So much beauty in dirt

I'm in love with you, Isaac.
You're a pretentious asshole with a lisp, but somehow-- through that haze of LSD and alcohol-- you've managed to see what I've been trying to tell everyone, all along.

Woman says, "Let's take a drive down south." Roll down the windows and open our mouths, taste where we are and play the music loud... Stop the car, lay on the grass, the planets spin and we watch space pass. Walk a direction, see where we get. I never knew nothin,' so there's nothin' to forget... Get real drunk and ride our bikes. There's so much beauty it could make you cry...

I remember saying once that, while some people get smiled upon by Fate, I get smirked upon. It's true; I treat my life with sarcasm, and in return, Fate is a sarcastic bitch. You just have to know how to react. You just have to turn bad luck into a bad joke. And my friends all know that I'm great at telling bad jokes.

Come on, guys, you know I don't believe in Fate or Destiny or Serendipity. It was an accident of whim that I ended up here in New York, but chances are I would have come here eventually, anyway. I was headed out of California for a long time, anywhere-bound. It seems like I'm always headed out of wherever it is that I am. It's not that I'm never content... no, maybe that's exactly what it is. The difference is, though, that if others aren't content with their lives, they complain about it. I still complain, but then I hop on the next flight and get the hell out of dodge. People have said that I might learn contentment if I stuck around long enough, but blindly falling into a routine until I'm too deep to escape does not sound like contentment to me. And it sounds even less like happiness. I've also been told that I am simply trying to avoid my life; I keep my life in a constant state of impermanence, keeping all my friends at arm's length and leaving when I decide I've stayed for long enough. But this doesn't sound to me like avoiding my life; it sounds to me like I'm doing all that I can to live my life while I still have a life to live.

I may be addicted to adventure, I may constantly crave change, but at least I'm accomplishing my dreams-- and loving every minute of it. Yes, I'm even loving the minutes that I'm hating. Those hours spent in painful boredom, or the times when my heart is immersed in sorrow, or when I am so confused that I cannot even articulate effectively. I love my life, even then-- quite possibly more than ever before. As long as you live each moment for what that moment is, your life will never be a waste of time. Even if you don't write the great American novel, or make a painting good enough to be on display at the Met, or save the environment. Even if you can't change the world. It's worth it, as long as you believe that it is.

In the darkness of the most lonely night, all you have to do is remember that somewhere, in this same world, the sun is rising.

Maybe I'm just chasing sunrises.

futile plea to a doppy

im kinda scared
cuz i'm moving
and it's the city
but it's not just any city
it's the big city
and what if i don't make it
what if i can't find a job
what if i fail
what if i fail at life
all these guys
they say they like me
but they don't
because if they did
they'd wanna see me
and they'd wanna talk
wanna be there for me
but they don't
they like my body
and i like that they do
but i'm so much more
i'm more than a body
it's like a stalker
who is in love with me
he thinks he knows me
but he doesn't
he just knows what he sees
what i allow the world to see
but you're my doppy
so you know me
you know that i'm more
i'm more than what i show
like right now
i look happy
i look silly
i look cute
but i'm sad
and i'm boring
and i'm plain
cuz i'm moving
and i'm scared
and i'm more than a body
but if i pretend to make it
then i will make it
if i just pretend
it's all i've got to do
i'm tired
i'm tired of pretending
i want someone to see that
i want someone to know me
i want to let my guard down
but i know i never will
because to them
those boys who don't like me
i'm a body
i'm happy
and silly
and cute
but just a body
i wanna be so much more

When it all comes down

To no one in particular:
I guess when it all comes down, we really are who we pretend to be. If our identity is based solely on perception, then I could put on a smile and never again speak of anything but bright lights and champagne-- and that would be who I am to everyone surrounding.

We have infinite identities, we really do.
There is that person who only speaks of bright lights and frivolity-- or better yet, who just doesn't even speak-- who others pass off as vain, or boring, or shallow
There is the person they become when relaxing with the the ones who were there before all bets were called off
There is the person who sits awkwardly at a party, never knowing what to say or if anything should be said
There is the person whose heart is still sore from mild tragedy, who must smile because they were the one who threw the party in the first place
There is the person who sits on the floor of the living room in the middle of the night, holding an attempted suicide in their arms and calling for an ambulence
And even then, there is the person whose exterior is calm and collected, and there is the person who is screaming and frantic inside
There is the person who goes home each night and writes in their journal ideas about the nature of existence, about the impossibility of love to exist unconditionally, about identity and knowledge and quantum physics and everything that means something to them but never seems to mean anything else. It's just a hobby anyway, right?

Life is just a game and, as far as I can tell, there are no real rules and no way to win or lose. So take it as you will and pretend to be whoever you want. Because, like Jude Law says in one of the best existentialistic/nihilistic films ever made, how am I not myself? It doesn't matter how many perceived identities you acquire. Whoever you are presently-- is still who you are.



To one person in particular:
[Thank you for responding when I reached out to you. It means more to me than you'll probably ever learn, and more than I will probably ever be able to tell you. Thank you for your kind words of encouragement, for opening up to me the fact that you can relate to how I feel. And thanks for telling me the things that you wouldn't tell other people, for putting so much trust and faith into me. Your words may well have been my saving grace.]

Identity defines existence, perception defines identity, knowledge determines perception?

If you're not interested in philosophy, epistemology or perceptual psychology, then I suggest you back up and read the next entry, titled "You'll definitely want to read this." Those of you who have as deep a love for knowledge as I do, please read on! Challenge what you read here and formulate arguments. Rebuttals, as always, are eagerly encouraged.

As I was reading Philip K. Dick's novel "A Scanner Darkly" (nope, haven't seen the film), I noticed he used the idea that identity is an illusion to illustrate one of the underlying themes of the book, the nature of existence. This topic has always caught my interest, so I could not help setting the novel down in order to ponder this further.

What defines our existence? Well, our identity does. The idea of existence is, in itself, an axiom. It requires no proof, it is accepted universally. On the same level, however, it cannot effectively be proven nor denied. Identity, however, is also axiomatic-- but nothing can exist without identity. So, there must be two items present in order for existence to exist, because it cannot have identity except in relation to the existence of another's identity. Right?

Existence is implicative of a dichotomous identity-- to be more specific, the inclusive and exclusive identity. Allow me to illustrate: There is a sphere. Outside the sphere, there is a void. The sphere is inclusive, while the void-- which only exists in relation to the sphere-- is exclusive. Therefore the exclusive identity exists only due to the existence of the inclusive identity. False cannot exist without true.

Or something like that. Still following?
...Yeah, me neither.

We covered the theory that something cannot exist without identity. Or, rather, that it exists because it has identity. But what is identity?

I suppose one could say that identity is a concept created by whoever it is that is doing the identifying of the identity. In other words, you are who you are perceived to be. But who you perceive yourself to be will most likely vary from who your neighbor perceives you to be.

