.stranger in a strange land.

Forget

2011-12-11T13:07:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I get stuck, really stuck, stuck to my bed. To my room (my cave), my solitude. And I manage to convince myself that that's all there is.

Then I have this brilliant (novel) idea to reach out with an innocuous,"Hey what's up?". Minutes later I've made plans to go out for the day and realize that my isolation has always been self induced.

Sheepish, silly, forgetful me.

2011-11-28T00:24:00.001-08:00

maybe this time.

2011-11-26T17:27:00.001-08:00

I should care more that you are upset but I don't.

they call

2011-08-23T22:22:00.001-07:00

They call and ask me what to do.

I don't know.

Wake up!

Quiet.

2011-08-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

Words look weird right now. I spent the past hour meandering the internet.

Work stresses me out, I feel old and bored.

tug tug at my severed heart strings
moth eaten
can't feel a thing

Yawn.

buzz buzz of bee(l)z(etc).

2011-06-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

Hang out with friends. Cake & Ice Cream Happy Birthday.

Today was the first Happy Birthday singing that I ever experienced - in tune. We were all on key. Perfectly. It was amazing.

Sweet Caroline is on the radio as I drive home, and I cried a little. Isn't that silly? That was your mom's favorite song. Then I pulled in to the garage and Glycerine was on. Cry a little cry.

I got to my room and discovered I did not have my phone. I went back to my car and discovered I forgot to close the garage door. I guess I didn't notice the door when the song ended.

Beep Beep Beep. I remember you.

Beep Beep Beep.

Oh well.

I will live the life I chose.

AWOL

2011-05-21T18:08:00.000-07:00

Hello.

It's me again. Don't be angry that I haven't written anything here in over a year. I don't really know where the time goes.

Every once and a while I think to myself that I am letting my 20s pass by without really recording any of the experience. It's honestly not that exciting. I'm more introspective, but more apathetic. Calmer, not necessarily wiser, but I think I have gotten used to internalizing the feelings that were raging in me when I was younger. There really is only so much one can say about the same old feelings.

I read that last paragraph back to myself and - don't get me wrong - I have good times. I have exciting times. I do! I swear.

-------------------------------

My favorite brother moved to Sweden for a job. I'm excited for him, but sorry that he had to go. He moved back home for about half a year and we were spending time together, it was nice. He's always gone! College and then grad school and now Sweden. Years go by but he's still my favorite.

My other brother is also nice.

--------------------------------

I recently started playing this silly game called Virtual Villagers, a real time simulation of a village for the "casual gamer". I don't really play video games all that much anymore, but apparently when I do, I am unable to be casual about it.

The game progresses at a slow pace, for every hour of real time, less than a year might pass for the villagers. This doesn't work for me.

I keep my system clock open and make the clock go 12 hours ahead so that the villagers will advance their farming and science tech. Also, it takes too long for the villagers to make new baby villagers, so I force them to breed and then move the system clock two hours ahead so I can find out if the baby is a girl or a boy. This is important. I accidentally skipped 30 years ahead in game time and all of my founding villagers were dead with only 3 people left to repopulate the village.

This is all very fascinating, I know. Basically, I found a game hack for what is essentially FarmVille. (By the way - screw FarmVille. Harvest Moon (glorious 1996!) is where it's at. Was where it was at?).

Gee! This content is so awesome.

-E

distress

2010-04-12T01:07:00.001-07:00

it's raining. my laptop has a virus. my ex boyfriend has my stuff. i have been taking antibiotics for over three weeks, and shh.. don't tell, but i think there is still something wrong with me. i applied for health insurance, but i wonder if i can hold out for another month. if it goes through, it will be in the beginning of may. until then..

whatever i have is never enough, never ever enough. but hush.. crush your youthful spirit. grow up. even when i am with someone i am still.. it doesn't matter.

somehow i am 24. at this age my mom already had her first baby. and i have my first white hair.

i can read and watch and listen to escape. but i always end up right back here.
it's fine.
i'm fine.

snippet

2010-04-08T21:47:00.001-07:00

my ear pressed against your chest

your heartbeat sounds like a question

growing up is

2010-03-07T20:26:00.001-08:00

the acceleration of your awareness of the passage of time.
acountability for your actions
compromising your ideals
habit. routine.
apathy born from weariness
lonliness.

better

2010-02-20T01:26:00.001-08:00

i summoned the powers of zen mastery and i feel a lot better now. woot.

fuck

2010-02-19T23:22:00.001-08:00

i am so fucking angry

thotz

2010-02-16T19:02:00.001-08:00

gosh life is weird. like. weird.
yeah, that is just about as articulate as i can be today
when i finally emerged in to the clearing and saw you, i thought all the darkness had passed. then, as we danced, i saw the darkness crawling up from below.

done

2010-02-11T20:23:00.001-08:00

change.
i don't know what to expect. so i won't.
i'm just going to be.

want

2010-01-28T19:42:00.001-08:00

i

want to wander this world

but i am too scared to leave this room

too scared to leave it

too scared to leave

too scared to breathe

phones, sunsets, taxes

2010-01-28T18:14:00.001-08:00

So I have this fancy new phone. i am using it to blog. i am no longer using caps because the phone doesnt automate them. there is probably a setting for that.

the sunsets have been achingly neon lately. tonight the moon has a halo.

i feel real low. i keep thinking i should hang out with people but i keep feeling like avoiding them.

there is no computer here. there is a broken laptop and a computer that persists on running in Korean. i can't understand enough korean to figure out how to switch it back to english.

thus, i cannot fix the broken wireless. nor do i want to lug the koreanputer upstairs to plug it in to the router. my reasoning is that even if i did, i would not be able to understand enough korean to fix the wireless.

this means i cannot do my taxes online. i might be able to on my phone, but that seems to be something that would be even more painful than it already is.

i want to be left alone.

sort of.

10 years fly by and i wonder how much progress i have made.

maybe i will drink a beer.

oh and, i have to put in these line breaks manually. boo.

inebriation

2009-01-29T00:35:00.000-08:00

our time together is ripe, dear heart
the time is ripe for you to strike
for you to hurt me

and if you don't, then
then i was wrong all along -
and you always loved me.

------

images :

recent times -
new years - conversations about rape, shouted over festivities - what a strange and somber place to find myself. next to towering hedges - carefully picking my way through dog shit on a cold night.

dream images - carnivale, "remember, they may love death, but we love life" balconies, zombies. the hatch of the space station, the viewing port - breaking open and we try in vain to save our comrade.

a band from canada on rafters, middle school and a lunchtime concert. my first boyfriend doesn't remember who i am.

--------

and in real life, i see my ex with a girl i am not suprised to see. the moment i knew of her existence, i thought they would be good for eachother. i saw where they fit where he and i didn't. so i wasn't suprised tonight. i see him and turn away. truth be told, i am still disgusted with myself that i ever revealed so much to him. it was like baring my soul to a stranger, expecting to be loved for it.

---------

need to stop drinking so much!

---------

influence. bad. good.

----------
i am living my life---- who needs more?

-----------------------

i love you.

-------

i am a bad friend.

---
i need sleep, badly.

-e

dream images (etc)

2009-01-09T18:53:00.000-08:00

The father came home early, looking for his teenage son. He went to the backyard and came around the trailer that had been sitting there for years. Paint peeling, rust spots, tall grass hiding the deflated tires. If he had come home 5 minutes sooner, he would have seen a strange site. His son engaged in a strange dance with a girl he had never seen before. There was nothing lewd about the dance, it was a ritual. A solemn thing.

He knew something was wrong, as if he could sense that there had been someone standing in the grass moments before. He walked to the tree line, which masked the way to the river. He looked deep into the trees, and saw the form of a naked girl. Tiny little thing, and he only saw her knees. But it wasn't a human at all. The white form of the girl was actually the light reflecting from the wet nose of a wolf. The girl had come and transformed his son. They were wolf people.

conversations in my head

2008-12-22T08:31:00.000-08:00

1: I was never really a competitive person.

2: What do you mean?

1: I never did sports, I didn't really care if someone had a higher grade than me. If someone was better at something, I might be envious but I didn't ever feel like I had to do better than them.

2: Well, you never liked sports.

1: That's true.

2: You can't really think that you don't have a fighting spirit, though.

1: The only thing I can think of that I compete at is whether I'm crazier or not.

2: Go on.

1: I mean, I might subconsciously be trying to prove that I can be more reckless, more damaged, more deranged. Strang-er.

2: Maybe you should try to prove that you can be more normal.

1: That sounds boring.

2: Maybe you do these things because you don't care enough about yourself. It sounds sort of dangerous.

1: Are you saying I should take better care of myself?

2: I'm saying you shouldn't live life like you're running towards death.

1: Oh.

it's raining!

2008-11-25T22:54:00.001-08:00

edit: The first thing I would like to say is this -

If you can hear this rain, I hope it makes you smile.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe I am too easily moved? Maybe the pull of the moon, the heat of the sun, the feel of cold wind on my cheeks and the sound of rain dripping in gutters - maybe all of it means too much to me.

I think that's okay.

I just finished my bath, blew my nose as clear as I could (could have sworn some brain came out). I've caught whatever bug is floating around these days, but I am recovering. My legs are sore from this weekend, I danced. I danced so much I started to scare myself, "How am I doing this? How did I do that?! That was cool! This feels good! I'm gonna try that again! That was cool! How did I do that?" It's fun. Lately, I've been feeling like I've been growing into my own skin. When I hear music, I want to dance. I had this moment- dancing on that floor with people around me, but moving for no one but myself - I figure I should try to apply that everywhere. If I could just figure out how to get myself to move through life that way. But when it comes to living, I never seem to be able to move.

I'm sitting in the tub, water drained, listening to the rain.

It's Tuesday. I feel like I am on a cusp, I am staring ahead into the week and I have this kind of dread creeping in me. I can see where things might go wrong, things that might trigger another episode of depression (I really hate to use that word.) I would love to just stay right where I am, with the feeling I have right now. Calm. Clean.

I would love to not have work tomorrow, or ever again. Not because I really dislike my job, it's tedious but it isn't terrible. I would just love to spend my days reading, dancing, laughing, loving. Writing, drinking coffee. Yeah I know, all the fun parts. I know I need the tedium to give balance to my life. I know that when I had all the free time in the world, life lost it's flavor. Maybe what I miss is when Summer and Winter meant something more. Months of freedom to discover and play and grow. Yeah, I miss being a kid.

I like night time.

I like winter rain in Los Angeles.

