Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I'm going to take a break for a little while.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel thin, like I'm spread out over too many things and I can't keep track of where my edges are. My body feels like a puddle of water, extending out in all directions and falling into cracks and over ledges that I'm too preoccupied to see coming. I've been really shaky lately too. My mind feels anxious and kind of all over the place. I can't seem to focus on any one thing for too long. If you've ever taken too many caffeine pills then you know what I'm talking about. I think I need to cut some things out of my life for a little while and focus on the things that are most important like school and taking care of my basic responsibilities. Hopefully that will work and I will be able to come back and describe what's going on/how I'm feeling better than just posting a bunch of music and lyrics because I cant think it through any other way. Anyway, I don't know when I'll be back on again but I'll try to get better soon. I feel like I have to catch back up to my life before I can write about it.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
musicmusicmusic
The most beautiful thing about music is that it transcends words and emotions. Thus it is able to describe how you're feeling even when you can't do it yourself.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Breathe by Anna Nalick
"There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe"
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe"
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
fucking shots
So I went to the doctor today. I had to get a physical examination to make sure that everything was looking good before I went to Chile for the summer. Now I'm thinking I'll get there, sign in, wait a little while, then go in the back and get my weight, height, eyesight level, all that good stuff. But was that what happened? No, no it wasn't.
Everything was going...pretty well at first. I walk through the door of the office and am immediately hit by that ever present diaper smell in every pediatrics center. (Which is another thing, how old to I have to be before I can stop seeing the children's doctor?!) I look around and am relieved to see that there are no crying babies or screaming children already present in the waiting area. Ahead of me, I am greeted by a cheerful receptionist who is sitting behind a desk cluttered with toys and animal stickers. I walk up to her and sign in, getting a "these better not be suing papers" look when I hand her my extra foreign exchange forms. Just a few minutes later I am led back into the treatment area, a stark contrast to the happy waiting room painted up with pictures of castles and dragons and decorated with toys and even a play station 2. The first thing that crosses my mind when I walk through that dreaded door, "they must put the only non-Prozac using nurse up front." What's more, the area is completely covered in white, without a splash of color to be seen anywhere. Hallways lined with doors stretch out as far as I can see, creating a sort of dizzying effect as if I was suddenly dropped into one of those freaky visual illusions with the endlessly stacked boxes. There is no time to become adjusted however, I am quickly (and reluctantly) handed off to a different, not quite so cheery nurse who begins the normal measurements listed above. After this I'm put into a room. It's that kind with the bed in the corner that has the flimsy paper on top that no matter how hard u try u end up ripping it to shreds with ur ass cheeks before u leave. I swear, no matter what kind of doctor the room belongs to (pediatricians, neurologists, cardiologists), they all look the same. Well except that they usually have a poster with their specialty's worst possible scenarios on it that kind of makes u think, "wow, im actually pretty lucky, look how fucked up I COULD be." That's when the doctor walks in. Was it my usual, smiling, stereotypically hispanic pediatrician, Dr. Ramirez? No. Instead it was some tall, cynical blondie who spent most of our time telling me what I better not do when I left that place, like I was getting out of prison instead of a children's hospital. So after a lot of poking and prodding we moved on to my vaccine record. Apparently my bodily defense is not as up to par as I thought it was. Apparently I need a tetanus shot, and oh look I'm behind on my hepatitis A vaccine, and well since I'm going out of the country I might as well get a test for tuberculosis. Tuberculosis?! The list just gets longer and longer. Now the doctor's finally gotten out of my room. I sit in there, not quite sure if I'm getting my shots today or if I'm supposed to leave now. After about 8 minutes or so I get my answer. A nurse comes in carrying a tray piled high with needles. Usually, I'm pretty good with needles, but this was no ordinary shot, it wasn't even an ordinary couple of shots, needless to say, I was scared. Before I know it my frikkn' flight instinct has even kicked in and I'm looking anxiously for ways to get out of there before my arms become swiss cheese. The nurse is walking over to me now, armed and dangerous. She sets the tray down beside me and begins rubbing my arms up and down with alcohol. The smell burns my nose and makes me feel sick. Flick, flick. "Take a deep breath," she says, and boom the first one's in. It literally feels like someone has shoved a rock into my muscle, I know some shots hurt worse than others but this one was a bitch. Without time for even a second breath, I see the nurse getting ready to puncture me again, a little higher than the first wound. "Wait a sec.." I stammer, but the needle is already in and within seconds I feel a second rush of alien fluid stretching the walls of my unsuspecting flesh. But wait, it's not over, now we're going to shove some goo under ur skin she says. She already has the needle in hand. "Are u going to take it back out when you're done?" I ask quickly. "Oh no" she responds, "it will go away on its own in a while." Good thing because I'm already getting the first skin implant of my life. Apparently this goo stuff is not as fluid as the other vaccines. As I sit there writhing in pain I imagine the stuff having the texture of something like peanut butter. Whatever it is, it's not going in without a fight. Let's just say, slowest, and probably one of the most painful shots of my life. When it's finally over I look down and there's a frikkn' white hump about half a centimeter high protruding out of my inner forearm. "Don't put pressure on it" she says. Why? Because another ounce of pressure against my struggling epidermal wall is likely to form a crater? I wouldn't have been surprised. So finally I'm allowed to get out of that stinking place, that is if I can work the door knobs with my two aching and already heavily numbed pair of appendages. It takes me a few minutes just to figure out how to carry all my school stuff without putting at least one of my arms in extreme pain. When I get to my car I try to figure out how to get my keys out of my backpack without putting too much weight on either arm muscle, and without putting pressure on my tuberculosis tattoo, but eventually I just give up and drop everything, settling to put stuff in one by one. FINALLY, I have everything in my car and I'm sitting in the driver's seat when I look down at my arms, both completely numb at this point, and realize "fuck, how am I going to drive?"
