I am calmly frazzled with all of the projects and people and drama that gets thrown at me. The rain got into my aura, I think, and reminded me of the power of things bigger than my little world. I pulled on my brand new wonderously sleeping-bag esque eskimo jacket with tons of fur on the hood and felt safe. Why can't all days be rainy?
I have a friend who is drama incarnate. I think she is the most unlike me of anyone I've ever met. I've become friends with her boyfriend and he constantly asks me if they should be together and I don't have the balls to say "RUN! FAST!" because I call her my friend. If everyone had the forgiveness and patience I have for that girl there would be world peace... no doubt.
I got an interview two days after submitting a resume and it made me feel ashamed- Chris has been looking for months and not gotten any sort of feedback. But I hate being poor more than I feel bad for him so I'm going on an interview on Friday.
I reconnected with two amazing old friends- I forgot how much better it feels to surround yourself with people who love you than people who only save a seat for you in class when they aren't feeling pissy. I can't decide what hurts more- having amazing people living far away from me so I can't ever hang out with them in person, or having people around all the time who expect you to be their selfishness enabler. I think sadness hangs in the shadows for good people, and in the unexamined souls of bad people.
Christmas is such a horrible, sad holiday for me now. I used to be the unshakable holiday optimist who saw magic in every wreath and watched five christmas movies the day after Thanksgiving. My mom and my Chris have put me in a horrible place. My mom doesn't let Chris participate in our Christmas, claiming that he isn't officially part of the family yet (that offends Chris) and yet I'm not allowed to have Christmas with him (it is blaspheme for me to not have Christmas with my family- according to my mother). Chris claims I am allowed to make my own decisions- easy enough for someone to say when their family is easygoing and distant- and that my mom should understand. He gets depressed and refuses to celebrate the holidays. My mom just argues with me about it at any opportunity. Last Christmas there was a fight that resulted in a ruined holiday and my mom and I not speaking for two months. Somehow I've lost the wonderful spirit that used to encompass me around November and December- somehow I'm just waiting for unfairness and resentment and ignorance to smack me for wanting to be with all the people I love.
Photography is... challenging. Artistically not technically. I'm impatient to be brilliant but I'm still learning how to find brilliance, and every teacher and photographer has a different ethic and technique to thrust down our throats. Photo 111 has zero expectations, Photo 102 expects thorough research, 40 expects perfect technicality, and 199 expects the unexpected. I've found I really want to be the best but in art there is no "best". Which confuses my motivation.
I've been eating horribly... probably because two things off a dollar menu constitutes a meal and nothing else that is two dollars can be called an entire meal. My gym card is lost and they want to charge me ten dollars to get a new one... so I have to pay a third of my monthly membership price to go back to the gym and I've been avoiding it.
My cat plays with trash. Seriously his favorite toys are bottlecaps and empty soda boxes. He is the most beautiful, fluffy little boy and he is so needy I call him my little baby. He won't even sleep anywhere but on my chest. Silly animal, I love him so.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Because I've always been good at lists....
.. I use them to remember who I am.
I’m not quite sure who I am anymore. I’ve lost a lot of myself; stretched like thin canvas over too much frame. I’m picking up the puzzle pieces, but not all of them fit, and so I’m doing what feels natural to do – make a list. I’ll try to be as honest as I can.
1.I am calm in emergency situations.
2.I am nostalgic and cherish good memories.
3.I am a hopeless romantic in every sense of the cliché.
4.I never finish anything I start, but I always hope and want to.
5.I get my emotions and frustrations out through writing. Sometimes it’s the only way I can.
6. With enough time and patience, I am able to talk through any problem with someone who understands me.
7. I don’t respond well to violence. Something as simple as an unexpected punch can reduce me to tears.
8. I am overly emotional. I cry at anything that evokes a strong enough emotion, be it anger, passion, love, sadness, or joy.
9.I love music. I love making it (on the piano or singing) and listening to it. There are very few types of music I don’t like.
10.I’m deathly afraid of being ordinary or boring.
11.I like trying new things, but I’m always afraid I’ll be bad at them.
12.I believe I’m beautiful, but I’m ashamed of the weight I am at.
13.I truly want to lose weight, but I feel like the time and effort I put into it will take away time that could be spent with Chris.
14.I love creative, calm activities. Painting, sculpting, scrapbooking, writing in my diary, sketching.
15.I like girly things- painting my nails, going to the spa, doing my makeup and hair, masks and facials.
16.I daydream constantly. Mostly about being more adventurous than I currently am.
17.I’m a natural procrastinator.
18.I like being social, and I like when people like being around me. It bothers me when people who barely know me don’t like me.
19.I miss my grandpa every day. He was the only member of my family I feel I resemble in personality, and the glue that held my family together. I think my life would have been happier if he was still here.
20.I love reading. As long as the plot is captivating and there isn’t too much useless fluff (the Hobbit for example) I’ll read almost anything.
21.I like doing well in school. When I’m succeeding in school a lot of the rest of my life falls into place- I think it’s where I find pride in myself.
22.I am meant to be with Chris no matter how different we are. I know it somewhere so deep it took me a long time to realize it.