At this moment I would love to call a certain person, but I wont - not because it's kind of late - but just because I know they would take it the wrong way. Oh well!

don't worry

2008-11-18T00:22:00.000-08:00

Dear Friend,

This too shall pass. Don't worry.

d'Scent

2008-11-17T19:49:00.000-08:00

Let loose your screams
and I will smother them, dear,
crow hard into my thirsty palm
and I will keep your secrets in my skin.
Strangers drawn to something they sense
but cannot name
Only dark creatures can follow this trail,
born in odd corners,
alleys in shadow,
perching in trees-
but We never look up.
They gather in clearings off
the unmarked path.
And I, of Hamlin,
dance through town with a detested parade.
I was trying to help you.
They follow, mesmerized,
when I sweat your secrets
when I sweat you,
the chords and top notes elude.
We are rare, and I will not share you
I could never tell you how I feel
because you would never listen.
The shadow-born die in the light
so I give them shelter in my dreams.
I gave you shelter in my dreams,
but you escaped me.

Things I say in my head when I can't say them out loud.

2008-11-17T17:55:00.000-08:00

I would have bought you dinner! I would have bought you dinner and a cupcake!

Naw, it's cool. I won't trip.

I'm bored though.

2008-11-17T07:32:00.000-08:00

I hold my ear to the ground for secret messages. I grow into the decisions I make. I wake up and my head begins to ache.

dream images 2

2008-11-14T08:11:00.001-08:00

I saw you with your friends, you were looking good. We all said hello. I walked over and took your hand and kissed it, as if you were the Lady and I the Sir. I smiled a sad smile and you looked at me, not understanding - embarrassed. Good thing it was every one's Birthday, they seemed to all be having a Happy one. It gave me an excuse to excuse myself and walk away from you.

2008-11-14T01:36:00.000-08:00

i say words
hoping that when they tumble from my lips
we will discover them
and they will have meaning

(you say words
but need no explanation-
and offer no replies)

dream images

2008-11-13T08:26:00.001-08:00

We didn't want to watch Peter Pan in the round theater, we have seen it too many times. So We tried to find something else to do, taking another exit that we had not tried before. The carnival was sure to have plenty of things for us to do. The ramp wound around and we looked for a door, knowing that there could be something swell behind one of them. The walls were made of raffia mats. We found bathrooms and offices but no way out. We pushed open a door that wasn't even there and found a classroom with students and desks, but our eyes went to the door with sun shining through at the edges. We found the kitchens, and I said, "Head to the back! they have to have a door that leads outside." But when we got there, the door they were pushing all the garbage through was for a furnace.

2008-11-12T22:23:00.000-08:00

when worlds c o l l i d e
comprenez-vous?

or should i give you a sign

there is nothing so familiar as
the lonely moon
the pavement cracked -
we send kisses on our feet
evenaswerun

even as i run
i am not one
to deny you

weaknesses we prey upon
and weak knees when we kneel

how should i feel
to feel you
\\ ggggrok//

keep talking
drown my voices in yours

l o s t a t s e a

2008-11-12T22:07:00.000-08:00

the words stick gummy to the roofs of our mouths
our tongues swell and we do not give in
give in
it's given -

to you me he she
cloying flavors when we lick our fingers
a gleam, a green metallic flavor
we
favor Hims and Shims from yesteryear
copying our greatest defense
from M.A.S.H and retro war games
Grand Lovers from old ages
never use tongue

but what words they speak -
And should we even listen?

Not a soul was meant to hear. She cribs and cheats and copies from

a familiar song or three.

She is not sober,

nor does she want to be.

Help Help Help Help! Gulps are swallows greater than sighs.

Fuckk kkkkk You!

I SET MYSELF ON FIRE WITHOUT YOU

i set myself on fire without you

2008-11-12T08:19:00.000-08:00

2008-11-12T00:00:00.000-08:00

if sleep is my father
and waking day my mother
then i am born of their meeting
in dreams
.zzzzz

2008-11-11T23:25:00.000-08:00

Okay, I will admit - I did not go to bed. I caught up on Heroes instead.

I wish I were sleepy.

she

2008-11-11T18:38:00.000-08:00

will sing her heart song when no one is around.

She will go to bed, early. Right now.

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Schizoid Personality Disorder:	Low
Schizotypal Personality Disorder:	Very High
Antisocial Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Borderline Personality Disorder:	Very High
Histrionic Personality Disorder:	High
Narcissistic Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Avoidant Personality Disorder:	Very High
Dependent Personality Disorder:	Very High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info --

Gorge (5 minute poems)

2008-11-11T17:58:00.000-08:00

i thought heard you calling
down below
echoes off the walls of gorges
giggling water sprites
mocking lovers and jumpers alike.
stepping lightly
choosing my trail
to avoid nature-laid traps
gravel thirsting for scraped knees
mud hungry for loose-tied shoes

at the bottom
i spent forty days and forty nights
searching
all i found was a curiously shaped rock
which i put in my pocket
intending on gifting it to you

i followed the water
having no other destination in mind
then,
years later
i walked into the sea.

cotton candy

2008-11-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

When I left work today, around 5pm, the sky was pink and blue. The moon already up, demure and waiting. Hazy moon. Waiting to dominate the sky.

Today wasn't that nice of a day. At work, I felt really tired but I managed to figure out a way to sit so my back wouldn't hurt. I went into "the zone" and worked and worked and hardly moved my hands from the computer. Even when I put on energetic music, I felt like lead. I had two cups of coffee in the morning, but I only felt decent for about an hour. I worked - repetitive, monotonous, robotic, copy and paste. My eyes drooped. My whole body sagged.

I kept feeling anxious. I tried just about a hundred and one mental tricks to calm myself - to try and let my mind wander off to some safe and neutral place that would allow time to pass at a regular rate instead of slowing to a crawl. Sometimes seeming to speed up - you know, just to keep me on my toes and make me sickly and acutely aware of the passage of time.

I have to put gas in my car and deposit three weeks worth of paychecks. I have to call Kaiser and set up an appointment. I have to get Live Scan fingerprinted for my notary commission to go through. I have to look up schools and I have bills to pay in a week. I have to finish cleaning my room and do what seems like a dozen loads of laundry. I really should call the orthodontist and get an appointment sooner than the 20th, wires are jabbing me and I've lost some of the bands that go on my brackets. I feel like I'm drifting away from some people that are important to me, but I can't get over myself long enough to make contact.

Sometimes I just feel utterly incapable. I'm struggling hard just to do simple real-world things. I feel like the most I can accomplish is to get out of bed in the morning and go to work - zombie through the day until 5. I know it's Tuesday, I checked. But it feels like no day at all. It feels like I just happen to be awake in some weird place in time. I feel like I have always been here, like today already happened yesterday and the day before and over and over. And tomorrow will be today all over again, and the day after, too. I know it doesn't really make sense - but that's how it feels.

I think I probably should take a nap. Maybe I just need sleep.

I know I am doing better than I could be, and that it is good that I am still trying. But I am starting to get hit with anxiety, every day. My hands might sweat, or my heart will start beating really hard, or I feel a sick flutter in my gut. I'm trying though..

I could go for a beer but I think I drank them all last week.

a song and a dream

2008-11-10T19:47:00.000-08:00

stretches out like branches of a poplar treeeeee

This morning my alarm went off at 8AM. I fell back asleep. I had this dream:

I was in a car with my mom, driving down the Pacific Coast Highway on bright blue day with scattered clouds in the sky. I was in the passenger seat, but I was driving my car, too. I could see my car ahead of us, and I was expected to control it from where I was. I had pedals, but no steering wheel. I was frustrated, trying in vain to keep my car from careening into the other cars on the road. I saw a Bentley (or a Royce?) and thought, "Great! Just great, I've always wanted to crash into a Bentley." It was purple and gold. I got so upset that I was not in control, suddenly I was a giant. I was moving my car along the road with my giant hand, as if it was a toy car. I was striding on the cliffside, wary of the ocean to my left. I thought that if I stepped into the ocean, I would surely drown. There was a break in the cliff, a mound of land was sticking out like a shelf. There was a small body of water there. I forgot all about my car. I saw my friend Jackie (also giant-sized) and she had two things in her hands, which at my size looked like little dolls that would fit in the palm of my hand. One was baby, swaddled and wrapped in white cloth, and the other a woman. Barbie-esque but smaller. Jackie threw them into the lake/pond and in a sing-song voice said, "There goes little Jackie!" I protested, "No!" and put out my hands to try and rescue the dolls, and I felt my foot slipping. I woke up.

It was 8:11AM.

a weekend

2008-11-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

This weekend .

Friday night I went to a party - DJs were playing mostly electro and all very dance-able goodness. Had loads of fun and danced my little heart out.

All Saturday and Sunday I chilled at a friend's place. Lazy, relaxing. Made a bunch of kandi for the next rave. I have no idea when I'm going to do laundry. But now! It's time for a bath and a book (People of Paper - Loving it!!)

Feeling very mellow.

Peace.

nightmares

2008-11-06T22:54:00.000-08:00

On my walk last night, I found a house that I have only seen in my dreams. At a crossroad, I went a way I have never walked before. I had my head down, walking automatically. The road curved and I looked up. And felt sick. My skin crawled. The house was coming out of the hill at a disturbing angle, all straight lines and windows. The windows like giant gaping mouths or the empty eyes of animals - curtained in black. My hands began to sweat. For years, every time I have dreamed of a late night ride or a curious night time journey, I have seen that curving street - that looming house.

I felt a panic in me, and even as I tried to will myself to hurry away - I could not take my eyes off of the house. It was the deja vu feeling - but the most terrible kind. What frightened me the most was that I recognized it right away.

That same street, a few houses down - I found one of the many stairways that populate these hills. A shortcut for walkers, connecting one level of the hill to the next. I took the stairs without thinking - vaguely expecting a motion sensor to trigger and a light to turn on. I walked down the stairs, still thinking of the House - and then I noticed how dark it was.

I fumbled for my phone, thinking frantically that I could light my way. But my phone only gave enough light to see my hands. Anything beyond that tiny glow seemed even darker than before.

I swallowed, hard. I imagined a person standing in the trees. The stairs near my own house are usually kept pretty clean, leaves cleared off every couple months. Not these. I could tell there were layers of decomposing leaves and mud under the crunch. I walked, fast - even the sound of my steps scared me. I spilled out into the street, under the eerie orange glow of the street light. I was standing next to some trash cans, on a street that I knew.

I kept walking.

when she move

2008-11-06T22:19:00.000-08:00

she moves darkly
when she is still
she is still with you

she moves darkly
walks mad city
wakes mad day
walks lone sidewalk
blazing her way

opens her ears
covers her heart
signs her name: sincerely,
p.s.
(tears it apart)

when she move
she move darkly
is she still-
is she still,
with you
?

less/more

2008-11-05T19:44:00.000-08:00

the less they _____
the more i ______

I'm going back to the mode, yes. I will. Scribbles in journals. People watching, introspection. I will be impervious. Cliche alert! The greatest battle is always within. I fight - wearily, but gamely on. I will walk the cold nights and wander the lonely streets. Eyes stinging from the air, nose cold and cheeks wind blown. I will walk, eyes: bright and strange, jaw clenched. Voice low and demure.

