Sometimes I play this game where I lock myself in a room, and turn out all the muted lights and shut all the windows, immersed in a settling, opaque and pitch-black silence. At first I would only sit on the floor and fumble with the rug, tracing sensitive and raw fingertips along cracks and faultlines in the wood panelling. But then I reached around me... I splayed my fingers and lightly touched objects within reach, only to quickly put them down and contemplate a while, my heart beating nervously. The first time I stood up, I walked straight into a wall that I didnt know had been there, and I lay back down on the floor and cried. The next time I got up, I leaned into a wall I believed to be there that no longer was, fell through and laughed. I paced the area of the room, snuggled into corners and grazed lightly all the objects and shapes in the interior.

Now, I run around the room. I grasp things with reassurance, and sometimes I drop them and they break. Sometimes they burn me, and sometimes they sear with ice cold. Sometimes they are soft and appealing, and new things burst out of their insides at the sign of my touch. I've found a thousand warm and beautiful things I didnt even know where in there, and have broken a lot of them. They still lie shattered on the ground, and cut my feet. Yesterday amid my rapid rush and searching, I ran into the lightswitch. And now I am back to sitting on the floor, where I used to close myself into for comfort, with things now tangible to me even through the darkness all around me, wondering if and when the room should be illuminated.

I dont actually play this game; I live it.
We all rush around in the dark, for that I'm sure. Ironically, right after I wrote this...
For english class, we had to read this excerpt about Plato's cave. It describes a cave that had people, shackled and chained in the dark so that they cannot move or turn their heads. All they can see is the shadow of some various puppet-like show going on behind them, that they can only see the shadows of. They can only hear the voices of others. Here in this cave, those who can recognize the most shadows and guess which will come next are leaders. They are praised and commended only because there is nothing else to be good at

One man was led out of the cave, into the blinding light. He withered and sheilded his eyes, for sudden sunlight is blinding. But eventually his eyes became accustomed to things, and he began to see animals, and other people, and things for what they really could be, in light. He was shown all the things that had been making the shadows in the caves, saw them for what they really were. And then he was made to go back down to the cave. And everyone called him blind because his eyes were not yet again accustomed to darkness. And he had to compete by the old rules, of identifying shadows, even though he knew them for what they truly were now. He knew all these things, from both light and dark, yet still others told him he had lost his eyesight when he left the cave, since he no longer percieved things the way they did

In past years, I've had horrible self-esteem. I was shackled in this cave where I doubted the shadows I saw, and could not see the people around me, just hear them.

Later, I became blinded by people, and this is the stage I think I ventured at least near to the light. I was in complete awe of the people I was meeting- I saw them as vastly unporportionate to what they actually are in standing- I saw him as loved by everyone, her as revered by other students, him as divinely good, and her as soley generous, him as king of the grade. I was amazed they even talked to me. Gradually, I became accustomed to their light, and my eyes adjusted and I could see people a little more clearly.

Sometimes I feel lonely because either some of the people I care about are still in that cave, or I am not yet accustomed to the light enough to see others, out here and free, around me.

But I feel like after seeing the brilliance of others, I want nothing more than to immerse myself in the shimmering divine beauty of pure, people. And when I express this AWEsome love, sometimes they think its ridiculous, youre crazy and its back to shes annoying, hes shallow, shes fake, they have no right to talk to us like that,
I just feel like its all petty. I've seen people in that way, and I see them differently now. In comparison to those I talk to about these matters to, I feel blind, or steralized or so blatantly neutral on issues, emotionally detatched.. apparently I can no longer see. But I swear I used to see people this way. And I do not see them better or worse as of now, just.. differently.

And it really gives me this pure, wholesome joy.

And this is the room One afternoon I knew I could love you
And from above you how I sank into your soul
Into that secret place where no one dares to go


I apologize for the fact that this was a cell phone picture, but it was such a beautiful day


I think you should always give someone the benefit of the doubt because even if you really are wrong in the beginning, i think youll be right by the end. Its easier to be something if someone believes in you.