23.I like being productive. If I’ve spent an entire day playing games or watching TV I get a little depressed. Even if all I do is organize a drawer or do the dishes I feel better.
24.Being independent is one of my greatest wants. When I can earn enough money to support myself fully it will be a wonderful thing.
25.If I could choose any profession in the world and mold myself to it, I would be a dancer.
26.Most of the time I am mildly depressed. It takes more than just waking up to improve my mood. It would be much easier to be angry or apathetic all day.
27.I get angry when I trust people and they let me down, or are hypocritical.
28.I used to become centered and at peace when I spent time alone, now I just become depressed and frustrated. I wish I could get back to the former.
29.I don’t mind when people underestimate me, but everyone seems to overestimate me, and it only makes me feel like a failure.
30.I am a sore loser. I don’t know why.
I’m not quite sure who I am anymore. I’ve lost a lot of myself; stretched like thin canvas over too much frame. I’m picking up the puzzle pieces, but not all of them fit, and so I’m doing what feels natural to do – make a list. I’ll try to be as honest as I can.
1.I am calm in emergency situations.
2.I am nostalgic and cherish good memories.
3.I am a hopeless romantic in every sense of the cliché.
4.I never finish anything I start, but I always hope and want to.
5.I get my emotions and frustrations out through writing. Sometimes it’s the only way I can.
6. With enough time and patience, I am able to talk through any problem with someone who understands me.
7. I don’t respond well to violence. Something as simple as an unexpected punch can reduce me to tears.
8. I am overly emotional. I cry at anything that evokes a strong enough emotion, be it anger, passion, love, sadness, or joy.
9.I love music. I love making it (on the piano or singing) and listening to it. There are very few types of music I don’t like.
10.I’m deathly afraid of being ordinary or boring.
11.I like trying new things, but I’m always afraid I’ll be bad at them.
12.I believe I’m beautiful, but I’m ashamed of the weight I am at.
13.I truly want to lose weight, but I feel like the time and effort I put into it will take away time that could be spent with Chris.
14.I love creative, calm activities. Painting, sculpting, scrapbooking, writing in my diary, sketching.
15.I like girly things- painting my nails, going to the spa, doing my makeup and hair, masks and facials.
16.I daydream constantly. Mostly about being more adventurous than I currently am.
17.I’m a natural procrastinator.
18.I like being social, and I like when people like being around me. It bothers me when people who barely know me don’t like me.
19.I miss my grandpa every day. He was the only member of my family I feel I resemble in personality, and the glue that held my family together. I think my life would have been happier if he was still here.
20.I love reading. As long as the plot is captivating and there isn’t too much useless fluff (the Hobbit for example) I’ll read almost anything.
21.I like doing well in school. When I’m succeeding in school a lot of the rest of my life falls into place- I think it’s where I find pride in myself.
22.I am meant to be with Chris no matter how different we are. I know it somewhere so deep it took me a long time to realize it.
23.I like being productive. If I’ve spent an entire day playing games or watching TV I get a little depressed. Even if all I do is organize a drawer or do the dishes I feel better.
24.Being independent is one of my greatest wants. When I can earn enough money to support myself fully it will be a wonderful thing.
25.If I could choose any profession in the world and mold myself to it, I would be a dancer.
26.Most of the time I am mildly depressed. It takes more than just waking up to improve my mood. It would be much easier to be angry or apathetic all day.
27.I get angry when I trust people and they let me down, or are hypocritical.
28.I used to become centered and at peace when I spent time alone, now I just become depressed and frustrated. I wish I could get back to the former.
29.I don’t mind when people underestimate me, but everyone seems to overestimate me, and it only makes me feel like a failure.
30.I am a sore loser. I don’t know why.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I'm just a little black rain cloud...
>
My moods are so color-changing around Christopher. He presses against me and I can feel myself, transparent, revealing sadness, happiness, euphoria in the florescence that leaves its chest and stomach and hand shaped shadows. He can put on his deeper voice, his authoritative demeanor, his strong deep loving eyes, and I can be more in love with him than ever, curling into the shape of him as easily as slipping into a warm bath. Other times he whines, a torrent of shallow drama and feminine games, wanting to be petted and spoiled, and I feel torn. I dream mostly of the men I’ve been with and the idea of all of the sums of their good parts; a boho Odysseus with mischievous eyes and patient hands that shatters my insecurities. The dreams of real men always leave me confused and jittery- like there is a novel-worthy adventure of epic romantic proportions waiting for me if I explored the world with both hands. Other times Chris’s love is everything and the walls that keep my expanding craziness at bay. His love is dark, hardwood, constricting and solid like the hug you need when your life is crumbling away. His common sense is two hands wrapping around my throat, but his unyielding ambition is the phoenix that continues to rise from the ashes, allowing me to sing. The greys and the confusion I see in life; the space between rainbows doesn’t exist for him- he sees only cloud cover. Occasionally I can break through his melancholy with a well placed weekend away, or a perfectly executed Sunday drive when we aren’t broke enough to let it spoil the day.
Lately I’ve been a torrential rain pounding insanely on the pavement. My head aches with the effort, but I can’t seem to stop. Losing a dream is harder than everyone tells you it will be. It is like a death, and an abortion, and a breakup all rolled into one. You feel empty, rejected, and lonely but time seems to tick on, so you’re left scrambling to stitch yourself back together as your wound keeps bleeding. People help. Love helps. But not much. My own brain sabotages my attempts at happiness- I find myself angry and bitter with no cause in sight.