I will drink from a hot cup and light another cigarette.

the more i want them
the less they want me

vice versa.

Laundry needs doing, room needs cleaning. Girl needs resting. But something is stirring and I need to reclaim my nights. As I type, my heart pounds. I refuse to need anyone. I am weak, but people are either too good or too stupid to do anything about it. Little do they know that this moment is decisive. I could fall apart, weak kneed and defeated - if any knew the proper words - the proper way. Certain actions could destroy me now. I need to walk. I need to get outside.

My heart fights back, as my mind unravels.

I need strangers to ignore.

Part of me thinks that I should try and be calm and call someone, and try to explain to them that I feel like I'm spiraling. Try to explain that I am trying to keep in control but this darkness just keeps edging in on me and I am losing against it. And I don't know whether to cry or to sit in the dark, cradling myself until the moment passes or what. I don't know.

I've been trying, you see, these past couple years I have been trying very hard to stay in control. But I'm tired. I'm so tired, and I just want to stop trying and let myself be reckless and strange and hide from the world. No more routine, mundane, feeble attempts at making myself a part of the outside world. I just want to withdraw.

It disgusts me that I have been trying to reach out and form relationships and nurture friendships - guarding against this day - this night. This moment where I can't seem to stop myself from feeling crazy. Week by week, month by month, I make contact with these people - these lovely people - hoping that somehow their friendship will make me feel like I am a part of the real world and that I can be real. Hearing a friendly voice, hoping it will snap me back. But I keep detaching. It disgusts me because I am floating away, and I can't control it. I hate my phone and the fact that it taunts me. Even when I call someone, I can't voice what is troubling me.

Dear friends, I am troubled. I am scared. No matter how hard I try, this terror comes back. Year after year.

When it gets like this I want to escape, I want to withdraw. Escape by withdrawing.

When I speak, I speak so wisely. But if I had someone here right now, I think all I would be able to do is shake my head and cry. It is getting harder and harder to write this, the words aren't coming. I should stop. I'll stop now.

I am going to get dressed and walk somewhere. I can't handle myself right now.

Probably, by the time anyone hears from me - this moment will have passed and I will smile and say I was just feeling a bit crazy. But that I feel "much better now". Don't ask me what's wrong.. I thought I knew but now I think maybe that some things about myself are really out of my control.

Get ready streets, my feet are seeking you. I need to hold communion with the moon.

masks

2008-11-05T17:27:00.000-08:00

i will put one on until the face underneath can face the world.

gloom.

2008-11-04T22:31:00.000-08:00

Nights like this.. I feel it bad. I'm stuck in my head place. I know I should distract myself somehow.

Usually I look at my phone and can't figure out who to call, or talk myself out of calling anyone. This time I tried to call a few people but either there was no answer or they were busy. I just don't want to be stuck in here right now and I want to talk to some one.

It's windy outside. I was out earlier with Gazer and we got tea/coffee and conversation. We got dinner, greek food (we both got lamb) and I bought string cheese - that I left in the car. I don't feel like going downstairs to get it. I probably should. Oh well. We got a new president, too.

I feel... .. weak.

Eh. Screw it.

I'm going to give in to apathy and not give a fuck for a while. Bye.

type until your pride takes over

2008-11-03T23:19:00.000-08:00

I act as if I'm doing fine, and say words that sound like I am trying to be very mature about everything. But then I come home and realize that part of me doesn't believe and that insecure little girl inside thinks that I am just lying so that I can function around other people. Because if they think I'm doing okay then I can pretend that I am - to myself. And if I can convince myself that I am doing okay - then I will be.

But I come home to my room and I'm alone and sometimes I can't convince myself. Sometimes I don't feel good about myself, and maybe sometimes I just want to be with someone so they can help me like myself.

Maybe right now I feel like I was really dumb in this relationship, and maybe I regret how much I put into it. Maybe, at this particular moment in time - I just.. hurt. I'm hurt. And I wish I could just move on completely and go on with my life and let some nice (or naughty, whatever) guy try and woo me. But I don't want any of them. And I don't even want you. I don't want you because you don't want me. Easy as that. But that doesn't stop me from feeling lonely. I feel lonely, but jaded. I want love, but I cringe at the thought of even going on a date. The thought of opening myself up to someone again is repulsive. There is a huge difference between me opening up to someone and me opening myself up to let someone in. Did that make sense?

I can offer my stories, but I can't offer my heart. But I wish I could, I wish I belonged to someone and that someone belonged to me. But I can't, because I'm dejected and wary and my heart isn't working properly right now.

-----------------------

I'm kind of mad at you.

I'm kind of mad that you were so passive and content to just continue. If I hadn't said anything, you would have let me go on with the delusion that one day you'd wake up and want me. And I stupidly kept insisting, all the time, that any issue was my issue and that the problems were things that I was inventing out of my own insecurities. Maybe I shouldn't have been so passive. I know none of this really matters now, but we never really talked about any of it. We never fought.

I keep remembering how you said, "I guess I'm not happy either." And I keep thinking how I wish you would have said something sooner. But maybe you didn't because you didn't care enough to.

And maybe it's silly for me to get upset, now. Addressing this to you as if you'll actually read it, as if it would do anybody any good.

I guess I just need to vent. Somewhere. I don't need to say these things to you, I just need to say them.

I need to get mad, just a little, because otherwise I just feel really stupid. Stupid for ever telling you I loved you, I should have kept it to myself. I feel embarrassed that I was trying so hard and deluding myself, sitting around hoping that it would work. I don't know why I fell so hard, so fast - but I did. For the wrong person, and that was my mistake I guess. Whatever. It's cool. You're a good guy, you're a cool person. When you find her, I know you will make her really happy - I just wasn't the girl for you and you had the decency not to lie about it. You didn't break my heart, (how could you? you never really accepted it) but you did bruise my ego.

If my heart is broken, you didn't break it. I accept responsibility for my heart, I set my hopes too high and I should have listened more to my misgivings - instead of telling myself constantly that I was just being crazy and paranoid. I should have known that I shouldn't need to try so hard to make something work when it isn't. Live and learn.
------------------------------------------------------------------

Time for sleep.

lonesome but learning

2008-11-03T22:47:00.000-08:00

The lights are off, the window is open. The fan is on. I'm doing okay, I'm relatively content. I can't think of anything specific to complain about.

I just got back from tea, conversation and cigarettes with a lovely girl and I had a really good time.

I am sitting in my room, alone as usual and shh.. Say it very softly now. I feel this little ache inside where I want more. That's pretty normal. Does growing up mean accepting that you can't have everything you want?

I look through my contacts and can't find a single person to call. There is only one person I want to talk to right now, and I don't even know his name or what he looks like or if he exists at all. Are you there? I love you. (In my mind, I can hear the smile on his lips as he says it right back.)

I must learn patience.

2008-11-03T00:56:00.000-08:00

I had an unforgettable weekend!

Matt (ress) (es)

2008-10-30T08:06:00.000-07:00

I need a new mattress. Right now I have a futon mattress on top of another .. oddly skinny mattress. I don't remember exactly why I ended up with 2 inferior excuses for mattresses, instead of just the regular 1.

When he would stay over, he would always make sure to push the mattress to the wall (the top one tends to slide) so that there were no gaps for me to fall into. I like the inside, so I can hug the wall. When he was over, I would fall asleep facing him - he always fell asleep in a few minutes.. then I would try my hardest not to get left behind.

Lately, I have taken to sleeping in the gap between the wall and the mattress. The top mattress has now migrated to accommodate me. At first I was just sleeping on my back, in my odd cradle - but I never liked sleeping on my back. Now I sleep on my side, hugging the stupid futon mattress, one-leg-over-one-leg-under. Like it's a person. It's oddly comforting.

Oh Oh I forgot to use one of my favorite words. Crevice. CREVASSE.

museums 2

2008-10-29T01:00:00.000-07:00

...
All those museum trips and art walks, anything and everything. Hushed corridors, thoughtful interest in age old and modern. That was fun.
...
I never told you that if I could have picked one thing to take home and cherish - it would have been how I felt about you.
...
I am not the one you want. I will be fine. I will tell myself that I only wanted you because I knew you'd never want me.

dream lover

2008-10-29T00:08:00.000-07:00

He warns me that it might make me depressed, but I goad him on and ask for it anyway. He shows me the story he's working on - the first thing he has ever written just to write. And I love it. I'm moved. It says more to me about him then he would ever say about himself.

It cemented our distance, proved to me that I'm not his "one". But it made me love him more.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's talk about dream girls and dream boys. You know who I mean. The people immortalized in song and story and dream, the ones that steal bits and pieces from people you might actually know. These composite persons. You go through life, constantly editing your vision. As real people move in and out of your life, as you love and hate them - you slowly build on your dream. Giving them characteristics that you can adore, and flaws that you find endearing.

I once had a dream where I met someone and fell in love. It was one of those rare dreams (though people tell me my dreams are already unusual) that span months and years in one night, without diverging into something completely unrelated and absurd. I met him walking the street one night, under a street light - near a bridge that went over a shallow river. We fell in love and we went off together and had a wonderful time - but all of the good times blurred from my memory the moment I woke up. And now, years later, I can't recall them at all. I remember towards the end, I knew I was going to lose him. And when I woke up, crying, I had lost him. I never dreamed of him again - but I always remembered how devastated I was.

And it's funny how people can carry these dream people inside of them - for years and years. The person they already know and adore and love, these familiar strangers that have stolen so many hearts. So what happens when you meet someone in the real world, and fall in love? You put dreams aside.

I can carry on my fun delusion that he is out there, and I will meet this person, my dream boy - but it does me no good.

And you want to know the funny thing about that dream I had, years ago? I remember standing on tiptoe with my arms around him, and looking into his eyes - but I can't remember what color his eyes were. I remember kissing him, but I can't really remember his face anymore. I remember his hair. What good does that do me? It was not-too-long but not-really-short and dark. He was taller than me, but lots of people are taller than me. He had a black coat.

You see? Remembering these little details does nothing for me.

And while we are here, we can talk about how the real, non-imaginary (assuming the people I perceive are actually real. whatever that means) people you fall in love with? Most of them time, we won't ever see who they really are. We can get a good idea, sure. .. But either we are blind to their faults (or even their excellence) or we are so comfortable that we lose sight of who they are. Or else you can lose them entirely - and then continue altering your mental version of the them. Fickle memory version of you and me, him and her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now my thoughts run too deep and dance too close to secret wishes of the heart. Time for secret SECRET journal!

Lame

2008-10-28T17:49:00.000-07:00

Low day.

