baby, come home.

what do you do when you let go of someone you love?
do you hope for them to come back some day, do you wait patiently, remain faithful,
or do you make amends and carry on?
what do you do if this someone is the one?
i mean, the one.
how do you cope with your mistakes?
how do you watch them be lured in by someone new?
someone tall and thin and beautiful,
a model, a gazelle,
a fraud.
do you let go, do you let him succumb to his weaknesses,
just to hope that he'll survive?
or do you beg, and plead, and implore him to preserve his sanity?
what do you do when the one finally says, "i don't know if i love you anymore"?
do you ask him if he knows what love is?
do you teach him all you've learned, flood him with examples, and hope to ignite understanding?
or do you wait, maybe not so patiently, for him to realize that love isn't as simple as he thinks?
what do you do when fails to see the future you once held together?
when her illicit, explicit figure blocks the light from his view?
do you toss back the shades and debate with an enslaved man?
or do you pray that she trips and pulls the curtains down herself?

how do you remind the one you love,
that he too loves you?

hello, there.

well, i haven't posted in a while. suppose it'll be good for my brain to vomit all over a single page, instead of spitting on multiple passerby's instead...

oddly, diary of a superfluous man gave me this desire to begin blogging again. after a slow period, where everything seemed to be speeding by so quickly i didn't have time to see it, let alone capture and reiterate it...

this russian literature is curious. the russian philosophy is curious. russians are curious. especially russian women, whom i have had poor experiences twice in a row. but that's nothing; professors no longer upset me. i've conquered this campus.

back to russian lit. i've fallen in love with both turgenev and chekhov... i have no idea which i enjoy more. turgenev's first love remains my favorite short story, russian or not. but some of his other tales don't quite allure me.chekhov, on the other hand, is a constant sense of companionship. his "byt"- everyday- stories have a place in my heart for their beautiful, painful, and ultimately pointless tales. to be honest, sometimes turgenev and chekhov seem to blur together... perhaps it's because i enjoy them both so much, half the time i don't know who i'm reading.

the ad project is winding down. i'm ridiculously excited to see the work my kids have done. i take a certain pride in ricardo's work... i've been guiding them the whole way through, and the realization of their ideas has made such an impression on me. this is the ultimately, endlessly rewarding job. i hope to make a career of it soon.

i have an appointment tomorrow morning; that marks four weeks since my last visit. it's strange to think that an entire month has gone by and i have yet to think of bob. sure, every once in a while, something relevant will bring him up. but do i regret it? i don't know how i could. i believe that it worked out for the best, as everything always does. i may not believe in God in his throne up in the clouds, but i also do not believe in coincidence.

looks like work is coming up for me. i'd very much like the opportunity to work with stormfrog. i think joe is very interesting, and even more creative. but i have yet to fully understand his skills and visions... hopefully this will give me more insight into what drives the machine.

my eyes are tired; i find myself reaching for these glasses more and more often. i'm constantly on top of this screen, distorting my vision. even reading becomes strenuous for me now. i admit that i don't have any severe problems, and to some it may seem silly that i have readers... but my vision is my career, and i'm not about to take a chance. i'm hoping to get better lenses in soon... that would help enormously.

erin and i have begun to talk again. it's interesting how this one of my only two grudges instantly melted once she wrote to me. it's not the same as it used to be; it couldn't be, obviously. i know i have changed a deal and she must have as well. for now we're spending time catching up on the past five or six years... it all seems so strange. it brings about so many memories... ones i would rather forget. makes me anxious, upset, ashamed, regretful... but again, i was a child. i did what children do. i was no exception to the mass stereotype of a teenager.

part of me wants to tell her what happened with justin... not that i want to shove it in her face, or gain her pity. that's the last thing i would like. i suppose it's just out of a want to make her aware, to clue her in to what happened after she left. clue her in to what happened when she and our friends abandoned me, left me with no one to turn to but him... and the unfortunate tidings that brought. i don't want to be a victim, but i do want to be heard. i want to increase the understanding of these situations among teens and young adults; to assure them that there is hope. sure, i still have flashbacks, and anxiety attacks... but i'm getting better. and compared to some, i feel i have such a light case and don't deserve to acknowledge it or fight against it. but this seemingly un-abusive offense has rocked me terribly; so what of those who've had worse? who will have worse? i can't let it lie in good conscience.

haven't eaten much today. again. dad says my face is getting thinner.... i wish i could believe him. i really do need to make an effort to exercise... i need to lose this extra weight and prove to myself that i have control of my life. the problem is doing it healthily... that's always the problem.


anyway, i think that's enough for now. i've been sitting in the same place for four hours now. time to walk around.

stimulant sorrows.

these late nights get to me.

i'm always tired; physically, that is. but my mind will never settle. i've noticed that my thought processing has sped up significantly. it's almost as if i have ADD... in the time i normally process one thought, now i jump through four or five. these new ones aren't as complete or in depth. they're surface level- little things i remember, pieces of memories relating to some immediate stimulus, details in my environments. they go back and forth, back and forth, with no progression or reason.

it's a completely different perspective of life for me.

i'm not sure how this will fare once classes begin. i'm normally up until 2 or 3 in the morning. sleep is restless and short. often useless. i have a feeling my productivity level will either improve or plummet. my thoughts are scattered and these last few hours of the day leave me lifeless. my thoughts don't even make progressive sense anymore.

just look at the horrible composition of this entry.

late night lessons.

today has been a very busy day.

i have learned to measure my life in silver, that god is the connections that exist between souls, that all moments of brilliance occur somewhere between exhaustion and rest, and that real, actual love sticks to you like superglue.

because you and i create god with every interaction.
so if god is the source of all love,
i've never had a love stronger than ours.

it's a good thing these drugs keep me awake; otherwise i'd be losing sleep over that.

tysw.

Well that's something, that you're laughing at me.
And I hope you know what it is that you're laughing about.
Cause it wont be long now 'til they're reeling you in.
The same situation, the same disappointment you bring.
So I hope you're happy with the impression you made.
Deep in denial, like you planned it this way.


But you're lost to me.
Like dust I have cleared from my eye.
Your words have no meaning,
So I stare up into the sky

your rhyming, timing language.

chocolate is really not the best thing for me.
i believe you now.
i remember, when you first said that, i thought you had ten heads.
and caffeine. and mint gum.
mint gum? i once lived on a mint gum diet.
started at two pieces a day, worked my way down to three-quarters of a stick.
not my finest time...

funny, those were the days when you showed up.
i remember catching glances through the cafeteria.
i was self conscious. i felt unworthy. ugly.
you later told me it was that day i intrigued you most.
i was mysterious, you said.
beautiful, too.

oh, i loved you for it. for thinking me divine at my worst.
somehow i feel you'd say the same today.
do you know how i've missed you, my perfect piece of poetry?
so unobtainable. unattainable. untameable.
i believe you do.

it's me you write to, no?
those poems that girls faint over,
wishing they were the ones you spoke of.
and here i am, your mil-recurring subject,
your muse. your soul keeper. your lover.
but i've been locked out of your mind...

