"We come in doing cartwheels

We all crawl out by ourselves

And your shape on the dance floor

Will have me thinking such filth and gauge my eyes.

You'd be damned to be one of us girl

Faced with a dodo's conundrum

Ah, I felt like I could just fly

But nothing happened every time I tried."
AUSTRALIA. THE SHINS

My mom's favorite type of news story is horrific, callous, and satisfyingly implausible. Her dinner table conversation starters of frequency have to to do with "Did you hear about that murder? The one where he ripped off her eyelids, gouged out her eyes with a spoon, and crushed her fingers to a fine, dry pulp that he later sprinkled into his meal?"

Every human I've gotten to interact with personally seems to follow a basic set of rules. We have emotion. We have empathy and consideration, somewhere. We have jealousy or fear of some variety, which often translates into hurt, anger, or aggresion. We are needy and self-inefficient, often. We are beautiful. Maybe that is why my mother's stories, as mentioned above, seem so irrelevant to me. I cant picture anyone doing these things- they seem to fall into a new category. A new species, or branch of our recently existing one-- Race of Incredibly Hurt Humans who therefore like to Hurt Others. And I wonder what it takes to transform into such a human of this category, and I wonder if its society's fault, and I wonder what needs to change to change them back. I wonder if their change is an inexorable, fall of fruitless attempts at escape, a fall of defeat, hopelessness, and pain beyond calculation, and whether its possible to reverse. I wonder why we keep dealing with miscreants and criminals the way we do if it so often turns them into tools of murder, this hurtful and hurt race.

And I wonder, but do not believe that they are not human anymore. And I wonder, but do not believe that a human could do this.

" Mother i can tell what you've been thinking

staring at the stars on your ceiling

thinking once there was a power that you were wielding

and now ive hit the mark

staring at the dark

and i cannot help but ignore

the people staring at my scars"
LITTLE SECRETS. PASSION PIT

Spontaneous, unplanned Michael Jackson is an extremely effective way to get your mind off of soccer tryouts. I would have felt a bit strange if he was my pump up music of choice, however the nice change in tempo on this Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin SLASH Michael Jackson CD was worth blasting as loud as the car speakers would go. And music this loud makes me feel like I dont exist, my hearts pulsations in the inconsistent beats and there is no room in my mind for anything else.

"Six foot five with Amazon legs" is the apparently the only impression I've left on my coach after most of a season.

Its generally unnerving to be watched with clip boards and taken notes on. The coaches seem huge (since their opinions mean everything) and I am an ant, scrambling around attempting to gather their attention, without being crushed. What could they possibly be writing down for remembrance?

Girls show intense fear and expressions of pain when running is mentioned

Girls mess up with consistency once an evaluator nears within a fifty foot radius

Girls involve in frequent hushed whisper sessions about other girls

Girls stuff Sour Patch Kid candies into their mouths like there's no tomorrow

"And then we'll get down there

Way down to the very bottom of everything

And then we'll see it, oh, we'll see it! We'll see it! We'll see it!

Oh, my morning's coming back

The whole world's waking up

All the city buses swimming past

I'm happy just because

I found out I am really no one "

AT THE BOTTOM OF EVERYTHING. BRIGHT EYES

Tonight, I sat out on my porch steps and looked into the dark. As my eyes grew accustomed, faint, visibles forms and figures traced themselves by some invisible hand, the shadowed outline of a hammock, the zillion concentric lopsided-circles of leaves. Silence is so LOUD. But then again, so was the cricket, hidden in this night therefore brash and bold with its trills. And the motorcycle that growled past. I was so jumpy at every sudden sound, and even though I live so close to nature, I am unaccustomed to being immersed in it; the sounds, or sometimes lack of sounds, and such. In city bustle I float by, feeling like a vacuum of calm in the tumult and commotion of industry and rush. But in the quiet settled dark, I am the disturbed and the disturber, and I want to practice being again. As I sat there, I thought maybe some deep thought on the meaning of life might brilliantly pop out from the mass of muddled, dark shapes all around me. But nothing did and I laughed aloud, because maybe there is nothing. Maybe there is no greater meaning, because all that we ever think has most likely been thought, and we are all the same since all of us are unique, and I dont matter that much at all.

I'm happy just because, I've found out I am really no one.

The quote on my India Spice tea (that sets my mouth on fire, in the most enjoyable way possible to suffer) tells me to "Recognize that the other person is you". JOY! YES! This is something I am so happy to have actually realized on my own before, yet never put it so articulately. It is the reason I cant find pure bad in anyone. It is the reason that, despite my friend's concerns and scoldings, I always smile at the homeless men on the streets. We are human, we are humane, and somewhere inside us I believe there will always be compassion. And need. We are all needy and fickle and faulted and beautiful.

