why can just one cup of coffee get 1M likes on instagram? Is it a god from the divine serenity of Mother Nature?

I started drinking coffee since…well let’s just say, I remember sitting in the front seat of my father’s truck…well, I always had preference and my brothers were always sent to the back because…well that’s the way it should be right? Running to the truck from the kitchen because time was always of the essence for school, my dad would start the engine, take a right turn out of the neighborhood, drive through exactly one stoplight to get to my destination–no, not school, duh, Starbucks! Everyday, from day one of Junior High until I could start driving years later–tall, white chocolate macchiato…my dad had the order memorized…shortly, thereafter, the order became tall, nonfat, soy, chai tea latte, dirty…then we could continue driving towards my non-priority stop–school. I drank my coffee black at home, but at Starbucks I ordered different because it was like going to buy a bottle of water…you pick the prettiest bottle, of course.

Just to set the tone, yes, I love coffee, no matter what.

So, once upon a time, my parents decided to take our yearly vacation trip…this year, Guatemala…absolutely fabulous, definitely recommend the adoring country, so just go, cool, thanks! Anyway, at that time of my life, I was in the years of having a bottomless stomach, so eating was an every two seconds thing, and if I did not get food, well…I would find my resources…like what I did in Guatemala.

As tourist, we went to their annual coffee festival in, as I have emphasized, the amazing country of Guatemala. The people are so divinely friendly, angelical to say the least, offering coffee almonds, coffee this, coffee that, practically any food with coffee…all free…all given like presents as I walk towards every stand to see the different beans and exhibitions laid out–like a queen, no…a princess. So I had a lot, and I even had many pure coffee beans just to taste, but I ate them like blueberries, just popping them in my mouth.

As I asked about 200 times when lunch was going to be, my family finally landed at a quaint restaurant near the festival. I obviously had my fabulous appetizer from the festival, but I was ready to eat hard core, now.

We sat down, I started pouring the bottled water into the glass, but I was spilling..my hands were shaking…I’m just looking around to see if anyone noticed but…naw…

I started feeling weird like if my heart was pumping twice as hard, but for some reason (and trust me it was not like the Grinch, where I became unsassy and sweet all of a sudden), I translated that into “maybe, I just need to pee?” So, I excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom…for about 30 min…my father knocks on the door: “umm, Laura? is everything ok? The food is ready, and…well, it’s been awhile. Are you sick?”

Sorry if this is TMI, but I was sitting on the toilet (it was a small bathroom like half the size of a walk-in closet at a studio apartment), with the toilet seat closed, fully clothed don’t worry, I was not doing anything because as it turned out I did not have to pee, I just felt numb around my legs. I tried standing up, and…I fell. I opened the bathroom door stumbling on my legs and my dad has the whole “are you drunk again face?” (which obviously not at my age). He could tell I was breathing strangely, just huffing and puffing like I had ran a marathon and won, of course. I stumbled on a nearby sofa in the waiting area of the restaurant with the help of my father.

Bam, I couldn’t move my legs at all at this point. I remember looking at them and punching them just to make sure I could feel pain, which I could, but I could not move them. I was more worried about that than the tour guide, who was trained as a nurse, unable to get a pulse because my heartbeat was going so fast.

The next best thing was to take a taxi to the nearest hospital because at that point I’m on the point of passing out and looking at stars in the corners of my eyes. As they picked me up and threw me in the back seat of the taxi (because an ambulance is just out of the question where we were located), we finally arrive to a clinic. They roll me in on a bed, and the nurses immediately poke my arm with an IV, which at that point my arms had zero sensation, so pretty much all I could do was blink. I went through two bags of IV fluids. The nurses told me I needed to pee to get out all the caffeine. That seemed simple enough, but wait…I can’t move…

So yes, they hand me the plastic bucket that forms to my fabulous rear, and I was expected to pee in front of them on the bed in the bucket without moving my legs for a better target…one of the weirdest experiences in my life.

Don’t fret, fifteen minutes later after a heart test with all the wires stuck to my chest to make sure my heart was not in danger of a future heart attack from the shock my heart had, I walked, no, I skipped out of the hospital ready to eat my meal that was clearly gone…yes, only 15 minutes…so I had to wait for breakfast, my favorite meal of the day.

My breakfast the next day?

Fruit and of course, coffee 🙂

Here I am today, drinking my second cup of coffee by the way…

Lessons to not be learned:

  1. If you can’t feel your legs, then you’ll probably end up peeing in a bucket with an audience.
  2. I was about 100 pounds at the age of 13 or 14, so definitely take into consideration how much of anything you consume.
  3. Guatemalan coffee is still my preferred choice, and I still buy the whole beans, so I can grind them myself and leave my habitat rejuvenated…I guess it’s my version of yoga?