Sometimes I really just wish I had a safe place to channel my romantic inclinations. Just a person to dote on without fear of repercussion.

There are days that I just feel really vulnerable. Nervous. Tender. Like my heart is too open. I try not to let it show.

I know I can't go on living like my life is some epic romantic tragedy. So... I guess I'll just go read a book. I don't even feel like writing and pretending I have someone I want to woo. I'm all woo'd out. Pretending would just make me frustrated with what I don't have.

I think about the fact that even though there are people telling me they are interested in me, I can't offer them anything. Well, I kind of know how that feels... to have someone you want that doesn't want you. It's not something you can force. We could go on pretending.. but I would rather not.

That's why I will not try to win him back.

I know I said I wouldn't mourn... but some days I just don't have the will to stop myself.

I'll just go read...

Then I can pretend I am someone else entirely.

2008-10-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

Books are my lovers.

And when I go to sleep, I can straddle a pillow just as well as a man.

Oh.. Feeble cries of independence!

stand by

2008-10-24T00:57:00.000-07:00

Let's not pretend.

If I pretend, I will pretend alone - for myself. I will make believe, I will flight of fancy, I will perpetuate delusion.

But I would rather not have an outside force remind me of reality. Then pretending becomes a conscious effort. Then you have to depend on someone else's ability to navigate the Grand Masquerade. It is much easier to lie to yourself, alone.

Or maybe I have just been pretending that you are pretending.

Meh.

the heart that keeps

2008-10-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

Before I met you, I made a vow that the next time I gave my heart I would give it true. I would try. I was foolish, because we weren't meant to be. We were always too different.

Now, I make the vow to keep my heart. For myself.

So quickly, and all at once, there is a hammering outside. A ruckus. As if, when taking you away - the Universe decides to throw me bones for my plate. I don't exactly know what to do with them. I'm hearing words I wanted from you, getting looks I wanted from you. I'm thinking, they can smell me. They can sense that I'm wounded. I hear things like, "Is it really love you are looking for?" or that my incredible haunting dreams are romantic. Words dripping with foreboding, "Remember, you're here with me."

I wont lie, I'm flattered. They claim to see in me something that you never saw. Oh sure, I'll move on. I refuse to mourn you when you never loved me. I can't help but wonder, though, if you miss me at all. I am doing my best not to think of you..

Picnic grounds turn battlefield,
where we hold our war games
and fits of intrigue - unashamed.
Every day a showing of
the girl, transforming.
They watch the screen,
while
in a windowless room,
she suffocates. Screams.
In quiet we trace
the silence that aches
greater than the words that you speak-
to find the heart that keeps.
she holds her head high
and sings to you low-
nightly, she glows -
kisses wanderers' cheek,
then wishes each safely home.
"I am too small," alone, she speaks,
"for them to impose
their dreams
on to me."

confessions

2008-10-16T21:41:00.001-07:00

I tend to want what I can't have. I try to keep busy - I stay at work longer and longer every day. I hang out with someone - every day. Today is the first day in probably over a week that I have been alone for this many hours.

Today I went to the orthodontist. I drove myself - which doesn't seem so amazing - but it is. I felt sick the entire way. My palms were sweating. High and Dry came on the radio and I started tearing up.

I try to convince myself to feel okay. For the past couple weeks I have been listening to angry or electronic music. Loud. A couple days ago I cracked, and now I can't stop listening to music that kind of makes me feel bad. It didn't used to make me feel bad, but somehow - now these albums do.

But I smile through them. At work - I sing along quietly. I mouth every word. When someone notices that something seems wrong, I try to play it off. I tell them I just yawned.

Even though I am starting to convince myself that it just wasn't going to work - that fact doesn't make everything all better. I keep telling people I'm okay, that I'm doing pretty good. That I am doing better than I thought I would. It makes me sad that my sadness is beginning to turn into anger. Like that is the only defense I can come up with, to get angry. I don't want to be angry. I want to be mature about it. I wish we could be friends, but I can't do it. I feel embarrassed even thinking about trying to be friends with him.

I really put myself out there.

To tell you the truth, I feel rejected. And sad. I'm mourning. I'm mourning the fact that my feelings are pointless. They can only hurt me. This makes me sad because it feels like such a waste of such a beautiful thing. So even when I tell myself that I deserve better, that I deserve more from a person - from a relationship - I'm still sad. When I tell myself I deserve better - I start to get angry. I don't want to feel resentment towards him, it's childish. This is stupid. This isn't even complex.

It's pretty obvious that I would be upset right? Well guess what - I'm trying to hide it, and it probably is working pretty well.

But actually, I miss him. And I really wished that I could be good for him. For me - for my own sanity. I wanted a reason not to escape. I wanted, for once, to play normal for a while.

But here I am - going strange.

I don't need love I don't need love I don't need love I don't need you.

crze

2008-10-08T20:53:00.000-07:00

In defiance to the feelings I can't escape (not while sober anyway, and apparently not while alone in my room.) I am supposed to be cleaning but I'm waiting on load of laundry or... something. Actually I'm almost positive it is already dry, so I should go get it, but I don't feel like it.

I could go out for some coffee, but that seems counter-productive - I'm already tired.. and I've been waiting so I can go to sleep at a normal time instead of taking a nap like I have been doing.

Actually, right now I'm just typing exactly what pops into my head - just for the sheer pleasure of the clikclicklick of the keys. I'm listening to Pendulum and every now and then I'm refreshing my email to see if I have any responses on the Space. I text people, waiting for a response. I don't know, I just feel restless and weird like I have too much mental energy but without the ability to focus it. So I'm just typing and listening to music (Actually, the music is only serving to veil the silence in my room.) I should go fold laundry. Don't want to.

Had a realization today, quite nice - people actually still want to be friends with me. Like, people I didn't expect. It's kind of nice. Right now I feel like an ungrateful brat, and it doesn't feel like enough.

Defiance runs high, and I feel like I should go out and not give a fuck about how tired I will be - just to do it. Just to escape.

ESCAPE.

Ugh.

I could just keep typing, and I probably should - because if I stop I wont know what to do with myself.

Restless. .. I will fold and take a bath. That sounds smart. Seems like a good idea. Can't read - tried, can't focus. Sad thing.

the old brag of my heart

2008-10-08T00:20:00.000-07:00

I wrote these words almost a year ago(!) I just have to change the pronouns around and I hear a familiar ringing:
---------------------------------------
I don't understand why every day has to be such a trial. I backed off, I ran away, I know it.

I couldn't pretend anymore, I couldn't try anymore.

"I'm exhausted from living up to your expectations of me!" Oh David Bowie.

The part that hurts, the part that is making me cry - is that I really wanted it. I still love her, I'll still worry and wonder how she's doing. Our definition of "friends" was just too different. The reason I can't make friends, is because I'm terrified of losing them. So maybe that is why it never worked. And lo and behold, she's lost.

I can't be indifferent, I'll just be sad about it. And swallow it in. And keep it inside. Another failure on my part.

And I won't hate, I don't feel an ounce of hate in me about this.

I failed.
------------------------

Gain one, lose one. The one I lost, I guess I never really had. I feel like such a tool. No one to call, no one to talk to. Nothing to do. Nothing and nothing and nothing.

It'll be okay. Right? I'll be fine.

Right?

"Hope is a poor supper"

The loneliest I've ever been. The only reason I'm not screaming or doing stupid things (...) is because I'm telling myself, "reap what you sow.." and "this is what I have to get used to" and.. all kinds of .. heart-hardening words. Move on, head up. Even with the tears streaming down, head up. So I close myself off. Harden the heart.

Because in the end, it's always just "I and I" inside my head. I'll always be here. The only expectations that matter are my own. No matter who I lose, or never have, no matter who I have.. I'll always have me. So what if I hate myself? So what? I'm stuck with me anyway. I can't ever break up with myself. I can't avoid myself. So here I am. Defiance. Because I'm still alive, still thinking, still breathing. Defiance.

It's not like I'm saying I'm okay with it. But that's all I've got.

And that is the only thing I know.

------------------------------------------------------------------
I re-read the Bell Jar (which I seem to do every couple years or so.) yesterday.
"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am."

2008-10-07T23:03:00.000-07:00

Today I tried cleaning my room but got distracted by the debate. Also I lost momentum when I was folding a jacket he left with me and forgot about, putting it in a bag with some of his other clothes.

The past couple days I k...

Okay. I will stop looking at pictures. He looks good. I took those.

Yeah bad idea.

2008-10-07T01:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes she talks to herself. Say it. Say it out loud. I love you. Her voice seems strange and small. Nervously, she says it louder - trying to recognize herself in the sound. Abandoning all care, she goes on for a minute, building a conversation, until her voice shrinks again. And as suddenly it began, there is silence.

She knows it was only herself, all along.

She wilts, and pretends that she was just practicing for the day where her words will be returned.

I know I'm supposed to focus on myself now, but I really wish I could love somebody and be loved in return. I'm building walls and digging in. I guess I had some weird idea that I would be able to improve my self esteem by allowing myself to be loved. I know it sounds stupid, but I thought that by feeling like I deserved it - that I would be moving forward somehow. Let's just say it was the wrong person. I just have to keep telling myself that.

nerves retain
resiliance regained
my skin has lost
it's shine
there's brilliance
biding time.

my voice small
unable to breach
your fortress wall
my voice small
unable to reach.

i move away from you
tearing down the temple
bare-kneed, jaw clenched
i take the broken stones
and lay the foundation for a new city
the city that has no king.

2008-10-06T01:51:00.000-07:00

can hardly see to type this.

At this moment, I would go down on my knees and beg for his love. Oh God, please help me get through this. I never had so much hope as with him. I would have given him anything. I really wish I wasn't this person. I really fucking wish I could have been the girl he loved.

It really tears me apart.

I know I'm pathetic. I respect that he wouldn't even lie for a moment, to give me peace of mind for a split second. It's terrible that it doesn't matter what I feel.

It doesn't matter what I feel. I'm supposed to just get over it.

Why can't time enough have passed? It hurts too much so soon.

Fuck.

FUCK.

2008-10-04T17:36:00.000-07:00

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands (clap clap)
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands (clap clap)
If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands. (clap clap)

That really doesn't make much sense at all. Why wouldn't you know it when you are happy? "If you're happy and you don't know it - then what?" Then I guess you aren't actually happy at all. Do you have to think, "I'm happy!" to actually be happy?

Well I guess it is irrelevant to me right now. I can't think of any reasons to clap.

It occurred to her that her Grand Suffering wasn't in any way new to the world. She had not discovered it, and nothing she felt or did was at all spectacular. In fact, it was more than likely that people all over the world were, at that very moment, nursing their broken hearts. The numbers were dizzying. She wasn't sure if this gave her any comfort.

2008-10-04T17:17:00.000-07:00

Seconds crawl by with an agonizing slowness, indifferent to me.