Which brings me into the realm of epistemology, which is fun to say and even more fun to study. (Just a warning to the general public, this topic will now take on a very different track from before.) Allow me to begin with another illustration: Someone says to you the word "ball." No specifics, just the concept. To your mind comes a default image of a ball. More than likely, this image is a memory of the particular object which was responsible for the original creation of that concept in your mind, the concept of a ball. Pre-school, your teacher holds up an object, teaching you first what characteristics it has-- round, impenetrable, of a certain size-- then teaching you that these characteristics describe the concept "ball."

If someone were to describe to you a ball with certain specific characteristics, however-- so many inches in diameter, a certain color, a particular weight-- you would [probably] form in your mind an image different from your default image, considering the ball described was a different ball altogether. In this case, although your imagination is creating an image of something you have not actually perceived, it is by the same method as when your mind formed the default image of the ball. Your mind is filling in with bits of data to fit the description.

In order to be able to store these bits of data in the first place, as well as to communicate them later on, we need a standard of value by which to judge. A common language. [Example: we "tag" certain concepts with words so that we do not have to constantly define them when they arise. So, when we see a ball, instead of saying "a round or roundish body, of various sizes and materials, either hollow or solid..." we simply assign it the word "ball.") A standard of value is usually something that is widely accepted, like inches or feet for measurements, etc. So, to reiterate, the expression of a concept requires a common language.

Conceptualization is a key process in our minds-- meaning that our mind is always judging the value of the things we see, and in doing so, looking for similarities by which to recognize these particular perceptions. The search for recognition, as well, as the judgment of value, creates a mental context which is unique to each individual-- basically, it is our Self-- upon which perception and imagination are contingent.

Our imagination serves the purpose of creating the concept to fit the flow of data, while our mental context strives to reflect reality. As a more clear example, when we are imagining something, we are not completely aware of our surroundings, just as when we are completely, acutely aware of our surroundings, we are not tapped into our imagination.

Imagination can also be used as a defense mechanism. If we do not want to confront some unpleasant fact, we mix our imagination into the equation, thus splitting our attention between imagination and reality, and creating a barrier of ignorance. This is detrimental to our mind, because we are merely avoiding the truth.

The opposite, however, is highly beneficial in a number of ways. If we can form the habit of keeping our mind volitionally focused, that is not holding away conceptualization, we end up with more self-confidence and more of a thirst for knowledge. With a constant need for knowledge, our mind is growing and our intellect expanding.

Now that we are on the topic of knowledge, why not discuss the nature of knowledge, itself?

Knowledge can exist on different levels. You can have knowledge that was not experienced, but is merely learned-- a widely accepted truth. But the fact of the matter is that someone, at some point, had to experience that in order for it to become knowledge, so it is not necessarily without experience behind it so much as it is true pertaining to all experience. It can also be knowledge that is simply outside the realm of experience, but I shall get to that in a moment. This kind of knowledge is referred to as a priori. Knowledge that is gained directly through experience is called a posteriori.

There are two different types of judgments our minds make in order to integrate knowledge-- analytical judgments and synthetic judgments. An example of an analytical judgment would be to say "all bodies are extended [have spatial magnitude]." We need not add anything to this particular conception-- the predicate is connected to the subject, both of which exist within the conception itself. On the other hand, a synthetic judgment is one which there are two separate conceptions that are joined together. These types of judgments must stem from experience, or must be mathematical statements (such as a sum of numbers). Physics contains a number of statements that are synthetic. Metaphysics, a much more complex and difficult case, contains synthetic knowledge that can only exist outside the realm of experience. For instance, the statement "the world must have had a beginning." We can conceptualize this, and we know that it is true (because if the world did not begin, it would not currently exist), but we cannot use our own experience to back it up-- because we were not alive to experience the actual beginning of the earth.

This philosophy of speculative reason is called transcendental philosophy-- the knowledge of the manner of perception of an object, as opposed to the knowledge of the object itself.

Lastly (for now, since it's past 2am and I'm becoming quite drowsy), I will stress that there are two main sources of human knowledge-- sense, which pertains to what we were given (ie: instinct), and understanding, which is achieved through thought and analysis.

At this point, I don't even remember where I was headed with this, but it was an amazing journey-- and one that is only beginning. So I invite you all now to formulate rebuttals, and keep an eye out for my next essay as I learn more about the fun subject of epistemology!

mor action, less tears

As my mother led us in saying grace last night before dinner, she asked God to please keep the world at peace. I cringed, and told her later that the world must first be at peace in order to be kept at peace. But I do not think it is God's job to bring the world to nor keep the world at peace. It is only we who can make that difference, and it seems as though we stray farther from this goal by the hour-- that is, if it is still our goal at all.

I find it difficult to believe that we will ever achieve peace in the world when there are still countries which hold public execution. And what might be far worse than that is the fact that we are so calloused to the idea of death-- that we would watch the footage of this execution, for the mere reason that it will be the hottest topic at tonight's party. I do not care how terrible the person is or what awful things they have done-- there is nothing that would compel me to watch another person's execution. I don't approve of the death penalty either, but that is truly a separate subject from the point I am attempting to make.

I think that it is so sad that we as a species have become so cynical and jaded that we no longer believe we can make a change in this world. Do we not realize that we are "the other guy" whose shoulders we keep shifting the blame to? We hear about the topic of global warming and we become overly defensive-- it is not my fault, my one truck doesn't contribute THAT much to the problem, this one individual cannot make any difference by themselves... But the thing is, if every individual changed one aspect of their lifestyle-- use different lightbulbs, begin to recycle, buy an electric car, turn off the lights when you leave the room-- then the world would be a whole lot better off than when everyone was saying it is not their fault. Of course it is our fault! Everything we do contributes in some way, whether positively or negatively. Think of this: If every person in the country gave one single dollar to help a good cause, that would be close to 300,000,000 for that cause-- and each individual would be out only a single dollar. It's the same exact thing. Your one dollar will make a world of difference, but only if you contribute. Your one small lifestyle change will make a huge difference in the issue of global warming, but only if you make a change.

And it goes exactly the same for other issues, as well. If every person wanted to help make a positive change in the world-- let's say every person in America-- again, that would be close to 300,000,000 people working toward the betterment of our little planet.

When I think of the magnitude of this problem, this issue of peace in all of its endless facets, I become so discouraged that I find myself standing on the edge, ready to throw away all of the hope that I once held so fervent. But I will battle through cynicism, and I will do my best to encourage each of you to make a positive change-- because one person can indeed make a very significant difference, especially with the help of their neighbors...

Don't just pray for peace, do something about it.

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Tuesday, December 19, 2006


[Portrait of the artist]

[It will be interesting to compare this to the portrait I wrote when I was 17.]