...at least i'm still in your heart.

no more chocolate.
no more caffeine.
but i'm not losing the mint gum.

because sometimes, the things that bring you pain are the things you love the most.

a letter of interest.

hello, there...

i would like to tell you....
well, a lot, actually.
there is so much i'd like to tell you,
i don't know where to start.

i suppose i could begin by saying hi,
and shrugging my shoulders,
and shying out of what i wanted to say.
the way i've done so many times.

or i could ask what's new,
act casual and unconcerned.
but that couldn't be any less true.
because in all truth,
i want to hear everything you have to say.
hell, what you ate for breakfast concerns me.
what time you went to bed. the color of your socks.
anything at all that tells me something about you.

but honestly, now that i think of it,
i'd rather listen to you, hours on end,
than tell you what i wanted to say.
then again, this could be another one of my ways.
i'm good at stalling, you see.

and now i know i'm here because...
because i want to be.
because i have things to tell you.
things to teach you.
things to learn from you.
i just need that little....

push....

to tell you that i think
you're wonderful.
simply. you fill me with wonder.
i don't know how someone can be so passionate,
so articulate, so intelligent,
and so grounded, all at once.

i want to tell you...
i find you inspiring.
you've made me see differently,
more clearly, maybe.
but this is the change i've been waiting for.

i think you should know that
i think you were sent to me.
for some reason. by some vessel.
be it divine, earthly, or coincidental.
it all adds up strangely. accurately.
completely.

i want to tell you
who i am, and where i come from.
what i've been through.
where i'm going.
but i don't want to tell you.
i want to show you.
i want you to learn it all through me.

because when it comes down to it,
i've been searching for someone to work, grow, and change with.
someone i can learn from, and teach to.
every morning, every night.
every month, season, year.

and something tells me.... maybe it's you.

carousel horse.

i am falling asleep,
singing lullabies to myself.
the sky is falling,
and mother is here to hold me.
soon all will reset.
balance will rest on my fingertips.
but for now, the sky is falling,
and myself i sing to sleep.

the system.

my stomach aches.
i fear the all familiar dull pain.
then the knives. and then the fire.
and the nausea, and tightness.
i fear the return of this-
my little friend,
my little piece of agony.

yet, she keeps my mind quiet.
she whispers to me,
to stop my grieving,
to quiet my self pity.
she returns me to reality, the way her cousins do.
those agents of pain, that family of hurt.
they ground me in my present.
they force me inward.
they help me to find my soul again.

maybe it's all a process.
it's the way this god works.

to present a challenge; to fail; to fall to pain due to this failure; to have the pain cause insight; to heal the self.

yes, it must be.
there is no other reason.
and without a reason, there musn't be cause.
but there is.
it's be-cause...

wait, what is it be-cause of?

recipes.

there is honey in my tea.
something unexpected. something new.
i suppose i needed a bit of sweetness in my life.
i suppose i need a lot of things.
for now, honey will do.
it must do.

it's a teaspoon of regret.
a tablespoon of apology.
an ounce of melancholy.

my father leaves for amstelveen today.
mother's birthday is on sunday.
and i didn't visit tierney, like i had promised.
my family is caring for me.
am i caring for them in return?
never well enough.

at the bottom, it becomes a syrup.
sticky, sickeningly so.
bittered by my thoughts.
excruciating with my memories.
he took honey in his tea.
or shortbread alongside.
he'll only take medicine if it's followed by sweet.
if it could simply put me to sleep...

an ounce of emotion.
tablespoon of desire.
and a teaspoon of reason.

july.

come back to me.
let me breathe you in.
smoke, sweat, cologne.
let me taste your lips again.
drenched in misery.
my hope. and alcohol.
come back to me.
let me lay beside you.
in a room full of fire.
and secrets, and passion.
where nothing comes between us.
i'll hold you again.
fall asleep with you again.
pray for a normal life again.
anything to have those moments back.
anything to have that magic back.
anything to have you back.

purging.

give me the drugs.
you don't have to know.
close your eyes and put them on the table.
you'll never know.
you don't have to know.
it's ok.
i'm not.
give me the drugs.
give them to me. now.



fifteen months.
silence.
repelling like water.
fifteen months.
holding my tongue.
suffering separately.
fifteen. empty. unnecessary.
come back to me.
we need our misery.
together.



desertion. run away.
distraction. you sleep with eyes open.
walk with eyes closed.
disruption. shaken.
america in crumbles.
solid ground is sinking.
disappointment. you are not who i
saw-thought-wanted-wished-hoped
you to be.
go back, leave me to mend the wounds
you've dug into deeper.



you hide.
you're hiding from me.
what. why. who.
i have no meaning.
you have none here.
tell me. tell me. dimela.
you lie to my face.
my back. my side.
hiding from something.
tell me.



give me the drugs.
they're all i want.
all i'll have.
all i'll do.
i won't breathe
think-move-speak
until i have them.
i can't breathe
think-move-speak
until i have them.
they're all i need.
i need them. now.
give them to me.

decisions, decisions...

i could post about how unhappy i am.
i could post about how lonely i am.
i could say that everyone i love has deserted me.
i could say that those i care for don't care back.
i could write about the emptiness inside of me.
i could write about storm brewing in my soul.
i could bitch about life's irony.
i could bitch about quite a lot,, actually.

or i could sit here and keep it all to myself.
until i explode.
or implode.
maybe even simply plode.




i think i've made my decision.

waiting.

i'm just waiting.



waiting for something.



something that may never come.



just waiting....

mirrors.

i am beautiful.
no matter what i think.

elastic heart.

how far will i stretch myself before i break?
...or have i broken already?

i tell myself i can heal, that this is only a tear.
but in the bottom of my elastic heart, i know i've snapped.
i know that my perception of life, and love, and friendship, has shattered.
i know that i have risked my emotions and psychological stability for too many people.
too many people who haven't done the same.

and over the years, it wears you down.
that stretching, bending over backwards, pushing and pulling...

it's finally reached that thousand pound limit.
the thousand pound limit that, in all reality, is probably more like ten thousand.
because i know the strength of my compassion is more than the average weight lifter.
because i know the power of my loyalty is more than a champion team of sled dogs.
and no matter how jaded i may be, i can't stop caring.

damned.
and broken.

cold water.

i wonder what the criteria is for taking a leave of absence.
i'm about ready for it.
although i wouldn't get my loan money, which means i would lose my apartment.
which i'm not ready for.
i don't know what to do.
i can't focus on my classwork.
i can't focus on anything, really.
all i can do is sleep, distract myself with crafts, and attempt to synthesize my emotions.
this is the spiral i've worked so hard at staying away from.
and this is the spiral i've gravitated back to.
i just want someone to help me.

i just want it to end.

some days...

aren't worth waking up for.

endorphins.

mistakes are human nature. i think that's well known.
but what of bad choices? is that because i'm human?
or because i'm what some would call young and without experience?
(because i would beg to differ on that one.)
or is it because i am, simply, me?

i wonder if it's chemical. because i only make these choices in my lowest times.
i wonder if it's emotional. because that's usually the trigger.
i wonder if it's what i believe- at that point- to be logical.
i wonder if it's a combination of them all.

so i made a bad choice.
it was a choice i had avoided making for three years.
it was a choice i struggled with often, during some times, and never, during others.
it was a choice i caved in to when i was left with nowhere, no one to turn to, when the emotions and chemicals were taking over.

i made a bad choice. but i did not make a mistake.
so now i will live with the consequences.
and tonight, i will sleep on my left side.

here's your wall of text.

so maybe you were right.
maybe i am stable...
...until i don't get what i want.

but is that abnormal?
is that unexpected?

when it comes to things like this,
when what i want is something i've been searching for,
when i've found it, right in front of me,
when it's close enough to touch, to taste, to feel,
but it was meant for, given to anyone other than me,
is it really such an unreasonable reaction to fall apart?
to relapse into a state of low self-worth?
wouldn't you break under the weight of this irony?

if i don't deserve you, then what do i deserve?


do i deserve anything at all?

sunday.

i had planned to do a lot today.
i had planned to keep myself busy.
and to keep myself distracted.
i had planned to do class work.
research schools.
organize my samhain party.
i had planned to motivate myself.

but today is the worst kind of day to be alone.
not just to be single. but to be alone.
and that, when it comes down to it, is all i am.
i am stuck with me, myself, and i.
i write in my blog to open the possibility that someone may be reading.
someone may be connecting with my sentiments.
even though i know they're not, and i'm writing to no one.

so now i'll curl up on the couch.
and listen to the wind.
and think about my childhood.
and about my future.
and whether i have one or not.

semantics.

i hate you.

i do.

i hate you for everything you are.

i hate the way you see life in a different light.

i hate the way you notice the smallest details.

i hate the way you can pick up and start over whenever you want.

i hate the way you love music. and coffee.

and writing, and self expression.

i love the way everything i hate reminds me of you.

i love how i can't go a day without thinking of you.

i love how i can't go a day without hating you.

i love how i hate you.

blog posts.

i hate being so
goddamned bipolar
when it comes to you.

justin.

i had a boyfriend once who argued that having children was the most selfish act of all.
what an idiot.

pillow talk.