I don't know what to do with myself.

I put my head down and get lost in here and when I look up - minutes have passed. I am not sure which perception is more contemptible.

I sit in the tub, washing away the night And I feel like I can't move from this place.

I crave escape, oblivion,

I just want to hear it. In my head I can perfectly envision his eyes looking at me - filled with emotion. And I can trick myself into saying those words in his voice. But I know I just made it up and it will never happen and that reality is far from the arena of wishes and dreams.

I'm angry.

I am taking my heart back and I'm keeping until someone actually asks.

2008-10-04T01:30:00.000-07:00

He wished that he could feel for me what I feel for him.

But he doesn't.

I already knew, but it hurts even more now.

Sia - Academia

2008-09-24T22:43:00.000-07:00

Obsessed with this song:

You can be my alphabet and I will be your calculator
And together we'll work out on the escalator
I will time you as you run up the down
And you'll measure my footsteps as I pleasure this town
The mean of our heights is divided by the nights
Which is times'd by the daggers and the root of all our fights,
The pass of your poem is to swathe me in your knowing
And the beauty of the word is that you don't have to show it

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love

I am a dash and you are a dot
When will you see that I am all that you've got
I'm a binary code that you cracked long ago
But to you I'm just a novel that you wish you'd never wrote
I'm greater than x and lesser than y, so why is it
That I still can't catch your eye?
You're a cryptic crossword, a song I've never heard
While I sit here drawing circles I'm afraid of being hurt

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love

You're a difficult equation with a knack for heart evasion
Will you listen to my proof or will you add another page on
It appears to me the graph has come and stolen all the laughs
It appears to me the pen has over analysed again
And if I am a number I'm infinity plus one
And if you are five words you are afraid to be the one
And if you are a number you're infinity plus one
And if I am four words then I am needing all your love

Oh academia you can't pick me up
Soothe me with your words when I need your love
Academia

pink

2008-09-22T02:56:00.000-07:00

Oh my god. My left eye has been twitching (more specifically, I have a twitch beneath my left eye) for hours now. Since 9 or so last night. Oh my god.

I can't sleep. I spent an hour now reading the blog of a complete stranger. More specifically, this complete stranger is the fiance of this other complete stranger whose blog I've been reading for years. The point is that, these two very interesting people I don't know are making a life together. That's cool.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

I promise after I finish writing this, whatever it is I am writing, I will close the laptop and go to sleep.

This is pink because it's not in my usual vein. And it's informal and female and well, it just has to be pink, okay?

I keep thinking this isn't working and I'm the only one that notices. FUCK. (in pink! how cute!) My eye! I don't know what it means. I'm sad. I'm tired. My heart wants to shut down and save itself. He demands nothing, but I would have given him anything. Damnit I'm going to sleep.

2008-09-19T01:55:00.001-07:00

I have so many words and they never come out. And when they do, they come out wrong.

I know where my mind is, it's here. But where is my pride? Why can't I fight for what I think I need? Why is it wrong?

What if (and I'll say it quietly) I'm not the only one at fault, and what if I deserve more?

Every time I try to open up, I realize I shouldn't have. Unless it was some pleasant dream or memory. I should be pure.

But I'm not. So what.

Love it or leave it. I'm really trying, but I can't move forward when I'm stuck. I'll say it here, I want more.

Do you think me ungrateful? But you don't get it. I am grateful. I am happy for what I have. I'm also unhappy for what I don't have. And I'm only unhappy for things that money can't buy. Intangibles. I don't need to give examples, do I?

The moment I stop caring so much will be the moment I stop caring at all.

thotz

2008-09-15T00:12:00.000-07:00

"It's just that.. People are so different in their sameness. If I were born in some other time, if I grew up a different way - I would still be me, physically. If there is a soul, my soul would still be mine. But even though my eyes would be still be my eyes, and my lips the same lips -- I would see a different world and I would speak a different word.

I would like to take you and insert your mind in mine, your heart in mine. Though it does nothing but soothe me for a moment, in sheer animal comfort... I wish that your fingers grasping mine.. our hands wandering, unconscious, to each other - I wish that our hands were our words and our hearts."

I can sit here and smoke another cigarette (I think I will), making myself sick. Thinking at a rate that I can't even track, thoughts accelerating until they dissipate. And bone-dry sober, too.

Everyone you know is still a stranger, after all.

... I am going to go write in bed, because I can't seem to let it out here.

2008-09-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

This isn't word for word, but in the book High Fidelity, Marie says
"I've had a bad week."
"What happened?"
"Nothing, I had a bad week in my head is all."

I kind of feel like that. And today I felt perplexed and ugly.

So now I say Fuck it! and I'm going to play video games.

meh

2008-09-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

Ugh. I'm doing that thing again. This is recurring problem of mine. I'll feel lonely, restless, anxious, bored, unstimulated. But I simply can't call anyone. Anyone! I've been doing this for years. There is no way around it. I can't force myself to do it because it is literally impossible for me to reach out right now. I can not root myself from this room. The thought of chatting with someone or hanging out with people is oddly repulsive. It's like.. my mind and heart rebel at the desire for company. I know I should get outside and do something, but I can't. I'm plunged in insecurity.

On a different note. I don't want (just) a listener. I want someone I can communicate with. I want someone to listen to me, sure. But I want to listen to the other person, too. Or I feel like I'm the only person in the world, I'm forced to entertain myself. I'm stuck with me, and we all know I don't want to be. I want some of you. I know there will always be fundamental differences in how a female and male communicate, and I'm not asking for a miracle. And I know that some things can't be changed about a person. It's not like you can get angry at a orange for being so orange, and "Can't you just try to be a little more banana? I really wish you would try to be a little bit banana, for me." It just doesn't work that way. Some aspects of a person are hard-wired.

When I retake the Myers Briggs personality tests, I seem to fluctuate between INFP and INFJ. This is confusing for me. Which is silly, because I'm supposed to understand general theories and the abstract. Supposedly.

Lately I've been secretly (a tad obsessively) looking up sign compatibility, Western and Chinese. According to the internet, I should be looking for a Sagittarius or Leo that is born in 83, 82, 78 or 76. Huh? What? Do I really believe in this stuff or am I just looking for something to guide me, for something to make sense. For something mystical to account for everything. That isn't really like me, is it?

"Ox Man & Tiger Woman

It is impossible for them to live happily together. He will always want to destroy her. This makes it impossible for her to gain a footing.

Aries Woman & Cancer Man

This poor fellow won't know what's happening to him from one day to the next as he passes in & out of purgatory. After a while, he might cease to care. His whirlwind wife, on the other hand, will interpret his kindness as weakness and his moodiness as fragility, either one of which on its own is more than enough to destroy her respect for him. ( Source: AquarianAge Romance )

Lots of anger and tears followed by intense and fast sex followed by a great meal, daily. (Source: AquarianAge Romance )

From all the signs an Aries could choose, a match with a Cancer has one of the worst hopes for survival. Yes, you are drawn to him. Yes, there is undeniable physical chemistry between you. But you are complete opposites in personality, and that makes a relationship between you almost impossible to keep alive. He is very possessive and clingy and tends to be mistrustful. You’ll all about having fun and being free. After a short time, his nagging will drive you totally crazy. This match is a bad bet for lasting love. (Source: Jellybean's Astro-Soulmate Guide )

There's no middle ground with you and Mr. Cancer, Aries. Chances are that at any given moment, he's either driving you up a wall or driving you crazy. Cancer is as stubborn and determined as you are, so be ready to roll with the punches and accept it if he tells you he'd rather stay home and watch TRL than hit the mall with you and your friends. The original homebody, Cancer needs some solitude once and a while. The good news: he's one of the most loyal guys in the zodiac. ( Source: FUNgirl - Astrology ) "

And you know what is really funny? How people read these horoscope things and easily dismiss the things that don't apply or don't make sense and then latch on to the bits that manage to hit the mark. Whatever. So then I go to Myers Briggs and INFPJESTJJDKSJDAJ and try to create this equation that goes something like "(W)Sign plus (C)Sign plus MyersBriggs plus (?)UNKNOWN VARIABLES plus Male/Female minus times divided by something something.. 'Mebeingcrazy' Solve for compatibility and predict shelf life." Stupid Stupid Stupid.

I just feel so unsure of myself, unreal and untrue. I can hardly speak at all. Do you know what it feels like sometimes? When I do try and explain the crazy things that happen in my brain, I feel like I shouldn't bother telling you because the only response I will get (invariably) is silence. I'm not speaking merely to be heard, I speak in hopes that there will be some discourse, some conversation, a fair exchange of ideas. I'm emotionally high maintenance (I readily admit), and I fear that no matter how much I try to change myself I cannot change the part of me that drives me to these holes I dig. And it is horrifying to think that I am imposing my often unfair, dramatic, overblown thinking/feeling trash on a person that neither asks for it or craves it. He could be perfectly content with someone completely different. No? Prove me wrong.

And I know you know this is here but I don't know if you even read it, or if you even process it or think about it. Or maybe you avoid it entirely, having some inkling of what you might find.

And I remember you told me once, in the beginning, that I fascinated you (maybe I imagined it?) But lots of things can be fascinating, lots of terrible things and lots of beautiful things. Even mundane things, or things that don't even fit within your world.

I can rage and rage all day, but it does me no good and it certainly doesn't endear me to you. My thoughts can be cruel and depressing, and alienating. But I don't know your strength, I don't know why we carry on being so passive with each other. I'd like to know what you think, what you feel. I'd like you to convince me that I'm wrong, that you care, that I interest you, that you appreciate who I really am. I'd like to know if you understand that these thoughts spring up in me because I am insecure and because this is the way my brain operates. And if you don't like it, if you don't like the way I am - I'd like to know that, too.

And always, I feel like I'm being unfair. That I wish I wasn't this crazy girlfriend, but I am. And maybe sometimes I feel like you don't seem to like any of the parts of me that really define me. Maybe you only like the good parts, the cheerful, painless, calm and easy.

I got lost, just now, on a train of thought. And reading stupid articles on the internet about relationships. I suck. I'm so female.

x

2008-09-04T16:52:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I woke up an hour and a half later than I usually do, and I was late for work. My iPod wasn't charged, which is really terrible in my line of work. Really. The tedium of a warehouse job, the sheer repetition and mindlessness of each day can really get to you. Music helps.

After work, I met up with my boy and got some yummy food, bought shampoo and hair products. We watched Vicky Christina Barcelona (the new Woody Allen film), and I loved it. I bought books at the bookstore next to the theater. I came home, alone, and read both (two Milan Kundera books, Identity and Ignorance). I loved them, Identity especially.