I wonder whether its better to force oneself to forgive and accept, for the sake of getting along. Sometimes this means smothering your feelings. But they dont exactly go away- dead and steralized, these feelings no longer glow searing hot, but weigh heavily like dead corpses, cold and haunting. Ghosts of jealousy. They move through us and within us.

I also think as friends to eachother, we hold a lot of power. Being good friends i think means neither person abuses this power, not because they would feel badly but because they dont want to. We are all incomplete and searching and look for validation or salvation or even just fun or fufillment from others. Give and take. Sometimes it feels paralyzing to not be in control. I feel this surge of goodwill when i can givegivegive. But this is possibly because at the same time, i have been taking. In far excess to what I deserve. Wow i feel like its such a great feeling to give love and praise to people freely, just to see the light that illuminates inside their skin, but maybe I'm drawing this give by sapping my friends. Im sorry!

Sometimes I think we were all put here to hurt eachother, and it is this humane sense of prevailing good within everyone that keeps us from eating eachother alive.

Hope, please.
Also in Spanish class, we were told to write down a secret. I went into a minor mode of panic in searching for one, and felt a little dried and withered upon realizing i dont think I have any.
Actually, except one

"bleeep! time to check the scrambled tofu!"
apush, how i love you
my friends genuinely believe eachother to be beautiful, and i think that is beautiful and such a pure form of love.

i found my old project today, completed in sixth grade. we had to create a society we believed would be perfect to live in. i LOLed over and over at mine because i was seriously communist, naive, and a hippie. "peace, unity, and love" we what mine was all about and "there is no disease, zero crime, and no overweight people!" "all students get straight A's!" "there are NO cars, No planes, NO technology and NO money!"come to Fiori where EVERYONE LOVES EACHOTHER"

my mom laughed and said it was an emily utopian society. i reread it and saw my close-mindedness. by trying to accept only the best of every race, gender, or type of person, i rejected those who werent perfect. I even wrote somewhere in their that "why yes, we do strive for perfection"

utopia? i think not. there was no pain in mine, there was no feeling other than bliss. "ignorance is bliss" should have been my slogan for "this island far in the middle of the ocean of nowhere" would be completely untouched and ignorant of the world around it.
pain is real, like a helpless distraught youth, it needs to be embraced
sounds like a utopian hell (saying utopian tastes like fruit to my mouth)

My APUSH chapter study guide is on slavery, and as i studied for my presentation tomorrow, my mind wandered as it always does. Often i read in strange voices or attempted accents to keep myself focused. But nothing was settling the frenzied rush rush rush of activity inside my head. Its still bouncing off the walls, leaving numerous infintesimal dents

I thought a lot about how black people were enslaved, and how blatantly wrong this seems to us today. Back then, this might have been a radical thought. I thought about how they werent allowed to marry on the plantations, yet according to my textbook, "family ties were no less strong than those of whites, and many slave marriages lasted thoughout the course of long lifetimes".

The book also said that southern whites, whether they owned slaves or not, were united by the common factor that "however poor and miserable these white southerners were, they could still consider themselves members of a ruling race; they could still look down on the black population and feel a bond with their fellow whites born of a determination to maintain their racial supremacy"

I wonder when it will be that our textbooks will say

Gay marriages were not allowed in most states, yet in places that they were family ties were no less strong than those of heterosexuals, and many homosexual marriages lasted throughout the course of long lifetimes. However ostracized or poor straight citizens could be, they could still consider themselves members of a ruling race; they could still look down on the homosexual population and feel a bond with their fellow straights born of a determination to maintain their cultural supremacy"

I wonder when we will look back and not even see blacks as a separate race, since we are all part of the human race. I wonder when we will stop seeing gays, or other out of favor groups of people, as a separate "race" to this effect. I wonder when the human race as a whole will all have equal rights. Especially basic and fundamental ones to love.

I wonder if this will ever happen at all?

there is no life plan set, you just swallow the cold
and follow your breath until death.
now even if the will to sleep persists, I
can't 'cause a harsh cloth, it grazes my blisters.

