It's Christmas day, and so far it's been eventful. I fell asleep at 4 in the morning, which isn't an unusual circumstance; I usually begin to thrive at 12 am. I painted my mom a present [which I'll post up], I made my brother a CD, I re-read my old diaries, finished another Augusten Burroughs novel [sellevision]. My little brother slept under the tree because this year he was extremely determined to catch a glimpse of Santa, and I think it's ridiculous that my parents are still trying to convince him that Santa is real. It's heartbreaking! This morning I asked him if he in fact did see Santa, and he said no, but he did hear someone walking on the roof and in the chimney. Hmmm...
My mom gave me a meditation bowl and a Rumi calendar, as well as two tree ornaments, an owl and a horse. I was born in the year of the horse, and an owl because I'm basically nocturnal.
I think at night I get the most excited about creativity, because I'm alone, it becomes such a secretive and isolated process. I listen to oodles of trip hop and obscure art videos.
My mom suggested the other day that I move to St. Petersburg next year and study in Russia for a year. St. Petersburg is an amazing city, every street is full of it's own history. More important than all of the historic events that occurred there, it is a place that is FULL of art. Pushkin the poet was killed there in a duel; there are so many galleries, people with imagination...music with imagination....
I think it would be interesting to spend my first year of adulthood in another country.
But god I'm such a coward. And that fact prevents me from dreaming my dreams in other places other than America.
But I am sure that I don't want to live in this country for another decade, or raise my children here. Growing up in a household full of a different culture, in a country that lacks this factor, has made me crave Europe. Even Canada would do!
But before all of that happens, I have to graduate first. Possibly get a job. I'm getting overwhelmed thinking about all of the things that I need to do, applications to fill out, and scholarships to win. AH! But today is a holiday, so my procrastination is healthy at this point.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
In a Karma Coma
May I have a word about honesty?
May I please touch apon the fragility of human relations, and how easily they get demolished with a single lick of dishonesty?
I feel as if this topic is going to be an obsession of mine for as long as I live, but I know that I will always stand behind being open with one another.
Love is simply this; being pure and connected. Any kind of relationship deserves a clean consciousness, or else it is one that is filled with dirty dirty lies, is it not?
As we move on, our hearts seem to get colder, more still, more lonely. What else is there to do when dark secrets are a reality of every human being? I want to be able to feel as if I some how will be able to trust everybody I will ever get close with, but I know this will never be true. And that reality is sad, it is sad that we have created this reality.
We lie to our children, our friends, our lovers, our teachers, our parents, our neighbors. That means that human connections have been made so incredibly primitive, and dishonesty has been desensitized.
SIN SIN SIN! The world is full of sin.
May I please touch apon the fragility of human relations, and how easily they get demolished with a single lick of dishonesty?
I feel as if this topic is going to be an obsession of mine for as long as I live, but I know that I will always stand behind being open with one another.
Love is simply this; being pure and connected. Any kind of relationship deserves a clean consciousness, or else it is one that is filled with dirty dirty lies, is it not?
As we move on, our hearts seem to get colder, more still, more lonely. What else is there to do when dark secrets are a reality of every human being? I want to be able to feel as if I some how will be able to trust everybody I will ever get close with, but I know this will never be true. And that reality is sad, it is sad that we have created this reality.
We lie to our children, our friends, our lovers, our teachers, our parents, our neighbors. That means that human connections have been made so incredibly primitive, and dishonesty has been desensitized.
SIN SIN SIN! The world is full of sin.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
flew into my cuckoo nest
Beauty to me is an exotic surrealistic sight/feeling. It is so many things that you really cannot call it a noun, an adjective, or a simple emotion. In fact for me, beauty is a detail of many emotions, nouns and adjectives, and that’s why it’s the sweetest touch on so many wonders in the world.A complex visual description seeping out of so many people’s lips, their description of what is beautiful might differ from mine. But doesn’t that make the world that much sweeter?
My obsession with anything beautiful leads into my excitement with the awkward and twisted. I don't think I have ever stopped morphing my likes and dislikes, but now that I look back on my stages throughout teenage hood, I realize I have collected albums of passions in my mind. There is still no way I could answer a question about my preferences in music quickly. Or the kind of tattoos I have dreamed to be traced along my body. Currently I am obsessed with graphic artist, particularly in the mid 20th century. It began with Milton Glaser, to Aubrey Beardsley. It led to me setting up that art studio downstairs, which is now transitioning into sewing old clothes together to create new things. I think that is how many passionate people of my kind think, and get inspired by random objects and art that come into our life by chance. I am inspired by performance art, by blunts and beats, by incredible art that stops my breath for just a second, and many times by conversations. I think I am more excited about going to college for that reason, to meet a slew of people that are just as vivid and insane as I am, people that go through as many creative transitions as I do. It may not be healthy to jump from one activity to the next, but I get bored with anything that is constant. I wish there was a profession that would require going out into the world on the search for the new, for the old, for the beautiful. So far I have picked to major in journalism next year, with a minor in design. This will be a perfect marriage of written and visual beauty in my life, mixed in with publication.
And
dats
all I gotta say about that.