I have come quite a long way from the timid little teenager that I used to be. Although I miss my father, I feel that I have finally progressed into the last stage of grief, where grief is no longer the dominant reaction to my memories of him. I do not know what happens after death, so I do not know if I will ever see him again, but I am happy to have the memories that I do. Although I still get nostalgic at times, I am now able to think of him with a smile-- instead of a tear.

I have a wonderful family, to whom I feel very close; my mother, brother, stepfather, grandparents, uncle, and cousins are all a very large part of my life-- and my closest friends. My family always comes first-- and yes, I do consider my friends as part of my family. When I tell you that you can call me any time day or night, I mean it. It could be 3am, and I could be 3000 miles away, but I would still drop everything to be there for those I love. A friend is never an imposition.

I view life as a great journey, and the journey itself is the adventure. I love not knowing what is going to happen. I have no particular destination in mind; in fact, I have such a difficult time taking life seriously, that I live my life on a whim. It's exciting, but it takes a lot of courage. And courage is something I have always had.

I am:
-passionate
-intelligent
-confident
-stubborn
-philosophical
-witty
-sarcastic
-impatient
-silly
-adventurous
-easy to like
-forgiving
-nerdy
-loyal
-unique
-trustworthy
-geeky
-eccentric
-inspired
-eclectic
-sincere
-strong
-creative
-bold
-accepting
-outgoing
-brave
-fun
-honest
-open-minded
-imaginative

I am amused and encouraged by the thought that every sunset is merely a sunrise in some other part of the world. This helps remind me that there is beauty in everything, even in darkness. I am incredibly passionate and I allow myself to experience each emotional fully, whether happiness, sorrow, or anger-- although it is quite difficult to make me truly angry. I have only ever been jealous one time in my life; it was fleeting, and terrible, and I am past jealousy-- as far as I know. I forgive easily, don't hold grudges, and tend to move past my regrets once I have learned from them what I needed to learn. I can be honest to the point of being an asshole, but I usually make my best attempt to be either tactful or sarcastic. I am honest with myself. I see myself for who I am, and I have my friends and family to thank for helping me reach this point. I question constantly, what I don't know as well as what I think I know. I want to always be learning; I feel that the more I learn, the less I know. I am my biggest critic, but I am also my biggest fan.

There have been a lot of "bad" things that have happened in my life; I can no longer view these experiences in a negative light. Everything I have gone through has contributed to who I am-- and I like me. I would never change myself for anyone but myself. If you don't like me for who I am, that's just too damn bad-- and it's your loss. Because I like me, and that's all that really matters.

As I said before, I do not know what the afterlife entails, if anything. That is why I take my chances with my life in the present. I try to keep laughing, even in the face of the greatest pain. I do the things that make me happy, and I believe that any choice I make for myself is the right choice-- as long as I make it for myself. I go out of my way to make the world a better place for the people living in it, even in the smallest ways. A smile can go a long way, and it may sound naive, but it might even save a life. I love who I am, but I am always striving to better myself in every possible way. When I fall in love, I fall deeply and give my entire heart. I tend to see the rare, unique qualities that individuals possess, and I always try to help them see those things for themselves. If I care about someone, I will remind them often and sincerely that they are special to me, even if it's just by trying to keep in close touch with them. I try to recognize the beauty that exists all around me, while adding to it the best that I know how. I am very open minded and accepting of others' values. I will never try to force my own beliefs, views, or values upon anyone else-- but I will do my best to help them recognize and realize their own individuality and the supreme beauty that they possess.

I am not easily discouraged, but I am easily inspired. I appreciate the small things in life; laying by the fire at my mom's house, listening to my family talk, laughing and finding reason for laughter, feeling so full after a home-cooked meal that I think I might explode, going out for sushi with my friends, singing along to a great song on the radio, phone calls or text messages from people who are dear to me, random conversations with strangers, watching the way the streetlights reflect off the rain on the ground, the smell of snow, how comfortable my bed is when I'm extremely tired, buying presents for people that I know they will enjoy, seeing people smile, smiling at people who look like they've had a rough day, giving my last few dollars to a homeless man, feeling lonely and still knowing that I am loved, getting lost in an amazing piece of instrumental music, feeling the rain on my skin, shivering when it's cold and sweating when it's hot, looking through old photographs, reminiscing with friends or family about good times-- and fantasizing about better times to come, being there for a friend or loved one when I am needed, getting a letter in the mail, new pens, used books, the crackling sound when playing a vinyl record, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness-- and seeing everything in a new light, being awake to watch the sunrise, the silence between each crash of a wave, hugs, being able to see the stars-- and when I can't, being able to see the city lights...

There are so many things that inspire me, I could fill an entire book. It comes down to the fact that I appreciate the beauty in everything-- even [and especially] when it is most difficult to find.

I will most likely add on to this in the near future... But for now, I think this is satisfactory.
At least to begin with.

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Saturday, December 16, 2006


How strange, innocence...

As I layed by the fireplace at my mother's house, my heart was filled with great sorrow at the thought of leaving this place... although the sorrow did not outweight the excitement of my approaching adventure. Still, I could not help feeling somewhat nostalgic. Earlier today, my grandfather said that every place you leave-- and eventually come back to-- you will undoubtedly have particular memories that bring you happiness. It seems now as though each place I return to-- whether in person or merely in memory-- holds a great deal of hope and happiness, whether or not the experiences from that place were good. If I was nervous in the past, I am only excited, now-- and incredibly hopeful. Every memory and experience that I have had in my lifetime has turned out to be positive. It is true that there have been tumultuous times from which I did not escape unscathed; these scars have healed, and only the lessons learned remain.

It seems to me to be a great trial of character to forgive in the times when it is most difficult to do so. Although someone may have wronged me, I cannot harbor any resentment-- especially not now, when I need more than anything to start fresh with a clean slate, with newly found innocence. It might be painful for me to swallow my great pride and forgive someone who may not deserve forgiveness, but I refuse to hold grudges or harbor regrets. The pain of feeling resentment toward another human is far worse than the pain they caused me, no matter what it may have been. If they do not receive forgiveness, it will not be by my heart that it happens.

Although I know I need emotional support at this time, I also know that my loved ones need and deserve patience and support as well. As difficult as it might be for me to leave my family and friends in order to fulfill my dreams, I know from experience the pain of being left behind by someone you love. If my family chooses to vent their worries through acts of disapproval, I will be patient with them and do my best to assure them of the soundness of my decisions. If my friends choose to vent their pain by wanting to spend less time with me as my adventure nears, I will show them support in the decisions they have made and do my best to be strong for them. If no one else can give me their support, I will find my own strength by being there for them when they need me. 3000 miles may be a lot, but it is a great deal less than an entire ocean inbetween, or half of a world, and especially less than the distance between here and the afterlife-- whatever that may be.