"But for now we are young

Let us lay in the sun

And count every beautiful thing we can see

Love to be

In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me"

IN AN AEROPLANE OVER THE SEA. NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL

(overheard conversation at work)

Hello my name is Liz, what would you like to eat tonight?

I'd like a dfkdklfjslkdfj (i do not remember. unimportant)

And for you sir?

I just want to eat her, but I cant get her to roll that way

....... I do not know what to tell you sir

Everyday I write down on my calendar the things that I do. To my surprise, there is not one inch of blank space on these last two months. Actions run out of the rigid black lines, and days run into days and all of a sudden I'm faced with an end. I am both excited and reluctant

In the past couple days, I have had three profound moments of complete contentment. Usually when I am away from home for too long, I become disconcerted and flustered. But these just brought prolonged stretches of relief. The first was running around in the inky depth of dark beneath the streaking hail of grey, wet, raindrops. And holding onto eachother, because sometimes I have to much to say and no way of saying it, because I am young and inexperienced and naive with words that are so inadequate.

The second was running around the turf in the blazing heat, with "Blood Bank" by Bon Iver replaying in my head over and over, and we matched up stride to stride and that is how it always is. And that I get this sense of permanence from certain people, the ones who know, and I wanted to say that I love you and thank you so much, but for fear of sounding either even mildly romantic or needy, instead I just said that I could see this happening in college- but I really meant that you are a terrific friend who not only do I like you, but I like who I am when I'm around you. And some things I know are immature since I am still so immature, and I know they will stay locked up and bound within highschool years of mistakes and learnings. But there are some people I want there for my entire life, and when I think about growing up or growing old or growing away, I feel like I will inevitably need to find a new foundation. As will they. And I wonder what happens when they've found one and I havent, or vice versa. This is when I think that it would be nice to be self-sufficient. And also very lonely. Is it better to isolate myself before others do it themselves? Is self-induced pain more tolerable than an external source? I do not think so.

The third was driving around in Bryan's car, and Joey summed it up nicely saying he liked "listening to good music and eating Oreos". Tonight, i just breathed. Some people really make me excited about life.

Everyone I take the time to truly look at recently just seem so attractive. I hate sounding corny but to say it simply, I just think everything is so beautiful

"and every summer is a hot token

to the cold, cold take of lust.

and every autumn singes

with the business of sadness."
BRACKETT, WI. BON IVER


I love work because every time I go, I meet a new person. Last night it was the sole waiter, and we attempted small talk in the twenty-second overlapping dish-scraping at the counter we had, placed sporadically throughout the night. Our first went something to the effect of So youre the new bus girl? Moderately new. Ah so do you like it here? Yes actually, I kind of love it! Love it? Thats something new to hear. Do you like waitress..wait..waiter-ing? Nah, I mean it works as a --- and then we were off and rushing to new tables.

The second went like this. So Mindi tells me you run! This is the point where I became profoundly puzzled because at first I thought that he meant run while I am setting tables. And I worried for a moment whether I really did run around the dining room subconsciously, and mentally scolded myself for being so terribly embarassing. But then I figured he must mean run, as in run track. But I do not run track. And I do not know why Mindi (my boss) would go around distributing this information to the waiters. No. Well I like to run.. *confused look* I play soccer! *he laughs*-- off to some other table.

There was a third meeting, boring. And I always appreciate politeness. I like people.

Today, my friend and her mom were washing their dog in a mini-pool. His matted, sopping fur dripped so solemnly and his head hung in utter defeat, lashed by severe scoldings of "Oh doggie, we had to give you a bath-y. You stink, honey! You smell like a dog!" This triggered in my mind my mother's facial lotions, which she spends on lavishly, in hopes that their labels of "age defying!", "wipe the years right off your face", "remove ten years from your appearance!" hold some thread of truth. If you are a dog, why not smell like one? If you are a worn human being, who has lived and are graced with the tender lining to show it, why hide it? I can understand defying things that are false, cruel, or oppresive. I cannot quite wrap my head around erasing, obscuring, and concealing what one truly is.

"I'm getting lost in your curls

I'm getting pushed back on a whim

Our breaths get wind

Back to the time when we were green

I know we have changed, but I still grin,

cause i can't wait to see you "

BLUISH. ANIMAL COLLECTIVE

Old people are great.