Around 11 or so last night, I heard some squeals outside my window. The only animal I could think of was "pig", but I'm pretty sure there are no pigs on the hill next to my house. For a good 10 or 15 minutes, I listened to these terrified, frantic squeals. Punctuated by low, vicious growling. Forceful growls, that I could only imagine as the animal equivalent of someone saying, "Shut the fuck up!". I pressed my nose to the window screen, there was no way I could see what was going on out there, but I stared at the branches of a tree swaying - imagining that the violence outside was rocking the trees, the weeds, the grass. At one point I heard a distinct crunch, which I immediately took as the sound of bones snapping. Finally the squeals (which were constant, agonizing) stopped. I strained to hear, ear against the window screen. I heard snuffling and a strange wet sound. Minutes later, something whimpered, very faintly. Then there was no more.

My best guess is that a coyote nabbed some kind of squealing creature for dinner. And fed on it without killing it. Somehow.

I was fascinated, and terrified.

I got to sleep pretty late, probably around 3 or so in the morning, but I don't know for sure. I went to work today, I had left my iPod at home. Damn. Damn! After work, my car wouldn't start. When I tried to turn the key to start the car, it made these hideous grinding, shuddering sounds. I got towed, the Triple A guy said the engine was probably done for. Great. I called the orthodontist and rescheduled the appointment I was supposed to go to today for next week. I had been looking forward to it, believe it or not. When my teeth aren't hurting, I realized, it seems like the braces aren't working.

One of my close friends said to me today that he was really sad. "I'm really sad." and then, very quietly(so quietly, in fact, that I'm not even sure it was said.), "I love her." And my mouth opened and closed without sound, "I don't know what to say." They've broken up you see, after many years, and probably for the last time.

I got a message online from another close friend, letting me know that things aren't going too well on the relationship front. "The shit has hit the fan."

Now I'm home, plunged in thought about the books I've read, the movies I've seen, the people I know (the feelings we feel). I think about how I write in journals in my room, late at night. I write things I could never say out loud, never show to anyone else. I think about how my boyfriend didn't care for Christina (in Vicky Christina Barcelona), her personality, her character. And how funny that is to me, because I identified the most with her. And I think about how in Identity, both the man and the woman in a relationship suffer from misunderstanding, misinterpretation, miscommunication. How delighted I was to see Cyrano mentioned.

I'm tired. It's hot. I might be hungry, but I can't tell. My moods keep swinging, my thoughts keep swinging. I decide on one thing and then, hours later, everything shifts. I think about how this is the life, this is my life. When I go over the events of the past couple days, removed from any feelings - I'm pleased. Then I think about the feelings I was having during all of this and I see how my moods often don't fit with the situation. I had this conversation today:

"Do you want to trade places with me?" me.
"Yeah, I do!"
"I guess I don't have it that bad."
"Yeah, my life isn't really that bad either."
"I'm sure there are plenty of people who would enjoy my life. Things could be worse!"
"Yeah!"
Then we went on to list all the things that could be worse.

But even when you try to put things in perspective, even when you try to cheer yourself up by thinking about how there are plenty of others suffering out there.. It doesn't seem to work, does it? It may salve your ego/heart for a few moments, but all that suffering out there is removed from you. And all you know, all you can feel, the only things that you can understand or see or care about.. It's all YOU. But I do know that some people aren't like this. I do realize that. It's difficult, if you're prone to it, to pull yourself out of indulgent self deprecation and self pity.

It sounds stupid.

I think about the Odyssey, nostalgia, dry hands and the mechanism of lust.

silent shouts.

2008-09-02T15:51:00.000-07:00

suppressing my silent plea
the words do explode in me
fortress erode,
dark heart, in rage.

left open are:
windows, toothpaste,
doors
and questions that hang
well noosed and ready
questions that disappear
into the hollow of your ear
but persist in mine.
(thunder in mine.
grow, swell, quake.)
well do i fake
well?
do i fake?
can you tell?
do you care?

That could have been much better, but my brain is not working today.

don't forget the dog star

2008-08-17T23:51:00.000-07:00

come to me sweet
surrender your heart
and mine
tick to different times
tick
two different minds
polaris, it's
just a star, it's
fourhundredthirtylightyears away
then you tell me it's not the brightest
but i don't care
it's constant
i'll admit i can't read the sky
canopus
fleeting fast
tucks in to the pocket of this night
hide and seek on the horizon
touch and go
you touch
and i go!
you wind me up
and i go!
tick tick ticking
i ba-bomb, i ba-boom!
you retreat
i advance
we dance the age old dance
i fear this war
i fear this night,
i fear
i tear you all open
all cry all care
please please
me
all try, all fair
tell me before i make it there
i don't like suprises
not sure if this is a battlefield
or a dance floor
not sure if i'm alone in this place
or if the stars lead anywhere.

2008-08-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

Meteor shower tonight.

I wish I could watch it with you.

Night to morning

2008-08-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

Once I decide to go to sleep, I spend hours in my thoughts. With a focus I never have during the day. An intensity that borders on obsession.

I finally fall asleep after convincing myself that my thoughts and feelings are really insignificant. I soothe myself with, "It doesn't matter."

I sleep, dream strange dreams with vast elevators. I'm in the corner while my childhood friend is lifted up, momentarily, a look of shock covers her face. When we exit, it is to a very bright night and we strip off our plastic orange jackets in front of strange men, with guns. I wait my turn to stand in the middle of the yard and get hosed down. A man takes notes when I crouch down, orange jacket covering my shame, and I pee. They start to approach when finally I fling the jacket aside. The man with glasses explains that it is so they can see whether I had any signs of having birthed a child named Oliver. I'm confused as to how they think they can tell.

I dream I am a man that walks through walls, and I watch 10 Spidermans dance to N Sync.

I wake up, convinced that I've overslept and realize that it is actually 4 minutes before my alarm is set to go off. In bed, dreams flee from me and I think this exact thought, "I can't believe I'm waking up to a world where he doesn't love me."

I push it sleepily aside, and message my friend to pick me up for work. I just can't face the monster today.

2008-08-11T00:30:00.000-07:00

One of the things I like about books is that they teach you something about yourself. I'm reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

If you pay close attention, they can also teach you what you want and what you can have.

I read a book. I come back to earth. I get absorbed and hours later I'm in my room - have been the entire time. I fall in love all over again and realize that

feeling is delusion
and i continue to delude myself, every day.

frak chur

2008-08-08T00:44:00.000-07:00

dear heart
tell me true
ever do i wait for you
whenever i escape i do
not run, not hide
am not but
two hands twining
fingertips glancing
am not
yours, not mine
nothing but idle time
feels like
two minds dancing
circling, advancing
never meeting
moments fleeting
can not
reach you
will not
keep you
but i can want
need
adore
(you).

2008-08-07T08:20:00.000-07:00

How much rest is enough rest? We balance our things with satisfaction. Precariously perched. Stubbornly refusing danger. Then the earth quakes and we all run home to survey the damage.

I'm really tired. All the time.

I'd like to think that a stranger is out there, thinking about this. Thinking about me. Hello.

Call and Response (late replies)

2008-07-21T18:29:00.000-07:00

I meant to respond to this right away, but somehow it's been over a week.

"i read your latest blog entry and it left me with an odd, itch if you will. while eating breakfast with all the trendy hipster kids at downbeat i finally realized what that itch was. it made me think of this Bukowski poem i read a couple of years ago. i haven't thought of this poem or any of Bukowski's work for a long time now. so i find it really odd how your blog entry just sparked that connection. i only read that poem one other time but i swear i could recall every line after i read your blog. very odd stuff. so yeah, thought i might send you the poem. hope you like it, maybe you can tell me the connections. or perhaps, it was just a coincidence and there is no real meaning to this spark...but i doubt that."

The poem:

Alone With Everybody
-that wacky Bukowski

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
--------------------------------------------------------

I've never read this poem before, but it rings true. So true. I had a lot more to say on the subject, but my mind wanders..

I had an interesting conversation with a coworker today. How sometimes you detach yourself when surrounded by strangers, overwhelmed with the fact that every one of those bodies is a person. Then you wonder how they operate, what percentage thinks as much as you do. And which ones have had the exact same thought as you.

How trapped you feel sometimes being a product of your culture and society. How the rest of the world hates your country. How spoiled we all are. How our luxuries allow us to become bored, depressed, so utterly self involved.

Then we started talking about Andy Warhol. That was fun.

---------------------------------------------------------------

who the fuck is this person you are
and what is this world you've wandered in to?

---------------------------------------------------------------

I'm reading this book about Haruki Murakami written by one of his translators. Apparently when Murakami is writing a book, he's preoccupied with thoughts of death. He gets overwhelmed, petrified by the idea that he will die before his novel is finished.

"..He thought first about F. Scott Fitzgerald's sudden death from a heart attack before he finished The Last Tycoon. He is convinced that, however instantaneous it might have been, Fitzgerald spent his last moments tormented by the thought of the novel that was already complete in his mind but would now remain forever unfinished."

"It always happens this way. It's always the same. While I write, I go on thinking to myself, "I don't want to die, I don't want to die. At least until I get this novel finished, I absolutely do not want to die. The very thought of dying with it still unfinished is enough to bring tears to my eyes. It may not turn out to be a great work that will live in literary history, but it is, at the very least, me myself. To put it in still more extreme terms, if I don't bring this novel to completion, my life will no longer properly be my life." "

Wouldn't that be something? To feel that way about something? I kind of identify with these feelings. But more about being understood, accepted, loved by someone. To connect. But Murakami is channeling these feelings into something else, the need to express his Me. How do I express Me?

Is it enough just to put Me out there? What does it take to be satisfied? Lowering your expectations of life and love? Pulling your head out of the books and living in the real world? Discontent is a feeling, feelings are not tangible. What does it matter? Doesn't it matter? Isn't my reality (thus, all reality) shaped by me? So doesn't it matter how I feel? How am I supposed to suppress my feelings and thoughts so I can function normally? Is that fair to me? What other way is there?

Nothing fills. Indeed.

return

2008-07-20T21:51:00.001-07:00

I'm back from Ensenada. This trip wasn't as filled with wonder as the the first but it did have some shining moments.

I feel inexplicably sad, though. I had a wacky dream this morning, after I fell asleep in the hotel at 4 in the morning. Drunk stumbling back to the room with everyone else - two beds pushed together to fit 5 people, the third bed having a different couple every night. The best tamale I've ever had.

The dream had a boy that was in love with me since I was a little girl. We met once during a chance encounter, and he stalked me my whole life without my knowing. He showed up with a page of all these drawings I'd done over the years. He was crazy and kidnapped me - taking me up a huge blue spiral staircase in a building where giants guarded the windows. Wish I could remember more. My boyfriend was coming to rescue me and shot a bunch of guards along the way.

I feel really sad.