This morning I woke up and I was overjoyed because mom had bought me french-vanilla creamer to put in my tea since i'm a baby and sometimes cant handle the full onslaught of India spice yogi tea. Therefore, I hadnt had this kind in months and was pining away because yogi tea is the only kind of tea we buy that has quotes on the bags and these always always always seem to be seamlessly and inarguably correct, to me at least, im sure some people would disagree but i would love to be a living, breathing manifestation of yogi tea quotes

anways today mine said

"share your strengths, not your weaknesses"

and i've actually gotten this shred of advice numerous times from my tea but i still shouted and danced around a little because its just so wise. and i decided to stop being all mopey-pity-me on my blog because that is not the part of me id like to share. i would like that side of me to shut up and go away. shoo

so yes, while i drank this tea i also cooked an indian breakfast for myself to supplement it (okay- it did come in an insta-cook plastic container, but it tasted spicy nonetheless.) and my mouth was contentedly ablaze and i looked out over my yard where the sporadic slants of sunlight lit up my green carpet lawn to be suited in stripes of white and golden sun and i began to feel like a middle-aged indian woman, plump and satiated with the fruits of life, wrapped in the placid, flowing sari of majestic hues, reminiscing on the days when i was a sun-tanned dark skinned skinny sinous child that flew beneath the heavy tree canopy and screamed the essential laughter of youth, skipping and kicking up dust under a full fledged and fiery-indian sun.

i have no idea if thats actually what it looks like in india. but i could feel it!

and im just so pleased that our feeling is mutual. thank you for reviving me

i love everything again!.. and only because (al)most everything is loveable.

silence is a lullaby too

i played thumb-war while driving today

CONNECTED

we expected something, something better than before

we expected something more

you were always weird but i

never had to hold you by the edges like i do now

walk away now, and youre gonna start a war

whatever went away, ill get it over now

ill get money ill get funny again

this is the song that my dad and i sat inside his car in the driveway, wrapped up in the suffocating, muffled heat that blasted unseen fire into the brisk night cold, listening to. It was so loud it filled all the recent cavities in my heart, I didnt exist besides for the thrumming bass, the coarse chords of dad's harmonica, and the faulty notes of my attempt at singing. But I love moments like this with my dad, especially when I feel too much and drown in it, there is something so inexpressible about an abundance of emotions that sometimes i cant say anything, anything at all to do it justice

but this works.

We find so many blatant faults in others.
Actually, I dont believe in faults.

and I find hope and life in the places and people I least expected.

recently i have just felt so incredibly DIS

I feel it all, I feel it all

I feel it all I feel it all

the wings are wide,

the wings are wide

Oh I'll be the one to break my heart

I'll end it thought you started it

Day 2 of Life Lessons with Mr. Guerrin:

"It's never straight, its always crooked-y.

...I guess thats just how life is."

I love history, not only because Mr. J gets a slight, whimsical smile that morphs into a generous, lopsided grin of unchecked, raw delight when talking about anything, from Squanto to religious persecution. Also because of the beautiful lighting that slants and melts into the faces of those near the window, illuminating a clear depth behind their eyes, washing out color, dilution drawing intensity.

I want to get close to each of you, but high school is so delicately composed, I cannot ruin our structure.

And although we did not believe in God
the grey skies fell, we felt the pressure drop
and we were feeling down,
how sad it was that we could not believe
we all said hallelujah
we all want answers anyways

Today my chem teacher told me that his grandmother was "dying". At the moment, I feel like I am in the act of "living". I wondered when is that apex, that sudden climactic swoop from living to dying, or whether its a crumbling, deteriorating slow tumble into dying, or whether its a quick rug out from underneath our feet that we dont notice until we are falling.

Also in history class, we talked about the Salem witch trials, and how that era was a very superstitious time because there were many things that they were not advanced enough yet to know. Where science stopped, superstition began. People were killed

It struck me (and truly- i am not meaning to be offensive to anyone who is religious. i am merely musing) that it seems like in today's world, where science stops religion takes over. And I wonder in a thousand years if people will look back with the same contempt or disbelief as we look back at those supersitious salem residents. Becuase relgious groups do tend to ostrasize groups of people of other religions, or other sexualities, and this just seems too intolerant to be divine, pure truth, to me at least. And I wonder that if science continues, if we keep discovering, what else will soon sound foolish or desperate? As times change, I feel like the only constants that stay accepted are acceptance. Or compassion, or understanding, or ingenuity.