Everything was going...pretty well at first. I walk through the door of the office and am immediately hit by that ever present diaper smell in every pediatrics center. (Which is another thing, how old to I have to be before I can stop seeing the children's doctor?!) I look around and am relieved to see that there are no crying babies or screaming children already present in the waiting area. Ahead of me, I am greeted by a cheerful receptionist who is sitting behind a desk cluttered with toys and animal stickers. I walk up to her and sign in, getting a "these better not be suing papers" look when I hand her my extra foreign exchange forms. Just a few minutes later I am led back into the treatment area, a stark contrast to the happy waiting room painted up with pictures of castles and dragons and decorated with toys and even a play station 2. The first thing that crosses my mind when I walk through that dreaded door, "they must put the only non-Prozac using nurse up front." What's more, the area is completely covered in white, without a splash of color to be seen anywhere. Hallways lined with doors stretch out as far as I can see, creating a sort of dizzying effect as if I was suddenly dropped into one of those freaky visual illusions with the endlessly stacked boxes. There is no time to become adjusted however, I am quickly (and reluctantly) handed off to a different, not quite so cheery nurse who begins the normal measurements listed above. After this I'm put into a room. It's that kind with the bed in the corner that has the flimsy paper on top that no matter how hard u try u end up ripping it to shreds with ur ass cheeks before u leave. I swear, no matter what kind of doctor the room belongs to (pediatricians, neurologists, cardiologists), they all look the same. Well except that they usually have a poster with their specialty's worst possible scenarios on it that kind of makes u think, "wow, im actually pretty lucky, look how fucked up I COULD be." That's when the doctor walks in. Was it my usual, smiling, stereotypically hispanic pediatrician, Dr. Ramirez? No. Instead it was some tall, cynical blondie who spent most of our time telling me what I better not do when I left that place, like I was getting out of prison instead of a children's hospital. So after a lot of poking and prodding we moved on to my vaccine record. Apparently my bodily defense is not as up to par as I thought it was. Apparently I need a tetanus shot, and oh look I'm behind on my hepatitis A vaccine, and well since I'm going out of the country I might as well get a test for tuberculosis. Tuberculosis?! The list just gets longer and longer. Now the doctor's finally gotten out of my room. I sit in there, not quite sure if I'm getting my shots today or if I'm supposed to leave now. After about 8 minutes or so I get my answer. A nurse comes in carrying a tray piled high with needles. Usually, I'm pretty good with needles, but this was no ordinary shot, it wasn't even an ordinary couple of shots, needless to say, I was scared. Before I know it my frikkn' flight instinct has even kicked in and I'm looking anxiously for ways to get out of there before my arms become swiss cheese. The nurse is walking over to me now, armed and dangerous. She sets the tray down beside me and begins rubbing my arms up and down with alcohol. The smell burns my nose and makes me feel sick. Flick, flick. "Take a deep breath," she says, and boom the first one's in. It literally feels like someone has shoved a rock into my muscle, I know some shots hurt worse than others but this one was a bitch. Without time for even a second breath, I see the nurse getting ready to puncture me again, a little higher than the first wound. "Wait a sec.." I stammer, but the needle is already in and within seconds I feel a second rush of alien fluid stretching the walls of my unsuspecting flesh. But wait, it's not over, now we're going to shove some goo under ur skin she says. She already has the needle in hand. "Are u going to take it back out when you're done?" I ask quickly. "Oh no" she responds, "it will go away on its own in a while." Good thing because I'm already getting the first skin implant of my life. Apparently this goo stuff is not as fluid as the other vaccines. As I sit there writhing in pain I imagine the stuff having the texture of something like peanut butter. Whatever it is, it's not going in without a fight. Let's just say, slowest, and probably one of the most painful shots of my life. When it's finally over I look down and there's a frikkn' white hump about half a centimeter high protruding out of my inner forearm. "Don't put pressure on it" she says. Why? Because another ounce of pressure against my struggling epidermal wall is likely to form a crater? I wouldn't have been surprised. So finally I'm allowed to get out of that stinking place, that is if I can work the door knobs with my two aching and already heavily numbed pair of appendages. It takes me a few minutes just to figure out how to carry all my school stuff without putting at least one of my arms in extreme pain. When I get to my car I try to figure out how to get my keys out of my backpack without putting too much weight on either arm muscle, and without putting pressure on my tuberculosis tattoo, but eventually I just give up and drop everything, settling to put stuff in one by one. FINALLY, I have everything in my car and I'm sitting in the driver's seat when I look down at my arms, both completely numb at this point, and realize "fuck, how am I going to drive?"