What’s your lesson not learned? 

**As for the picture, I had a weird time in my life when I had a fascination of circles, dots, or bubbles, explaining my outfit in the picture, and of course, I would be smiling, as my mom is crying in the corner. Furthermore, my whole room back at home had dots and circles on the walls, and by the way, my walls were lime green…yes, I was a freak…well, I still am as a 24 year old, I guess…but hey, YOU BE YOU :)**

 

Fashion · Uncategorized

93 Days of Summer: Who Says Lace is Only For Undergarments?

I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty beat up in this picture. From the start of the blog, I mentioned it was and is a lifestyle blog–meaning everything is genuine, hoping to share thoughts with others and laugh a little more. All to say, from afar you see a simple outfit, just two colors, and a simple ponytail. Come a little closer and you start seeing the pieces of the puzzle–a lace blouse, high-waisted zipper shorts, casual sandal heels, and as always, earrings. Then you realize that only my big toe on each foot has faded turquoise nail polish (yes, as in I have not had a pedicure in like 6 decades), bruises on my right knee, calves, and upper part of my left leg—because I obviously do not know how to gracefully fall out of a couple pirouettes before a struggling leap to somehow roll onto the floor in dance class. Even more, my hair had just come out of a bun from ballet class earlier that morning, so it was frizzy and fabulously, not fabulously curly. My hands are wet because I just washed my hands from picking up my dog’s urine that he kindly left at the entrance of the door. Great life. But…an active life. A lifestyle I try to continue sharing.

YOU BE YOU.

Fashion · Uncategorized

93 Days of Summer: My Turquoise Heels

YOU BE YOU

Yes, that’s mud on my heels, worn out, but with many memories. My lifestyle is active, and I actually walk, walking the streets of Mexico, Florida, and Vienna with these Steve Madden Turquoise heels, which I got half-off.

I found these babies as I was walking down the magnificent streets of what seems like gold to me at Northpark on a cold, wintery day that only demanded a day of shopping inside the cozy, welcoming walls of the glorious Dallas mall, the mall I visited on a monthly basis when I was growing up in Tyler, Texas.

All eyes on me, ok…well, I mean all the mannequin eyes on me, greeting me, and telling me to walk in the store to see the wonderful views, including views of price tags cut in half, displayed scarves lined in different colors on hangers, bikinis put up on mannequins for visitors to acknowledge summer is coming, so save up your bank accounts and go to the gym because you’ll be back in a couple months.

As for the blouse from Zara, well I walked in to get a simple white button down for an event, and at the checkout line, as I have studied in my MBA courses from the past, the typical impulse buy…that was me, so I came out of the store with a white shirt, just a tad bit different, with a vest cover look and bow-tied sleeves ending in foldable cuffs.

Eh, and as for the skirt I got in Mexico. I don’t really fall for patterns, but sometimes you just find them in your closet. It just happens.

Thanks for reading this boring post, but I had to describe why I wore this outfit to watch the ballet performance at the Latino Cultural Center. Fun night with my favorite heels.

All to say, think about where the shoes you have on right now have been and think about the memories.

YOU BE YOU.

Fashion · Uncategorized

93 Days of Summer

YOU BE YOU

Entering summer is fun and can get creative! Find your taste and fly with it! You be You! Fashion is more than the latest trend, it’s about style and personality, more importantly, it’s about your style and personality–so, express it!

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What Real Vogue Fans Look Like

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I think the only time I read Vogue is stretching after ballet classes eating a post-workout granola bar or tangerine or at the dog park (sorry for completely over-posting pictures of my weenie dog, but I’m just trying to get him a little tanner because he’s so white right now…he’s a piebald dachshund just in case you have not seen pictures of him).

Anyway, as I walked in the uptown dog park with my huge Kate Landry tote storing my recent purchase from Whole Foods as of 5 minutes ago, a pint of NadaMoo chocolate ice cream, and Vogue, I pick my usual spot in the corner away from the trees to get my dosage of Vitamin C and D or whatever other millions of health benefits the doctors keep telling me about (pretty much I’m deficient in everything, probably explaining my unusual stories…).

Because I never look shady, I pull out my pint of chocolate ice cream (already thinking of at least 3 excuses to tell the dog park employees if they ask why I have outside food), and start eating away…and of all flavors, I would have chocolate, knowing that chocolate is a death sentence for all dogs. How selfish.

After demolishing my pint of glorious, dairy-free ice cream, I take out my divine book of Vogue and start reading, 10 minutes later, there I am trying to flip the page and realize the dirt that got on the corner of a page.