When I see them, especially older couples, a certain, internal trill of "awww" echoes inside me, and my first thought is that they are adorable. But then I was thinking about this- they arent cute. They are.. Weathered? They are years upon layered years of experience tightly balled up in battered, wrinkled folds of skin. Insight and acumen locked soundlessly away behind lined foreheads and skulls, and the weight of all they know often unrecognizble to young people, like myself. The ones in the dementia unit.. crazy? incomprehensible? I couldnt help feeling like although they might be the ones under specialized care and who babble insanely, I was the foolish one for thinking I was untouchable. Life is not invincible. Their crumbled, defeated state is not going to pardon me. I will not be passed over, or forsaken. Old age is so omnipotent.

I also used to think when I grew up I wanted to be very rich. I did not imagine this in a shallow way, I think, I just wanted to travel, send my children to good schools, and have a big house. I dont know what turned on its head and inside out inside of me, but recently I've just wanted to be young. Like twenties, and live in an apartment. I picture it as a movie almost. I eat at the cafe and pay in change, I shop at the thrift store down the block and bike everywhere instead of driving. I spend days upon days in the library so I dont have to buy books. I read the newspaper from the local cafe.. I want to live on the bare bone of the rich meat of life, at least while I'm young and spirited enough to handle this. I picture the power getting shut off once, because we forgot to pay the bills, and its like a campout in our small kitchen, now lit with candles and illuminated curtains from the night moon, and we laugh because I'm in love with my husband and there are more important things and none of it matters a bit

So I took the same personality test as Beck and this is what it came up with! At first I read it and was skeptical, because maybe it was giving such generalized answers that everyone who took it would say "Hey! It recognizes me!", but my mom took it and her's was very personalized too.

The fact that there are so many personality quizzes out there leads me to believe that we are all just looking to be recognized as we are, or as what we would like to be. Maybe this is DUH but it kinda just hit me.

Utmost in your mind is success. You are constantly seeking stimulation and a life full of experience. You are trying to 'grow' and above all you need to develop freely and to shake off the shackles of self-doubt. You are an enthusiastic individual, full of life with the desire to live intensely. You like contact with others and are enthusiastic by nature. You are receptive to anything new, modern or intriguing. Your interests are many and you are likely to expand your fields of activities. You are optimistic about the future and you deserve every success because deep down you are a 'winner'.

What you really seek is to be able to develop a relationship with someone with whom you can truly share: Love, Serenity, Peace and Quiet. But you are a very demanding person and it is your nature that leads to disquiet and discord: you are like the tide, flotsam and jetsam... One minute you experience 'highs' and a few moments later 'lows'. This obviously will introduce discord into any relationship and with this demanding attitude - the ideal state you desire is unable to develop. Despite the urge to gratify your natural desires, you impose a considerable self-restraint on your instincts in the belief that this demonstrates your superiority and raises you above the common herd. You are extremely critical of everything that is presently going on around you and you find it difficult to listen to or to take advice from anyone. You enjoy the original, the ingenious and the subtle.

You really like doing what you do and, more than that, you like yourself. Your attitude to work and to life is that 'If its not fun - then don't do it'. You want to be liked and respected, not for who you are but for what you are - and it seems to be working.

"Well I know my death will not come,

'Til I breathe all the air out my lungs

'Til my final tune is sung, yeah but all is good.

And my love is my whole being

And I've shared what I could"

GIVE A LITTLE LOVE. NOAH AND THE WHALE

I'd like to know how I'd view the life around me without my assumptions. But I dont think thats possible, since our assumptions are sometimes things we didnt even know we had. Like if I've had terrible eyesight my whole life, and only realized it once I put on glasses. Or if my glasses have always been purple shaded, and I had no idea until I put on your rose-tinted ones. I think the simplest way of changing glasses is by relating, reading or hearing about other peoples views (which incorporate their assumptions as well) about life. (thank you blogosphere! you've help separate me from my unconscious assumptions!)

Another way, I think, is by outgrowing our old assumptions, but so far I've found this very unsettling. I assume that these people I've grown up my entire life with, been seamlessly and easily and boundlessly close to, will always feel this way to me. But the gears have shifted, slightly. Our fit is a bit strained. Maybe I'm the only one who notices this, because maybe I'm the one whos straining things. Sometimes I do not agree with them, but thats something our relationship cannot quite wrap itself around yet. I laugh and agree only for the sake of laughing and agreeing, because I miss when this fundamental sign of "getting along" came so naturally.

We both like to dance, so we danced. We had in our separate MP3's and spun in the road by the train tracks, laughing and mouthing words to the blasting music in our heads. I danced with her, though it was to different beats. We were both singing, but it was different words. I spun in circles until I was dizzy dizzy dizzy and kept my music to myself for the first time, because I knew she would think it was weird weird weird.

Or that was my assumption.