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
so i'll admit..
I feel kind of bad about putting up so many depressing posts recently. I don't want to be responsible for any suicides or anything, I just have a lot of pent-up emotion that I need to get out (dont we all?). Plus, I've been talking about a lot of things that I'm very passionate about, and when I talk about things like that I tend to go dark. Anyway, here's my promise to you that my next post will be on something lighter, or at least in a different language. The unbearably long and rant-like posts will not cease but I will try to stem their flow for at least a little bit.
Hasta luego, ¡buenas noches!
Hasta luego, ¡buenas noches!
This is actually my response to electronichss comment on the post below but it was too long to be a comment so I had to post it instead :)
Hm, that's a good question, and my answer is I really don't know.
You know when youre little (especially as a little girl), people feed u all kinds of crap about love and marriage and stuff like that. On one hand, I can understand the need to cushion little kids from the hardships of those things, however on the other hand, it basically sets people up to be completely unprepared for reality and knocked off their feet by disillusionment during their tween and teenage years. So then you're scrambling to suddenly make sense of it all and in the end many people, myself included, question the existence of true love at all. The maturity difference between girls and guys during those times, and really beyond them as well, really fucks everything up as well. First u have a bunch of innocent, good-natured girls get fucked up by stupid, immature guys, who then get similarly terrible treatment when they actually begin to mature (somewhere around 18) and have nothing left but the bitchy, ripped up remains of a bunch of angry and disillusioned females. My whole point in describing this process is to describe some small part of where I'm coming from when I say that I haven't believed in true love for a long time. What is love, really? I mean what's the point of it? 48% of marriages get divorced, they thought they loved each other didnt they? Certainly love can be used to take control of someone or as an apology when someone has done something that someone who is in love would never do. Even family love, which is supposed to be the strongest of all, often doesnt hold. Myself alone, and I have a pretty good family as far as families go, have been abandoned by two grandmas and an uncle who decided that I just wasn't worth their time anymore despite having known me for years. But despite the fact that I think a lot of couples are kidding themselves, and that all relationships are threatened by sudden fallout (no matter how "in love" they are), I am not a closed book. What I believe comes from what I have observed and experienced, and I will continue to change based on new observances and experiences. Perhaps I have accepted such a harsh view of love because I have very little to counterbalance it with. Therfore, in the future there is a possibility that I will change my mind, maybe even dramatically, but not until I have solid proof that what I have concluded from all my years of living is wrong. What I DONT want is to be one of those stupid girls who swoons under every charming guy and forgets about everything that she has learned to be wary of in the past, then wonders why she keeps getting hurt over and over again. So, to answer ur question, I know I could do that if there were no voices because I've already done it once before I had any. Now that I have plenty, it would be far more difficult. And anyway, as the song describes, I tend to let people go because I think that if love exists then they should go find it and stop wasting their time with me. After all, I wouldnt want to have to try to love someone like me, who wants to love a bunch of broken pieces that are afraid of letting someone put them back together again? I'm very talented at making easily detachable connections with people, that I can do without much risk or effort, but I dont think in the long run that it would be a rewarding experience for the other person because I cant put much of myself into it. Love, on the other hand, frightens me because I sense that it requires a giving away of yourself where u r so completely entwined with the other person that when u seperate u have nothing left. This has happened to me only once in my lifetime, except that the connection was made out of desperation and not love, and when it ended it was the single most painful thing I have ever been through, with a time of rebuilding that lasted for longer than I care to admit. Thus, will I ever be willing to give myself up like that again, i don't know. To me, that is kind of like asking if, after almost dying from setting oneself on fire, to do it again and see if it turns out any different. Maybe it would, but at least for the moment my heart stays as far away from love as possible.
