Log in

Alejandra (was here)
06 March 2030 @ 06:58 pm

credit for banner: brenah

This journal is now semi-friends only.

I lock more personal stuff. I don't lock fanfiction, or things I wouldn't mind my family stumbling across.

If you add me, please let me know why! I love making new friends, and I promise not to bite.

If I added you, you seemed pretty awesome. Feel free to ignore me or add back as you will!

My name is Alejandra. I'm 20. I write a lot. Welcome. ♥
Alejandra (was here)
21 June 2014 @ 06:51 pm
Well, finally, here is a post that will be regularly updated (or...whenever I actually write fic, that is) and that archives the majority of my fanfiction through the last few years. I chose not to include everything I've ever published - a few older fics can only be found on my fanfiction.net account, which can be found here.   

Harry PotterCollapse )

SupernaturalCollapse )

J2Collapse )

FireflyCollapse )

The Big Bang TheoryCollapse )
feelin' : accomplishedaccomplished
singing along to: Daughtry - Over You | Powered by Last.fm
Alejandra (was here)
15 July 2011 @ 03:42 pm
Dear LiveJournal,

I'm sorry that I have abandoned you these last few months. Really and truly. I have missed you.

I have been busy with work, school, summer school, more work, Virginia Woolf, Russian revolutions, violence against women and girls (and how to end it), and am currently located in Paris, where I have been for the past few days after a few days in London. I'll be back in the States by Sunday. 

I am writing to you to let you know that I really have missed you and thought of you and it just hasn't been the same. So here I am. Not totally back, but working my way there.

How have you all been? What has been going on in your lives? We haven't talked in far too long and it's not cool and I am actually going to start reading my f-list again, but do catch me up if there are major or interesting things, pretty pretty please. :) 



P.S. If y'all have seen Deathly Hallows Part 2: SO JEALOUS. So. Jealous. Endlessly jealous. <3 
feelin' : sleepysleepy
Alejandra (was here)
The Conference on World Affairs has come to CU, and yesterday afternoon, I decided to go to a panel (I mean, I get extra credit for my sociology class if I write a paper about it, so why not?). I made a last-second decision when I found out that I could go listen to something called "Jon Stewart, Colbert, and The Onion: The News is a Joke." 


To say the least. 

Musings about Stewart and Colbert--and why they"re "real news"--under the cut.Collapse )
feelin' : contemplativecontemplative
Alejandra (was here)
28 March 2011 @ 03:33 pm
It's the Monday after my spring break, and let me just tell you, it couldn't be a bleaker Monday if it tried. Well, okay. That's not true. It could probably suck a lot more, but because I woke up to snow and fog this morning, I'm a little grouchy.

I spent my break in California, where I got to see the fabulous darkenedsakura for the first time in nearly five years, and where the weather also was kind of gloomy. But there were no ridiculous classes, so that was a huge plus in California's favor.

I have been thinking about trying to revamp my LJ lately, or, I don't know--do something. A real blog about not boring stuff. I feel like I get into writing ruts (in LJ's case, lack of writing ruts), especially with class, and I always think deadlines or structure will help me. I enjoy starting new things, but sticking to them? That's a different story. Probably not the best mode of operation for someone who would like to spend their life writing things that get published, more specifically, novels. 

So yeah. Not really sure what I'm going to do, but I will keep thinking about it. And trying to write here more, and comment more, and do a lot more than just read my f-list. I'm really bad about commenting on things--I'm such a lurker. I really enjoy reading it, though, and I'm trying to get better. I just always feel like that awkward kid who can't ever get the words to come out right or something.

In other social media news, I really like tumblr. I like looking at pretty things. I'm still getting the hang of it, but thanks to penny_lane_42 , it's become much easier. 

I guess this post is just to say I'm alive. And that I'm reading. And hi! Because I feel like it's been way too long since I did any of those things. :) 
feelin' : blahblah
Alejandra (was here)
07 March 2011 @ 04:53 pm
 So, I have a tumblr. Sorry if some of you are seeing this post twice! D: 

I've had it since summer and I have no clue how to use it. I need some help, y'all.