I also realized today that social standings do not apply in the slightest to my perceptions of life. I am only acutely aware of myself, in other's eyes. Or what others' eyes percieve me to be in other's eyes. I was touched by your vulnerability, carefully signed and sealed in that note, the things you cant say while looking us in the eye. What is our culture's obsessions with eyes? I look into them and I see whorls of color but no meaning.

NO ONE IS FAKE!

I think.

We are all hurt

We are all searching.

Placed on this complex earth of swarming beings

we run around aimlessly, with deliberance

given no obvious or glaring meaning to this

existence

and others are

transparent to us, but we are

opaque to ourselves.

I am not whole

In this mad rush, we are all slightly blind

and bound to smash,

CRASH

frayed, ripped and chipped

peices of ourselves, ripped off my others

and sometimes we lash out at them

and cut ourselves

When I am more coherent, and less hurt, I will explain what I mean by all of this.

My edges are frayed and raw and I feel like a big, purple bruise. Or like a mushy sagging tomato, my previous resilient red has turned a darker hue, because my insides are rotting and have no where to go. My ends are trailing and dragging and being stepped on by those behind me, but its not on purpose youre stepping on me so please dont feel badly. If I am trampled it will be my own fault

I am going to say I'm fine I'm fine haha playful smile:) good! how are you?!

because that is how I get over things. Lock it tightly in the pulsing confines of my heart. Light it ablaze with the light and passion I draw from the beautiful ones around me, and its suddenly ashes. I study them. And that is how I learn. Internal anthropology, yo.

Look at the motives behind others, and lets get over ourselves.

RECOGNIZE THE OTHER PERSON IS YOU.

Fake?

Does anyone know who we are?

EXPOSE YOURSELF! It will be unearthing everyone else

Or at least, it will be exposing me, I promise that

no one is

alone.

secret shoutoutehzzz '09:

i think you have good intentions

i think you understand a lot of things so clearly, i think they are things common to all of us, but i still believe you are special because not many people can say them with such honesty

i think you need to come to terms with yourself

i think validation can come from wherever you choose, based on your personal goals and internal wants. i do not think the satus quo satisfies anyone.

i do not think there are rules, and i think everyone is confused. i think high school is (quite obviously) a time of change and growth, and i think the most confused ones are the ones who settle into rules and patterns. you do not need followers if you believe in yourself, and i think followers in the form of friends naturally come if you do

i think believing in yourself is attractive to others, especially those looking to find that quality for themselves

i do not think you need to change for anyone

i do not think you should expect people to change for you

i do not think you would hurt people if you werent hurt yourself

i think you have a beautiful smile, because it is so honest and raw.

i think you find what you want to find in people.

i think you need to stop judging. only because i do not think it makes you happy

i think you are attractive to so many people because you have the capacity to genuinely like so many different types of everyone. and i think everyone is looking to be loved and accepted

i think the world needs to stop hurting eachother. i think more often than not, the hurt is not deliberate. i think misery loves company, and i think that truly happy people are self-satisfied, and do not need company. i think we all need one big traffic light

RED LIGHT stop acting, stop limiting

YELLOW LIGHT recreate yourself, imagine

GREEN

i dont believe in being yourself, because sometimes that means settling for your present self. i think you should envisage yourself how you wish to be. and i think you will become it.

personally, i like to be like a filter. i do not want any judgements to get caught and choke me, i want actions to flow around and through me. i am touched, immersed, yet unmoved.

ideally, i will be lit up by the light i see in others.

will be a reflection of the beauty of those around me

maybe in this way, i can be beautiful

and maybe if i get there, i can give it away


did i mention that sometimes i'm not right?

not-so-secret shoutoutz:
if your name is rebekah, i miss you :(
and if you are my godsister, i think you are beautiful inside and out, and i believe in you to do so many things, and im not sure i tell you this enough. you also make me excited about life, because i think we have belief in eachother, mutually. i believe you have so much to offer to the world. i believe you make a difference. and ill never let you run across the sahara desert without me, or ever with anyone named charlie. what a bastard

I just watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and its the first movie that I legitimately sobbed at in years. I've shed a few tears before, and I've felt the distinct sadness a movie portrays before-- like in history, watching movies about the Holocaust. But I didnt get moved like this, maybe because I couldnt put myself in that situation. And it wasnt just the movie that sparked my emotions, it was a whole bundle of things that I really really really want. And a lot of them have to do with spontaneity, vulnerability, laughter and that movie.