I don't feel like typing anymore.

sleep

2008-07-08T11:06:00.001-07:00

is this what people look like when they're dead?
when all others are gone
the only escape i have courage to make
you take
my body, my mind
while my limbs are detaching
you give me visions in your embrace

what, then?
when even you abandon me?
-------------------------------------------------
I started that poem last week but never finished it.
-------------------------------------------------

I got into my first car accident yesterday. Don't worry, I'm relatively unharmed a few scratches and bruises. The people in the other car were okay, they seemed less shaken than I - even with a kid. But as we collided and my car when up over the curb.. For that split second I felt relieved. I don't think I can tell you just how much that upsets me.

I was talking to Gazer and he mentioned something about Post Traumatic Stress, which, being the hypochondriac that I am - I probably identify too much with.

I feel blue.

Silent as the dead man's song

2008-06-23T00:44:00.000-07:00

Almost exactly a year ago (add a day or two) I made this monumental decision that I needed to change.

So here I sit, trying to see just how much change has happened in a year.

I just re-read pretty much all the private journal entries I wrote in that dark time, and for a few seconds I wavered between pity and pride. At moments I felt disconnected from the words I had written. Weird how that works. Mostly I'm just struck by the desperation in those words.

Words I wrote at this very desk, on this very keyboard, staring at this exact screen. Strange.

I think I am going to bed with a pen so I can sort some of these thoughts out. I don't have the will to sit here any longer.

I may not be where I want to be, but seeing as how I don't know where I want to be.. it suits. And here is much better than where I was. So that suits, too.

once writ

2008-06-23T00:28:00.000-07:00

He says, "If it moves you, it should be enough." I wonder how this really makes me feel, if writing is therapeutic for me. If it moves me.

Do my words have any resonance? Or do I speak into a void?

I complain I have no passion, he disagrees. I counter that the passion I have is misdirected into feeling. He tells me to redirect it.

Images come to mind of tortured artists, driven mad by their passion. Agonizing over their Great Art. Were they supposed to be the crazy ones? Wouldn't it be something if I could feel passion about something besides other humans? Somehow this makes me feel like a fraud.

it just doesn't seem real sometimes

2008-06-12T00:31:00.000-07:00

I just remembered something my best friend from middle school said recently. We haven't really spoken in years, but out of the blue I messaged her and we spoke one night for about half and hour or so. She said that maybe I'm finding reasons to be unhappy because I'm still scared. I think there is some truth in that, among other things.

will Time be kind
and stop awhile?
or will it play a cruel hand
unsympathetic, swift
when Love comes roaring.
Thundering to be let out,
thundering to be let in.

On the phone tonight, I asked the Boyfriend "Why didn't I just ask you out that day?" and he said, "You were too busy being sad." Which, guess what, kind of made me sad.

Despite all of this, I've been trying to let myself look forward - instead of in or back. As long as I don't think too much...

Ah - my thoughts are too scattered tonight. Or maybe it's more that I can't articulate what I'm feeling tonight. I've been okay, I've been having a good week. When I get all mindless (not robotic, not automatic, just not so in my mind) I can be patient, calm, adoring.

When I'm alone in my room..

Now I'm thinking about happy moments when I have my arms around him, I memorize his face - so years from now (if we're apart) I can dream of him. I'm keeping watch on myself, wondering when he will seem so familiar that I take him for granted. Not yet, please, not yet.

Every night this week, I've written him a letter to give to him the next day. I'm gonna go finish that letter now.

Good night.

Mad Girl's Love Song

2008-06-12T00:27:00.000-07:00

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

-Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath

Make believe

2008-06-09T23:14:00.000-07:00

Soneto XVII (Sonnet 17) by Pablo Neruda

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

-----------------------------------------------

Soneto XVI (Sonnet 16) by Pablo Neruda
Amo el trozo de tierra que tú eres, porque de las praderas planetarias otra estrella no tengo. Tú repites la multiplicación del universo. Tus anchos ojos son la luz que tengo de las constelaciones derrotadas, tu piel palpita como los caminos que recorre en la lluvia el meteoro. De tanta luna fueron para mí tus caderas, de todo el sol tu boca profunda y su delicia, de tanta luz ardiente como miel en la sombra tu corazón quemado por largos rayos rojos, y así recorro el fuego de tu forma besándote, pequeña y planetaria, paloma y geografía.
I love you and your earthy flesh, because from the planetary meadows I have no other star. You repeat the multiplication of the universe. Your broad eyes are the light that I have from the vanquished constellations; your skin throbs like the paths traced by a meteor through the rain. I felt your hips were made of moon; your mouth and its delights were a sun burning bright like honey in the shade, your heart burnt by long red rays, and thus I kiss across your blazing shape, small and planetary, dove-like and geographical.

--------------------------------------------------

In my imaginary head place, I brand these words. I make believe they were meant for me.

Psyche meets Eros

2008-06-07T00:26:00.000-07:00

the ache that finds it's home in my throat
having spent a season as
trembling, fluttering,
precious
herds of winged things,
knowing nothing of distance
nor day's quickening length
in their migration.
Oh! The air chemical!
The light clinical!
The better to dissect, my dear!
the tender specimen
happily caught, and yet unaware that
this is
the killing dream.
we hit reverse on metamorphosis
the slow spin, wings cave in
merely a babe,
cleaned, tucked, swaddled
pinned.
then-
seconds move forward
and here, under glass
on display - she appears
just the same as in her crowning glory-
the days of flight.

I'm just going to be really childish here. Please excuse me.

2008-06-06T23:06:00.001-07:00

I'm supposed to be studying for the Notary test tomorrow - but I took some time to lurk around the Space. Your Space, _Space. The Space. Dumb move.

Anyway - I .. REALLY REGRET IT.

Because there was no real reason to read comments from over 3 years ago, but just out of faint curiosity I did it. And I became engrossed. And I read. Pages of it. Months. Until I couldn't bear it.

And now I feel sick.

Is it right to feel this irrational jealousy for 3 stupid words that hardly mean a thing anyway? I'll say it a thousand times, a million, forever - until the words no longer have a meaning. I'll write it till my fingers cramp and my arm goes numb and my eyes convince me that the letters look strange - that those words couldn't possibly mean a thing. Until the English language becomes some unrecognizable scrawl, totally foreign to me. I'll say the words until the syllables and vowel sounds all blur together, my tongue will feel clumsy and my lips will refuse. Until I have no language and no understanding, no feelings at all.

Because sometimes, I wish I wish I wish that I didn't care so much. About it. I'm not saying I shouldn't care - people have cared for thousands of years. But I wish I wish I wish I didn't care to this degree. That things - little things, big things (relatively speaking) would be less grave. That I were less sensitive. That I was? That I were?

Because I'm stupid and I like to punish myself - I manage to get jealous over a relationship that is OVER. With a capital "O".

Let's be honest here, I'm not jealous over the relationship. I'm not as selfish as that - and who would the person I love be without everything that molded him? Who would I be without everything that molded me? Everything, every one. Or two or three or however many.

I'm jealous of the feelings that were inspired - that I can't (inspire). I'm angry at my impatience, I'm angry that I find myself angry at my impatience. I'm angry that I am angry that I am angry. And so on.

I feel sick.

That the person I hold so dangerously high in my esteem, the person that I am offering myself to, entirely....

Scratch that.

Probably, my frustration comes from the seed of thought that speaks, "Who will love me? Who will love me - that I will not end up hurting? I am tired of trying. I am young, but I am at a turning point in my identity - I am in crisis. I am so tired of fractured devotion, of secrets and betrayal, of lies. I'm tired of myself - the person that I was. I do not know who I am. I do not know who will love me. (and without the strength of someone's love, i always crumble. Pitiful. Don't I know it.) And as hard as I try, as patient as I try to be (with little success), the fact of the matter is I give my heart too freely." Where is your guard, girl? Put up your damned shields and build your fortress and go wait in your fucking tower, and don't come down until someone builds a ladder with their bare hands, some toothpics, chewing gum, 5 coathangers and... Where was I going with this?

I don't want to just have fun.

Sue me.

Tread softly

2008-06-06T01:21:00.000-07:00

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

W.B. Yeats

without fail.

2008-05-27T00:59:00.001-07:00

my mind plays tricks-
swears
i feel the printer's ink
barely raised, just slightly
so subtle it seems an illusion
eyes closed
i run my fingers over the page
a lover's caress
learning your skin.
i leave my heart between the pages
marking my place
and these phantom words
they mark me.
(sticks and stones!)
oh! that these things i cannot touch
leave imprints in curious letter shapes
that never heal!
to offer you this heart
would be to offer you a cage
the bars expansive
growing, stretching with every sentence
devoured by my eyes
and your sentence,
delivered by your lips,
when you incriminate yourself
with the words you cannot say-
your heart enclosed in mine.
do i allow these works too much?
do i allow these words too much?
but i would love beyond the page
in ways we cannot capture-
beyond that cage -
far past the visions etched in my heart
even as i labor over these words
eyes closed,
i gouge these scribblings so they never heal
my head, fiction filled
my eyes, by delusion
each moment of rapture
tinged with doubt
i wake from every dream
without fail.

Travels

2008-05-26T23:27:00.000-07:00

Today, my boyfriend and I met a woman traveling alone riding the tram down from CityWalk. Her name was "Binky" (When He asked what it meant, she held up her pinky.) She was from India, and would be leaving in a couple days (having stayed for as many). She was headed to Sunset Strip (for dinner, alone), we rode the Metro with her to Vermont and Sunset and left her waiting for the bus. Talking to her, I was thinking about how brave it was of her to be traveling alone. I kept thinking about how I want to travel, and my resolution to make my 27th year a big one. Somehow the two thoughts naturally come together. I secretly hoped that she was 27, but I didn't ask - just because I didn't want to spoil the illusion.

She told us about her helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon - it was one of the most incredible things she's ever seen. She said, as she flew over, she understood why it is one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the world.

As He and I walked up Vermont, I tried to see it for the first time and I felt very strange. It's hard to make the familiar new again, to rediscover what we take for granted.

I thought about my brother interning in Germany for the summer. Picking up reading material at a train station. "One of the ones I got was called The Book Thief. I read a bunch of it on the train ride. There are some similarities between the main character, the book thief, and my sister, who probably would be a book thief if she was too poor to acquire them legally, so this connection is adding something to my experience of reading the book." So, I thought of my brother thinking of me. Riding a train in Germany.

I thought about how much I loved Ensenada, and how the only thing/person you can't escape is yourself.

I have a shirt I hardly wear anymore that says, "No matter where you go, there you are!"

Here I am.

the rain the rain

2008-05-23T23:44:00.000-07:00

Ah, rain.

Though I wish the weather would make up it's mind - when the air smells like rain and my cheeks and nose and fingers are cold from the crisp air... Sigh.