I need to learn tumblr. It took me like two years to understand LJ, so I’m hoping to expedite this process.

So, for anyone who happens to read this:


What kind of posts are best? Who should I follow? Where do the cool kids hang out? I get the sense this is much more visual than LJ, but I don’t even know where to begin.

*wrings hands*

Any recommendations are much appreciated, and exciting. I thank you in advance!
feelin' : confusedconfused
Alejandra (was here)
07 March 2011 @ 11:57 am
 After falling asleep well after three AM, I woke up around six to the melodic tune of people scraping ice off of their windshields. Nearly six hours later and the sound continues on.


I missed my bus to campus, and, rather than spend half an hour trying futilely to get a thick layer of ice off of my car, I opted to use my remaining absence from my Deviance in Society class and stay home. After all, my philosophy class was cancelled and I don't have another class until 4:30. Going to all that trouble for one class on a Monday morning sounded ridiculous.

My boyfriend, having already used up his absences for Deviance, elected to walk twenty minutes to campus. He texted me a little while ago to say he loved me, that he had fallen several times on the icy ground, and that we had a surprise pop quiz.


Wanna know the forecast for later? Ice pellets.

This day hates me.

The one bright spot in all this is the English major armadillo meme. It makes me feel slightly better about my life as a whole.

Also, because I have yet to post about this, it's Fandom March Madness time. I'm disappointed that some of my favorite characters are already gone (re: Mal, Tami Taylor), but a few still endure! So, without further ado...

See my votes beneath the cut. Collapse )

A vote for any of these characters is a vote for awesome, in many geeky, fandomy forms.

(Honestly? I have a feeling Troy is going to win this one. The love for Troy throughout this cage match has been fantastic.) 

Okay, well. It's a grey, icy, soon-to-be snow-y day, and I am going to be productive and clean, do homework, and be responsible watch stuff on Netflix. 

feelin' : annoyedannoyed
Alejandra (was here)
28 February 2011 @ 02:23 pm
Things that make sense. Things that don't. Bits of what I want to say, pieces of what I don't. Beginnings. No endings, not yet. 

 number them

And you number the last days.

1. She stops breathing on purpose.

“So we’ll be ready,” she says—coughs. “It’s like a fire drill.”

You sit awake beside her long into the night. Try not to blink as you watch the rise and fall, fall and rise.

2. “What will it be like?” she asks. You press closer; breathe in (so she won’t forget how).

“I don’t know.” A kiss to her temple. “But I’ll be there.”

3. She throws a mug of coffee at you, tears streaming down her face as she  gasps, gasps, gasps—and you don’t cry.

4. “Your mouth is a semicolon,” she laughs, tangled in wires on top of you. “You taste like an ampersand.”

“Your mouth is an ellipsis,” you murmur, “and Lord, woman—I will miss your punctuation.”

5. The pair of you wake up to unassuming sunshine. She looks at you, bright (alive), and you can’t help but whisper, “What will it be like?”

She breathes like praying, and the tubes—they seem so much part of her; you can’t remember what she was like before them.

“It’s here,” she says, her pale hand on your cheek, forehead barely brushing yours. “We’re here.”


I was blotted into the canvas, pressing my nose against a scene smudged with heat and sand and a quiet loneliness.

The desert is like that. It’s made up of windswept hair and parched throats and burnt skin, a stranger to shade, to mercy.

It’s never cared—not about who lives or dies or crawls, gasping, fingertips brushing along wavering mirages. It lays itself bare, no apology, and we crumble on the edge.


And here, he sings.

Drew used to want to be in a band. It was an idle thought in college, a brief glance in the direction of something that didn’t involve hours in the library and brain-frying, hand-cramping exams. One night in December his junior year, he’d sipped warm beer, watched a lead singer bend into a mic, his voice ringing in the hush that had minutes before been bursting with conversation, and for just a moment, Drew wanted it—the sharp inhale of a crowd hanging onto your every word, the hazy burn of stage lights, the nakedness of it all. The freedom.

“Drew.” The guitarist—what’s his name, Anderson?—shoves him towards rippling curtains. “Hurry up.”