every night i crawl into bed alone
is another night i realize where i am.
in this world. in this life. in this journey.

some nights i ache for a human touch.
no matter who. no matter why. no matter at all.
sometimes it's love i seek.
(always from an impossible source.)
sometimes it's attention.
(good or bad; just give it to me.)
sometimes it's just the ability
to share myself, my voice, my life with someone.

regardless, midnight is the loneliest hour.
a time meant for magick, for romance, for experience.
all it is for me is a reminder of my isolation.

who knew rejection would be so life-changing?.

freudian coffee mugs.

drinking coffee is an experience.
the beverage aside, there are many variables.
it depends on the time of day, the company, the temperature, and the mug.
today, the experience is generic.
it's kenya, late morning, alone, freshly brewed, and in one of eight black and white mass-produced mugs.
i typically never use these for coffee. they're for tea, if i run out of tea cups.
or for parties or guests.
but today, i chose the sterile black outside, white inside, unflawed mug that only a machine can make.
was this intentional? subconscious? a freudian tap on the shoulder?
perhaps.

goodnite.

i sleep
with pillows
and blankets
bunched up beside me
against my back
so i can feel
like i'm not
so alone.

one is the lonelinest number...

there's something about coming home to an empty house.
it's dark. it's depressing. it's... empty.

i miss being able to relax with someone i love after a stressful shoot.
i miss fussing over dinner and remedial work to do late at night. (i thought i'd never see the day...)
i miss having that sense of security, knowing that no matter what, you're walking into open arms.

so maybe kyle and i weren't perfect for each other. but he loved me. and he was (relatively) dependable.
aside from planning over plans. and forgetting other plans.
but at least i knew he was waiting for me at home.
and i could count on a bear hug and a kiss, and sometimes a glass of wine.

i just want to have that kind of relationship again.
i love the chase, don't get me wrong.
i love the suspense and mystery of falling in love.
but one of the things i miss the most is being that pillar of stability.
and having someone else be that for me, too.

i also miss having someone other than myself to spend my time, money, and thoughts on.
i don't like being stuck with myself so often.
especially in this state.
there's a difference between being alone because you need alone time, and being alone because no one else will be with you.
i thrive in the former. fail in the latter.
i know that's normal. i know that nobody wants to be alone forever.
so, i guess, at least i'm normal.
but that doesn't take away the loneliness.

i know who i am.
i know all about myself.
i know what i like, what i want, what i have.
i know what i want nothing to do with.
i know where i'm going.
(for the most part.)
i just need someone to go there with me.
i need someone to want to go there with me.

you know, you say that i should wait until i'm 37 and in your position. then i'll be allowed to feel panicked. then i can feel eternally alone. but in my heart, i'm at least 30. you've dated 15 people seriously. i've dated 10. you're ready for commitment. i'm ready to settle down. almost. see, i'm closer to your age than you think. our feelings of being out of time are similar. it's one reason for me, another for you. but the emotion is the same. 

we're both running out of time.

what's a synonym for heartache?

i wish i had words for this. i wish i had words for the little things you do. for the way your eyes light up when you're passionate. for the unnoticed gestures, the small compliments you give in your own way. i wish i had words for the memories that flash before you. for the lack of words you've grown up not hearing. for the doubts you have, the questions, the jaded answers. i wish i had the words to make you understand. understand who you are to me. what you are to me. why and how much i love you. am in love with you. have always been. i wish i had the words to tell you these things... but even if i did, i don't know if you would listen.

tidings.

life is an ocean.
which is ironic.
because i'm terrified of water.
and to some degree, i am afraid of life now.
afraid to take chances.
afraid to put myself on the line.
afraid of the rejection, humiliation, depression.

i don't want to be afraid.
but conquering your fears is always a bloody fight.
i've read over and over, "if you let fear stop you from love, you'll finish empty handed. "
i know this. but i also know that if i don't allow myself to love, i will remain stable.
which is more valuable?

which direction do i swim to escape this sea?

empty calories & food for thought.

being empty
is like being full.
except emptier.

sometimes i fail to recognize which state i'm in.
sometimes i fail to recognize if that matters.
i used to be caught up in the difference between feeling overloaded and feeling numb.
now i realize, there is no difference. not in the feeling, at least.

so i take it as it comes.
i adjust. i move on.
i try, at least.

it's strange how quickly life can change on you.
it's strange how quickly your perception of life can change on you.

after all, isn't life just a perception?

no one will ever see it the way you do.
no one will ever know exactly what you know.
no one will ever feel the same emotions you feel.

not exactly.
it's all a perception.

so what is your perceived difference between doing and not doing?
between dreaming and not dreaming?
between feeling and not feeling?

“If we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater."

i am afraid
that i care too much
about you.

i am afraid
that i want something
that isn't possible.

i am afraid
that i feel something
that isn't there.

i'm afraid
that i'll fall in love with you
but you won't love me back.

we have a connection. i feel it. you must feel it too.
it's a connection i've never really had before.
it's been close, but different.
this time, it's real. it's forgiving. it's human.
i don't want it to go to waste.
whatever that means.
i think we could be something.
i think we could be something great.
i think we could be exactly what we need.

i'm just afraid
that you'll never see me
the way you see her.

and i'm afraid
that i'm leading myself
somewhere i'm not wanted.

del silencio.

t     o       d   o     q     u        e    q          u    i       e              r        o 

     e   s          q   u           e   m          e       q   u            i  e     r            e   s

c   o      m o      t         u       q u     i      e   r   e        s   a   e    l     l      a 

   y     c     o     m       o     t           e     q       u i        e      r         o .

your hand in mine.

what do i want?

as i listen to these familiar notes, i'm brought back three years ago.
beginning my freshman year, exploring new media.
making films with soundtracks by experimental musicians.
feeling the energies from the world around me.
living, breathing, thriving by them.

what have i lost?

the world is old to me now.
i desire the fresh eyes of a child.
i dream of the impossible and wake to cold reality.
limiting myself, limiting my limits.
pragmatism has consumed my imagination.

who am i?

don't know if i've changed or if it was the world.
two moving objects on a stationary ground.
which way is up?
my passion is poignant, but revelations few.
this isn't the person i used to know.

where do i go?

howl at the moon.

mark me like the wolf;
i am your deception.
dreaming in red and gold,
waking in hallucinations.
can i cry for your attention?
do i lie of my conception?
when the day dies,
i am the one that holds me.
and never again to run.




i know i haven't written much lately.
to be honest, i've been in a state of panic. sometimes figuratively, and sometimes quite literally.
my emotions have caused another flood, which is something i am used to.
but that, unfortunately, doesn't make it easier to swim.
at this point, i've exhausted my limbs, and am floating on my back for as long as i can hold.
riding the wave is a necessity for me. if i didn't give in to the waters, i would drown.
so here i am again. floating, floating, floating...
i don't try to make sense of it anymore. i just try to stay connected.
it's not about what i feel; it's about whether i feel.
and i know, for now, that i do.
so that small victory is something i will hold on to.

i've stopped writing in my journal.
i know i ought to pick it up again.
i'm positive it would help me.
but the first cut is the deepest.
and sometimes, i don't see a reason to start.
[now that i read that, i laugh at the irony...]

i feel as weak as prey.
i have no defenses; i'm alone in an open field.
i'm soft and susceptible, because nature curses me so.
and i fear that the only way to hide is to live a lie. to become the predator.
so i am now the hunter.
i seek what i want, when i want it.
i take what i see, when i see it.
i do what i feel, when i feel it.
because the only conviction i have now
is the conviction of an act.

through the wormhole.

i am tired. exhausted, even.
but i lie here and think of nothing other than myself.
myself, and my incessant loneliness.

what a word, loneliness.
it needs more synonyms.
i despise its simplicity. i despise its logicality.
yet i still use it, since it is the only thing i feel now.

it's not a void.
it's no emptiness or sadness or madness.
it is the immense feeling of being alone to the core.
when you realize that those you love don't love you the same.
when you understand that you cannot die any way but alone.
when you see the vastness of the universe, and little tiny you.
that is loneliness at its worst.