Marveled, I noticed it was chocolate stains I had spread throughout the pages of beautiful Vogue, like a 5 year old…so proud.

Then I thought to myself, real Vogue fans always have their magazine with them and reading Vogue throughout any activity….baths, stretching, eating, laying out, or in my case, dog parking. So of course, there should be evidence of your active lifestyle among the pages of Vogue!

All to say, I’m sure Vogue is proud and…I’m so happy my subscription comes with a monthly electronic subscription just in case awesome, clumsy people like me smear every author’s precious words in Vogue with chocolate or Lush bath bomb bumbles.

Thanks Vogue for being a part of my life!

 

 

 

From the Archives · Uncategorized

For the Love of our Phone

Recently, I heard on the radio a quite funny story about a girl who jumped onto the tracks of the New York City subway to retrieve her cell phone that she dropped in a clumsy moment…I thought to myself as I was stuck in traffic, how ridiculous and funny! Then I remembered, who am I to say ridiculous when I’ve done not one, but a million ridiculous moments with my beloved iphone.

The most recent tragedy of embarrassment, well not for me, but for my family, was at the airport in Vienna, Austria. I went to the ladies room before boarding the plane because God knows how horrendous it is to be in that tiny box called a toilet, bouncing up and down in the plane.

Anyway, I set down my tote, but of course, my phone is safely put away in the safest place, my hand. Sorry if this is TMI, but as I start flushing the toilet, my hip had bumped the corner of the toilet paper box and there goes my phone flying into the waves of the toilet.  I cannot believe how my first instinct was to just reach down to grab it, and as the flush was a strong force, I found myself fighting for my phone from being sucked into the toilet’s sucking pipes and roaring waves…dramatic, I know…and gross.

Because I was so smart, I thought to myself, yes!… I saved my phone. Of course, this bright young lady, myself, forgot that…well…water stabs electronic devices in the heart…and as my phone was literally swimming in a torment of toilet water, no amount of rice was going to heal this phone; yet, there I am rushing out of the stall and holding my sacred phone under the most modern hand dryer. I know all the German spoken amongst the women, watching me jump out from the stall and yelling at myself, were commentating about my amazing smartness.  I actually remember a little girl making eye contact at me for like ten seconds…awkward. I’m sure her mother told her “stay away from crazy people like her,” but again, I don’t speak German, so maybe she was commenting on my Antonio Melani wedges. **I’m sorry, America, for being a bad ambassador that day.**

As I’m walking out the bathroom, my brother is waiting right outside and simply asks, “now what happened?” Of course, that’s always the question when you’re right outside a women’s bathroom and hear “Crap! Oh my gosh! Why!?”

I so wanted to snapchat, text, and instagram stalk my friends before boarding…and I guess magic happened…because one year later…my phone was still working perfectly fine…

And, do not worry, I lysoled, cloroxed, and prayed all the germs and grossness were off my amazing phone.

Maybe, my iphone had some Nokia genes in it or something…

Or…as Joey on “Friends” puts it as Rosita, the chair, dies…if you are pure and you’re heart is set on something, miracles can happen…like my phone.

 

From the Archives · Uncategorized

From the Archives: Left Behind in Paris

**This post is in the perspectives of two people: David my little brother (Diva David) & the amazing me (Laura Andrea). Feel free to choose sides and, of course, as always….laugh**

Me (Laura Andrea): 

I was so excited, David was finally going to join me after my hard year of school in Madrid. Our plan was to stay in Madrid for a few days, then go adventure all of Europe! Sounds like the dream, right? Well…first stop Paris. Take note David has not been in Europe since he was little, so I was excited to catch him up on all my favorite things in Madrid and friends I made around Europe, who we were going to meet again. 

Ehh…I guess I gave David a first bad impression of my lifestyle in Europe from the past year because the first flight together to Paris was at 5 am, so obviously, having to get there a tad bit early, David had to bring his huge, luggage, big enough to be stopped and asked to pay 100 euros for his carry-on (shake my head). So that takes time…not to mention there was a huge gate change…literally, we had heads turning as people watch two people, us, sprinting across the airport, looking like zombies, of course, at 5 freaking in the morning. 

So, after David drained my pockets from money to pay for his carry-on and after having a mini-marathon to get to the correct gate, we finally, crash onto the crappiest seats on the crappiest plane, probably made my paper mache…at walmart…in the jungle. I don’t know. It just was the whole “what did we do?” thoughts that made David & I pass out because we didn’t care…we were exhausted. 