You know when youre little (especially as a little girl), people feed u all kinds of crap about love and marriage and stuff like that. On one hand, I can understand the need to cushion little kids from the hardships of those things, however on the other hand, it basically sets people up to be completely unprepared for reality and knocked off their feet by disillusionment during their tween and teenage years. So then you're scrambling to suddenly make sense of it all and in the end many people, myself included, question the existence of true love at all. The maturity difference between girls and guys during those times, and really beyond them as well, really fucks everything up as well. First u have a bunch of innocent, good-natured girls get fucked up by stupid, immature guys, who then get similarly terrible treatment when they actually begin to mature (somewhere around 18) and have nothing left but the bitchy, ripped up remains of a bunch of angry and disillusioned females. My whole point in describing this process is to describe some small part of where I'm coming from when I say that I haven't believed in true love for a long time. What is love, really? I mean what's the point of it? 48% of marriages get divorced, they thought they loved each other didnt they? Certainly love can be used to take control of someone or as an apology when someone has done something that someone who is in love would never do. Even family love, which is supposed to be the strongest of all, often doesnt hold. Myself alone, and I have a pretty good family as far as families go, have been abandoned by two grandmas and an uncle who decided that I just wasn't worth their time anymore despite having known me for years. But despite the fact that I think a lot of couples are kidding themselves, and that all relationships are threatened by sudden fallout (no matter how "in love" they are), I am not a closed book. What I believe comes from what I have observed and experienced, and I will continue to change based on new observances and experiences. Perhaps I have accepted such a harsh view of love because I have very little to counterbalance it with. Therfore, in the future there is a possibility that I will change my mind, maybe even dramatically, but not until I have solid proof that what I have concluded from all my years of living is wrong. What I DONT want is to be one of those stupid girls who swoons under every charming guy and forgets about everything that she has learned to be wary of in the past, then wonders why she keeps getting hurt over and over again. So, to answer ur question, I know I could do that if there were no voices because I've already done it once before I had any. Now that I have plenty, it would be far more difficult. And anyway, as the song describes, I tend to let people go because I think that if love exists then they should go find it and stop wasting their time with me. After all, I wouldnt want to have to try to love someone like me, who wants to love a bunch of broken pieces that are afraid of letting someone put them back together again? I'm very talented at making easily detachable connections with people, that I can do without much risk or effort, but I dont think in the long run that it would be a rewarding experience for the other person because I cant put much of myself into it. Love, on the other hand, frightens me because I sense that it requires a giving away of yourself where u r so completely entwined with the other person that when u seperate u have nothing left. This has happened to me only once in my lifetime, except that the connection was made out of desperation and not love, and when it ended it was the single most painful thing I have ever been through, with a time of rebuilding that lasted for longer than I care to admit. Thus, will I ever be willing to give myself up like that again, i don't know. To me, that is kind of like asking if, after almost dying from setting oneself on fire, to do it again and see if it turns out any different. Maybe it would, but at least for the moment my heart stays as far away from love as possible.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Where I Stood by Missy Higgins
Great song. :)
Describes a lot of relationships in my life, and explains why I've left most of them behind.
If I have learned nothing else in the ups and downs of my relations I have learned this: if youre not confident in who you are, then youre not ready for a relationship.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
You know what drives me crazy about almost all of my friends?
They are all genuinely good people and people that I trust, but they all have one major quality that often ruins them, at least in the relationship department (sorry that I keep coming back to this by the way xp), because it hides some of their most beautiful qualities. I'm just going to go ahead and list them out so that you have an idea of what I'm talking about:
1) A very good friend of mine cannot, for the life of her, stick with a guy for more than a week or so. I mean as soon as she has him then she lets him go because, i assume, the chase is over and thus no longer exciting. I also think that it has to do with the fact that she doesn't really know what she wants and she's not picky enough. Oh, and she also has more creepers than anyone else I know, an unfortunate downside of being nice to everyone, a trait that guys who never get looked at twice take as real interest.
2) This has got to be the most common one. I can name maybe three girls who don't have this problem. Most of my friends are ALWAYS negative about their appearance. Do they ever feel pretty? It's not like people never tell them theyre pretty! Don't they see that if you are constantly saying that you are ugly and overweight that people are eventually going to look at them that way. Not to mention that to be able to get anywhere in this world you have to have confident in yourself.