and when i think of what i felt for him and what he feels for me,
when i feel what i think of you and how i've succumbed to it,
when i wonder who i am and who i will be, would be, could be with you...
...or him, or that one, or even this one...
i know it all means nothing to the universe.
so why does it mean so much to me?

dear universe,

...please take away these boys and give me a man.



i need someone to talk to. and i mean, talk, to. i'd like to hold real conversations about more than one topic. i want to be able to talk about literature, politics, arts, music, science, environmentalism, current events. i want to use my vocabulary without being laughed at. i want to learn new words and ideas. i want to be surprised by his opinions or provoked to thought by them.

i need someone to laugh with. i need a good combination of stupid, silly humor and articulate, witty humor. i need to be able to act my crazy normal self when i'm stressed or tired without getting a strange look. i want someone to join in and laugh at me or be stupid right along with me. but i need someone who can realize when that humor is necessary and when it's not. and i want someone to hold their own in a sarcastic, overblown battle of witticisms. someone who i can share that secret language with, when people look at us and say to each other, "wow, they really get each other."

i need someone to love me. deeply. for everything i am. not just for the person they think i am. or for the person i was when i met them. i want someone to see me, and see all of me. the writer, the poet, the musician, the painter, the sculptor, the illustrator, the photographer, the overall artist, the athlete, the problem solver, the leader, the intellectual, the original, the creative, the sensitive, the sensual, the joker, the light-heart, the inquisitive, the educator, the lifetime student, the daring, the reserved me.

i need someone to grow with. i need a relationship that will develop and change through time. not just the first week. not the first month. not the first year. i want to be with someone who is willing to try new things with me, and who is open to changing it up once in a while. i need someone who wants to learn, and grow, and change with me. i want someone who loves life and its process of development as much as i do.

i need someone who isn't afraid to work for what he wants. who isn't afraid to work. who works hard because it's in his DNA, because he's motivated, he's inspired, and he wants to make a difference. i want to be able to look at him and be proud of what he's accomplished in his lifetime. i want to be supportive of what he's doing now. i want his work to inspire me, and mine him,

i want someone who treats me like gold. not because he think it's what i want, but because it's what he wants. i want to be treated well out of love. and i want someone who doesn't expect it when i put him on a pedestal and treat him like royalty. i want to see that surprise. i want to see that feeling of self-worth. i want to see his confidence grow. and i want to see our love grow.



i know i ask for a lot...
but if there are so many fish in the sea,
why doesn't someone come to me?

she's been everybody else's girl. maybe one day, she'll be her own...

sometimes the world spins around me like my distance vision in these reading glasses.
it all seems fine for a moment, until you realize that nothing is in focus and everything is warped at the edges.
it's not like being flat out drunk, lying on your back, with the ceiling spinning...
it's different.
because at least you have the illusion of things being clear and making sense.
but it all disappears when you make the slightest movement, and reality comes, twisting and turning and blurring, at your face.

when the dust settles, what is left?
i'm back to my old self again.
alone, lonely, but in a familiar place.
i'm my high school self, but quieter.
quiet in my mind.
i've learned to hush my emotions.
they're still here, still powerful...
but i'm learning to control them.
set them aside.

sometimes i succeed.

i've been listening to too much tori for my own good.
but that doesn't mean i'll ever stop.


and i'm fully aware that none of this post will make sense to most people.
but that's ok with me.

we are siamese, if you please.

i really miss my cat.

there's something about having that unconditional love.

that little face that's always eager to play.

the big personality that's always there to make you smile.

the tiny voice that assures you that you're not alone.

i'm hoping to bring him here within the next week.

i would have loved to see him this weekend, but i had a number of social obligations.

the more i think about it, the more i believe 'crazy cat lady' is a viable future occupation for me.

aside from tiring of society, i'm also nearly finished with the whole 'dating' concept.

to be honest, sometimes i think arranged marriages are the smart way out.

when you're obligated to spend time with someone, you're forgiven for being unhappy.

not to mention, you can take care of the benefits, children, dual income, and loan situation much easier.

it's like having a business relationship.

and i'm better at business than relationships.

sounds like a plan to me.

soul sleeping.

i'm tired.

tired of not sleeping.
tired of eating.
tired of drinking when i know i shouldn't.
tired of knowing i should be feeling something.
tired of feeling i should know something.

i'm tired of waking up and dreading the day to come.
i'm tired of staying at home.
i'm tired of going out.
i'm tired of people.
i'm tired of being alone.

tired of feeling selfless.
tired of feeling selfish.
tired of feeling senseless and depraved and directionless.
tired of wanting what i shouldn't want.
tired of acting older than i should be.
tired of being younger than i should be.

i'm tired of cooking for myself when i know i'm the only one home.

i'm tired of rounding out my character when no one is there to notice.

i'm tired of trying and trying and getting nowhere.

i'm tired of being one thing to everyone, and not everything to someone.

wrapped up in damask.

i don't know what i ought to be feeling.
i don't know what i ought to be thinking.
you ask me, "what?"
my mouth replies, "i don't know."
my heart replies, "this is difficult."
my brain hushes my lips, then, and keeps me silent.
your hand rests only inches from mine,
but i'm afraid to reach for it.
i'm afraid that you'll let go.
and everything we've been through will be lost.
lost, like my thoughts, when i look in your eyes.
lost, like my conscience, when i listen to you speak.
and all i can think of is pressing my lips to yours,
silencing your troubles, and mine,
and becoming tangled in the moment once again.
but i cannot; i am weak.
and i need you to help me free myself.

never was a cornflake girl.

thought it was a good solution.



you and i, we've been through a lot together.
you've been through a lot of me.
i've been through a lot of you.
would have expected this to happen sooner.
would have expected it never to happen.

i'm tripping as i think,
playing out the reel of possibilities.
is this a comedy?
do we find a soul in each other,
live, learn, grow together?
is this a tragedy?
do we lose sight of who we are,
do we fall apart?

the scales have settled in my mind.
they've been settled in my heart.
have they settled in you, too?

i've made myself a promise-
a promise to let go.
of the future.
of the past.
and to live in the present.
no, not your perfect carpe diem.
just living. and enjoying it.
will you join me?

cashmere.

it's cold out.
the nice, just barely uncomfortable kind of cold.
the cold that keeps you awake,
keeps you aware of your surroundings.
i do love this weather; if only i had a sweater...

i've got my cheeky peach tea from java's to keep me warm.
their coffee is really atrocious, but the tea is fantastic.
it's probably the only place on campus i'll bother going into anymore.

i really ought to spend more time in the library.
i need to stop buying books i'll never read again.
i need to get a cup of tea and plop myself down on an uncomfortable chair.
and sift through photo books.
and design books.
and art books.
and then maybe i'll read something, for real.

i started oliver twist yesterday.
i remember trying to read it a year or so ago, and being turned off by the first sentence.
once i get home, i'll replace this line with the text so you can see how off-turning it is.
but i managed to get past it this time, and so i'm on the fourth or so chapter, having only read for a little while last night.
the thing i like to do most is to pull the comforter off of my bed, wrap up in it, and sink down into my squeaky, obnoxious couch.
i think i could stay there, like that, for days.
maybe sometime, i should.

i noticed a friend recently regain his ability to connect and observe the world around him.
after a discussion in my business class, i am now attempting to do the same.
however, he did this unknowingly, as a consequence of correcting his mental state.
now i am to try it in the opposite way, by making myself pay attention to the world around me,
and hopefully it will bring me happiness.

sometimes the mind is too dark a place to dwell...

that's all for now. it's chilly, my tea is getting cold, and i have a meeting to get to.
ciao, bei.

i love you, standing all alone in a black coat.

what is in a first kiss?
does it contain the passion of lust,
or the perseverance of love?
is it a fiery expulsion of instinct,
or a well devised gesture of caring?

i'm not certain if there's a way to know.
even from one's own perspective, it's difficult to tell what fuels the body when the mind says, "go!"
do we ever really know why we do what we do in times of passion?
are they genuine actions, with motives hidden in the depths of the heart?
or is it the primal characteristics we still hold after thousands of years as civilized humans?

