questionable theory

Is ignorance really bliss?


Note to self: Start becoming the person you want to be. The one you see yourself as in the future, the wise one you want to meet.

I like you because I don't

understand you, got it?

word vomit...

You know, you feel brilliant when someone you don't know tells you.
You don't feel so nifty when your friends tell you that you're a genius. That just whispers: you're an idiot.


I'm better kept with my mouth shut. Better sounded when no words come out. Better dressed when wearing nothing. Better to be worse than be nothing, nothing at all.
I should deserve what I work for, what I give back. "So, stop being so kind to me."


Your second choice, duck tape my lips, no more kisses. Don't give it up until I get it right. Let me sweat it out until I put the pieces together. Let me suffer, let me suffer. Black. White. I'll find the light. I'll find it bright. It'll be alright. Because I'll find the peace within me.
Let the faucet drip. Let it slip warmly, mildly until it floods the dusty and diagonal wooden cracks in the ground, on this ground. It'll have to get there first. It will have to slide off the swirling marble sink, it'll have some friction in this cold place. Less of most. More or less. We want it. I'll tip toe like Nike footsteps on a pavement, I'll switch it off with the screech as I... squeeze my eyes so tightly and scrunch all the muscles toward my glute. Your shadow, still lying quarreling and light in the pitchblende of these sound effects. And all that he doesn't hear. Because, it's all in my head. Because, it's not really here. Because it's only made up, in these words. In this unavailable, invisible, transparent illusion. I just, make these things up so that I can imagine it were happening but my mind soon believes it, but cannot picture what had happened. Because I was never there. I wish I could turn that faucet off. But we'll let it drip, drip, and drop. Because that's the way it is.


...meets symbolism.


These gripping grounds are tight and secluded, but we're going to bring the audience.

off edges

Today is one of those days where you should zip my mouth and swallow the key.

I'm sorry

You want art under this roof? Look down.
Everything in my room is pretty feng shui. It's a love-hate relationship in this 9 by 9. Or so I'm assuming. My bed lays on the floor, my paintings that I never hung up, on the ground against a wall, with magazines and books on top and in between.


I have just realized I have at least 12 different places I write, different journals for different reasons. Most of them are note books, one's a sketch, others are forms of technology and one is on a completely different hard drive.
You know when you chew gum to help your ears unpop? I just popped in some. A double bubble never hurt anyone. And then I popped my ear, the opposite way. How does that even happen?


Well, my room is clean. Feels nice. I shall sleep in my gym clothes so that I must actually get up in the morning.
I have such a clear set mind this late at night.
Alrighty, 12 journals (which I continue to write in each), 7 juggling books to read, multitasking magazines, and oh hey video games. Alright, time to sleep on it.

non nonsense

Do all writers drop everything in their hands and run to a notebook to splur out genius ideas? Is it normal to stop everything you’re doing when you feel the need to write?

Appreciate the small things. Look back at your day. There is always one thing that made it better. A minor detail. Something you would not ordinarily see. Now look harder. Closely. Perhaps it was that one song the old folk in the car next to you was playing. Or, a simple compliment from a stranger on your worn out jeans. Maybe even a penny you found on the ground as you were walking to class. Or something that struck you a memory from the past. I don’t know. Whatever it was, whatever it is, there is always something, something something something that was there to give you a brighter light. I used to think it only happened in the movies, but my life, to me, is such a series. I’ve probably knocked out every genre and gave a new definition to each. You might feel soulless, but we have more soul to feel what feeds off us. That could be bliss. Or even, fear. We bring it with us, forward. Just don’t forget the things you left behind, even if you don’t remember every detail. 

The injustice might power over it, over you. The style might stop you from wanting in. Just don't forget, you are alive. This too shall pass.

Save me

This world is trying to break me.

Diese Welt ist versucht, mich zu brechen.

इस दुनिया में मुझे तोड़ने की कोशिश कर रहा है.

Этот мир пытается сломать меня.

Denna värld är att försöka bryta mig.

Thế giới này đang cố gắng phá vỡ tôi.

Mae'r byd yn ceisio torri i mi.

هذا العالم هو محاولة لكسر لي.

Take my hand and pull me in again -Gray

I trick myself into writing something good so I can copy and paste it onto this empty space. Then I don't think it's so good anymore. I'm blog shy.

You know what the most refreshing sound to me is? Justin Nozuka’s album “You I Wind Land and Sea.” His voice of soul, his vibe that just lures you in, tuning out your outside world of troubles. I always come back to it from time to time, after hard times. It just.. finds me. Makes me feel well gain. It’s my healing potion for almost every sickness. And the smell of cold water, so. I’ve been listening to him from the days he began in coffee shops. Look at him now, evolving. It just gets better and better. And that is not surprise.

I want to work in an artistic environment. I have such a dark soul setting piece as if I took a jar to the creepiness of the universe and sucked it in as a breath of air. No. Happy environments suit me, although I am everlasting intrigued to dark shutters and dimmed lamps with peaceful music and a nice large and chipped mug.