"If life's not beautiful without the pain

Well I'd just rather never ever even see beauty again

As life gets longer, awful feels softer

And it feels pretty soft to me"

THE VIEW. MODEST MOUSE

Among other things, today I went to the marketplace with my mom and got a creamsicle smoothie. While sitting on the benches outside, Mom missed her mouth when she was drinking it, and I told her it looked rather unappetizing when she did things like that. She made a face at me, and I made one back. She slurped disguistingly on the smoothie, and I drooled it out of the corner of my mouth. This contest went on for a while, until Mom became embarassed of my antics. Often when I am out with just my mom and no other friends, I become rigid and uncomfortable. Today I decided appearance, weirdness, none of it matters. None of it matters at all

I think I've found what scares me most in life. A lot of it has to do with those lyrics above. A lot of it also has to do with this feeling of time being, in actuality, a stream, and until now I thought it was fun and easy and free to float along the surface, the roiling, rushing surface but its horrifying and exhilerating finding that if I want to slow down I'm grasping at water, and in its liquid-deception it slips through my fingers and runs over and through my flailing hands that grasp at nothing. I've thought a lot about time and I realized that I'm scared of growing up in a different way than any pre-pubescent version of myself might have whiningly claimed years earlier. What I now mean, is subconsciously falling into a routine, neither painful nor positive. Safe. One that evokes no passion, no infuriation, no awe. Where awful feels so soft it can be mistaken for goodness, and not solely because its not so awful, but because good has become not so good anymore. I do not want to tranform into my habits while I'm not paying attention. Maybe that is why I've been so closely alert and analyzing my present life. I hate those lyrics because I would rather feel pain than nothing. I have this fear of indifference.

I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I felt in myself a superabundance of energy

-LEO TOLSTOY-

"With our love-- we could save the world

if only they knew.

Try to realize its all within yourself no-one else

can make you change

And to see you're really only very small

and life flows on within you and without you."

WITHIN YOU WITHOUT YOU. THE BEATLES

About five minutes ago, my whole family was piled into my parent's room, which happens to be the only place with air conditioning. This air conditioner belonged to my grandparents who both smoked excessively, and it expells a stench of cigarettes. But it is cold, rather than oppressive and sultry. And by my whole family, I am including the dogs to make this statement actually carry weight. Three dogs certainly can be overwhelming. One of them just threw up and I had to clean it. Anyways-

While lying at my mom's feet, I thought about growing old (these thoughts prompted by my emotional viewing of Benjamin Button) and I began to sing

will you still need me, will you still feed me, when i'm sixty four? and I sang loudly until I exhausted my knowledge of words from this song. There was silence for a second, before I heard faintly (my dad had his head stuffed under a pillow)a muffled humming to a new tune, which was now lovely Rita! Meter maid! Where would I be without you?

And we just kept singing. And when I touch you, I feel.. happy. Completely off-key, and so whiny sounding that the dogs began to howl and trill. Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, and Ill try not to sing out of key. But we laughed and laughed and I think this moment symbolized the clean step onto a new level of relationship with my parents. Recently, I confessed to my mom that I didnt just love her anymore, for simply being my mother. I actually like her. And for the first time, I want to grow up and be like them. We haven't fought since. I'm blessed to have parents so humane, strong enough to be vulnerable, and at heart still children. For well you know that its a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.

I went to Boston today, and I am tirelessly, insatiably, hoplessly entrenched in the most immense feeling of omnipotent awe at.. (surprise! surprise!) people. And the enormity of everything. These vast, towering buildings that reside over thousands of diverse, scurrying beings who rush around interacting quickly and then moving on. Like a shared smile in the subway. Like the photographer whos attention we got. Like man whom we gave money. Like the people who laughed at us modeling in windows. Bustle bustle bustle. life Life LIFE

Erin and I wrote the quote at the beginning of this post on the dulled maroon seats of the train. I hope it affects someone, someday.

But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies,

and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after

people who interest me, becuase the only people for me

are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to

talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same

time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace

thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman

candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the

middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes

"Awww!"

I'm not sure if I've wanted anything more in my life! Both to be, or to follow

"He took a step, but then felt tired

He said, "I'll rest a little while"

But when he tried to walk again

All the people hurried fast, real fast

And no one ever smiled

Blue lips, blue veins, blue

The color of our planet from far far away"

BLUE LIPS. REGINA SPEKTOR

In order to get a long with a group of girls, I've realized the best strategy for me is to be very adaptable. Its not that I am being false, or phony, but there are many sides and shades to me that are all truly genuine. I had come to the conclusion that I was a chameleon, when one girl described my other friend as a chameleon, and was saying it in an annoyed way. I know saying someone is a chameleon isn’t always a positive thing, but I thought about it and I decided I feel like it'd be an okay thing for someone to be. Like, what does it matter the color; the real point is what you are, which so happens for this person to be a chameleon. Some people can’t actually see you when you’re a certain color, but close friends would see and accept all the colors because they recognize you not for the color, but for the being. A chameleon. You can change color all the time because you have the capacity to be many different shades and still be genuine. You can change color all you want but that’s a surface thing, and doesn’t change what you really are. (I'd say "a chameleon" again but I'm getting a bit redundant) And who is only one color all the time anyways? (That thought process made a lot more sense in my own head. But the goal of this blog was working on my communication skills, so maybe I've reached someeeebody. Ideally a fellow chameleon)