After we met our friend in Paris and had a wonderful day, we planned to go meet another friend at the Eiffel Tower the next day by the river and have lunch! Oui oui oui yay yay yay! I was used to the fast metro system from living in Madrid for quite some time, everyone pushing and shoving, everyone cramming in the metro as fast as superman…well the Paris metro was & probably still is very sketchy, dirty, and looked like “ok, this is where we die part of a really bad murder movie.”

I buy David and I our metro tickets to get into the metro and there it is…the metro happened to be there, perfect timing, and as it was later in the day, there were less stops. It would take another 10 minutes if we let this metro go. So I’m like “David come on! Open the gate!” After I get on the metro, the doors close and sigh of relief…We made it on. let’s go home. 

“Hey, David, can you give me some water”?

“David”?

I look around, where the heck is he? I just saw him. I look out the window of the metro train and see his face in shock….and the metro starts moving…we are both watching each other pass by…no phone, David does not know Paris, he is going to get shanked, raped, and murdered…what have I done?….

Why did he do this to me!? I am going to get zero inheritance money from my parents when they find out I killed him!


David:

Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah. Let me tell you guys, the year was 2013, and I had so much planned for the summer. My dad and sister had the genius idea of sending me to Spain to visit my sister for a couple of weeks where we would take on the European Union and travel like a couple of chump tourists. I was super excited and went with the mindset of getting to see some amazing cities and spend some quality time with my sister, since she decided to study a billion miles away….I don’t get it since you can literally take online classes from any part of the world, but you know what, I am supportive and we made some…uhhh… interesting memories.

So after traveling around a few parts in Spain, our next stop was to Paris! Ahhh yes, Paris sounds amazing, right? Well, Paris itself was not too fun since all that could go wrong went wrong!

The first sign of rough times began as soon as we got to the airport, and we were literary about 15 minutes from boarding the freaking plane when a flight attendant or minion from the worst airline, which is what Laura and I determined they actually were, was telling me I had to pay a hundred bucks in order to take my carry-on up on the plane, which was literary barely larger than my backpack. We had no time, it was 5am, and my sister has no patience when it comes to waiting up on me. And if you are thinking I had to pay that money…I cheerfully handed that money to the lady and said, “I hope you are happy” and walked off.

Getting to Paris, of course you have to check out the sites, go to some over priced stores, and have a Nutella filled crepe that is like the best food in the world without a doubt. At the end of the day, it was late and I was tired, Laura was tired, and we were just tired of looking at each other and having to “watch out” for each other. In my mind, I am her protector, yet in her little bodied mind, who could not fight off an average male, mentally, she believed she was my protector, which of course did not make sense to me…but you know, it does not matter to me since she constantly pushes my buttons on purpose in order to persuade me.

Anyways, we were getting ready to hop on a train, yet there are gates that will not allow you to enter without a ticket, which I had both of them since I like to think I am the responsible one. I pushed the first ticket through, which opens the doors, yet you have to wait for the ticket to come out of the other side before placing MY ticket in the machine to get it properly stamped; however, before I know it…. my sister is already on the train, the doors start to close, I sprint literary trying to prawn open the doors with my hands and she just waves at me….seriously?! like waves at me like, “oh sorry! Too slow and you suck David”. But since we had no cellphones, I had no idea what stop the train was going towards, I decided to take a leap of faith and hop on the next train…. obviously….I was angry. Here I am, staying organized, she doesn’t even take a look to see if I have gotten on the train until the doors closed.

I mean…who is really at fault here? Then I thought, “crap…. what am I going to tell my parents?” and there goes all my opportunities to travel alone.

**Afterthoughts by Laura Andrea: So…..Yeah…laugh a little more, cherish your relationships because you may lose them on trains, metros, or any other kind of transportation…**

Peace and love,

Laura Andrea

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Myspace: top 2 friends on my profile

I said this blog was a lifestyle blog from the beginning, which is more than just a page to write opinions or stories, for posting cute recipes (which I will never do because my cooking experiences are epically disastrous), & more than just posting cute outfits, hoping for a million instagram likes. There are more not-so-glamourous things a person does on a day-to-day basis. People have to cook, we brush our teeth, we have stringy, sweaty hair after a good workout, we have shoe disasters in the closet, we have go to the gas station where someone creepy will most likely stop and ask you for money change, & more not-so-fun parts of everyday life, like cleaning our abodes. My man-cave is I guess kind of girly, simple, but lively–at least I hope so. Keeping plants alive is not my strongest suit…but I try. You can see where I spilled the pot outside of my door…because…well…that’s me.

So, here are a few pictures of my house–well, it’s basically one room with a bathtub. Yes, I live in a tiny studio, but I make the best out of it. Leo (my weenie dog) & Toulouse (my cat) are my roommates and are great hosts to all my friends.