However, to my friends and family members who have shown me their enthusiasm and shared in my excitement, I offer you unending gratitude-- and, in proving to myself that I am capable of fulfilling my own dreams, I will prove you right in your support. All I can tell you is that I am doing the best I can.

"But the best is a matter of standards, and I set my own standards. I inherit nothing. I stand at the end of no tradition. I may, perhaps, stand at the beginning of one..."

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So much beauty

Stop the car, lay on the grass,
the planets spin and we watch space pass.
Walk a direction, see where we get.
I never knew nothin' so there's nothin' to forget.
Get real drunk and ride our bikes.
There's so much beauty it could make you cry...

Thanks, Isaac. You worded it well.

There are no words plain or eloquent enough to describe the intense beauty that I am privileged enough to see around me on a daily basis. I am grateful beyond belief for the blessings of the senses, which enable me to feel this beauty even more closely... The inspiration runs thick through my blood on this night, as it has so many nights before, and I am left barefoot, shivering, too filled with passion to speak.

So I write.

The past couple nights I have stayed up until sunrise working on a painting for a very special boy. Although I have not known him long, he offers me a great deal of inspiration, and he managed to once again light that spark that had been dwindling, filling me with the inspiration to unfold my easel and pick up my brushes.

Although I miss working and going to school, this time off has been the most amazing gift. I am able to take my time and get back in touch with myself, to regain my strength after a terrible spell of confusion, to think more and feel completely the emotions that I am fortunate enough to experience.

This morning, I worked a very small bit on my room [this endless task of centralization], and then decided to buy flowers for the people I love. I stopped at the coffee shop down the street to get my usual-- Soy Chai Latte-- and then continued on to the store to buy flowers. I bought three bouquets; white lilies for my grandparents, pink carnations for my mother and stepfather, and white carnations laced with purple for my brother and his girlfriend. I brought them to my mother's house and arranged them on the kitchen table. My grandparents were on their way, and I assured my mother that I would be at her house to greet them when they arrived, so that they would not have to walk in to an empty home.

My mother arrived home from work before her parents got there, so she and I had a chance to talk for a few minutes. Lately she has been very stressed, and I feel terrible that I have not been there for her as much as I should. I have a great deal going on, with trying to get ready for my big move, but my mother is my best friend-- and I need to be there for her. [Don't worry, I've already made that vow to myself.]

Her parents arrived shortly after, as well as my brother. We all helped my brother wrap presents for his girlfriend; my granmother and I wrapped gifts, and I made little bows out of wrapping paper to put on them. It was wonderful getting to talk with them all and spend time with them; my family is my greatest treasure and the best friends that I am fortunate enough to know... My stepdad came home, and we got to talk with him for a while as well, before he had to return to the office.

Katie, my brother Josh's girlfriend, arrived soon thereafter. We all sat and talked for a little while as Josh and Katie ate lunch. Then, Josh, Katie and I went to Barnes and Noble, while my grandparents and mother went to the market to pick up ingredients for our Hanukkah dinner. Josh drove my car to the bookstore; I was listening to my second favorite instrumental group, Explosions In The Sky, (second only to The Drift, an instrumental group as well), and my brother and I got into a discussion about that particular type of music. He talked about how the complexity has changed throughout the ages-- whereas classical was very complex and needed no lyrics, and he said that Explosions was not something he felt he could relate to. To me, however, listening to Explosions is an inspiration, and it fills me with the greatest hope...

When we arrived at the bookstore, one of my favorite places in the world, I went to the movie section to seek out one of my favorite movies, Boondock Saints. They were out of it, unfortunately, so I bought Before Sunrise. Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Waking Life are three of my all time favorite movies by my favorite director, Richard Linklater. And yes, he also directed School of Rock. He is just that cool.

Katie, Josh and I returned to my mom's house to find my mom and grandmother working on cooking Matzoball soup. Josh, who does not cook, asked to prepare the latke's himself, and my mother happily obliged. I offered my help, but none was needed, so I went into the living room to relax with my grandfather and Katie. I sat on the couch with my mom's cat, pepper, and talked with these two wonderful people. I also had the privilege of keeping a conversation with Adam going via text messaging, which made my night even more wonderful.

When the preparations had been made and the soup was left to simmer, my mother and grandmother joined us in the living room, giving Josh room in the kitchen to make Latkes. I was curled up on the edge of the couch with the arm as my pillow and my mom's cat to cuddle with; my grandmother sat on the other end of the couch, my grandfather in the rocking chair by the patio door, my mother on the floor by the fire, and Katie in Josh's green chair on the opposite end of the living room. We all just sat and talked and relaxed and enjoyed the pleasure of one another's company... and there was so much beauty that I felt as though my heartwould burst...

Dave, or Stepdave as I lovingly dubbed him when he came into the family, got home from work and we all sat down to a delicious meal of Matzoball soup-- with chicken for the meat eaters, and with tofu for the vegetarians (which consist of Katie and me), as well as Latkes with your choice of apple sauce and/or sour cream.

After dinner, we said the blessings of Hanukkah and lit the Menorahs, then opened presents. As much as I love opening presents, I have to say that it is the giving of presents I enjoy the most. I was very excited about the presents I had gotten my loved ones, so I made sure they went first. My mom opened her present which was from Stepdave and me-- a new Brother sewing machine to replace the Singer that broke. She loved it! She was taken aback and mockingly mad that we got her such a nice model-- she said all she needed was forward, backward and zig zag stitch options. I assured her that it did indeed do those three things... along with about 25 other options.

My grandparents opened their gift next. Many months ago, the last time I saw my grandmother, she asked me if I would paint something for her to buy. I said of course, but I never planned to allow her to pay me. I worked for a month on this painting of the San Francisco bay. Those who know me well enough know that a month is an eternity for me to spend on a painting. My art usually comes into existence sporadically and in the span of one night, during which I stay up for as long as it takes to finish. Anything more than one night is indeed a very special painting, and anything longer than one week means that I'm thinking about it WAY too much. So a month working on one painting was complete agony-- but I wanted it to be perfect. And, judging by the reaction this painting got from everyone in my family--not just my grandparents-- it was as close to perfect as I could have made it. [I was so nervous while they opened it, I was actually fidgeting.]

Stepdave went next and opened the calendar I bought for him. He is a wine connoisseur [I finally learned how to spell that!], and the calendar was a 365 day quiz calendar-- a quiz question about wine for every day of the year. He loved it, which meant a great deal to me, as he is damn near impossible to shop for. Everything he wants, he goes out nd gets-- so finding something he likes is a special treat.

Katie is an avid reader, like I am, and one of the most intelligent young things I have ever known. I am the easiest person in the world to shop for, because everyone knows I am always MORE than happy to receive a gift card to any bookstore. I figured Katie would be the same, so I gave her $20 to Barnes and Noble, enclosed in a card on which I wrote a fairly long, heart-felt letter to her. She was indeed pleased, which made me very happy!