Today I went to the beach in the cold wind and sporadic rain. The best way to describe the atmosphere of the beach I feel was grey. But it was a pleasant grey, a friendly enveloping grey, not like the grey of steel or similar opaque, rigid things but the grey of mist, or earl grey tea. (which I know is not actually grey). Because sometimes I like the clarifying pain of being chilled to the bone. And the wild abrupt impulse to rip off my layers and dive into the brisk toss of waves. The reaching tendrils of frothy white was the thickest foam I’ve seen in water before, and I think white is so beautiful in natural settings because the purity takes me by surprise. Our hands turned blue, and Joeys were an impressive rainbow. I just finished reading Perks of Being a Wallflower and the phrase “I feel infinite” cycled through my mind all day. Not because of any particular moment. But an accumulation of things, like running as fast as I could, like a collective urge to walk far far forever, like how vinyl record or book stores make me feel. Like cities and meeting new people and learning and questions and good music make me feel. Like comfortable silences, or good talks, or thinking about the future, or thinking about the past and realizing I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve definitely trailed off subject here, but basically society had made me believe “beach days” are sunny. False. Spontaneity is a brilliant thing.

"Look at that sky, life's begun

Nights are warm and the days are young

I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years

Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years"

GOLDEN YEARS. DAVID BOWIE

I'm not sure what the sky is doing today. I stared at the sun for too long and everything up was an opaque white. The corners of my sight faded and colors ran at the edges. Its hazy and the sun is out but you cant always see it and its warm and I am swathed in a blamy embrace of mediums. Nothing is sharp or extreme. As is my mood

I'm not sure how I am percieved by others who have only recently known me, but the one who keeps calling needs to know that if I shed all my layers I am ultimately a shy, intimidated, impressionable person.

"and people make you nervous,

you think the world is ending and everybody's features have

somehow started blending

and everything is plastic

and everyone's sarcastic

and all your food is frozen, it needs to be defrosted"

GHOST OF CORPORATE FUTURE. REGINA SPEKTOR

today i went into worcester to a petite mediterranean market place that reminded me of trader joes except smaller and more personal; the young man who worked there was beautiful and wore wonderfully goofy glasses and i was intimidated because he seemed like someone i wanted to be like, or at least friends with, but it turns out he is warm and openly friendly. i wandered among rows of questionable things like squid in a jar (real ink inside!) and humorous things like jerk seasoning ("now i know what you put on your breakfast!") or brandname BITCH wine, and a multitude of tea (in this isle i was so overwhelmed by the brilliant choices that i became paralyzed, and bought nothing) and yum yum yummy baklava so rich and sweet and i think you should go to this market.

i went to kohls to buy emergency work clothes and the checkout girl was bored and chatty. and i cant tell if she was confused on who she was or merely did not care how she was perceived, but either way-- she wore a bright pink belly shirt and lots of girlish makeup and talked in a high, giggly voice. she also had a large tattoo, shaggy inky-dyed hair, and lots of piercings. she asked me if id been to the beach lately, and needed only a "yes! I--" before launching into a long tale, surprising me with the depth of what she was saying (describing going to the beach at night, swallowed in the abundance of newly visible stars, sneaky in barefeet to feel the raw grittiness of the sand and surf) and also with the way she was saying it (depositing like, a "like" like every other word, like seriously like im not like even joking like every word) and the way she ended it (and YEAH like its totally like illegal but the cops are way too, like, distracted by all the like drunk guys to like notice). she seemed crushed when we finally had to go, and it was slightly depressing to watch the animation drain out of her face as she started with the next "hi, welcome to kohls..."

then i had my first day at work bussing tables and i will never be able to eat at a restaurant again the same way, now that i know the mechanics of the place. you see waitresses smiling patiently with their customers, then swearing about them once in the kitchen. the atmosphere in the back boiled and steamed, but outside waitresses were cool and collected, smiling jovially. i ran from shouts, clangs, smashes and banging doors into a world of sleek and slender wine glasses clinking, the dim flicker of candles and muted conversation. i cleared off some table's beers before they were finished. the drunk guys were akward, but it was harmless and silly and made me laugh inside. the girl i worked with was truly a gift to me on my first day, and (despite the fact that id never met her) spilled a lot about her life to me, and a lot of it was intimate and not very happy. i enjoy listening though. she told me she wished i was in her grade because then wed probably be really good friends. actually, her crave to tell almost-strangers how much hatred she contained for certain people made me wonder if she naturally sought out drama, which would mean we probably wouldnt be very good friends. but for the situation, i really like her as a work buddy, and id love her to surprise me by being above petty highschool dramas. she made work fun fun fun

i guess the point of these three narative were the rest of the song..