3) Trash talking. Need I say more? One of my absolutely kindest friends is also a terrible trash talker. I have no idea why, it doesn't make any sense to me. She is unbelievably sweet most of the time, but when she isn't, ooh boy it's not pretty. Why doesn't she realize that gossiping and trash talking can make her come off as a conceited bitch, which she isnt!
4) This is kind of a strange one. A friend of mine does not like compliments (nor, of course, does she like insults). At this point I've just given up, I don't tell her anything about her. But for people who don't know, I can't imagine how confusing it is to tell someone, "hey, you look really good today" and then to have them give you a morose expression in return, maybe even walk off in a huff.
I'm honestly not sure how to help them. I kind of feel like it's better to just tell them what I think their problem is instead of letting it to continue to harm them over time, but then what do I know? I could be totally wrong. I've been trying to tell them subtly, going silent when they start complaining/trash talking/etc, telling them that I think what they are doing is mean, but so far it doesn't seem to be doing much good. So I think for now I'm just going to try turning up the pressure a little bit (instead of unleashing a flood of correction, even if flows from a genuinely caring place) and see if that does anything.
Honestly, I think this whole post stems from the fact that I just got finished watching 2 straight hours of Millionaire Matchmaker. Haha, it's actually a pretty good show, especially if you're looking for solid dating advice.
1) A very good friend of mine cannot, for the life of her, stick with a guy for more than a week or so. I mean as soon as she has him then she lets him go because, i assume, the chase is over and thus no longer exciting. I also think that it has to do with the fact that she doesn't really know what she wants and she's not picky enough. Oh, and she also has more creepers than anyone else I know, an unfortunate downside of being nice to everyone, a trait that guys who never get looked at twice take as real interest.
2) This has got to be the most common one. I can name maybe three girls who don't have this problem. Most of my friends are ALWAYS negative about their appearance. Do they ever feel pretty? It's not like people never tell them theyre pretty! Don't they see that if you are constantly saying that you are ugly and overweight that people are eventually going to look at them that way. Not to mention that to be able to get anywhere in this world you have to have confident in yourself.
3) Trash talking. Need I say more? One of my absolutely kindest friends is also a terrible trash talker. I have no idea why, it doesn't make any sense to me. She is unbelievably sweet most of the time, but when she isn't, ooh boy it's not pretty. Why doesn't she realize that gossiping and trash talking can make her come off as a conceited bitch, which she isnt!
4) This is kind of a strange one. A friend of mine does not like compliments (nor, of course, does she like insults). At this point I've just given up, I don't tell her anything about her. But for people who don't know, I can't imagine how confusing it is to tell someone, "hey, you look really good today" and then to have them give you a morose expression in return, maybe even walk off in a huff.
I'm honestly not sure how to help them. I kind of feel like it's better to just tell them what I think their problem is instead of letting it to continue to harm them over time, but then what do I know? I could be totally wrong. I've been trying to tell them subtly, going silent when they start complaining/trash talking/etc, telling them that I think what they are doing is mean, but so far it doesn't seem to be doing much good. So I think for now I'm just going to try turning up the pressure a little bit (instead of unleashing a flood of correction, even if flows from a genuinely caring place) and see if that does anything.
Honestly, I think this whole post stems from the fact that I just got finished watching 2 straight hours of Millionaire Matchmaker. Haha, it's actually a pretty good show, especially if you're looking for solid dating advice.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Read me, I might change your life
I was sitting in my Theory of Knowledge class today, listening to my teacher giving a lecture (a usual activity), when I heard him say something that caught me completely off guard. He said:
"Everything that travels across your synapses has the potential to enrich your life."
I thought, what a profound idea. It's the ultimatum of optimism of course, but then optimism is one of the greatest wonders of life. Being negative is easy, being optimistic takes thought and effort. Optimism is the only idea that will get us anywhere. Think about that quote for a moment...
Imagine viewing the world through that statement. Everything, EVERYTHING, has the potential to enrich your life. Just a few minutes ago, I walked up the stairs of my house to reach my computer. When I was baby, I bet I couldn't reach the top of the stairs by myself, but now it is so easy that I don't even think about it. Right now, I am having a very difficult time in math. I have to work really hard at it, and even then I often need tutoring. But maybe math is like a staircase, and after a while I won't need help, after many years of trying it will be so easy I won't even have to think about it. And maybe at the top I will finally see why I climbed the staircase in the first place. Even the smallest things have the ability to make you see something differently then you did before. They can allow you to construct a new idea, or to remember something extraordinary about yourself that had slipped through the cracks made by age and hardship. Right now my desk is cluttered with materials from my life. A lace headband, my iPhone, a language learning program, a drawing, a magazine, a pile of gum, a staple-less stapler, a pinwheel. Each of them say a little bit about me. If I ever lose myself all I have to do is look right here. I don't know yet exactly how I'm going to use this new perspective in my own life, but I can't wait to find out. I'm looking forward to things that I never look forward to (like homework), and tomorrow seems like it could actually be really different from today. I feel like this is the true way to appreciate life, maybe the meaning is in the details, and now maybe I finally have the lens to make use of them.