From Stepdave, Josh and I both received a seat massager for our cars. I had one that was given to me last year, but the motors have since died, so I was incredibly pleased to get this gift! As a second gift, Josh got a book of short stories from Katie, which he loved, and I got cucumber-melon scented candles from my mom. I love candles... and anyone who has set foot in my bathroom (or my car) knows that I am practically obsessed with cucumber-melon. I had an air freshener in my car of this scent, but my bathroom is the worst. Shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, handsoap, lotion, and at one point even my deoderant-- all cucumber-melon. I love candles, too, so this was a very special gift.

After we opened presents, my grandparents told my brother and I stories from before our dad passed away. We talked about the origin of my and Josh's names, and reminisced a bit. A little while later, mom went to bed, followed shortly by her parents. Katie had to study for her last final, and Josh and Stepdave began watching a show about dogfighting (planes, not animals), so I decided to head home.

Once I got home, I could no longer contain the amazing inspiration that I was feeling, and an image popped into my head which I just HAD to paint. I spent a few hours on it until I reached the point where I must let it dry before I can continue. This, as well as the other painting that is currently in progress, will be a present for a very special boy who has stolen my heart from all the way across the country.

Now I am so tired that I can barely type, but I am still SO filled with inspiration that sleep will not come for quite some time. All I can say, now, is that I am more in love with my life every moment that I live. And yes, it is true. Every night is better than the last, making every night the best night of my life.

Somewhere, in the same world you are living in, the sun is rising.

I spent too many years worrying, too much time repressing these emotions. Now, although it is still difficult for me at times to open up about the events of my past, I cannot help allowing myself to experience every emotion as fully as possible. I feel my joy with all the intensity of a heart on fire, but I also allow myself to feel my pain just as fully. There is too much beauty to be felt, even in sadness.

I am not certain if there will be anything after this life has come to an end, so I will take my chances with my life in the present. I will never stop laughing, even in the face of the greatest pain. I will do the things that make me happy. I will go out of my way to make the world a better place for the people living in it, even in the smallest ways. I will love myself while striving to better myself in every possible way. I will love with all my heart and live with my entire soul. This life is an amazing journey, and I will do my best to recognize the beauty this world possesses-- while adding to it in every way that I can.




When you learn to appreciate the beauty that is this life, even times of relaxation can be an incredible adventure.

There is no room for darkness in a world where the sun is always rising.

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Wednesday, December 13, 2006


[For those who enjoy pumpkin pie]

Here is another excerpt from my book, Conquest for Hope. I added on a bit in the middle. [Dedicated to Adam Gotterer-- sorry it took me so long to get this damn thing typed...] This is the first draft; critisicm and rebuttals welcomed and appeciated.

Edit to add: Apparently my quotation marks have been turned into partial elipses. [shrurg] =)



As we prepared the pumpkins for pie, Zachary surprised me with an abrupt change of subject. When I thought about it later that night, however, I realized that it held every relevance pertaining to the events of our day.

..There is so much beauty surrounding us, I feel sometimes as though I might burst. But then, sometimes, I feel as though I am the only one who sees it...

I was not sure if he was looking for a response, so I waited silently for him to continue while scraping the seeds out from another pumpkin.

..For instance, why must we associate sadness with negativity? There is so much beauty in sorrow, we could see it if we just opened our eyes.

And honestly, I do not mean this in the sense that we need sadness in order to appreciate the times when we are happy. I mean truly that there is beauty within sorrow, just as there is beauty within joy-- each beautiful in its own right, completely independent from one another.

..The world is most certainly not black and white,.. he continued, cutting the pumpkins up and placing the slices in the steamer. ..The world is made up of countless, extraordinary shades of gray-- and, I think that if we look, we will find that black is not truly black, and white is far from white.

This is the world we live in; you might as well love it...

I stopped cutting the remaining pumpkins and nodded, contemplating what he had said. ..You are definitely correct, in my opinion. This world will only be what we make of it. I feel that we should cherish each moment in which we are blessed enough to exist. There is nothing worth giving up for, even in the face of the greatest sorrow, because every experience can only be summed up to our reaction to that particular instance....

..Christa, yes!.. His enthusiastic reply startled me slightly, and he turned to me, his gaze as intense as ever. ..When my mother passed away, I was terribly inclined to give up. I felt as though I had been physically wounded, as though my heart had been ripped right from my chest and I had been torn open, exposed to the world, that gaping hole bleeding like water rushing through a break in a dam. But when I closed my eyes and simply allowed myself to feel the pain, it was as though each drop which spilled through the dam was suspended in time, a beautiful symphony wrapped up in a single note. I was left shivering, completely amazed. I felt as though I stood naked in the middle of a tempestuous rainstorm, and I was able to see the beauty inside sorrow I was feeling. I was alive and I could feel; although it seemed very much as though I would never again be able to smile, I knew that-- as long as I still possessed the gift of emotion-- I would once again experience a change in those very emotions.

..I have experienced as well as anyone the times when it seems as though inspiration has grown bleak, when the days merely blend into one another. We walk as with our eyes to the concrete, refusing to see the beauty that surrounds us, only seeing the steps that we take-- and not where they lead us, nor where they have been. We smell the smoke of a fire and wonder from which direction it blows, never bothering to lift our eyes and see that the flames are right in front of us..

If we refuse to see the beauty in the world around us, there will be nothing left to feed it and keep it alive, and one day, we will open our eyes to look for it-- only to find that it no longer exists. If we refuse to allow passion to take us by the heart and run with us, then passion will die from neglect. And one day, we will look around us at the dry, barren landscape and we will beg the skies for rain.. but we will find that the clouds have turned away, their tears tried up and given in to apathy...

I found myself at a loss for words; I wondered at his ability to speak so poignantly, yet so effortlessly.

We finished preparing the pies in silence. As Zachary placed both of them into the oven, he looked at me, smiling warmly.

I smiled back at him, taking his hand in mine. He looked down at our hands; I knew he realized that it was the first time I had made such a gesture toward him. He squeezed my hand gently, and we walked into the living room to sit down on the couch.

..Zachary,.. I said quietly after a few moments spent in silence. ..What is it about this painting that makes you so uneasy?.. I recalled the time when I had seen him staring at it, a look of discontent upon his face.

He paused a moment before answering. ..Christa,.. his voice was almost inaudible, ..I painted this...

I was not sure if whether he was joking or not; I studied his eyes, realizing that he had said it in earnest. ..Why didn..t you say this before?..

He sighed, letting go of my hand. ..This was going to be a present for my mother, before she died. I was working on it while she was in the hospital, all day, every day. I usually painted in oils, but this was acrylic-- they would not allow me to use oils in the hospital room. She never opened her eyes while I was working on it, but I thought that perhaps--somehow-- if she saw this, it would give her enough hope to hold on for just a little while longer. The day I finished it was the day she passed away-- and she had still never even looked at it. So I hocked it and used some of the money to run away to Europe. I never wanted to see it again. It was too painful a reminder of what I was not able to accomplish...