Maybe when the light passes through the clouds I’ll catch a ray and find myself recovering from this seasonal depression of lost ambition. But until then I’ll continue to fling myself against rooftops and sidewalks, knowing that once the rain stops, the smell of clean earth will lift my spirits.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Do I Dream.
Harlequinned memories masquerade themselves
between bedsheets and underneath stuccoed ceilings
like stars they burn the blackness,
and etch their stories with thick fingernails
like the first ray of sun
that sucks the smell of sweet earth after a storm.
Prance and undulate they cry
as a six year old girl with my face
smiles and tugs on my sleeve,
the pungent joy pierces the air,
and she twirls,
oblivious to the reality
that lies just beyond the curtain.
Step left step right
Avoid the diamonds just below
the prom dress rips
and every eye is on every other tear in the fabric
the tears drip across years and fears
unaddressed, adorned in pearls and feathers.
Stumble and you may be lost
His chocolate hair smells familiar like cigarettes,
with a smile that made our winter irrelevant.
brittle branches loiter in the closet
pulled on like clothes that hurt when we got close,
but it is all spring now while daylight plays elsewhere.
But what of the cost of dancing
she screamed to the sequined sandman,
each grain finds its way home and sticks,
breeding malcontent and planting yellow roses,
where there is only concrete and satisfaction.
My heart pays the fare but
do I trust the chariot driver.
between bedsheets and underneath stuccoed ceilings
like stars they burn the blackness,
and etch their stories with thick fingernails
like the first ray of sun
that sucks the smell of sweet earth after a storm.
Prance and undulate they cry
as a six year old girl with my face
smiles and tugs on my sleeve,
the pungent joy pierces the air,
and she twirls,
oblivious to the reality
that lies just beyond the curtain.
Step left step right
Avoid the diamonds just below
the prom dress rips
and every eye is on every other tear in the fabric
the tears drip across years and fears
unaddressed, adorned in pearls and feathers.
Stumble and you may be lost
His chocolate hair smells familiar like cigarettes,
with a smile that made our winter irrelevant.
brittle branches loiter in the closet
pulled on like clothes that hurt when we got close,
but it is all spring now while daylight plays elsewhere.
But what of the cost of dancing
she screamed to the sequined sandman,
each grain finds its way home and sticks,
breeding malcontent and planting yellow roses,
where there is only concrete and satisfaction.
My heart pays the fare but
do I trust the chariot driver.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Why I will always be glad.
I've decided to go through a bunch of my old writings I've saved up and done nothing with and expose them- they will now be shamelessly naked.
This is a list of reasons why I was glad to be alive. I believe it still applies, and I would like to remain the girl who wrote them down.
1. I'm glad I have morals.
2. I'm glad I don't have to be mean to gain respect.
3. I'm glad I still have compassion and kindness, and retain them after others break down.
4. I'm glad I have a passion for music; that I can let it override my soul and take my problems away.
5. I'm glad I find joy in things that are not man-made.
6. I'm glad I love.
7. I'm glad I trust too much. I would rather place trust in the wrong hands and be let down than never trust at all.
8. I'm glad I am healthy and whole.
9. I'm glad I have never known true hardship.
10. I'm glad I know that men are not the answer to my life.
11. I'm glad I know that women are not the answer to my life.
12. I'm glad I don't care if people decide not to like me.
13. I'm glad I'm not jealous anymore.
14. I'm glad I am insanely loved.
15. I'm glad starbucks makes portable chilled coffee that conveniently shows up in vending machines when I most need it.
16. I'm glad I keep my own secrets, until someone is worth telling.
17. I'm glad I know that even if I lose my friends, I will never lose my God or myself.
18. I'm so glad the world is beautiful, and that I'm not blind to it.
19. I'm glad I have a passion for culture and art, for masterpieces and craftsmanship, for foreign countries and far-off places, even if everyone thinks I'm crazy.
20. I'm glad I found out that sex isn't all its cracked up to be, until you find someone that makes true love all its cracked up to be.
21. I'm glad I occasionally steal my boyfriend's clothes, and he loves it.
22. I'm glad I daydream.
23. I'm glad I have unimaginably unreachable goals.
24. I'm glad I realize that my childhood is over, adulthood isn't far ahead, and my choices are all my own.
25. I'm glad I bite my nails, obsessively pluck my eyebrows, have calloused feet and am overweight. If I was perfect, it would be like starting life at the finish line.
26. I'm glad I have people that understand me. It makes all the difference when you're at the bottom of a hole you dug yourself.
27. I'm glad I like to be clean.
28. I'm glad someone invented slightly flavored water. I don't know why.
29. I'm glad I can light incense and a perfect path to who I want to be forms in my head.
30. I'm glad I don't have to fit any kind of mold. Living an unexpected life makes everything special.
This is a list of reasons why I was glad to be alive. I believe it still applies, and I would like to remain the girl who wrote them down.