My obsession with anything beautiful leads into my excitement with the awkward and twisted. I don't think I have ever stopped morphing my likes and dislikes, but now that I look back on my stages throughout teenage hood, I realize I have collected albums of passions in my mind. There is still no way I could answer a question about my preferences in music quickly. Or the kind of tattoos I have dreamed to be traced along my body. Currently I am obsessed with graphic artist, particularly in the mid 20th century. It began with Milton Glaser, to Aubrey Beardsley. It led to me setting up that art studio downstairs, which is now transitioning into sewing old clothes together to create new things. I think that is how many passionate people of my kind think, and get inspired by random objects and art that come into our life by chance. I am inspired by performance art, by blunts and beats, by incredible art that stops my breath for just a second, and many times by conversations. I think I am more excited about going to college for that reason, to meet a slew of people that are just as vivid and insane as I am, people that go through as many creative transitions as I do. It may not be healthy to jump from one activity to the next, but I get bored with anything that is constant. I wish there was a profession that would require going out into the world on the search for the new, for the old, for the beautiful. So far I have picked to major in journalism next year, with a minor in design. This will be a perfect marriage of written and visual beauty in my life, mixed in with publication.
And
dats
all I gotta say about that.
It's a Damn Shame
YOU! With that whiskey coating the inside of your neck, it is pouring inside your veins, swimming like the lovebirds twisting in the sky. You prowl the night with glazed over eyes, letting the world play in front of you like an old filmstrip. You cannot feel this film that is turning for your pleasure, you reach out to touch it, but it turns away. You’re a shameful beast who prays on hard liquor and scandalous dreams, surreal ness in the night, hold my hand I’ll guide you there.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Fly Away!
When I have anxiety like this, I've got to write. And I will tell you why this not-so-sudden fountain of nervousness and a hint of excitement has come about me. I am taking a HUGE vacation in two days. I leave Monday. I am flying, with my mother, to Paris. In Paris I will meet with my cousin, and stay for a week. Then we're off to Italy for 10 days. Staying near Rome, wondering if we're going to get a villa for that time with our other friends. My dad is flying down to stay with us in lovely Italy. We are then flying to Moscow and St. Petersberg. Personally not to excited about that, but who knows it might be the best part of the trip? Then we're flying to Khabarovsk, where I will meet my family who I haven't seen in almost 9 years. My boyfriend is joining us there as well. I'm anxious about the flight, the places, the LONG time away from my personal "reality", it feels like a lot of things piled on to each other. I keep thinking about how I label myself so much as "being scared of flying", and how it really just overwhelms me to even think about flying, and now that I know it's going to happen so soon for SO long, and so many times, you can see by this run-on sentence that I am ANXIOUS. Thankfully, for the last couple of days I have calmed down about this block I have in my mind against the trip, and I am just going to go and do it. I do love travelling and seeing new things and new people, but GETTING there, is just incredibly frustrating for me. I know all of the statistics, and they do help, and my mind isn't scared, but physically I tense up. Why is that? That is the hardest part about getting over a fear, is the pattern of it. That way you feel when you know your fear is coming, it sits in your stomach and your mind screams to run away from it. It's all mind over matter right? Then why can't I get over it?! Thinking about it now, my emotions can be so overwhelming sometimes that they get in the way of my daily life.
A couple weeks ago I found out that someone very dear to me has Hepatitis C. Even though I talked to my friend, and got that everything was going to be fine, I swear for two days the thought kept hitting a nerve. What can I say? I'm a sensitive person. I truly am. Secretly.
A couple weeks ago I found out that someone very dear to me has Hepatitis C. Even though I talked to my friend, and got that everything was going to be fine, I swear for two days the thought kept hitting a nerve. What can I say? I'm a sensitive person. I truly am. Secretly.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
All you need, is always found
I almost forgot about my "past" relationship with poetry. I began writing poetry when my 4th grade teacher's mom, who was a poet herself, came in and taught us the basics and famous poems of our time. I kept a little "harry potter" journal and wrote all sorts of poems in there. One day I took the journal with me to the mall, and left it on a bench to never be seen again.
BUT-> there was a lot saved over those younger years. I used to use "poetry.com" as a common publishing place.
type in my real name if you know it.
BUT-> there was a lot saved over those younger years. I used to use "poetry.com" as a common publishing place.
type in my real name if you know it.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Ecclesiastes
For everything there is a season,And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted
A time to kill, and a time to heal
A time to break down, and a time to build up
A time to weep, and a time to laugh
A time to mourn, and a time to dance
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing
A time to seek, and a time to lose
A time to keep, and a time to throw away
A time to tear, and a time to sew
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak
A time to love, and a time to hate
A time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
I thought that this demonstration of life's emotions in general would be able to find it's way into the memories of every person that reads this prose. For every line there is an example of this 'time' in your own pains and glory. You could feel the sense of sorrow in the first line and a sense of ecstasy and stealth in the second verse which supports the weight of the sorrow itself. If you always look back onto this verse at a time of your own sorrow, it reminds you of that feeling in your chest that you get from absolute bliss, and that it isn't a feeling of the past, but will be a fragment of your own future many more times to come, even if they don't reside in this life time.
peace ( =
A time to be born, and a time to die
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted
A time to kill, and a time to heal
A time to break down, and a time to build up
A time to weep, and a time to laugh
A time to mourn, and a time to dance
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing
A time to seek, and a time to lose
A time to keep, and a time to throw away
A time to tear, and a time to sew
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak
A time to love, and a time to hate
A time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
I thought that this demonstration of life's emotions in general would be able to find it's way into the memories of every person that reads this prose. For every line there is an example of this 'time' in your own pains and glory. You could feel the sense of sorrow in the first line and a sense of ecstasy and stealth in the second verse which supports the weight of the sorrow itself. If you always look back onto this verse at a time of your own sorrow, it reminds you of that feeling in your chest that you get from absolute bliss, and that it isn't a feeling of the past, but will be a fragment of your own future many more times to come, even if they don't reside in this life time.
peace ( =
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