what is love, anyway?
and what is lust?
and how do they do the little tango they do?
why do we know where to step and when to spin?
and how are we supposed to tell if this is fast argentine, or slow milonga?

i know that i want both.
that has taken a long time to admit.
love is beautiful, but not without lust.

lust is the flame that sparks spontaneity.
it's the sparkle in your eye when you say, "hello."
lust is the wind that stirs the settled beach;
it can create a tsunami,
or a paradise.

lust
is what brings change.
and the need for change is written in the code of my very being.

to my dearest, my darling, my dark and tormented soul-

hey babe.
[yeah, i miss that. it's true.]
just need to tell you,
[even though you'll never read this,]
that it's about time you grew up.
[once and for all.]
because the only one you're fooling is yourself.
[not even your fan girls, honey.]
you push away the only people that love you.
[because even those fan girls don't really give a shit about you.]
you see yourself as a martyr and a starving artist.
[and your fan girls see you as a hot piece of ass to fuck.]
i saw you for who you really were,
[which, at this point, is unfortunate]
and i tried to help.
[it was help you would never accept; that's too weak of you.]
but meanwhile, as you're drowning in your pathetic sadness,
[as you did countless times throughout your life, except for when i was a part of it,]
i've overcome my obstacles and am moving on through life.
[which you will never do, because depending on mommy and daddy will get you nowhere.]
so get up off that fifteen year old bunk bed, put on your shoes, and go outside.
[and i don't mean to walk alone in the woods.]
go get a life.

bad things come in threes.

i have Chelsea Dagger stuck in my head.
ironic, because while the lyrics go something like this:

da da da, da da da, da da da da da da da;
da da da, da da da, da da da da da...

i feel a sense of redundancy in my life.
over and over again, i find myself in a relationship where the friendship runs strong, but the spark fades quickly.
over and over again, i struggle with my weight and being healthy.
over and over again, i feel the need to express myself creatively but cannot.

it leaves me, well, stuck in a very big rut.
i've mentioned before that i'm both addicted to- and afraid of- change.
that's why i'm feeling so frustrated lately.

i need to do something about my relationship.
i need to do something about my weight.
i need to do something about my art.

well, the relationship thing... can sadly be summed up in an episode of family guy: you can't force the spark back in.
so now, i'm just waiting for it to come around on its own.
i have a feeling i could be waiting for a long time...

i've joined weight watchers. and i lost 10 pounds.
i've also gained back 2 over the past 2 weeks.
and this week, i'm sure i've put on at least 3.
tomorrow i'll bike for a while. maybe 20 miles instead of ten.
well, at least 15.
but i'm not sure if that will counteract such a bad week.
i'm waiting for thursday to come around so i can say 'enough' and move on.
i need to start back up with piyo again, too.
good lord, i need to do a lot.

as far as my creativity block goes,
i just don't know.
it may be from lack of shooting or being involved in the creative process.
it could be missing out on that group dynamic and soul energy that comes from a band.
it might even have something to do with my dwindling do-something-crafty time.
i miss painting. i miss sculpting. i miss metalworking and cloisonne and felting and drawing.
sometimes i regret my decision to major in photography.
yes, i love it. i always have. but that doesn't mean that it brings me fulfillment.
i remember how satisfying it would be to hand craft something- anything- from scratch.
i remember the long hours i would put into each piece.
the sweat, and the tears, and yes- even the blood, sometimes.
but by the time that piece was finished, it was a child to me.
not a file on a computer.
not a group of pixels.
it was more than that.
and i really miss that fulfillment...
everyone has always said, "well, you can do your art on the side!"
and for years, i believed them.
but in reality, there isn't any time. there isn't any juice left over after a day of high demands and stress.
the last thing i want to do is put more pressure on myself with something that's supposed to relieve that stress.
maybe it's because i'm in school.
maybe it's because i'm paying my dues.
who knows, perhaps someday i'll have time to work with my hands again.
but who knows if, by then, i still have the passion?



how's that for a ramble on for ya?
if you've made it this far through the entry, god bless you.
now go do something useful with your time.
go be creative for me.  ❤

funny thoughts.

i think
that you and i
were meant to be together
from the start.
sometimes i wonder
if it would still work out.
i don't think it would.
that would be too easy.
and you're more like
a brother
to me now.
what,
with the relationship consultations
and everything.
but i know
that there was that potential.
and sometimes i wonder about it.
just for fun.
you know.
i remember thinking one day,
two years ago, maybe,
that i should stop you on your way in to class
and probably kiss you,
take your breath away,
but that i would never actually do it.
i knew myself well.
but what would have happened if i had done it?
i wonder if you would be talking to her
about your problems with me.
i wonder if
everything
would still be the same.
funny thoughts, i'm having.

the best thing about soy candles is that they last forever.

i've been doing a lot of heavy posting recently.
frankly, it's because there has been a lot to post heavily about.
but despite the rigmarole, the ups and downs, the epiphanies and the nightmares,

tonight, i have hope.

i have hope for the world and its problems.
i have hope for this country and its roller coasters.
i have hope for this city and the people who live in it.
i have hope for my family. (well, part of my family.)
i have hope for my friends, for their struggles and yearning.
and lastly, i have hope for myself.

i don't know why.
i don't know what kind.
but i have hope for myself.

at this moment, here at 8:17 pm,
sitting in my bedroom ,
in the northeast corner of the house,
at the end of the road,
in the development furthest east of penfield,
in northwestern new york,
i have hope.

it's taken an odd set of circumstances to remove myself from my body.
i've been able to see my past in someone else's present, and in that present lies my future.
because life is a cycle.
it's not just the BornLiveDie cycle, but the WinLoseTie cycle too.
and i have been born, and have lived a fraction of my life.
but during my time on earth, i have won, i have lost, and i have tied.
and i have done it all over again.
and again.
and again.
but the reason i never accepted it was because i never understood.
i knew, but couldn't grasp the idea that the cycle of life is universal.
i am not the only one feeling pain and sorrow. or helplessness and discomfort. or agony and uncertainty.
and i am not the only one feeling lost or misguided, cheated or forgotten.
i am not the only one.
i am not alone.

so while i understand-finally-that my turn will soon come, i take comfort in knowing that it too will pass.
it must. otherwise, the cycle will break, and the world will fall.
and the only reason for the cycle to break is for you to allow it to break you first.

i know i'm stronger than that.
and i know you are, too.

this too shall pass.
❤

old bones.

i have many things i could write about floating on through my head now.
the scent of mango and coconut milk from the candle on my table.
the coldness of this room and the way it evaporates when i sip my tea.
the small movements my tiny kitten makes as he changes position at my feet.

but more than anything, i need to muse about the world.
because i am losing faith in everything that once made sense to me.

love is not commitment, but lust.
marriage is not love, but commitment.
commitment is not a duty, but love.

for all i know, yes means no, and the world spins backwards.
everything is equally possible to me now.

do i know my friends as i thought i did?
did i know them too well, and did i choose to forget?
did i know them and know that i wished them different?
or that i wished them the same...

do i know what it is to care?
to feel the pain of another as much if not more so?
do i feel too much? do i feel what isn't felt by others?

i do feel too much.
i do cry too fluidly.
i do hate so vehemently.
i do love too deeply.

is there anyone like me, whose emotions are linked to those they care about most?
do you burn a thousand fires when a friend is wronged?
do your eyes well up with tears when another is disheartened?

is there something wrong with me, or am i meant to be the one who feels just to feel? who does just to do? and who knows just to know?

do i live just to live, or am i here for a reason?

touching.

who am i to touch a life? i've had my hand in many things... but what is it, to make contact?
to awaken a light within someone else, or to guide or guard?
what is it worth, to touch, if i can change nothing?
what does it take to feel?
or to be felt?
and why can't i do a thing, when i feel i need to most?
when the hand that has touched me so many times is silently begging for help?

tidal.

[I'm taking a risk, posting this. I hope I don't cause too much trouble.]

He’s unhappy. Nervous. Lonely. Suspicious. I do everything I can to reassure him. Tell him that he doesn’t need her to be happy. Tell him he’s got nothing to worry about. That she’d never do something like that.