1. I'm glad I have morals.
2. I'm glad I don't have to be mean to gain respect.
3. I'm glad I still have compassion and kindness, and retain them after others break down.
4. I'm glad I have a passion for music; that I can let it override my soul and take my problems away.
5. I'm glad I find joy in things that are not man-made.
6. I'm glad I love.
7. I'm glad I trust too much. I would rather place trust in the wrong hands and be let down than never trust at all.
8. I'm glad I am healthy and whole.
9. I'm glad I have never known true hardship.
10. I'm glad I know that men are not the answer to my life.
11. I'm glad I know that women are not the answer to my life.
12. I'm glad I don't care if people decide not to like me.
13. I'm glad I'm not jealous anymore.
14. I'm glad I am insanely loved.
15. I'm glad starbucks makes portable chilled coffee that conveniently shows up in vending machines when I most need it.
16. I'm glad I keep my own secrets, until someone is worth telling.
17. I'm glad I know that even if I lose my friends, I will never lose my God or myself.
18. I'm so glad the world is beautiful, and that I'm not blind to it.
19. I'm glad I have a passion for culture and art, for masterpieces and craftsmanship, for foreign countries and far-off places, even if everyone thinks I'm crazy.
20. I'm glad I found out that sex isn't all its cracked up to be, until you find someone that makes true love all its cracked up to be.
21. I'm glad I occasionally steal my boyfriend's clothes, and he loves it.
22. I'm glad I daydream.
23. I'm glad I have unimaginably unreachable goals.
24. I'm glad I realize that my childhood is over, adulthood isn't far ahead, and my choices are all my own.
25. I'm glad I bite my nails, obsessively pluck my eyebrows, have calloused feet and am overweight. If I was perfect, it would be like starting life at the finish line.
26. I'm glad I have people that understand me. It makes all the difference when you're at the bottom of a hole you dug yourself.
27. I'm glad I like to be clean.
28. I'm glad someone invented slightly flavored water. I don't know why.
29. I'm glad I can light incense and a perfect path to who I want to be forms in my head.
30. I'm glad I don't have to fit any kind of mold. Living an unexpected life makes everything special.
Back! *Now with Poetry*
2/18/2009
I look around for the source of laughter,
Expecting your face,
Sharing every moment
But now
My own perfect independence
Is bruised with loneliness
In longing my fingers trace
The shadows where your face belongs
They know its familiar curves
Better than i
The words I use pale
The sun grows dim
Without the muse that brings
Brilliant color to a faded everyday
The warmth of you still clings
To my clothes
And calms the icy thoughts
That frost the edges of my smile
I am half.
I am missing.
I am lost.
In this world of freedom
I am malcontent
Until I can again press my lips
To every freckle
And know neither of us has to be alone.
I look around for the source of laughter,
Expecting your face,
Sharing every moment
But now
My own perfect independence
Is bruised with loneliness
In longing my fingers trace
The shadows where your face belongs
They know its familiar curves
Better than i
The words I use pale
The sun grows dim
Without the muse that brings
Brilliant color to a faded everyday
The warmth of you still clings
To my clothes
And calms the icy thoughts
That frost the edges of my smile
I am half.
I am missing.
I am lost.
In this world of freedom
I am malcontent
Until I can again press my lips
To every freckle
And know neither of us has to be alone.
Friday, April 21, 2006
A bit amiss
I don't know what it is, but the last few days have been off. At first I thought it was something to do with me, or the weather, or simply just being depressed at having parentals breathing down my neck for an entire weekend, but theres just something else tugging at the edge of my mind. Its like a damp weight I can't shake; like somethings about to happen and its too terrible to really let in. Kinda crazy I know, but Chris agreed with me and we chatted about it while seeking comfort food in the Atascadero Albertsons. If I went a little out there and forgot for a minute that I wasn't a lunatic with a crystal ball, I would say that It feels like a tragedy happened; or someone died, and the rest of the world hasn't caught up yet. As if I'm just waiting for the inevitable; powerless to do anything about it, and its right at my doorstep. There's something in the wind that makes me not want to go outside- a spooky sort of night that is recreated with music and good filmography in horror movies. I don't know why it scares me but it does. Its similar to that feeling I used to get in middle school- when depression was something i whined about to my diaries.
Before I pinpointed this, my head was absorbed with finding out what it was that was making me lethargic and on edge at the same time- that feeling I had after my grandpa died- in mourning and waiting for the next blow to come. Is it a premonition of some sort? I have no idea; but its creeping me out and I'm waiting for it to go away. I hope it does, or that the blow comes, because the anguish is in the waiting, not in the moment of truth.
Before I pinpointed this, my head was absorbed with finding out what it was that was making me lethargic and on edge at the same time- that feeling I had after my grandpa died- in mourning and waiting for the next blow to come. Is it a premonition of some sort? I have no idea; but its creeping me out and I'm waiting for it to go away. I hope it does, or that the blow comes, because the anguish is in the waiting, not in the moment of truth.