Though I should be sleeping

2008-05-22T23:32:00.000-07:00

I know, I know! I should be sleeping. But I just finished a book and my head has been aching nearly all day.

I dreamed that I knew I was going to die. Aliens had come (were they really aliens?) and were dropping all kinds of mischief on Earth. Bombs, rockets, whatever. I was the first to see a craft crashing down from the sky a few blocks away. "Did you see that?! Look over there!" An explosion, fire, smoke rising from behind some houses. And then the bombs began to fall. In less than thirty seconds, they got closer and closer till one came just a few feet away. I was in front of the church I used to go to, I was with people but I never even saw them. I saw it coming. I yelled, "Run!" Knocked to the ground, I closed my eyes. Thinking, "This is it. This is the end. I wish I was thinking about something meaningful or profound. Why am I wasting my last seconds? I can't seem to think of anything at all. I would get up and run if my foot weren't mangled. Wow. This is really it. I'm about to die and then there will be nothing."

though i should be sleeping
---------------------------
pressing on the edge of rest,
my hands small, but clenched
my feet tired, but running i
press on
sealing oaths with my lips
i take aim, but i miss
i give way, then i trip
and it fits, it fits.
i trip, i trek, i try (i do!)
but-
wild aim and wide miss
then i hide, and i hiss
and wide eyed,
sad smile,
do you mind? the mind
aching as it goes
it goes
out
without you,
without you, to(o)
all the nameless places i create-
the thrilling urban jaunt
the familiar, not so
the nocturn bohemia
midnight journeys vast
words exchanged at twilight, dawn
with none of the harshness of high summer
but even those days,
mirages seep from the earth
precious, undiscovered
and somehow, our sweat is of a different brand.
these streets i walk alone
this vigil i keep
i cannot show you what you will not see
the world unhinged.
i cannot show you the unreal
just as you cannot the other.
my eyes search yours
as yours do mine,
tell me, what do you find?
my heart seeks yours
then
i hear my voice, discordant
the hollow sounds that terrify me
if i do not recognize myself
how will i know you from another?
how will i know you?

To Nakata

2008-05-19T23:50:00.000-07:00

slip, trip, foreign tumble
my tongue drips even as it fumbles
i, a girl enthralled, crawl forward to greet you
you offer your hand
insist that i stand
a kiss on my brow as i rise to meet you

when the branch dips, the song skips
i read the words trembling on your lips
the breeze carries secrets in languages unknown
and leaves speak of heartache from long ago
i go all feline up a tree
and scramble down when you come to take me home
i go all feline up a tree
and purr as you rise to meet me

Acknowledgement

2008-05-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

How did I end up here?

Now would be a good time to tell me if this is all too much for you. This will keep happening - despite how hard I try to stay afloat. Pardon me if I expect more from you than I do from others.

This is what I was afraid of.

(I'll just shut up now.)

Forever and ever, Amen.

(I know you're tired, you probably just don't know what to say or are thinking about other things, or about it, or something. You probably just don't want to talk. Maybe you're upset at me. I can't see why I'm not allowed to voice how I feel. I can't see why I should lie about my feelings, pretend everything is peachy to keep the peace. If this is too much, tell me. I'd rather be miserable alone than miserable with someone who doesn't want to deal with me when I'm like this. Because that means the person I love is rejecting me.)

All I needed was your voice saying, "Hello, how are you feeling? I'm so tired, let's talk tomorrow. I read your letter. I like you, Kiss kiss. Goodnight"

2008-05-19T21:15:00.000-07:00

It breaks my heart that I throw all that out there and I don't even get a "Hey, I read what you sent me."

It breaks my heart.

places twice removed and some kind of memory

2008-05-18T22:49:00.000-07:00

we put away our altars
making room for the new god
i gather talismans and tokens
candles, like stars to pray upon

the weaknesses we prey upon
and weak knees when we kneel.

each of these little lit glowing things
each of these i covet.
obscured signs up above it-
the mind to mending heart
treachery, it's sacred art

if these words are meaningless,
then i am too.
then i am to you.

i'm tired of apologies
for things that can't be changed
for things that can't be found
one such as i will never reach
the places you wander
yet you wonder?

the metaphysic, the psychic and the cure
i give my heart - expecting it's return.
(how frightening, it comes back colder every time)

--------------------------------------------

That one was really.. well, I'm not very happy with the result of that poem. thing. but I don't feel like fiddling with it anymore.

My thoughts turn to one of those mountain retreats I would go to when I used to go to church. I was probably 11, 12 or 13 - one year we had an odd sort of lesson. I'm not sure exactly what the point of the lesson was, but it had to do with Trust. Maybe something about Trusting the Lord or .. Trusting your Brother in Christ. The location of the retreat was somewhere up in Angeles Crest (where all our retreats would be, since Church was in La Crescenta). There was a small lake (small enough that I want to call it a very large pond). There was a shallow side with stepping stones and half of us were blindfolded. We had to trust that the person leading us by the hand would tell us true - that they'd make sure to tell us exactly how far to step to avoid falling into the water. I'm not sure why that popped into my head.

Today I went on a picnic in Griffith Park. I climbed a tree, and once I was up there I had some difficulty getting down. Meow Meow. Just like a cat. I managed, but He was sad - either
A. that I did not trust him to catch me (Though really, I was just too scared to jump.)
B. as he said - since he is afraid of heights he couldn't come up to save me

And here is something that springs to mind - a poem(which I think I originally wrote intending to turn it into a song) from January 18, 2005:

doldrums

suspension in quietude
aggravated injuries reminding me
it wasn't meant to be rude
this silence wasn't meant for you

i break you open now
to shake those webs from your eyes
though you come closer now
you'll never reach this place in time
if i could show you how
but no, i wont take that away from you
i've lost myself in this sleep
these visions weren't meant for you
these visions weren't meant for you

my lips arrested
your eyes averted, reminding me
i've lost myself in this sleep
these visions weren't meant for you

we've taken our steps in circles
oh, but this quiet must be too much for you
we're making trails of infinity
your words are not enough for me
these visions are not yours to see

scatter

2008-05-18T22:22:00.000-07:00

I realize the Right Hand ring is merely a DeBeers marketing scheme, but I bought myself a ring, for my right hand. Ring finger. Thing.

A puzzle ring from RenFair.

Which I like the idea of because it's like, the ring a girl buys for herself. and Like. It's a puzzle. Like I am. To myself. And to others. And like. it's like. some like. likelike.like.

some kind of statement I'm making. And the fact that it's impossible for me to solve it when others are looking - some other kind of statement.

I also realize that self worth should stem from one's .. self. However ...

2008-05-18T15:54:00.000-07:00

I seem to realize, yet again - I am not who I want to be. I am not happy with myself or my life, or the things in it.

And yet, as usual, I do not know who I want to be - I do not know much.

2008-05-11T23:44:00.000-07:00

Contemplative mood tonight. I'm actually very tired, and actually - I'd much rather be in bed right now. Drifting off to sleep. And for once I think I could probably do it pretty easily.

Problem is, my fingers are itching to type. And I think I might be hungry. But it's too late to eat - eating will only give me more energy, keeping me from sleeping.

So here I sit, familiar hum of the computer keeping me company. Eyes adjusted to the terrible lighting in my room. Desk is a mess as usual, just like the rest of my room.

I'm sitting here and I've been looking at this photo for a while, the one in my header - the one I added for this blog. I keep thinking about how I can crop it a dozen different ways, and each way is so hypnotizing. And 'Lovecats' runs through my head; Into the sea! You and Me! Then 'Wave of Mutilation'; Drive my car into the ocean.. Then I think of Dance Dance Dance (Murakami) and the Maserati that got driven into the ocean. Then I think of that one song I wrote when I was.. 15? 16? For YouKnowWho; I would have called, but I don't know how to swim. ----- You look so small, on the bottom of the Caspian Sea. Where do you go when you run away? Where do you sleep when you're not here with me? ..When did you realize that I am so very weak?

Then I think about the recurring nightmare I had when I was younger, involving the ocean at night. Cast adrift with a moonless, starless sky above me. Leviathans and unknown horrors coming from below.

Kind of a ridiculous fascination for someone who can't even swim.

And then my brain jumps to coffee earlier, where I was talking to Gazer about this one documentary he saw. About a woman with a fantastic memory. Which I think I may have seen, long ago. Her memory is/was so acute that she would relive her pains and tragedies like they were happening all over again. Every day. For years and years. Years worth of tragedy, every single day. Crippling.

He brought it up because he saw it recently, and it reminded him of me. We agreed that it was tragic, and how good it was for me that I didn't have this kind of memory. That my memories can be put away on shelves and locked away in cupboards. That my memories are far more unreal - and probably half fabrication.

I'm sitting here with all these things and more running through my head, and I'm not even feeling any particular way. I'm just.. Sitting here. Letting all this stuff cascade and branch and twist around, letting my brain take me where ever it pleases.

And every once and a while, a little voice pipes up asking things like, "What does it matter? Who cares about this, besides you?" And I realize that I accomplish very little by typing this, by being awake thinking these thoughts. And even as I type all of this, even as I make these thoughts somewhat tangible by putting them into words.. Until I actually tell him, "This is the ME I want you to notice, This is the me that feels true. I am scared that you don't see Me. I am scared that I can't show you. Or that you'll just think I'm cute, but kind of weird. Strange and eccentric. And that you won't understand. And that ME, I, do not move you. Will not move you. And where are you in all of this?" And I am afraid that these words sound.. essentially, meaningless. That I speak a dead language.

Until I actually say these things.. but (cringe) these aren't things that I feel I really should have to say. In my idealistic fantasies, the imaginary person I'm madly in love with but haven't met yet or I don't recognize already knows. Fantastic indeed. What is this ridiculous world I live in? Again, I realize how utterly unrealistic I am sometimes.

"You uttered a half complaint once that I only lov'd your Beauty. Have I nothing else then to love in you but that? Do not I see a heart naturally furnish'd with wings imprison itself with me?"

MeYou

2008-05-11T21:30:00.000-07:00

It's a wonderful feeling sometimes, merely being aware of oneself. Or being aware that in the container of my body, my mind - there is an entire universe operating. That my universe, my world, is entirely singular and unique to me. Simply because I am. We are not espers, empaths or telepaths. Because we have no science fiction mind link. (Shall we evolve, my friends?) A wonderful feeling, sometimes.

But it's very lonely.

And try as we might to express the ME, words fail us. You can never properly convey your ME because the person on the receiving end is translating everything with their own ME.

Even when we speak the same language, it's never really the same language.
...

But we try our damnedest anyway.

sleepy.

2008-05-06T23:47:00.000-07:00

my lips drip words, my eyes plead promise
lids heavy
..

need sleep. finish later.

2008-05-05T23:52:00.000-07:00

What replenishes all that is pouring out of me?