people are just people, they shouldnt make you nervous

the world is everlasting, its coming and its going

if you dont toss your plastic

the streets wont be so plastic

and if you kiss somebody, then both of you'll get practice

i had a sleepover with my cousins and they began to discuss God and evolution. they were infuriated because they didnt see how the big bang theory made any sense. how did a particle just explode into a universe. who made the animals? who put the particle there in the first place? they said that it was just totally unrealistic, "there are some times when science stops and the only answer you can look to is God". they said. and they thought it was people with no hope that were athiest. "it upsets me so much. where do they think you go when you die?! so hopeless. emmy? emmy are you awake?". even though i was attentive and awake, i grunted and yawned as though i were sleepy, and lay there grinning because i have my own beliefs and they make me feel secure enough that other people arent necessarily hopeless and insane if they dont believe them too. i dont need validation becuase im so content and satisfied with them. and it struck me that maybe i should be upset (they did say some other things that could be taken offensively, though i know that wasnt the intent) but i was just too joyful. science relies heavily on questions, and my questions and wonder at the world are everlasting. i have a great abundance of faith. i havent not found love in anyone ive met. this human race gives me so much hope

the world is everlasting

put dirtballs in your pockets, and take off both your shoes

cause people are just people, people are just people, people are just people like you..

"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw

I'm in the prime of my life

This is our decision, to live fast and die young

We've got a vision, now lets have some fun

Yeah its overwhelming, but what else can we do...

Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute"

TIME TO PRETEND. MGMT

I've been experiencing!

I experienced canoeing on a still-glass lake, gliding through warm water and the slime of clawing lilly pads that we decided felt like hands. Then I had a major photo sesh, jam sesh, drinking white-chocolate-creamiscle smoothie sesh, and looking through good books sesh.

By living vicariously through my godsister, I learned what itd be like to experience complete self awareness, inner peace, or waking up. And when she taught me to meditate I felt like... I was the outer layer of myself. The skin, eyes, and breathing. And there were a thousand tiny screaming children bustling about inside my body but mostly my brain, all shouting to be heard, but not wanting to hear. But I could hear all of them.

I experienced the setting of my mouth on fire with SAAG (green), NAAN (bread?) and TANDOORI (red) which made me realize how bland American food really is. And I really want to taste all ethnical foods of every country, no matter how many hours my mouth burns afterwards. I experienced heavy downpour that (from inside buildings) lulls to sleep, and stealing packet after packet of tea from the hotel lobby. And Amaretto coffee-creamer. Yum. And the illuminating realization in someone else that there is hope in humanity.

I experienced staring down band members and exchanging glowing smiles. Musicians just move so many people.. they radiate this uplifted atmosphere, a mood that swings and dips with their instruments and voices; someday I want to affect a great number of people like they do. But that feeling was general, and when everyone on could see them on stage, I got a smile that was meant just for me. Simple smiles can be the most personal, touching things. I like smiling at everyone I walk by on the street.

I experienced being open and honest. I experienced dancing in the backseat and laughing and long languid lazy lovely days at the beach. I was refreshed by the realization of how much I loved certain people, and how such utter comfort around them is a rare thing that I have in abundance. And I felt very greatful. I experienced a collective joy between us of falling in love with book stores aka Barnes and Noble.

I bought an introduction to philosphy book for only five dollars, and ive fallen in love with it because its everything I wonder on a daily basis.

"I don't care for fancy things
Or to take part in a precious race
And children cry for the one who has
A real big heart and a father's grace"
MY GIRLS. ANIMAL COLLECTIVE


My soccer games have gotten canceled two days in a row and this has produced a varied jumble of emotions in me.. the outcome of this assortment of feelings being that i shout out and dance (or probably looks more like wildly throwing myself)around my hallway, to the confusion of my mother. Huh.

In lieu of going to soccer, I rode my bicycle to Rebekahs house where we stayed up into the very very early hours eating cookie dough, watching comedies, and listening to her ABC music list, which I am now realizing would have torn my soul apart to eliminate so many songs. Oh and we talked. But I feel like it was less like a conversation and more like me being enlightened in the wake of Beck's brilliant realizations about people, interactions, and LIFE in general. I dont mean that she did most of the talking because i usually have to put a reign on how much I talk, but I could chatter myself in a circle and then she would put things so articulately and realistically and.. yeah youre really open minded and coherent, you bloody wanker.