Friday, March 31, 2006
into the depths - poetry for the few
A skyline is etched into my thoughts
i miss you
i stare out windows
hoping for your scent
deaf ears cannot feel or bleed
with an early morning and an empty voicemail
silent moments
so solid beside me
i call a name to the night
but it is morning
complete with faulty window
and heartless ticking
of moments alone
my heart throbs
realizing its use
and aches
after this marathon we've run
my thoughts are lost in this
dew clinging to my ankles
wading too deep
in such a shallow pool
a pale imitation
makes its entrance
expecting awe
i cannot pretend any longer
for i've seen the original
its mold
my life a lie before your face
my efforts in vain
before attempting you
and i yearn for it
as i do air after a breath.
i miss you
i stare out windows
hoping for your scent
deaf ears cannot feel or bleed
with an early morning and an empty voicemail
silent moments
so solid beside me
i call a name to the night
but it is morning
complete with faulty window
and heartless ticking
of moments alone
my heart throbs
realizing its use
and aches
after this marathon we've run
my thoughts are lost in this
dew clinging to my ankles
wading too deep
in such a shallow pool
a pale imitation
makes its entrance
expecting awe
i cannot pretend any longer
for i've seen the original
its mold
my life a lie before your face
my efforts in vain
before attempting you
and i yearn for it
as i do air after a breath.
Monday, March 27, 2006
this is what makes life divine
I had an odd conversation with a friend about love over the weekend.
Me: "But why aren't you out there trying to find someone to fall in love with?"
Mr. Friend: "I'm not sure I even want that"
Me (thoroughly confused): "What?"
Mr. Friend (patiently): "There are plenty of guys who have gone on being bachelors forever. That life is just easier."
Me: "But don't you want to be in love?"
Mr. Friend: "I've never really wanted it."
Me: "Because you've never experienced it?"
Mr. Friend: "yeah, i guess."
To some people, this might not be strange. To me, it was like two squares talking about possibly never wanting or needing a square shaped hole to fit in. (Wow, totally sounded naughty but not going there, we're talking about love peoples) I realized an extraordinarily long time ago that I was addicted to falling in love, being in love, searching for love. Its just one of those odd things I found intoxicating and easy to do, like Bejeweled 2 on yahoo games (the downfall of my anti-procrastination efforts). Being in love has the same nasty effect on me that buying something on Ebay does: giddy satisfaction. But this newfangled idea from one of my best friends was shocking to my system: no hope for romantic love? It consumes my thoughts and guides my actions, because it is the goal at which I aim with every inch of my existence. And for him, this doesn't matter at all. It sounds like the classic shock kids brought up in Christian homes face when they meet the aetheist's kid for the first time: how can something you've always known to be true, right, and worth pursuing over everything, mean nothing or even be a nasty thought in someone elses mind? Something tells me that he'll find someone amazing, that is the perfect fit in his life, and he'll see the value of loving her, and wonder what he did without it.
And then again why do I have to be right? Maybe my addiction is really that: something harmful that eats away at all other aspects of my life. True I haven't been single since the beginning of 8th grade (a good 5 years back), but why would i want to be single? I know plenty of people who would argue independance, freedom, less turmoil in life, but i really don't crave any of those things, because they exist while out of a relationship just as they do in it, just with a slightly different spin on them. Detremental as my addiction is, the worst of it probably comes with the fact that I hang on to relationships longer than I should, even when all the happiness has been sucked out and the only good that is left is shallow and hungry. The fear of being out of love, the possibility that I'd be giving up the one I'm supposed to be with, as well as the thought that I might not find one better, cripple me. Current circumstances prove to be challenging in this way, and the 2 year relationship with a boy that once resembled all my happiness is hanging on my love of love, not my good sense. Advice on this matter would be extremely helpful, for I am a fool in love, and a bigger fool out of it, so my addled brain can't think on this subject any longer.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
higher thoughts (don't bother if you don't like religious babble)
i've been thinking about everything Paul said to me on that very unexpectedly long phone conversation last weekend. After a 5 hour phone call I was left with a list of verses and a very warm feeling of love and another of cold uncertainty and instructions to take time out of my day to think about God. Its useless to compare him to human circumstances but its all I know, and so it feels like he's my soulmate and I've cheated on him. Even though i know he'll take me back in a heartbeat, i feel too guilty and ashamed to accept. How can so many wrongs be forgotten? Of course, being God, He isn't barricaded by the blindness of human nature, and can forgive and forget what He pleases, but it is unfathomable to my mind and therefore I feel more guilty than I have will to be relieved from it. Sick, painful waves crash over my thoughts and my heart whenever i have the slightest thought of attempting to talk to God about anything, or even admitting that his presence is always with me, because that would mean that he witnessed everything my naiive mind ignorantly believes is so hidden until divulged at my will. How vain is that? Plus i cannot bear the thought that he already knew i would fall, and yet gave me so much joy so short of time ago. If I knew a friend would betray me.... well then again i dont' know what i would do. probably sulk and accuse them of doing terrible things before they happened. and again i remind myself that God cannot, will not, and never will be anything so tainted as a human.