"Everything that travels across your synapses has the potential to enrich your life."
I thought, what a profound idea. It's the ultimatum of optimism of course, but then optimism is one of the greatest wonders of life. Being negative is easy, being optimistic takes thought and effort. Optimism is the only idea that will get us anywhere. Think about that quote for a moment...
Imagine viewing the world through that statement. Everything, EVERYTHING, has the potential to enrich your life. Just a few minutes ago, I walked up the stairs of my house to reach my computer. When I was baby, I bet I couldn't reach the top of the stairs by myself, but now it is so easy that I don't even think about it. Right now, I am having a very difficult time in math. I have to work really hard at it, and even then I often need tutoring. But maybe math is like a staircase, and after a while I won't need help, after many years of trying it will be so easy I won't even have to think about it. And maybe at the top I will finally see why I climbed the staircase in the first place. Even the smallest things have the ability to make you see something differently then you did before. They can allow you to construct a new idea, or to remember something extraordinary about yourself that had slipped through the cracks made by age and hardship. Right now my desk is cluttered with materials from my life. A lace headband, my iPhone, a language learning program, a drawing, a magazine, a pile of gum, a staple-less stapler, a pinwheel. Each of them say a little bit about me. If I ever lose myself all I have to do is look right here. I don't know yet exactly how I'm going to use this new perspective in my own life, but I can't wait to find out. I'm looking forward to things that I never look forward to (like homework), and tomorrow seems like it could actually be really different from today. I feel like this is the true way to appreciate life, maybe the meaning is in the details, and now maybe I finally have the lens to make use of them.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
David Neuse Photo Shoot
I LOVEEE modeling. :)
This photo shoot was probably one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.
I've been wondering...
Do near death experiences mean that there's a reason why you're still alive, that there's something you still have to do before you die, or are they just good luck? I'm not talking about getting pulled out of the way of a speeding car sort of experience, I mean like baffled doctors saying "she should not be alive" sort of experience. That's happened to me once. It was because of alcohol poisoning. Eight hours after I stopped drinking my alcohol level was at 0.26, people go into comas at 0.35. As for the reason, let's just say I wasn't partying, but I also wasn't trying to kill myself. I wonder if there's any way that my mind or my body, or maybe both, knew that and that's why I didn't die. Kind of like how hospital patients often die when they've decided that they've had enough and don't want to live anymore. I do still believe in God, and I can't help but wonder if maybe he kept me here because he has a plan for me that I haven't completed yet. That's a comforting thought. Of course I probably won't go looking for that special thing I'm supposed to do, if it's worth saving me for then I'm sure it will show up on it's own. Then again, it could just be coincidence. I'm pretty sure I just made a complete circle and got nowhere. Haha, of course it's not really a question that you can answer in certainty so I don't really know where I was hoping to end up in the first place. Anyway, I don't want to obsess over the moment, but if you've ever had a brink of death experience like me then you know it changes you dramatically, and it's hard not to imagine that your life has a meaning when you can't explain how you're still breathing in the first place.
This is a poem I wrote last year...
Empty
Enveloped in a warmth
Slipping into a vast sea
I’m afraid of the depth of its shadows,
My toes strain for the sand far below its surface
While my eyes search upwards
Watching the sun shrink away.
An aroma not my own
Escapes from a kind gesture,
Seeping into my core it burns
And as it brushes against vacant spaces
I am reminded of the empty jacket on my shoulders.