..Zachary, it is the most beautiful painting I have ever seen. But it is in no way related to your mother..s death. I know she would have loved it, but if she could not hold on any longer, there would have been nothing you could have done...

He glanced up at the painting that hung on the wall behind us. ..I am beginning to realize that now... He paused, and then laughed softly. ..You know, it seems fitting that you ended up with this painting. You are the one person I would expect to appreciate its meaning-- without even having known the story behind it...

I slid my hand back into his and smiled. ..This life is a series of beautiful moments. I don..t always understand them, but I am beginning to recognize them for what they truly are...



* * *


After we had finished off one entire pie, I walked Zachary to his car and gave him a hug goodnight.

As I walked back to my apartment, my thoughts returned to what he had said earlier that evening as we were preparing the pies. I thought about all the mistakes I had made in the past and realized that, although they had seemed life-altering at the time, in the long run they had turned out to be inconsequential. The only times that had truly hurt were the times when I had let myself down or did not stay true to myself.

I wondered at the sadness that I had seen in the eyes of so many passers-by. What happened in their life to make their pain so apparent, to have etched it into every wrinkle of their eyes, each dimple that seldom appeared to accompany an all-too-rare smile? Was it a person, a particular event, or simply the weight of our world today? I could see how one might feel that the latter was enough to outweigh the formers options together.

I was overcome with the urge to reach out to every stranger I had seen whose eyes told of such great sorrow. I wanted desperately to tell them to hold on to hope, to believe in beauty. Because, even in the perils of the darkest moments when it seems that only pain has the right to exist, we must remember that it is not a lost cause when one battle has been defeated. One battle does not equate the entire war. My fellow strangers, please understand! Belief in a metaphysical force constitutes its existence. If you refuse to accept that all hope has been lost, even in times when it is difficult to find, then there is no amount of emotional pain that you will not be able to endure. When you refuse to give in, the pain will only penetrate to a certain point, the rest of the soul blockaded by the protection of hope, joy, love-- and all things beautiful...
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Saturday, December 09, 2006


Perfectly reasonable deviations

"If I were 21, I would walk the Earth. I would go barefoot longer; I'd learn how to throw a Frisbee, I'd go braless if I were a woman and I would wear no underwear if I were a man. I'd play cards and wear the same pair of jeans until they were so stiff they could get up and strut around the room by themselves...So don't take the short road. Fool around. Have fun... You're not going to get this time back. Don't panic and go to graduate school and law school. This nation has enough frightened, dissatisfied yuppies living in gated communities, driving SUVs and wondering where their youth went. We need you to walk the earth, so that other nations can see the beauty of American youth, rather than seeing our young in combat fatigues behind the barrel of an M-16."

I am sure it is true that one can still find adventure while exploring the beaten path; by now, however, it seems as though every adventure found along that path costs a great deal more for having already been discovered... but cost is indeed relative, in this sense of the word. Do you, the reader, feel that it would cost you more [on a personal level] to follow the beaten path-- whatever societal standards may apply-- than to forge your own path and go in the direction of your dreams? I have been called many things in my life-- eccentric, daring, brave, insane, amongst other things-- but the truth is, I have established my own norm and have simply begun to follow it. Of course, my norm does not include conformity or even a set routine. What works for me today may not necessarily work for me tomorrow.

Is anyone really in the mainstream?

Normal does not exist, except on an individual level. To me you might be eccentric, but to you, you are normal. Everyone has established their own routine in accordance with their dreams. This is not to say that everyone is brave or crazy or stupid enough to go out and follow their deepest dreams unrelentingly, no matter what the cost-- though some of us do-- but that everyone has decided what they are willing to give up in order to get where they would like to go, a degree that varies drastically. If you have made the decision to conform to those standards that society has set for you, that is your choice-- and I suggest that you go forth confidently. Do not listen to anyone else, especially not me.

I was brought up to believe that any choice one makes for themself can never be wrong, purely for the fact that it is their own. So let life take you by the lapel, and give it absolutely everything you've got.

I spent a great deal of yesterday in tears, but the sorrow only reminded me how amazing, how beautiful life is. I am not saying that we need sadness to appreciate happiness; no, this logic is flawed. We need sorrow, just as we need happiness, to appreciate the beauty that lies therein. This world is not black and white; there are a million, brilliant shades of gray that lie between... and I think you will find-- if you look closely-- that the black is not truly black, and the white, far from white. There is such profound beauty in every emotion, person, experience; you just have to believe.

This life is what you make of it.
I suggest you make the most, while you still have the opportunity.

Currently listening :
Chroma
By Cartel
Release date: By 13 June, 2006

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Friday, December 01, 2006


We don't have to try!

We can turn bad luck into a bad joke!

Today has been nothing short of hilarious. I think "The Fates" have been making their best attempt to cheer me up; they must know that I am a sucker for sarcasm. If I had to describe the past couple of days, I would say they have definitely been sarcastic-- if a day can be described as such.

Some people get smiled upon by Fate.
I get smirked upon.

Although my resources are rapidly depleting, I must say that this time I have taken off of work has been highly beneficial. I have learned a great deal about myself, as well as having gotten back in touch with aspects of my personality that I had somehow misplaced.

Where the hell is that mountain?

I have never been more ready for an adventure than I am at this particular time in my life. I am simply making up my own rules as I go along-- but when it comes down to it, is that not what we are all doing? Anyone who wishes to join me along the way, please do. I'm not quite sure where I am headed, but I know that the journey will be pretty damn amazing.

So, what are you waiting for?
Bring it on, bitches!

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Thursday, November 16, 2006


[there may yet be hope]

Exhaustion clouds my concentration; I despise inarticulacy, although it seems that lately, I simply cannot avoid it. I recall a time-- shortly after I moved back to America-- when I was [forcefully] taught a handful of life's lessons, a great deal over the legal limit [if my memory serves me correctly]. The past couple months have taught me just as many-- in just as crude a manner.

A birthday celebration eleven days early makes me think about the essence of time, which brings to mind a [coffee shop conversation] about moving in every direction through time and multiple dimensions. It is with a nostalgic smile that I recall the events of this particular evening; it seems to have been so long ago, and yet not even two moons have passed since then..

[What I could have sworn was love might have turned out to be merely an attraction to the beauty that I find within each individual whom I encounter.] I am left ambivalent, but never with regret.

My inspiration is as constantly changing as my perspective. I see now that the cliche "love is blind" is entirely true; I realize, also, that the connotation is slightly skewed-- while this statement is generally accepted as positive, it should be given more of a negative [or, at the very least, cautious] connotation. As a relationship progresses from romantic to friendly, it is easier to see clearly the characteristics that would have been detrimental to the relationship, had it continued in the same manner. [These very qualities, however, might be just what is needed to build a strong friendship.] This is obvious though, right? I think this is the point I am attempting to make: When we are in love with someone, we overlook the very things that could later become the demise of the relationship. But love is not an objective emotion. Or is it? Love is a response to our highest values; thus, the level of objectivity varies according to our values.