She might. I don’t know her anymore. I’ve had to learn to visualize her as his girl. Not my old friend. She can’t be, anymore. I can’t know her secrets. I can’t know her social agenda. I can’t know her love life.

I can’t know because I need to protect him. And I need to protect myself. Sometimes I’m not sure which is more important.

I know he’d be better without her. I know he’d be happier, fulfilled, and on his way to great things. Without her. He needs someone to stand by him, support him, hold him after nightmares. Metaphorically. The last thing he needs is someone who cares more about preserving their lifestyle than entering into a partnership.

After all, that’s what love is, right?

No, perhaps not. Not love. Marriage, though? Yes. And that’s what matters. Love will fade. Lust will die, and infatuation will burn off. But caring, and kindness, and respect… isn’t that what marriage is built on?

I’ve become jaded. I don’t hide it anymore. There’s no reason to pretend I’m happy, or that I have hope. I don’t. I know that the idea of eternal love is nothing close to reality. I know that my flames and muses are just that. I know that if they were anything more, they’d be nothing. And I know that my love is just a commitment to nurturing a boy’s soul and seeing him through life. If it were any more than that, it wouldn’t be real.

Have I become an empty shell of myself, or am I now deeper than ever? Do I truly understand, or is this my self defense? I know that we trick ourselves into thinking things did or didn’t happen to protect our psyches. I’ve experienced that. And I’ve torn the curtain down to expose what was there all along. I’ve conquered it. Does that mean that I won’t do it again? Does that mean I haven’t done it again? Does that mean I’m not doing it now?

How do I give guidance when I’ve lost touch with reality? How do I feel the pain and frustration of a friend when I only know emptiness and desire? When I settle for something, just because it’s something? And when the chase is the best part of the game?

I need something to stand on. These tidal waves are getting to be too much to handle. Someone throw me a goddamned raft.

dumb bitches make me angry.

dumb bitches.

make me angry.

mew.

i'm exhausted.
and there is a kitten curled up in my yellow blanket next to me.
but i felt the need to post something, to get back into the habit.
so i'm posting.
about my kitten.
and how i will now go curl up in my yellow blanket with him.
and take a nap.
g'nite.

coffee. cats. cash. crap.

i need to get back into posting.
so this is my post to post.
i apologize ahead of time for its disjointedness.

my cat is playing with the trash can.
my allergies are going crazy.
and i think my coffee is cold.

3ejmq1

that was him walking on my keyboard.

i love him dearly.
he's just a little baby.
and he's adorable right now.
but i have to say that i'm looking forward to getting out of the toddler stage.
he needs constant attention, which i'm willing to give when i'm around.
but apparently, as told by my parents, i'm not around enough.
because leaving for a shoot and coming back after 6 hours of work is being a terrible parent.
even though my dad works at home and he could easily let the cat come sit with him during part of the day.
whatever.
i love being told i'm a bad parent by my own parents.
makes me feel wonderful.
especially when i do everything i can for this little guy.
and every waking moment, i'm in his room with him playing.
or cuddling.
or taking beatings from him.
like any good parent should do.

i'm pretty tired of the allergies, too.
i need to start my shots.
and i need to pack up my apartment.
and i need to move my shit back home for two weeks.
and then i need to take it back to where it was, basically, and move in again.
woohoo.

i also have no money.
i've been playing the waiting game to see if my boss wants me to stay on during the school year.
so i haven't gotten a paying job.
and i have no cash.
and all of the sudden my parents expect me to pay for my food and stuff when i go out.
which never happened before, even when i had a paying job.
i'm confused.
i need to move out.




i need. to move. out.

predators.

sometimes, i wonder.

i wonder about the state of the world.
i wonder if we'll ever recover from this depraved form of humanity.
i wonder if the disease is contagious.
and i wonder if i have it.

i wonder if anyone doesn't.

because when it comes down to it, we could never be perfect.
we could never be close to perfect.
even the closest are, as we say, human.
even they slide into the depths of vice, willingly or not.

why do we separate ourselves from the animal kingdom?
it's all we are, all we ever were, all we will be.
we feed on dominance, attention, sex.
we are animals.

why can't we accept it?

i promise, that one day, everything's going to be better for you.

where do the days go?
it seems that every second i spend worrying about one thing is another second i never had time to worry in the first place.
and that every moment spent thinking is another moment wasted.
that is how we get by, am i right?
sometimes the brain becomes idle. sometimes the autopilot lifts off. sometimes we awaken detached, lifeless, soulless.
the one thing i would choose to avoid, if i could avoid any one thing, is the experience of doing without experiencing.
because, if you can't stop and realize the moment you're in, what's the point of being in it?

i'm wrapped up in work.
i have freelancing jobs coming in.
i have a baby kitten to take care of.
i have money to account for.
or a lack of it, rather.

i've stopped dead in my tracks, where i was on my way to a more tranquil pace, and am now running in the oposite direction.
i know i'm only twenty one. i know that seems like just a child to some people. but i'm not getting any younger, and it only gets more difficult from here on.
i cannot, will not, let my life pass me by.




but the saddest part is that i know i will.

workin' at the car wash.

i've decided
that i love my job.

every day it's more like a family.
every day it's something new.
even when it's not new, it's still new.

every day, john becomes more like a father and less like a boss.
every day, i feel more important to him and to heather.
and every day, i think they realize how hard i work.
and they appreciate it.

it's nice to be reliable.
it's nice to be liked.
it's nice to be wanted.
and it's nice to be important.

so, yeah.
i love my job.

i wish i could keep it during the school year...
maybe i could work something out.
we'll see.

i am tired.
that is my post.
goodnight.

sleeeeepytime tea...

i don't know why i'm surprised to be sick again.
i spent the entire night coughing so hard i almost vomited.
i need my magic sleepy medicine...
i need sleep. :(

20 reasons.

so, recently, i've been realizing how many little quirks i have.
i think i've lived with them for so long that it just seems normal to me, and i don't notice them anymore.
i've also paid more attention to things that i'm drawn to, and why i'm drawn to them.
collections i have. colors i like. scents i enjoy.

so, here is my feel-good post: 20 reasons why i am me.
after you read mine, i encourage you to do one of your own.
make sure you send me a link, too. :)



i am me because.....

1. i am eclectic.
2. i like owls.
3. i love color. i am afraid of color.
4. my hair changes every three months.
5. i am nostalgic. very, very nostalgic.
6. i love the scent of mango. and lime. and lemongrass.
7. i will never turn down anything cinnamon.
8. i am a collector.
9. i have an obsession for chairs.
10. i keep my dead flowers in liquor bottles.
11. i am educated in the tasting of fine coffee and tea.
12. i am addicted to change. i am afraid of change.
13. my herb garden is my salvation.
14. i organize everything into 45 and 90 degree angles.
15. when i was a child, i read the encyclopedia for fun.
16. i have a fear of water. and mirrors.
17. i am an environmental activist.
18. i will debate with you for entertainment.
19. my lifelong dream is to own a cafe with my father.
20. i am confident in who i am.



now, go explore why you are you.
and share with the world.

victory.

i'm inexpressibly relieved.
i know we're not the whole way through;
i know there's a war waging.
i know it could be years before the smoke has cleared.
but at least we're getting somewhere.

i spoke to a woman last week about her experience with gay marriage.
she was from boston; had been with the same woman since she was 17.
they never wanted to get married, because they thought it was a fad.
they thought that marriage was for straight people.
but they decided to anyway, after they got over their "rebellious outcast" stage.
eventually they moved to new york, and their marriage was no longer recognized.
it made them a little angry, but nothing too extreme.
it was the birth of their son that changed the game.
when theo was born, julia was afraid that she would have to adopt her son.
she would have to go through a legal battle to gain guardianship over the child that she had decided to have.
the child whose father donor was chosen to look like her brother.
the child who she stood by all 9 months and sacrificed time, concern, and money for, even before his birth.
and still, the state would not acknowledge that she was, indeed, also this boy's mother.
being a lawyer, julia found her way through the system and was finally allowed to sign theo's birth certificate as his second mother.
but something as simple as having a child was more of a fight than it should have been.