“Man, I’m telling you, I can’t do this.” Drew would really like to wake up now. “It’s just—I’m not—” He tries to breathe, but it’s not happening. There are people outside in those seats, their voices a wall of indomitable sound. This is not what he wanted to wake up to this morning.

Suddenly, there’s a small hand on his. A quiet, familiar voice.

“Drew,” she says, and her fingers are warm against his clammy skin.


“Stop having a panic attack and let’s do this shit.” She squeezes briefly. “We’ve done it a million times. You’ll kick ass. And if you don’t, who cares? Do you think anyone out there is going to be sober enough tomorrow to remember?”

“Oh, fucking great,” Anderson hisses from somewhere to the left. “That’s a motivational speech if I ever heard one.”

Drew turns to look at Josie, then. There’s something about her dark eyes he never appreciated until this very second.

“I’ve never sung in front of anyone before,” he whispers.

“Okay, we’re fucked,” Anderson says, nodding calmly at the gangly bassist who keeps checking his iPhone. “Really and truly fucked.”

“We are not fucked,” Josie snaps. “Jesus. Would you just go on? We’ll be there in a second.”

Anderson grinds his teeth, grabs a guitar from its velvet-lined case.

“Fine. You’ve got two minutes to get his ass in gear.”

“We’ll improvise,” the drummer assures Josie, eyeing Drew over the top of her head before ducking through a gap in the curtains. The noise crescendos into applause.

Yeah, Drew’s going to pass out.

The square root of one hundred and fifteen is 10.724. The mass of a substance contained in a unit volume is its density. The density of water is one thousand kilograms. In the average lifetime, a person will walk the equivalent of five times around the equator.

“Okay, so.” Josie presses a mic into his hands. “This is happening. I don’t know what’s up with you, but do me a favor?”

“What?” Drew tries not to throw the mic down, tries to focus on Josie and her kind eyes. She has long fingers, he notices. Pianist’s fingers.

“Try to remember that the difference between anxiety and exhilaration is a breath.” She stands on tiptoe, kisses his cheek.
feelin' : pensivepensive
Alejandra (was here)
11 February 2011 @ 02:06 am
Dear Friday Night Lights,

You are probably the best show in the entire universe. If I could stop bawling right now, I would be beaming with happiness and pride at how amazing you were and how far you went and what you've meant to me.

Maybe it's stupid to get so worked up over a TV show ending, but I don't care. I feel like I'm saying goodbye to one of my closest friends. 

Thank you. 

For everything.

Love always and forever,

feelin' : draineddrained
Alejandra (was here)
04 February 2011 @ 05:31 pm
I heard about the No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act, and pretty much wanted to throw up. This bill scares me on so many levels--but it also exhausts me. To further limit a woman's right to do what she wants with her own body and to try to redefine rape speaks to a sexist society, a society that places stock not in victims' rights, but in further victimizing. Pro-choice, pro-life: we should all stand against this bill, one that asks a rape victim who can't afford an abortion to suffer further trauma. 

Relieved as I am to hear that the GOP has hastily backtracked and removed the need for the rape to be forcible, it's important to note that they would even seek to add that in the first place. In 2011, they wanted a woman to  "prove" that she had suffered the right kind of rape. I'm happy that people spoke out, happy that it wasn't going by unnoticed. It made me feel a little safer to know that the country wasn't going to sit idly by and watch this happen.

On Tuesday, for the first time ever, I wrote a letter to my congressional representative. I've never done it before, so I wasn't sure how to approach it or what to say. I just knew I couldn't stay silent. Not about this. I wanted to share it here with you, because it was a little scary to write, but it also felt good. I doubt my congressman would have supported this bill anyway, judging by his past voting record, but I wanted to be extra sure. 

Dear Congressman Polis,

Please just say no. Collapse )

Honestly? This is why I have trouble putting any stock in a Republican candidate. For all the flaws I can find with Democrats, for how often politics in general frustrates me, I feel so much safer as a woman with Democrats having more power. At least I can be reasonably sure they won't tell me what kind of rape justifies an abortion.

ETA: There's no such thing as a rape victim, doncha know. 

Wow. Just wow. 
feelin' : tiredtired