As this [short] chapter in my life comes to a close, I am caught with the realization [yet again] that there will always be many people whom I will miss. I know, however, that I truly have become stronger for what I have lost-- and I never fully realized that the gain of support could act as more of a crutch than anything else.

[Let it be.]

I must continue on now, alone-- though I know that I am never quite alone, even in the confines of my comfortable solitude. I will live and experience and grow alone, but this will only bring me closer to those in my life who have chosen to stay. Each new experience is another chance to learn, and each knew piece of knowledge acquired is another chance to grow.

My adventure has barely begun-- and I am already aching to begin anew. There are a few [solid] reasons why I am moving all the way across the country, roughly 3000 miles outside of my comfort zone. Referring back to my prior statement [that the gain of support could act as more of a crutch than anything else], I believe that, although I have been living on my own for a few years now, moving so far away from my support group will strengthen my character-- as long as I am careful not to let the world break me first. [Do not worry, however. Hitherto I have not been broken; I doubt that the prospective evils in New York will have any more influence than the past events in my life have had.]

Lesson in leaving:
I missed out on my chance to speak in depth with my father about his childhood; somehow, I feel that I will be better able to know who he was, should I begin from where he began.
I want to do more research on my grandfather, and I feel that I have exhausted my resources in California.
I want to spend a portion of my present life with my extended family.
I know that New York will be an extraordinary challenge [...if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere..], and I would like to exhaust my odds of failure by proving right those who believe in me.
I want to [finally] follow through with something that I have started.
The road trip to get there will be amazing.
The inspiration that pulses through the veins of that place has an effect on me like no other place in the world-- even Germany.
It will be a new adventure like nothing I have yet experienced.

I used to fear that this was just another example of me running away from everything [good or bad] in my life. I realize now that this is no longer the case; for the first time, I am running toward something. And, although I will have to continue living the life of a starving artist, I have a feeling that it will be a much more fulfilling existence.

And this is where I realize that the people who I will miss are the ones who have helped me reach this point in my life; I'll be back someday, and I know that-- when I come home-- the ones who miss me will be here to see me return.

[Things are getting worse, but I feel a lot better.. and that's all that really matters to me..]

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Monday, November 06, 2006


As the city burned, we trembled...

...for we saw the making of its undoing in our own hearts...



Excerpt:

"'What takes place out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.' My favorite Nietzsche quote."

"And a very good one, at that. Do you agree with Nietzsche on that point?" He handed me the book.

I thought about it for a moment. "Well, I do believe that good and evil are relative. And I suppose that, if love exists, an action that occurs purely out of love can never be judged by the same standards as good and evil."

"You do not believe in love?" His voice was quieter than normal, almost a whisper; there was a curious expression on his face that was much different from his normal look of ardor.

"That depends."

"On how love is defined?"

"Why, yes. That is precisely what I was going to say. I believe that unconditional love, as it is accepted by conventional standards, cannot exist."

"Cannot, or does not?"

I smiled. "I suppose I meant does not. Perhaps it can exist, I just do not believe that it does."

"For what reason? How would you define unconditional love?"

"Unconditional love, to me, is absolute. Unconstrained. To be honest, I think that the only way love can be absolute and unconstrained is through a completely 'platonic' relationship, no matter what category of relationship we are speaking of. When physical desires are factored in, I believe they make us look at that person much differently. In order for our love to have no conditions whatsoever, we must be able to have an open mind, completely free of prejudice of any kind. But that would be impossible. Even the most compassionate, un-prejudiced person has prejudice-- against those very prejudices.

"But I digress. My point is that a person will not love someone completely unconditionally. A mother who loved her two children with all of her existence, for example-- how would she feel if one of her children killed the other, mercilessly murdered with no recognizable reason? She would-- at the very least-- distrust this offspring from then on, even if she was not able to denounce them entirely. And trust is a core component of love. If you do not have complete trust in someone, you can never love them completely. Never unconditionally.

"This love that we claim to feel for another person when in a romantic relationship, how can this truly be love? This same concept is what convinces us to drink just one more drink or stay one more hour-- even though logic argues against it-- what people claim is important enough to abandon lifelong friendships for, or to sacrifice their own life. This must be stopped, this logic is flawed! It impairs our best judgment. Love should not mean dying for another person; love should mean living, and living the best life that you are able to. We long to find someone who will treat us as we feel we deserve to be treated-- a standard that varies drastically from person to person, might I add-- but it appears that what we truly crave is companionship, a distraction from ourselves. This is a terrible shame. As a society, as a culture, we have grown to find it entirely acceptable to despise the one person in our life whom we should love the most, the one person who will never abandon us, no matter what horrid mistakes we might make. We have become so empty within ourselves that we cannot find unconditional love for the one person who deserves it the most."

He was silent for a long time, standing there in the philosophy isle of the used book store. Finally, he turned to me, his expression of intensity returned. "Have you read anything by Ayn Rand?"

"Yes, and I found her very poignant, for the most part. I do believe that love, as it is accepted in our present culture, is indeed our supreme response to our highest individual values. Though, from what I have seen of the population, well... I fear for the collective self-esteem of the entire world."

He nodded slowly, contemplating my argument. He sat down on the carpet, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. I sat and joined him, awaiting his response.

"I agree." We had sat in silence for so long that his quiet voice had startled me slightly. "I agree that society is corrupt, and that our American culture is severely flawed. We are supposed to have the right to govern this country for ourselves, yet we do not. This country of ours, which once seemed to hold such potential, is being taken over by corruption, greed, politicians owned by private corporations. The worst part, as I see it, is that hatred and anger are easier to find than love, passion, kindness. But this is about more than just depraved politicians and delusions instilled by society into the minds of individuals. It is about the sacred sense of 'self' that has been so brutally robbed from us. We should be doing all that we can to ensure that truth, beauty, love and-- most importantly-- our sense of self prevail over this darkness. But we are not. Not in the slightest.

I understand fully why cynicism would be so prevalent among our youth, among members of humanity at any age. It is difficult to keep a steady flow of hope for the world when we realize that good and evil are not only relative, as you said, but relatives. There are so many powerful, highly successful forces geared toward evil and destruction. But these very forces have the same amount of potential to be used for the promotion of good, of productivity... Yet, somehow, the knowledge that this will remain a mere possibility still overwhelms.

I mean, honestly. Who would help another in an emergency-- unless that emergency had the potential to affect them as well?

And this widespread disdain for police officers-- this is absurd. These are brave men and women who put their lives on the line daily in an attempt to protect us from ourselves, simply because we haven taken steps into the bounds of the unforgiveable-- the habits of self-destuction."