The next I mean same morning, we cross-town bike rode? rided? rid? to PHOP in the shimmering summer heat wave. Princeton hills are a bitch. Upon not being able to finish our pizza, we got joey to come along and meet us there. Shout out to wonderful, spontaneous interactions! George the pizza place guy told us that the 20 or 30 yr old construction workers had left their number for us with him when they left. He kept a very straight face when telling this story, and promptly turned around and left with a shrug once he was done. What? Lie?

Then we got delicious smoothies at mountain side market and walked up to the gazebo on the center-of-town's lawn. To a slight drizzle of rain. And after about ten minutes there was a large boom, and a large tear was cleaved in the sky for this light misting turned into what felt like a minor monsoon and we dashed to our bikes laying sprawled in the soaked, slippery grass, and we tore down the hill, Joey loping alongside without a bike and Beck way far ahead of me, her bright hair flailing and whipping and pretty soon I couldnt see in this streaky, torrential rain. I got sprayed by passing cars and puddles I swerved through and it was as though the clouds were hurling magnificent glass marbles from the heavens that shattered into thousands of crystalline shards and we were racing and racing and the world was an iridescent blue shimmer, much like the heat wave was but now it was wet wet wet and we pulled into his driveway and scampered into the house soggy and sodden and sopping and my clothes were drenched and heavy but i felt very very light.

Giggling in anticipation, Beck and I decided to ride our bikes back to her house in the rain.
The thunder had gotten harder but the downpour began to lighten up, and the whole way home was downhill so we flew. ("they cant touch me, we break off, run so fast they cant even catch me, touch me ill show you tricks with my zig zag quickly" O..SAYA. SLUMDOG MILL.) And screamed and laughed maniacally and curled and looped and sang and as i zigzagged through puddles and pulsing streaming rivlets of water my tire hurling behind me a fine spray my reflection danced in the puddles, their surfaces seeming to boil under the constant heaves of rain, and the world was green (emerald, rich, and earthy) and I was green (immature, young, naive) and we coalesced, the world and I, Beck and I, and I just felt so...

alive.
Song of yesterday was My Girls, by Animal Collective because its pusling, shimmering beginning remind me not only of heat, but now of rain.

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story
About a boy who's just like me
Thought there was love in everything and everyone
You're so naive!
After a while they always get it, they always reach a sorry end
Still it was worth it as I turned the pages
solemnly, and then
With a winning smile, the boy
With naivety succeeds
At the final moment, I cried
I always cry at endings"
GET ME AWAY FROM HERE I'M DYING. BELLE AND SEBASTIAN

I'm in a strange mood at the present. I woke up and found no one was inside the house, and both cars were gone. And no note as to where my absent parents might be. But my mood has this sluggish viscosity and my brain feels a bit heavy. And my hands are too slow to grasp the infinitesimal darting stream of time that's rushing away, mocking my slothfulness. In other words
I'm... wasting ... time

The past few days have been a headlong rush of activity that i will sum up as fireworks and staying up until 330 while having extremely philosophical conversations and sending wonderfully humorous texts and bike races and sitting on rooftops and dancing in backseats of cars and nature and leeches and twelve solid hours in a row with JO37 (during which I realized i really like sitting on swingsets and his camera) and being with people who complete my life in the way that we fit together seamlessly, balancing the others extremes out and softening eachother edges, all transcended by the automatic love that comes with being family, supplemented by love that comes with true respect for others, and eating much too much (what is with our culture's obsession in overindulgence?) and figuring out i actually am a lot like my mom and long car ride with my dad and realizing bullying and violence make me shaky inside but its nice when someone has my back.

that hardly does it justice. the quote up there reminded me of two things i will only briefly mention because my sour mood will probably ruin both ideas.

the first part reminded me of how i had recently come to accept my tried-and -true hypothesis that there actually was love in everything and everyone. but i trust belle and sebastians stance on life more than my own- so im thinking that im way too utterly sheltered and priveleged to realize my hypothesis is false. it also made me question if naive was a bad thing to be, and if its a valid way to be happy. but i think its like the way a blind person can be happy because to them, being blind is merely a state of being that has always been. but to someone who used to have sight and is now blind, they might eternally dwell on the newly gaping hole in their (until recently) rich and complete life, and will consequently always long for eyesight back. being complete is therefore a figment of perspective, i think. as well as being happy