As of now,

I am internally wrecked. This little ball inside my chest is expanding and shrinking, and constricting and wrenching and it feels like a pit. How can emptiness be heavy? Its like how people always say that silence is loud. There is this potent internal, and pure silence in the center of me, but its twenty thousand tons of pressure. I may implode, and a foutain of feeling is going to just shoot out of my ears. Maybe thats because its white noise and not silence. Maybe I'm too satiated and full, rather than empty. Maybe I'm just dramatic. Either way

like I said before

sometimes I worry that I feel things too much

and I want validation that other people

get lost

and we are all Clementines and Joels, and we are all humans and imperfect and we are all the same and we can expose others but some of us cant expose ourselves, why?

Being indoors is far too enclosed for everything I am feeling at the moment. I want to expand into the sky, and then feel infintesimal again. A roof would be nice. Or some rain

For such an immense thing, life is fragile. I wonder how we put so much emphasis and importance on such a flimsy thing.

Two-headed boy

All floating in glass

The sun it has passed

Now it's blacker than black

I can hear as you tap on your jar

I am listening to hear where you are

I am listening to hear where you are

TWO HEADED BOY. NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL

I'd like to start this out by alleging that I do not like to have any feeling of hate or dislike within me at any point at any time because it eats me away inside and makes me feel uncomfortable and I tend to retreat into myself and shut myself up in this tiny box inside myself of negativity. Its very claustraphobic in there.

At one point today, I shut myself up in this box. And I felt shaky and weird because I love love love everyone and this was not the usual, unconditional love. I felt slightly empty. It feels like, for girls at least, you are perpetually competing- youre either popular or on the waiting list to be popular. And by popular, I mean this in the shallow way that no one really is, yet everyone seems to be reaching to achieve. And there is the third group that just doesnt give a shit, and I am aiming to achieve that, but do not believe I am either popular, or complete enough to completely not care-- but the waiting list sounds just awful! I'm in an abyss. I hate grouping people. No one honestly fits into one category. I dont really mean what I'm writing. I was just really upset at them, and how people are so fast to judge. Why do we judge in the first place? Is it like the theory of us being afraid of the unknown? If we judge it, it makes someone tangible. We can put them into categories, we can put them into boxes. But really we are putting ourselves into our own little boxes of negativity as well. Wow I retract every statement I made about how I just sorted people into groups. We are all people, above all above everything

My hope in humanity was restored in the place I least expected to find it. Boys Wachu Football! Go Mountaineers! The epitome of high school guy acceptability. The tiniest boy on the team straggled behind the others during the sprints, way behind. His strides were choppy and footsteps pattering and the team waited in their pads and helmets, a pulsing white bundle of humans at the endline, all watching the runt of the team struggle. I thought the poor boy will get crushed by their mocking. (Please forgive me- I judged right there). But then you started to hear them cheer. A few called out the boy's name in support. Then they began to chant. Then a full on roiling cacophony of shouting and whistling arose and lifted to the blue-possibility sky and the boy finished the sprints and collapsed into a web of their support. It was great

Then I drove in the car with my cousins and I felt very whole, and I also felt old because we are old enough to drive around with no adults and we could go anywhere. But I also felt strangely young since I must be young if I still get excited about feeling old. And we blasted music, and bounced danced crazy around and curved and wove our thread of music and bubbling, overspilling joy into the streets and the song we played reminded me of someone i really really like and the warm head on my shoulder melted into my skin warm, human contentment

Sometimes I worry that I feel things too much. But then I hear musicians

Love, to me, is yellow.

"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.