"Yes, exactly. Our idea of individuality is fitting into whatever mold the media has instructed us toward. Hope has been lost, and hope is something that should never be abandoned. Creativity, true individuality, is scorned, which is why the world is at war. Passion no longer seems to exist, but who is to blame for that? Sure, society and the media put unbelievable pressure on us to think and act a certain way, but ultimately it is our own fault for conforming to these absurd standards."


"Which is why we are a country functioning on medicated smiles."


"Precisely! We must be medicated at the first sign of emotion-- whether or not they are the prescribed emotions we have accepted by agreeing to conform."


"And religion has been caught by this corruption, as well. The idea of organized religion, to me, is fine. Acceptable. A set of moral standards that promote kindness, goodness, compassion. A set of beliefs which shield people against this emptiness that is so predominant. But now, the aim has been turned more toward conformity, power, money. Instead of offering a safe haven from the hardships of life, and a way to help make things better, it has become a threat-- think our way or be condemned to some eternal punishment, whether flames, or being reincarnated as some ghastly creature that no one would choose to be, had they the choice.

And it seems, also, that it has become mere theatrics-- a Hollywood production. We comfort ourselves by staring at faces on a screen. Thought is no longer required when Hollywood-- or the divine-- has manufactured every step that we are to take.

We've dramatized the concept of religion so much that Hollywood, the media, has as great of an influence on our lives as the assumed pre-determined destiny that certain religions had previously defined for us. But neither is correct; they are simply more excuses to abandon individuality."


I nodded. The fervor of my sentiments had faded; I watched his face as he spoke. He stared at his hands, which moved emphatically, according to what he was saying. I could not help thinking that he was beautiful.


"Why did you come back to America?"


He looked down at his hands again, which now rested on his knees. "Because I refuse to give up hope. And," his voice was almost inaudible, "because I still have confidence that I can help make a change."

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She got out of town...

Sunday, November 26, 2006


She got out of town...

...on a railway, New York bound...

Goodbye, teen-years.


[My right hand holds matches, and my left holds my past...]


Dom: "Goodnight! I'll see you when you're 20!"
Me: "Okay, goodnight."
Dom: "Now, missy, when you're 20, you better start acting like an adult. No more of that snotty attitude."
Me: "You're right. I'll try to be more mature."
Dom: "Good."


Michaela: "Wow, you're not going to be a teen anymore."
Tia: "Yeah, is that weird?"
Me: "Kind of. I was pretty attached to my teen-years."


[...I hope the wind catches, and burns it down fast...]


Corey: "Good morning, miss 20-year-old. Happy birthday!"
Dom: "Happy Birthday! Do you feel older?"
Me: "By about a day. Do I look older?"
Dom: "Yeah, you look much older."
Corey: "So, how do you feel?"
Me: "I feel like I'm ready to move to New York."


Me: "Oh my gosh, you guys. Take it back, you really shouldn't have gotten me this..."
Lukey: "Why? Does it suck?"

[I'm going to step int othe fire with my failures and my shame, and say goodbye to yesterday, as I dance within the flames...]


Luke and Nick: "Happy birthday... cut the lettuce!"

Listen, I ain't no hero-- that's understood...

Tuesday, November 21, 2006


Listen, I ain't no hero-- that's understood...
Current mood: complacent
Category: Life

[She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin...]

My emotions are as inconsistant--and, at times, even ambiguous-- as a curious 12 year old. Today my hope was found through root beer floats and blatant honesty. The laughter that reverberates daily throughout this house helped, as well. Having kids around is a powerful remedy to the dark forces that lurk inside the over-analytical mind. Their innocence is uplifting; their honesty is refreshing; their silliness is adorable; their constant willingness to give hugs is altogether wonderful.

I have come to realize [once again] that there are times when it is best to allow yourself simply to be. I know this is what my closest friends have been trying to tell me all along; you know by now, however, that I never listen-- I only learn through trial and error. [All too often that there are more errors than trials.]

I've finally begun again. It seems as though my last beginning were much too long ago; as I look back through the documentation of my life, I realize that it was relatively recent. The chapters might be short, but they are indeed of the utmost importance.

Have a little faith, there's magic in the night... You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright... and that's alright with me...

I have come to terms with Me again. [Hi... I'm back.] You heard it correctly; I like Me. Myself and I have not quite reached the same level of friendship as before-- I am still ironing out the kinks in the area of trust-- but the road is clear and laid out ahead.

I know that I am far from perfect.
I know that my body could use a great deal of work.
I know that I get attached much too easily.
I know, however, that anyone I get attached to would be damn lucky to have someone like me on their side.
I know that I have a great intellectual capacity.
I know, also, that it does not equate wisdom...

And I am here, enjoying the pleasure of my own company and wondering what tomorrow will bring. No longer do I look toward my future-- or back at my past-- with a grimace. The past has made me who I am, so it could not have been that terrible [especially since I survived]. The future is mine to shape, and I know that it will be pretty damn amazing.

Anyone who wishes to join me, may. After all-- I'm just along for the ride, myself...

An empty tank and a cigarette...

Monday, November 20, 2006


An empty tank and a cigarette...
Current mood: exanimate
Category: Life

It seems so much later than it really is. East coast time puts me at around 11pm, but I feel as though I have been awake for days...

[Imagery: I'm on a highway, no exits or rest stops for miles in either direction. There's nothing but flatlands, and my tank is on empty... There are no stars, no moon, no streetlights-- and both headlights are out.

The only light is the flicker of a discarded cigarette on the road, a fading speck in the rearview mirror. ]

I'm trying to distract myself from the pain this damn ulcer[-slash-something] is causing me. The meds have gone from ineffective to counter productive; when I return to California, I should know more-- once the results of my next series of tests come in.

I'll be 20 in just under a week, but I feel as though I am aging much more than that. It's been a long year; I anticipate December to be even longer. I never mind a long December, however; I just put Counting Crows on repeat and allow myself to experience the emotions that they bring.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of dating.
I'm even more tired of relationships.
I'm tired of mixed signals.
I'm tired of jealousy, especially because none of it is mine.
I'm tired of second hand smoke.
I'm tired of ulcers, ambiguous tests, stomach pain.
I'm tired of my cell phone.
I'm tired of missing my loved ones.
I'm tired of responsibility.
I'm tired of the way that I have been feeling lately.
I'm tired of first impressions.
I'm tired of poverty. And I don't just mean mine.
I'm tired of the art that I have been [successfully or unsuccessfully] trying to create.

Today, I changed my address to Deer Park, New York. I have an official document stating that this is my new permanent address; mail-forwarding begins January 15th, so please-- hurry up and...

Hurry up!

Don't stop!

[December's chill comes late, the days get darker, and we wait for this direness to pass... There are piles on the floor of artifacts from dresser drawers, and I'll help you pack...]