I think it still applies to me these days. I don't know if you can tell what it is about, but the meaning is very close to my heart and is part of something that I fight every day. I don't want to punish innocent, maybe even good intentioned, people because of what others have done to me in the past. I don't want to be one of those girls who takes someone's heart with the intention of crushing it into a million pieces. The potential is there, I can feel the darkness burning away inside of me, lashing out at moments when I don't expect it. I've seen what revenge does to people. I've seen how the darkness can spread to a hundred, maybe even thousands of people from a single source. I know what it looks like when someone is falling into the trap, and I know what it felt like when it happened to me, repeatedly. I wouldn't call myself a tease, like most people I've had my fair share of flings, but at least then I paid out, some times more than others. Still, I could be. it would be so easy, I would know exactly how to do it. Why do I know how, I wonder? I assume it comes mostly from the stories I've heard from my brother. Having a skilled (and let's just say instinct-driven) heart-breaker in the family has at least allowed me to understand, and understand well, some of the worst potential of the mannish mind. At least he's never raped someone, I don't even want to be let in on the mechanics of those sorts of freaks. I've been told a million times before that all guys want is sex, sex, sex. Certainly, I've seen and heard plenty of things that would support that statement. Of course, I don't really know what guys think, but its pretty hard to argue when guys tell u that themselves. If it's true, then that's a pretty fucking depressing future. I have nothing against sex itself, but for that to be all there is, all I'm valued for, it makes me wonder why I would care at all. Give them what they want if they want it, but at least get something out of it. This is not going to be one of those blogs with a nice little ending conclusion that makes me feel like I've actually solved something. And it'll probably make you think I'm a masochistic monster. But I live in a world full of rapists, kidnappers, people who will put drugs in my drink, and people who will pick me up just to watch me fall. It frightens me. What they're after I can't just throw at them and run away like money or power, it's just me. I feel like, in order to protect myself, I always have to be one step ahead, always suspicious of intentions and distrustful of kindness. I feel like I should put a wall around myself, and block out anyone trying to pry beneath my superficial shell. Marilyn Monroe once said, "A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left." This advice has been working out fairly well for me for the last several months. I don't open up and I don't get hurt. Still, and this is what just kills me, I can't help but wish for something better. I can't help worrying that one day I'll block out someone who really is genuine and who really does care, but who blends in with all the other liars, fakes, and perverts. I want to protect myself but I don't want to alienate those worth trusting. I don't need someone to be happy, but I also don't want to be alone forever. I wish I could know that it's worth picking myself up and trying over and over again. I wish I could know that some guys are different and that some guys actually want me to be happy. But every time I think I might be close to some kind of answer, I look at my scar and remember, the only person you can rely on is yourself.
Enveloped in a warmth
Slipping into a vast sea
I’m afraid of the depth of its shadows,
My toes strain for the sand far below its surface
While my eyes search upwards
Watching the sun shrink away.
An aroma not my own
Escapes from a kind gesture,
Seeping into my core it burns
And as it brushes against vacant spaces
I am reminded of the empty jacket on my shoulders.
I think it still applies to me these days. I don't know if you can tell what it is about, but the meaning is very close to my heart and is part of something that I fight every day. I don't want to punish innocent, maybe even good intentioned, people because of what others have done to me in the past. I don't want to be one of those girls who takes someone's heart with the intention of crushing it into a million pieces. The potential is there, I can feel the darkness burning away inside of me, lashing out at moments when I don't expect it. I've seen what revenge does to people. I've seen how the darkness can spread to a hundred, maybe even thousands of people from a single source. I know what it looks like when someone is falling into the trap, and I know what it felt like when it happened to me, repeatedly. I wouldn't call myself a tease, like most people I've had my fair share of flings, but at least then I paid out, some times more than others. Still, I could be. it would be so easy, I would know exactly how to do it. Why do I know how, I wonder? I assume it comes mostly from the stories I've heard from my brother. Having a skilled (and let's just say instinct-driven) heart-breaker in the family has at least allowed me to understand, and understand well, some of the worst potential of the mannish mind. At least he's never raped someone, I don't even want to be let in on the mechanics of those sorts of freaks. I've been told a million times before that all guys want is sex, sex, sex. Certainly, I've seen and heard plenty of things that would support that statement. Of course, I don't really know what guys think, but its pretty hard to argue when guys tell u that themselves. If it's true, then that's a pretty fucking depressing future. I have nothing against sex itself, but for that to be all there is, all I'm valued for, it makes me wonder why I would care at all. Give them what they want if they want it, but at least get something out of it. This is not going to be one of those blogs with a nice little ending conclusion that makes me feel like I've actually solved something. And it'll probably make you think I'm a masochistic monster. But I live in a world full of rapists, kidnappers, people who will put drugs in my drink, and people who will pick me up just to watch me fall. It frightens me. What they're after I can't just throw at them and run away like money or power, it's just me. I feel like, in order to protect myself, I always have to be one step ahead, always suspicious of intentions and distrustful of kindness. I feel like I should put a wall around myself, and block out anyone trying to pry beneath my superficial shell. Marilyn Monroe once said, "A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left." This advice has been working out fairly well for me for the last several months. I don't open up and I don't get hurt. Still, and this is what just kills me, I can't help but wish for something better. I can't help worrying that one day I'll block out someone who really is genuine and who really does care, but who blends in with all the other liars, fakes, and perverts. I want to protect myself but I don't want to alienate those worth trusting. I don't need someone to be happy, but I also don't want to be alone forever. I wish I could know that it's worth picking myself up and trying over and over again. I wish I could know that some guys are different and that some guys actually want me to be happy. But every time I think I might be close to some kind of answer, I look at my scar and remember, the only person you can rely on is yourself.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Music is what keeps me going.
"Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand
...Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?
The moths beat themselves to death against the lights.
Adding their breeze to the summer nights." -Modest Mouse (The World at Large)
Every time I listen to this song I get another meaning out of it.
It is such a beautiful piece of artistry.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand
...Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?
The moths beat themselves to death against the lights.
Adding their breeze to the summer nights." -Modest Mouse (The World at Large)
Every time I listen to this song I get another meaning out of it.
It is such a beautiful piece of artistry.
Spanisch
Tambien, a veces voy a crear entradas en espanol porque me gusta hablar en espanol y es muy aburrido hablar solo en ingles todo el tiempo cuando son tantas idiomas en el mundo.
Ich könnte auch zu schaffen Vorspeise in Deutsch.
Ou peut-être en français si je veux.
Ich könnte auch zu schaffen Vorspeise in Deutsch.
Ou peut-être en français si je veux.
I would just like to point out...
For all of you out there who hate religion, you do realize that "religion" is just a set of beliefs, and that you yourself are presenting a religion at the same time that you are condemning the idea, right?
Don't worry, I am not a faith-obsessed evangelist about to launch into a pent-up anti-atheist lecture. I just thought you should know that you're being hypocritical before you go proclaiming that you know more than everyone else.
Don't worry, I am not a faith-obsessed evangelist about to launch into a pent-up anti-atheist lecture. I just thought you should know that you're being hypocritical before you go proclaiming that you know more than everyone else.
Blogs.
Why do millions of people make a blog for themselves? Are they calling out for help, or maybe just attention? Considering that most blogs will not be read by someone other than the author, that doesn't really make sense. But then, much of human nature doesn't make sense, so I suppose if you look at it that way then it does follow some kind of logic. Perhaps it should be called chaotic logic. After all, that does seem to be the progression of things doesn't it? The more we learn about the nature of the universe, the more we discover that it is all just organized chaos. Look at fractals for example, or atomic reactions. From a general view both would seem in pandemonium, however, a closer look reveals that there is a pattern and logic to the disorder that makes it function in a predictable manner.
Certainly some seem to believe that writing regular entries in a blog heightens one's sense of self and helps one to discover what makes him or her unique. I don't know if I believe this exactly. After all, one can only write about what he or she already knows. Perhaps writing it down helps people to organize their thoughts and thus they feel a sense of epiphany or discovery that was actually with them all along, just not put into comprehensible sentence structure. That's reasonable, I suppose. Still, it seems to me that blogs tend to focus around persuading its reader far more than changing its creator.
There's another reason. Maybe people write blogs to try and spread what they think is the right way to approach the world. They derive meaning from proclaiming their mindset to an imaginary (or perhaps in some cases a real) reading populace. They condemn religion or raise it up. Some say humans are naturally good and others say that we are naturally evil. The world is beautiful and the world is going down in flames. It's better to have loved and lost and its better not to have loved at all.
Whatever is true I must confess that I can only say what I know. Like others I hope to one day come to an understanding about what I have experienced here on Earth, but know that I never will. Why am I creating this blog? For all of the reasons listed above. Ask me after a while of doing this and I'll tell you if it was worth it.
Certainly some seem to believe that writing regular entries in a blog heightens one's sense of self and helps one to discover what makes him or her unique. I don't know if I believe this exactly. After all, one can only write about what he or she already knows. Perhaps writing it down helps people to organize their thoughts and thus they feel a sense of epiphany or discovery that was actually with them all along, just not put into comprehensible sentence structure. That's reasonable, I suppose. Still, it seems to me that blogs tend to focus around persuading its reader far more than changing its creator.
There's another reason. Maybe people write blogs to try and spread what they think is the right way to approach the world. They derive meaning from proclaiming their mindset to an imaginary (or perhaps in some cases a real) reading populace. They condemn religion or raise it up. Some say humans are naturally good and others say that we are naturally evil. The world is beautiful and the world is going down in flames. It's better to have loved and lost and its better not to have loved at all.
Whatever is true I must confess that I can only say what I know. Like others I hope to one day come to an understanding about what I have experienced here on Earth, but know that I never will. Why am I creating this blog? For all of the reasons listed above. Ask me after a while of doing this and I'll tell you if it was worth it.
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