this woman is inspiring.
so many people like her are inspiring.
and i'm thankful to see that the officials in new york have recognized that.
it's only one step, but it's a big one.
and at least we're getting somewhere.

relax.

daylight.

there's nothing like it.

it's clean. it's brilliant, it's rejuvenating.

invigorating.

i think i'll go for a walk through the creek today.

it'd be nice to reconnect with nature.

although i typically enjoy sharing it with someone else...

and that brings up memories of the people i've shared it with.

which in turn makes me nostalgic and depressed.

but such is life.

i woke up with the intention of writing my morning pages, but once i sat down, i had a few friends message me.

which distracted me from even writing this... not that it's a bad thing, because i haven't talked to one of them in months.

so my plans are a little off track.

now normally i'd try to rectify that and sit down and force myself to write.

but i'm not feeling it anymore.

so i won't.

i'll just sit and Ohm.

i'm not sure if ohm is a verb... but it is now.

my book of koans has been a bit neglected, but when i pick it up i read two or three to make up for it.

but recently, it has told me (or i have told myself through its words) that everything is not as it seems.

and everything is as it seems.

so, then, why do we bother to make something extraordinary out of something ordinary?

why can't we just accept that everything in life is as significant or insignificant as it is?

why must we search for a greater meaning for everything?

why must we be put on this earth for a greater purpose other than to live and experience life?

why can't life just be life?

food for thought.

rinse, repeat.

the hardest thing
is to see someone you love
struggle with themselves
and smother their own potential for happiness.

and. you. can't. do. a. thing.

could someone point me to neverland?

"i'm not young enough to know everything."
-JM Barrie

if it weren't for my horse, i wouldn't have spent that year in college.

last night,
i laughed.
i laughed so hard,
i cried.
i cried so hard,
i sobbed.
i sobbed so hard,
i coughed.
i coughed so hard,
i had an asthma attack.
i asthma-ed so hard,
i passed out.
and slept like a log.
a little log of happiness,
all because of lewis black.


http://comedians.jokes.com/lewis-black/videos/lewis-black---college-horse/

spiders, beans, and thinking machines.

i spent my morning well today.
or afternoon, rather.

i did, in fact, successfully avoid the cleaners.
and i did, as well, make my pot of french press.
kenya, to be specific.
and it was delicious.

you know, there's something about french press coffee that supersedes the entire "coffee" genus.
it could be the thickness;
the dark, chocolatey swirls of velvet waters.
or it could be the smell;
the scent of the land, its people, their stories.
it could even simply be the taste;
the rich, bold, earthy awakening of the palate.
but in all honesty, i think it must be a combination of the three.
the attack of the senses... is only something that a good cup of french press can do.

(there's my little coffee-holic praise for the day. i hope you enjoyed it.)

anyway, the rest of the late morning/early afternoon was spent outside.
i cozied up on the outdoor furniture on the deck, only to find that a little spider had done the same.
i could sense that he was afraid of me, so i picked him up and transported him to the next chair over.
and there he sat, sunbathing, happily ever after.
or at least, until my dog scared him away.

it was beautiful- IS beautiful- outside today, so i took a good 2 1/2 hour chunk of my day to just enjoy the world.
a little Tao helped with that, as well.
i bought a wonderful version a few weeks ago, translated and annotated by renowned author Ursula K. LeGuin.
she grew up watching her father study the Tao, and later took to it herself, so she's spent her entire life studying Lao Tzu.
her commentary is clear, heartfelt, and often times very helpful.
(i'd say it was worth the 18 bucks.)

so, i read the first five passages of book one.
some of these topics, i had been familiar with before.
wu wei, or not doing, as well as yin and yang were primarily the focus.
there were a few lines that stuck out to me throughout the five chapters, though:



"the way you can go 
is not the real way.
the name you can say
is not the real name."
(1, Taoing)




"everyone on earth knowing
that beauty is beautiful
makes ugliness."
(2, Soul Food)




"the way is empty,
used, but not used up."
(4, Sourceless)



here's one for the photographers (although the original reference was probably not a 4x5):


"heaven and earth 
act as a bellows:
empty yet structured,
it moves, inexhaustibly giving."
(5, Useful Emptiness)



i'll leave those up to you to ponder.
shout out your interpretations, if you'd like.
i'll be here all week.

*buh dum tsch!*

and we'll all float on.

here's a brief recap of my day, and a preliminary plan for tomorrow, for a short update.

today, i:
-slept crooked.
-had a wonderful egg, muenster, tomato, & green pepper wrap from Brueggers.
-had a not-so-good cup of coffee.
-spent 25 dollars on wine for my friend.
-spent the day outside on Haags, eating grilled vegetables and chasing fluffy bunnies around.
-stopped at the apartment and hung out with my new roommate. he is the bomb.
-finally picked up my yoga mat.
-bought a grilled veggie wrap at Wegmans, which was less than spectacular.
-ended up eating cold pasta and pineapple instead.
-came home and watched the angry beavers.
-made cookie balls with organic peanut butter, cocoa powder, hazelnuts, and coconut.
-updated my blog.

tomorrow, i will:
-wait until 11:30 to go home (in order to escape the house cleaners).
-brew up a pot of french press.
-start The Artist's Way.
-meditate on my koan of the day.
-see where the day takes me.


goodnight, world. sleep tight.
make sure you let the bed bugs bite... they get hungry, too.

ramble on.

my tea is too hot to drink.
which is ironic, because the coffee is too cold to drink.
but that's what i get for sleeping in until 1pm.
in my defense, the curtains were pulled and my room was as black as infinity.
not that i need an excuse to sleep in late.
i just need to justify it to myself.


i think today is going to be a home day.
i need to clean, for sure.
and relax. and rejuvinate.
my yoga mat is at the apartment, which is a bummer...
but i ought to stop by this weekend anyway to pick up a few things.
i'll just write it on my hand until then.
YOGA MAT. TAN BRA. TEA POT.
yep, that'll do.


i also believe it's time to start The Artist's Way.
i haven't gotten into it yet... read the first page, maybe.
i keep thinking "i'll start this on a monday" and then i forget.
i guess that's another thing to write on my hand.


the jazz festival is coming up.
i'm excited to go this year... i won't be stuck with my parents and their friends.
it's not that i don't like doing things with them...
it's more or less that we're never on the same page.
and they're more schedule oriented when it comes to festivals.
i prefer to wander around and see where my feet take me.


i've been noticing that a lot of aspects of my life are contradictory.
well, not completely.
there are aspects of my personality, i guess, that contradict other aspects of my personality.
take the jazz fest, for example.
i'm normally a very scheduled, pre-planned person.
but there are situations where i need to abandon planning and go with the flow.
i think that's the yin and yang balancing out inside of me.
so when it comes down to it, it's not that i'm contradictory or fake or what-have-you.
it's that i'm genuine, and in harmony.
and i like the sound of that much better.


another personal realization i've had was the result of a quiz in a diet book.
it took me through about 20 questions with the typical A, B, C, D responses.
now i by no means answered every question with "CAKE! ICE CREAM! SUGAR! CAKE!," etc.
but at the end of my quiz, it told me this:

You are a Sugar Fiend. You couls sacrifice every type of unhealthy food- take out, fast food, greasy meat, crbohydrates- but if you don't have something sweet to end a meal, the world might very well end.