I miss peace in myself. when trying to convert or "save" people, many evangelists look to scripture to prove their points through logic, or point out that hell will burn you in more ways than are consiously fathomable to scare some into faith, but for me it was the feeling of letting go of the worries of life, completely existing in joy, and feeling a warm calm in my heart, instead of the dead weight that sits there brooding now. Ian touched on it my sophomore year, when he made it his life's goal to convert me. It was fire and brimstone most of the time, which i recoiled from, but then he touched on the amazing freedom from stress, from jealousy, from the tendrils of society that wind their way into what we think we need, and from everything that had ever plauged me since i'd cut my wrists in junior high.
i feel as though i was walking such a straight path, and then suddenly was tossed across the expanse of the earth to lie in a gutter, and there is no one to blame but myself. the love that i once felt so purely like snowflakes on bare skin had been replaced by hail that only pounds until all you can do is hide from it and take comfort in more meaningless things.
i never loved before i loved God. and i have loved a great many times. my life, my self, my meaning is lost without it. what can i do but run back into the arms of the only constant source of that which sustains me and beg for forgiveness. like begging for air to come back into my lungs or feeling back into a numb leg.
I don't know where to begin, but i guess that is silly, because here it is.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
love is a little splendored thing
It seems as though my mantra for life, the thing with which I understand my God, my friends, my parents, my boyfriends... is now suddenly more multi-faceted than the special menu at In and Out. Love has always been a thoughtless thing for me, I find myself in love more easily and naturally than leaves find themselves falling in autumn. The excentricities and complexities of other people's personalities are so intriguing, they never cease to capture my heart, and in that I find fault in myself. And today I opened my eyes and didn't see the man in front of me. A chink in the system, a crack in his wonderful exterior now swims beneath my devotion and causes so much doubt I no longer place my future in his hands. How can one boy not be enough for me? Everyone preaches soulmates from soapboxes and true loves from rooftops, but experience contradicts it so harshly.
All passion is gone from my love, and love without passion is nothing in my book. Without wanting, how can we have?
I'm wearing black today. Everyone says it brings out the blue in my eyes, like putting diamonds on velvet at Tiffany's. I feel thinner in black, like the excess worry inside, bloating my happiness to unrecognizable proportions, can show itself on the outside, soaked into the blackness of my clothing. This is too depressing. Later.
Monday, March 06, 2006
flooded
Friends are idiots. As soon as you let them within an inch of your emotions, everything is black until you wake up with everything in shambles. The more south you go in California, the faker everything is- the people, the smiles, the building facades, the morals, and everything else in between. Not that north is much better, but its calmer and more secure in being honest, even if it means pissing someone off. Here, it seems, pissing people off is the game of choice, and everyone plays it under the guise of sincerity. People are just too complex these days, like a simple looking song with five flats sandwitched between the lines. Beautiful, intriguing and intoxicating as these complexities may be, I would much rather have a beginner's nocturne- simple, sad, and stunning.
My mother always tells me that grounded people attract the crazies, and that, unfortunately, I'm one of the grounded people. I'm quite sick of the crazies. Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 pounded on my door this morning and bellowed, "It's 8:30 in the morning; turn your music down." I had a million responses for her that were centered around the sex that you can hear anywhere within a mile radius every time her boyfriend comes to town, and her own loudness at all times of the day, but instead I shut the door and turned down Jack Johnson, who by the way is the most mellow artist out there, and one more turn of the dial made the volume turn completely off, so it couldn't have been that loud anyway. Those are the kind of people that make you want to bang your head against the wall until part of it is dented, then confront them with "YOUR IDIOTICNESS MADE ME DEFORMED!" but unfortunately i like my short term memory. Its the long term i could do without.
All of the above rudeness that came from Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 came only a few nights after another anger-inducing evening.... friday i believe it was. An 80s Pj party was planned in honor of Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 and the "stress" she's had to deal with. I was to be included for whatever reason, but was completely ignored throughout the grocery shopping and the primping periods by her, and only recieved giggles and odd comments from Southern Cutie Suitemate, to my profound confusion. I tried to be bubbly and participate in the drunken revelrie, but its hard when the am I wanted question is thudding around in my head. Then as a crowning glory to the night, the suitemate that had ignored me all evening suddenly burst out with a monologue about how great it was to be friends with me and my counterpart Christof. Hurl? por que? bah.
Thoroughly depressed and flu symptoms aren't a good combination. Plus its raining outside. Could it be a more dreary day? I wish I was winnie the pooh, because then i could sing fun songs about it and eat honey and be lovably round, instead of attempting to conform to society's twiggy-esque craze. I need a new pair of gaudily colored socks. That might transform this mood, but not today, because i might sneeze on them.
My mother always tells me that grounded people attract the crazies, and that, unfortunately, I'm one of the grounded people. I'm quite sick of the crazies. Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 pounded on my door this morning and bellowed, "It's 8:30 in the morning; turn your music down." I had a million responses for her that were centered around the sex that you can hear anywhere within a mile radius every time her boyfriend comes to town, and her own loudness at all times of the day, but instead I shut the door and turned down Jack Johnson, who by the way is the most mellow artist out there, and one more turn of the dial made the volume turn completely off, so it couldn't have been that loud anyway. Those are the kind of people that make you want to bang your head against the wall until part of it is dented, then confront them with "YOUR IDIOTICNESS MADE ME DEFORMED!" but unfortunately i like my short term memory. Its the long term i could do without.