Did you hear about them 3d televisions? I’ve always waited for such a thing as a child. I just wish I could reach in and grab everything out, it’s like a whole new virtual world. It’s not so much the idea of it, it’s more so the fact that they could do it. She said, “Dude, they made a device that stops dogs from barking, ridiculous.” It’s not the fact that they want to, it’s about making it possible. Don’t ask why.. if you do, we just say, “Because we can.”

“well the air is full of motions
and every breath I'm taking in
I feel you now, I feel…”

What’s the difference between egoistical and egotistical?

I love doing no-thing. Nada. Nothing. Nooothing. It’s too good. Back to the optimistic environment. Picture, Drew Barrymore in “He’s Just Not That Into You” workesque, with gay guys and a newspaper. That eats out Gigi’s magazine cubical if you ask me. But anyway, there’s always so much I want to do, you know? It’s like, I need to take time off from wanting and continue to breathe until I catch up again. Being ahead of yourself, it’s another form of clockwork. My mind is in the future, but I guess that makes my body kind of… what’s the word? Ah, anyway, I should get finished with this monitoring/planning homework. That is all.

I think I’m a workaholic. And I don’t ever want to disappoint anyone. So I’m like the “Yes Man” but I’m half the age and a young woman. Oh dear. Why do I make my life so much harder and think, not so much believe, that I can make everything happen? Haha. I’m such a ditz. Hello, reality. You hit my quite hare this time.

like clockwork

You just know when you know.
I was just lurking (who says that anymore, "lurking" Luuuuurking?) through some old MemoPad posts on my BlackBerry, here's something I wrote on the tenth..


"I really don't know where else to write this, so here goes my swirling time clot of unreasonable PM vomit. You know, I think it's really important that we appreciate the time we are born in. A lot of people say, and yes I've been thinking about this very often lately, that they wish they were born 'back in the _____.' 'I was born in the wrong decade.' Me? I'm grateful for living now. I want to live 'now,' 'in the moment' and what we have is so important. I think we are changing, and evolving so rapidly. And to be apart of this generation probably comes with a purpose. So, enjoy this. And I've been hearing it very much recently, it's recognizable and more of a habit than a trend, that we should love our time. There's nothing you can do about it anyway, so quit the complaints. I once sat in the third row of a play, and heard the wise words-not so much a line-roll off an actor's tongue and into the atmosphere so beautifully. 'It takes life to love life.' And to be reminded; that makes my knees weak (in a great way)."

Only $508,900. Only.

"Pour le Mérite"

fff

Define "normal."
Dimmed the lights. A click of his mini flashlight. Serious mode, he asked if I hear voices. I said yes. "Don't worry, that's completely normal." A medium concussion leads to paranoia, leads to schizophrenia, leads to psychologically distur... no. Breakdown. Be fatigued. Breathe air again, as if it was your first breath, as if you burst up from holding it, pacing it for what seems like... hours, underwater. That refresh. That relief. You're still here. Don't ask why. It doesn't matter. Isn't it clear that you are? Well, more so blurred but it's kind of exhilarating. I'm boring myself. Don't try to write, trying never works. Pouring does.


Salam.

Slow down; portrait-ality

You might be looking, but you're not seeing. Just take it all in, it's overwhelming.

Things are always looking up. I mean, there's always something good, always. Look back on your day, review your time. Part of my homework is to monitor my day, can't say I actually did so for pen on paper.. yet. Hah. No but really, if you just refresh yourself, a brighter perspective awaits your duties in the future to come.

You might not be able to do it at first. What you really need to change is that you can "try" to do it, not not be able to do it. You might break down, you might fall apart, and you might seclude yourself. That's okay. You'll know everything is okay. Elements lie within, it doesn't matter who you are with or where you go, it's inside of you. It's up to you to feel at ease.

My doctor told me I have "an actress personality," and that I have too many ambitions and I'm always anxious to do something, to make something happen. I couldn't agree more. He recommended I slow down, find pace. Start up a training program again, start running again. So I ran tonight, I did some yoga tonight. It feels great. Exercise is my key to rebuilding. It does keep you happy. The result is worth the push. That is what I want to focus on.

Mending the pieces within me.

Having so many friends has a price, adds more in your life, and also makes you get caught up and cut back.

But don't forget that they're always, always there. So be thankful for having relationships where ever you go. I make friends left, right, you name it. In the bathroom at school, standing in line at a book store, going for a dog walk, etc. Who says it's weird to make friends of all ages? And not to sound into myself, but I think it's a plus to be attractive with a personality like that. I think if you focus on one thing, it'll drive you to insanity, unless you love it. You might get both side affects, for the best of you. But what I meant is, if I seemed like a sore loner who didn't care about my traits, or you know, myself, for the most part, I could only imagine how much of a wacko I'd look like chatting up mothers at the mall or buying make up at the Bare Mineral store. Looks are a plus. We all got it, you just might not have seen the best of it quite yet.

So, making better choices in health is in my future. What's in yours?