the second part reminded me at how angry i am at the book i just finished, because apparently it doesnt regard me highly enough to leave me with a realistic and true ending. i am content with the fact that life is imperfect and unfair (yet ultimately, beautiful). this means that i am getting a little bored of reading story after story that is tied up with a neat, predictable, perfect ending. its corniness made me cringe. i used to read those petty teen-novels with perfect looking people, trivial dramas, and in the end the good girl always wins. i cant stand them anymore because they male out people, and high school in general, to be so black and white; as though there really are good or bad people, and not a thousand shades of gray behind motives, perspecitives, loyalties, and misconceptions. so i expected that this book, which had been displaying life to me in its faulted, yet true way, would end with a sense of pain, but also a lesson. i read this book not for hope, but for truth. if there is not a perfect world, how may we go on living as righteously as we can in an existance so flawed and bound to hurt others? instead of an answer, i was confronted with the cliche wall of - oh no worries! there are perfect endings!

"Ice has covered up my parents hands

dont have any dreams, dont have any plans

growin up in some strange storm

nobody's cold, nobody's warm"

NEIGHBORHOOD#3. ARCADE FIRE

SHOUT OUT TO THE SUN !

Last night my dad taught me how to ride a road bicycle, since im a horrible bike rider and ive never riden one like the very old, road one he has. I'm still to scared to lift my hands off the handles enough to change gears. I felt like a child again, and screamed into the suffocating, foggy mist as I wobbled and careened into the road. I felt like a kid who couldnt color within the lines. The minute Dad settled onto the bike he was transformed; I saw him as a young, city boy again smiling into the wind and fighting me for turns on the bike. Old age often seems an omnipotent indomitable thing, but i realized it only takes precedence when you acknowledge it. I dont believe Dad had any idea that he was an adult when he set his hands on those handles. And if you believe, and feel something, so utterly and strongly- what makes it false?

The quote on my bag of tea this morning read "Recognize that you are the truth".

I am having trouble swallowing this. For one, Im not sure how strongly I believe in the truth. I cant comprehend how there is only one truth. Especially since we extract different things from every statement; if I tell the truth it will mean a thousand different things to a thousand different people. If I want to get one true meaning across to a thousand different people, Id have to express it a thousand different ways. Would these variations be lies?

And dont we all live how we believe is the truth? I'm not sure anyone I know is living deliberately false. Dont we all strive, or at least automatically follow, what we believe is right? Then I feel like that would make all of us the truth. Maybe the tea bag should have read "Recognize that you are a truth"

Maybe I'm being selfish and this quote's demand wasnt even for me. Quite possibly it wants me to impart this message on others; maybe my job in life is to make others realize the truth in themselves. To empower them- I'd like to empower people. Maybe the quote is about taking a lesson from something, digesting it, and spreading it out to other people instead of holding onto it, like a secret, for our own.

Recognize that you are the truth.

Now, I am demanding :) But if you spread something false (negative), but it gives hope (positive) to others, does this make it a postive or a negative thing?

Math would tell me that a positive x a negative is always a negative. Dumb, pessimistic math; you've already acknowledged that you are the truth.

I used correct punctuation and capitalization in this blog for the first time, and I'm not sure why

"And I could say oo oo oo
As if everybody knows
What I'm talking about
As if everybody would know
Exactly what I was talking about
Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes"
DIAMONDS ON THE SOLES OF HER SHOES. PAUL SIMON

sorry for using paul simon two days out of the last three, but i like those lyrics to sum up last night :)
since i feel like they knew exactly what i was talking about. and i could talk about deodorant that smells like an icy blast of the potato famine as if everybody knew what i was talking about. and bryan told us to look at that tree across the pond that was veiled by beads of mist, specifically the draping right side of it, and everybody there knew exactly what he was talking about.
i like when connection transcends any need to talk.
i like walking and watermelon and fog so heavy you can hardly see, and i like how people cling to eachother in the dark out of mutual, vulnerable need and i like not having a plan.

im so busybusybusy maybe ill write more laterzzz.
no picture with this post, just look @ joeys, who has an abundance of potd's

"Power to the people

(We don't want it, we want pleasure)

And the T.V.s try to rape us

And I guess that they're succeeding

And we're going to these meetings

But we're not doin' any meetin'

And we're trying to be faithful

but we're cheatin', cheatin', cheatin'"

HERO. REGINA SPEKTOR

last night i fell asleep to THUNDER and lightning and rain and rain and rain and rain and rain and rain and thousands of pattering feet on my roof that whispered melancholy water afterthoughts to me, lullabies and drops that caressed my window screen and i heard the resonant guttural husky train bellow, its crisp concise warning whistle and then the world held its breath and i fell asleep in a smooth, cashmere silence wrapped closer than my bed sheets.

and i woke up to the musky, brisk petrichor.

shout outzzz to my godsister, to whom i owe that word :)