As you can see in the pictures, the assets I always have in my habitat are the following:

  1. Vogue on display (on the shelf above the couch)–I have the Vogue coloring book. I would suggest…no, I would encourage, strongly from the bottom of my tiny, empty heart to buy it…it’s utterly divine.
  2. An orchid (because I have a bet with myself every year to keep one alive for at least a year…let’s see how 2017 goes…I already see the petals falling…)
  3. Plants in general…especially in a city where trees are seen less & Tex-mex restaurants are built within 24 hours on every corner.
  4. Fish…as you can see I have two modern aquariums above the kitchen shelving.
  5. Big mirror–this is how I judge my body like Kim Kardashian…just kidding, but really…I watch myself stretch or practice dance, which, is always a hot mess.
  6. Litter box…as you can see the huge plant in the corner by the TV…ya, that’s actually a litter box. The opening is in the back.
  7. Some kind of citrus candle
  8. My piano, no matter how tiny my place is…I can’t live without it.

Enjoy! Feel free to laugh!

 

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Setting Sail

Why? Where? How? Why? wait, which one did I miss?….and What. Ok, cool. Well, I have been writing for years. It started mainly my last year in high school, and I really dove into writing daily during college, especially during classes…you know the whole trick where you are hoping the professor thinks you are taking notes, but in reality, you are writing about how bored you are or about the brown shoes he is wearing with black pants.

I found it interesting to go back and read entries and found a lot of concerns, ideas, or questions, answered and in a way I never imagined. It is almost like when you reread a book or watch a movie over again and you find something new or realize something different. That is how it was with my journals.

It became so much fun explaining in great detail my strange experiences of my life to my roommates and friends in college–what do I mean? Ya, so the punchline of my life pretty much as told to me so many times is “life will never be boring with Laura.” Many of my stories sound unbelievable, so when telling them, people do not believe them unless they really know me or have at least been “prepped” (as in a friend explains about me before their guest meets me, yes that happens).

Having my journal helps relive those funny moments of my life and well, to be honest, I did not start thinking of my journal as an exposĂ©, rather, just a therapeutical way to release so much energy from my head. ha, I know, but you know, just a lot of thoughts out in air and like Dumbledore puts his thoughts in a magical bowl to avoid being overwhelmed, I put mine in a journal. I was never embarrassed of my entries because I literally wrote the thoughts in my head and what happened that day–it is just what it is. So if a pigeon hit my face, it just did (side story, yes that happened).

After I met my best friend’s roommate my last year as an undergraduate, I started reading to him some of my entries, and I realized how much I enjoyed making him laugh, and it was effortless. I literally was just reading what I wrote two years ago or a year ago or even a month ago–I never saw my journal as just a personal safely-kept secret, I thought why not just have other people laugh or think what they want to think about my day and stories–bad or good. I don’t care–it is what it is.

As for Diva David, the name of my blog? Ya, David is my little brother. He’s my favorite and best little brother. I have an older brother as well, and he is my favorite and best older brother. So, that makes me the middle child–poor, lonely, forgotten, middle child. Don’t worry, thanks to both my loving brothers and parents, they made me the most divalicious princess one can ever imagine–definitely, daddy’s little girl. Ya, it’s that bad, but at least I admit it and have always admitted. I even flaunt the fact of how spoiled my brothers and father have treated me my whole life to their faces and ask why? So, it’s not like I begged–it was just given. ha. My brothers are probably shaking their heads right now as they are reading this, but I know they love me so much–it is what it is.

David and I have so many experiences together around the world and he actually believes my unique stories because he happens to be trapped in them, unfortunately for him. And, I still have not explained the name…I felt like I raised David in high school, you know, driving him everywhere, telling him what to wear, social stuff, etc. So when I left him for college and visited him in college, I knew it would bite me in the butt…I made him like me…a diva.

It is nothing private, but David and I fight everyday. everyday. I mean everyday. But in a brotherly loving kind of way, with an extra dosage of sass, which creates great outlets for bonding, strangely enough. We fight because, well, we are both divas, we are confident enough towards each other to share opinions or say no to an outfit. Overall, it means the world to me that my little brother has always asked me questions, and shows so much respect for me, that I cannot think of a better way to describe myself and this blog with any other title but—“Diva David” by me.

So now, instead of writing in my paperback, gold journal that has printed on the front “dream big, sparkle more, shine bright” (I know, diva), I am happy to be writing to the world to make people laugh a little more, think a little more, and connect a little better.

P.S. the picture is David and I in Japan–ya, we both have to be captain, or in other words, we both have to win.