All of the above rudeness that came from Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 came only a few nights after another anger-inducing evening.... friday i believe it was. An 80s Pj party was planned in honor of Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 and the "stress" she's had to deal with. I was to be included for whatever reason, but was completely ignored throughout the grocery shopping and the primping periods by her, and only recieved giggles and odd comments from Southern Cutie Suitemate, to my profound confusion. I tried to be bubbly and participate in the drunken revelrie, but its hard when the am I wanted question is thudding around in my head. Then as a crowning glory to the night, the suitemate that had ignored me all evening suddenly burst out with a monologue about how great it was to be friends with me and my counterpart Christof. Hurl? por que? bah.
Thoroughly depressed and flu symptoms aren't a good combination. Plus its raining outside. Could it be a more dreary day? I wish I was winnie the pooh, because then i could sing fun songs about it and eat honey and be lovably round, instead of attempting to conform to society's twiggy-esque craze. I need a new pair of gaudily colored socks. That might transform this mood, but not today, because i might sneeze on them.
Monday, February 27, 2006
away from the sun that shines
Every weekend I go home is like the last weekend I go home. Its like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer, saying "what the hell?!? That hurt!" and then convincing yourself it won't hurt next time, only to repeat the retarded pattern. Isn't that the definition of insanity; doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different outcome? I think I am insane most of the time. For example, I heard a song by 3 Doors down in the mall the other day, and with an extraordinarily painful squeeze, my heart yelled "SEAN!!" all the way up to my brain. And now I've searched it, (the internet is the shiznit) and only slightly illegally downloaded the song from one of my fellow dorm-mates. Its now playing on repeat in my itunes, and I keep expecting not to think about Sean if I listen to it enough. But alas, stupid childish crushes continue to plague my happiness.
I miss the quiet contemplation that used to be my day. No noise but the whirring of poetic and fantastical thoughts creating themself outside my window, no matter what time of day. But now again I'm sucked down into the tragedy of friendship, that cruel torture that is closeness. All boundaries broken and still I feel no exhilaration, because it is forced, not easy anymore. All decisions, all manner of footsteps have to be performed around those people that depend on me, and I'm suddenly not allowed to stray on my own path, in pursuit of everything worth pursuing, but instead twisted by guilty conscience and guilty words to swerve around my own road, windshield wipers off and the music far too loud.
Is it human nature to take good and cast it aside, wanting so much better? These ideals are what crush me, and lead me to abandon lives and people, insisting at fate with a vengeance that, no, this cannot be my life, but some sort of greener pastures are just over the next week. I reach the blossomed tops of hills and turn around, looking for a more challenging mountain to climb. With love I am the worst sort of cantidate. The love I have now should suffice, but my soul aches for something else, something more pure, more satisfying, deeper somehow. He is amazing, and the sight of him makes the music in my head resound with less force, he calms my soul, but do I really want a man that doesn't fight his battles, puts mingling with middle schoolers (on some game that will not ever affect his life other than keeping him from living it) above paying attention to me, only wants to hang out with me "sometimes", and is completely tactless? Maybe it is the fact that I love him despite these shortcomings that makes it suffice. However countless better cantidates, both fictional and real, plague every feeling about him I have, convincing me it isn't enough. God im rambling.
I miss the quiet contemplation that used to be my day. No noise but the whirring of poetic and fantastical thoughts creating themself outside my window, no matter what time of day. But now again I'm sucked down into the tragedy of friendship, that cruel torture that is closeness. All boundaries broken and still I feel no exhilaration, because it is forced, not easy anymore. All decisions, all manner of footsteps have to be performed around those people that depend on me, and I'm suddenly not allowed to stray on my own path, in pursuit of everything worth pursuing, but instead twisted by guilty conscience and guilty words to swerve around my own road, windshield wipers off and the music far too loud.
Is it human nature to take good and cast it aside, wanting so much better? These ideals are what crush me, and lead me to abandon lives and people, insisting at fate with a vengeance that, no, this cannot be my life, but some sort of greener pastures are just over the next week. I reach the blossomed tops of hills and turn around, looking for a more challenging mountain to climb. With love I am the worst sort of cantidate. The love I have now should suffice, but my soul aches for something else, something more pure, more satisfying, deeper somehow. He is amazing, and the sight of him makes the music in my head resound with less force, he calms my soul, but do I really want a man that doesn't fight his battles, puts mingling with middle schoolers (on some game that will not ever affect his life other than keeping him from living it) above paying attention to me, only wants to hang out with me "sometimes", and is completely tactless? Maybe it is the fact that I love him despite these shortcomings that makes it suffice. However countless better cantidates, both fictional and real, plague every feeling about him I have, convincing me it isn't enough. God im rambling.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
what is really going on?
I had to crawl over my roomate's boyfriend's lanky Abercrombied legs in the early AM only to forget that my cell phone was a few leaps away.
Of course it rang- some sort of tango i only use for people that are fun to talk to- and I crashed into the dorm issued desk with massive force to Brandon's chipper voice that wouldn't shut up about some online game. "That prat." was all that went through my head; I've been thinking in British lately. Unplugging my blue christmas lights proved so difficult I left them on, blinking annoyingly in the dark. Dark to me, because i'm hopeless in anything but sunlight- a total idiot.