100% accurate.
i've successfully phased out every type of poor food choice i can think of (except carbs, but i do eat whole grain and lower the GI with a little bit of fat). but the one thing i cannot do is live life without a little sugar at the end of a meal.
it could be a little chocolate mint.
it could be a fortune cookie.
it could be a bowl of fruit.
it could be a skinny latte.
it could be a chocolate cake.
who knows, who cares. but i can't walk away from the table with out something sweet on my palate.

of course, i never realized this until i took this quiz on tuesday.
go figure.


anyway, i think that's enough rambling for today.
hopefully it wasn't too terribly boring.
if you've read this far, i commend your efforts.
TTFN.

size: ∞

do you ever stop to look in the mirror-
no, physically. not metaphorically-
and stop dead in your tracks?

i mean, yeah, i'm sure you're kind and caring,
loving, honest, and respectful.
maybe even dignified, or successful.
but that metaphorical mirror is a bit nicer than the real one.

maybe it's not the mirror that gets you...
maybe the way you look has nothing to do with it.
maybe it's the way that your clothes fit
(or don't, for that matter).

maybe it's that moment when you walk into your favorite store,
the one who hasn't changed their sizes,
and realize that you can't wear their product anymore.

or maybe it's because you wonder,
while you walk through your newly built house,
if the floorboards are creaking because their old,
or if the dishes in their cabinets are rattling because they're cheap and flimsy.

maybe it's when everyone else starts to notice.
it's when your mom pulls out a giant shirt from her closet and says
"here, see if this fits you."
or when your dad looks at you and says,
"don't worry. a size is just a number."

well you know what?
yes, that mirror is an accurate portrayal of your physical appearance.
yes, you are actually too fat to fit into the clothes you used to wear six months ago.
yes, that rattling is from all 183 pounds of you tiptoeing through the house.
yes, you actually do fit into your overweight mother's clothes.

but no. size is not a number. a four is different from a twelve.
an eight is different from a fourteen.

size is a symptom.
and i'm ready to be healthy again.

eggshells.

i need to post this, but i'm trying to be careful of the way i word it.
after multiple revisions... all i can say is this:


look,
i love you dearly.
you're the best friend i have ever had.
you care about me, and you show it.
you support me when i need the support,
and you ground me when i need to be grounded.
you're always there with the emotional compassion,
and you're right behind it with the logical explanation and advice.
you want what is best for me,
but you also want me to be happy.
when the two fall in line, everything is great.
but when what i want isn't what i need or deserve,
i know that you feel conflicted inside.
how do you tell me that i need to re-evaluate the situation?
how do you explain to me that i'm not seeing clearly?
how do you make me realize it myself, like the flip of a light switch?
and how do you do it without making me resent you for the hope and happiness i'd had?


that's all i'm trying to do for you.
i'm trying to be strong in my conviction, not because it serves me a purpose, but because i know it will save you from repeated pain.
i'm trying to show you that there is hope, that it will all work out, but that you need to be logical about it in the first place.
i'm trying to help you remove the emotional connection that you have to the situation and evaluate it like you normally would.
because i know you would do it all for me. you have done it all for me.
and that's what friends do: they look after each other.


i wish you understood how delicate this situation is for me.
not because it involves her; i love her dearly too. she's a good friend.
but the truth is that you came first, and you've stood the test of time.
and my bond with you is deeper than anything i have with my friends.
you're part of my family. and i can't stand to see you get hurt again. and again.
especially when i know that you're limiting yourself, and there are so many opportunities for you...
...if you could only realize when it's time to let go and move on.


please don't be angry with me. i'm not trying to sabotage your relationship. i'm trying to help you realize your potential.
and you have a lot of it. so don't settle. you deserve more than that. you deserve a lot more than that.


there are very few people in the world that i'll take the initiative to say "i love you" to.
that's because when i say it, i mean it. and i don't screw around with connections that deep.
everything i do is meant to help you. i hope you see that, and don't resent me for expressing my views.
if you read all of this and find yourself disagreeing with me the whole way through, i'll close my mouth on the situation forever.
but if there's a shadow of a doubt, i want you to at least consider what i say.
and where it comes from. which is the depths of my heart.

when taosim saved the world.

i'm at a strange point in my life right now where i've returned to a stable, introspective, social, passionate human being. things are going well for me, even if work is a bit difficult at times and living at home isn't always perfect. but the key to my current state of mind is balance. inner balance, outer balance. logical and emotional, introspective and outrospective (yes, i used that as a legitimate word), creativity and process, silence and speech. i feel the ch'i within me, around me. i feel the yin and her yang in harmony. i feel in connection with every form of life, micro or macro.

and let me tell you: it is a beautiful thing.

this is the piece that has been lost in the scramble of my puzzles for so long. this is what i have dreamed of, craved, needed. to feel whole again, in control again... to have the power to understand that i can do and only do as much as the universe allows me to, that i have full power over my situation until the circumstances are no longer controllable, and to realize that once i no longer have control, it is not from my loss of it, rather from the dictation of balance in all things...

it brings peace to replace where stress once was.
it brings patience, understanding, and a small bit of faith where i once had none.
it brings a logical approach to all things illogical, ill received, or clouded by emotion.

for once, i am able to distinguish when to let go and resign my fate to the world around me.
and that has been much needed for the past ten years of my life.

hello, blogger.

i've missed you.
it's been too long.

there are lots of things going on right now, but i am very tired, so i won't say too much.
if i did, it would all come out as gobbledygook.
and that is no good.

so, it takes a lot for me to get so upset i feel sick about something.
especially when it concerns someone i've never met.
but it just happened as i read a blog post.
and for once, it almost made me say that i hate someone.
or, rather, some group of people.
however i did catch myself, and realized that it's not the people i hate, but the beliefs.

this is all an exercise in controlling my emotional and logical reactions to stimuli.
part of my tao-zen philosophizing.
yes, philosophizing.
which is coming along well, although slowly.
but i bought a newly annotated copy of the Tao the other day.
and a book of koans; i have a koan a day for an entire year. plus a few months.

i'm excited to start meditating on schedule again.
i'm excited to start practicing something theraputic again.
i'm excited to start something.

and right now, i'm excited to go to bed.
good night, moon light.

i feel like...

...myself again.

i don't think it's from losing kyle, because i had planned to take this summer and be more aware of myself long before this happened.
but i do think that it's pushed me further and given me a reason to start right away.

example: i'm ditching my high school room.
it's been a huge part of me for the last 8 years. or more.
i tried to let go of it last summer, but couldn't.
i guess it was all of the nostalgia...
the photographs, the band posters, the article clippings, the paraphanalia of my dark and twisted high school soul.
it all brings back so many memories.
good, bad, wonderful, terrible.
but all of it was essential to who i am, or, was, at the least.

and that's what i've realized.
just because it had a big role in my years of growing up doesn't mean that i have to hold onto it so closely.
it doesn't mean that i have to stay frozen in time.
i can let go.
i can take it and make something beautiful with it.
make a tribute to my adolescence.

so that's what i'm going to do.
i'm photographing every angle, every corner, every detail of my room.
i'll print it out, put it in a book.
maybe write out certain memories that pertain to that bookshelf, that burn on the dresser, that piece of paper from 11th grade where everyone had to write something nice about you.
i'll make a book, and then i'll collage.
the articles, the magazine pages with my favorite bands, the inspiring quotes that drove me to think differently...
i'm thinking a giant collage, spread out over 4 or 5 canvases.
that way, i can take it all with me.
or store it away for a rainy day.
a day when i need to remind myself of where i came from.

and then my bedroom can take on a new life that reflects my needs now, as a 20-something year old.
which, mainly, is peace.
i need a space for meditation.
a space for a clean mind.
somewhere to retreat to, to relax and clear the skies.
that's the one thing i've realized i'm missing in my life: a space of my own that doesn't embody chaos.
a space of my own that doesn't interfere with my emotions, thoughts, or desires.
a space of my own that functions as a space, an environment, an atmosphere, and nothing else.

and another example: i'm going back to buddhism. take that, america.

unspoken.

i think
that you don't know what you want.

i think that you think you want a change.
i think that you're bored with the downswing in our relationship.
i think that you think that, since we're having problems, it means we're not compatible.
i think that you think you'll find someone else out there who will treat you better.
i think you think you'll find someone who will love you more.
who will put up with your faults without a question, but won't have any of their own.

and i think you're wrong.

i think you'll realize that nothing is perfect.
i think you'll find out that everyone makes sacrifices and changes in order to have a stable relationship.
i think you'll see that sometimes things get difficult, because that's just how it is.

i think
that right now, you don't know what you need.

and i think
that sooner or later, you'll come back to me.

because i think that unconditional love is hard to come by.
and i think you should listen to your heart.

ironic.

• 

  Kyle Makrauer

  cream and sugar in my coffee. why did i spoil a good thing.

  5 hours ago ·  · 

  • Aaron Gulian and Tom Jones like this.
  • • 

      Lauren Celentano because you always do!

      11 minutes ago ·