By the time I woke up my newly dyed hair still smelled dyed and it about turned me green. I raced to the Flintstones (those miracle candies that keep you blissfully thinking you're healthy) and pulled on clothes and thought "today might be a bad day." As predicted the neighbor of doom struck again and decided she was going to excersise her executive power over the weak minds of our dormmates and make me enemy target #1. Im pretty sure I pissed her off with apathy, but it could be something equally important like spending money on hand soap or toilet paper stealing (neither of which im guilty of). After weeks of cute girly babble and invitations to parties I was starting to feel included again, and my junior high acceptance light went off somewhere inside the grey matter. What was worse is i've concluded that she and the ex-best friend are conspiring to bring me down, if not break me of perpetual laid-backness and non-confrontationalness. They shall not succeed, but I don't think they know that yet. So the ex-best friend's stringy brown hair is always swishing into someone's room I thought knew better than to invite Satan into their residence. I suppose not.
It kind of sucks that they all hated her first, and I didn't, but now that I've pinpointed her killer instincts down to an alien science, and fled her scene, they all shrug and say she's not that bad. All I do is smile and call everyone "doll" or "hun" while shifting about in converse or some sort of new hat. Can hating me be that easy? I hope I don't have one of those "hateable" faces that sort of make you punchable to people you don't know. Never gotten that reaction, but Im still somewhat young.
Everything is brown now, including my hair and shoes. My toilet paper has been stolen, but there is nothing brown about that, for I've gone and stolen someone elses and affixed a neon sticky note to it, explaining that I'm too poor to keep overlooking stolen toilet paper. I'm finally adjusting to Maroon 5, but now i learn that Rob Thomas is going solo, which means more adjusting.
Lists, lists and more lists are eating up class time. I concentrate when Im not looking at a teacher. Looking at them only makes me wonder what the hell could make them want to be teachers, and whether they know that chin hairs the size of small children are poking people as they talk, and by then the subject matter is lost. Ironic that the only class I was meant to love is taught by a bimbo who talks about ballet and her fiance. She's in her 70s so fiance isn't that cute.
I'm tired of some people, including friends and boyfriends.
I just want to be alone, but being alone makes other people moody. I swear around 40 hours of alone-ness will leave me stable for the next month or so of bone-crushing stalkery hanging out. Can't wait till summer but then again it means leaving here, so whatever is making me want it must be crazy. At least I won't have to stumble over someone elses boyfriend at 2 in the morning, unless I invite him over.
Of course it rang- some sort of tango i only use for people that are fun to talk to- and I crashed into the dorm issued desk with massive force to Brandon's chipper voice that wouldn't shut up about some online game. "That prat." was all that went through my head; I've been thinking in British lately. Unplugging my blue christmas lights proved so difficult I left them on, blinking annoyingly in the dark. Dark to me, because i'm hopeless in anything but sunlight- a total idiot.
By the time I woke up my newly dyed hair still smelled dyed and it about turned me green. I raced to the Flintstones (those miracle candies that keep you blissfully thinking you're healthy) and pulled on clothes and thought "today might be a bad day." As predicted the neighbor of doom struck again and decided she was going to excersise her executive power over the weak minds of our dormmates and make me enemy target #1. Im pretty sure I pissed her off with apathy, but it could be something equally important like spending money on hand soap or toilet paper stealing (neither of which im guilty of). After weeks of cute girly babble and invitations to parties I was starting to feel included again, and my junior high acceptance light went off somewhere inside the grey matter. What was worse is i've concluded that she and the ex-best friend are conspiring to bring me down, if not break me of perpetual laid-backness and non-confrontationalness. They shall not succeed, but I don't think they know that yet. So the ex-best friend's stringy brown hair is always swishing into someone's room I thought knew better than to invite Satan into their residence. I suppose not.
It kind of sucks that they all hated her first, and I didn't, but now that I've pinpointed her killer instincts down to an alien science, and fled her scene, they all shrug and say she's not that bad. All I do is smile and call everyone "doll" or "hun" while shifting about in converse or some sort of new hat. Can hating me be that easy? I hope I don't have one of those "hateable" faces that sort of make you punchable to people you don't know. Never gotten that reaction, but Im still somewhat young.
Everything is brown now, including my hair and shoes. My toilet paper has been stolen, but there is nothing brown about that, for I've gone and stolen someone elses and affixed a neon sticky note to it, explaining that I'm too poor to keep overlooking stolen toilet paper. I'm finally adjusting to Maroon 5, but now i learn that Rob Thomas is going solo, which means more adjusting.
Lists, lists and more lists are eating up class time. I concentrate when Im not looking at a teacher. Looking at them only makes me wonder what the hell could make them want to be teachers, and whether they know that chin hairs the size of small children are poking people as they talk, and by then the subject matter is lost. Ironic that the only class I was meant to love is taught by a bimbo who talks about ballet and her fiance. She's in her 70s so fiance isn't that cute.
I'm tired of some people, including friends and boyfriends.
I just want to be alone, but being alone makes other people moody. I swear around 40 hours of alone-ness will leave me stable for the next month or so of bone-crushing stalkery hanging out. Can't wait till summer but then again it means leaving here, so whatever is making me want it must be crazy. At least I won't have to stumble over someone elses boyfriend at 2 in the morning, unless I invite him over.
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