Dear Sir,

Do something because you want to do it, be outrageous. I find myself being comfortable and exert in class, although I'm in "work mode." It doesn't have to make sense.
Admire.
Give yourself some appreciation once in a while, we need it.
And with the hard work with following success, give back success.
Give and take. Never give up, don't hold wholesome routines, be unheard of. Create a rich quality--one that not only has intellectual desire for your actions, but senses, causes, predictions, theories. Give and get what your back put into it.


"Better a Has-been than a Never-was. But better a Never-was than a Never-tried-to-be."


He pulled twenty items out of the bag, there were twenty-four of us. My hand stood against gravity. The blood, falling down to my elbow, then to my shoulder cap. I waited. Time stood, and moved rationally. I have photographic memory. I was the one out of twenty-four prospecting students to get nineteen items scribbled down, in detail-but was not essential, out of twenty. Mission accomplished. My class now knows I am a genius.


And, perhaps you do it for the view. Just don't expect much, because the feeling is unseen, and that's the best view you can get.

babble in your bubble

Just a little while ago, shooting for a friend's Photography class project for album covers.

Her professor totally digs me.

Anyway, I'm hoping to begin intense blogging, I've been writing less and less for myself lately. I'm around, school, and traveling. Just got a couple issues of National Geographic in the mailbox and stacked up on Vogue and W magazines, as well as juggling seven different books. You can never read too much, right?


Right now, I'm focusing more so on "The Pilot's Wife," I was given as a freebie at a recent garage sale across the street, along with a Hispanic painting and a knitted sweater because the family claimed they knew me from Elementary School and, also thought I was cute. I believe the last part. But really, it was kick ass. I'm also reading: Writing Down the Bones-excellente for aspiring writers who'd like to dig deep, and I mean deeeep; When Will This Cruel War Be Over-snatched it up from a library I volunteered at a couple times; Wit-a witty quote book; The Widows of Eastwick-the day I bought it, all I can recall is it being one of the worst days ever considering I sprain by foot skateboarding while dog walking and being attacked by other dogs in the process. No one likes crutches; The Complete Works of Marvin K. Mooney-very fascinating so far, I bought it from Ken who plays Ben on The Secret Life of an American Teenager, he's sweet and inspiring. That leaves two books left, now what are they? I'm boring you, I'm boring myself. Ah, anyway. 4:44 in the morn, I ought to barricade myself in my room and read away after a good night's sleep. I'm so weird, I cannot bear but to enjoy it.

It's quiet, too quiet

I shall sit in my room until the sun may rise. I'm peeking through my blinds, watching the florescent shades sink and transform into pastel and heavy dos.
It's incredible to think, we write, write, write, and yet we are unnoticed. We do it for ourselves.
I'll be damned, I really love that we're all connected here somehow, through blogging. I've been clicking "next blog" continuously, uninterested and then every so often one or two will catch my attention much more striking than that of the previous. Do I even make sense? It's 5 AM now. Or in military time, it's 17:16.

Why, I wonder when and if somebody is actually reading along. And then again, I think of everyone else, doing their own thing-separated yet connected. By commas and periods. We are individuals.

Listen to the sounds out there. More importantly, listen to the sounds inside you.

rebuild, remake, and any other re's you can come up with because quite frankly, I'm not brain dead but I'm soul squished

We're all human here, right? So we all have purpose, we each get nervous, we love and we hate. We think and we meditate (some), we breathe and we sing--not all well, but we do it anyway and annoy any other human in the distance of 50 feet (depending on how annoying your vocal range is), but we're not here to impress. Yeah, I-M-P-R-E-SS. I actually said that aloud while typing. And the E-SS part, makes me want to write ass but say it with a British accent. No offense, Brits.


Let's not think anymore. But focus. TRY. Breathe infidelity and be be be ourselves. Cranky enough, it's almost 3 in the morning and I'll be sleeping on it. It's the Summer Solstice. I'm a timekillin' expert. I'd definitely like to write about my experience on my little vacation on my own, although I'm a little puzzled and exhausted.
For now, we can leave it at:
Getting hit on by every male to cross my path, relaxation in my uncle's built in movie theater, going out to eat for every meal (I've probably gained some weight), daaawg walking, perfect outfits that I had planned precisely with every single accessory exact--with it all drawn down and checked off a list, twice--sippin' water in the hundred degree weather, and having my body break down in every possible way. I got a concussion one day, dislocated my shoulder another, caught a cold, and you name it. It happened to me. Haha, don't ask. I have convinced myself that I am crazy. Not the normal crazy, crazy as in, I should probably be shipped to Shutter Island as number 68.
Doc's sometime soon, getting tests done for pretty much everything to make sure I'm not psychologically disturbed. Just kidding, sorta. It's all in my head. I just worry too much.
So yes, it isn't a good thing to care about everything. Not that "care" as "I care what you think" care, but more so-I see the good in everyone and have a big heart, want to help the world, think I can save it and everything that stands upon it, kind of care. I care too much. And besides, maybe I have more caring to grasp for people that don't give a squat. But is caring enough? I mean, feeling for someone or something isn't going to change something. Actions should be squeezed like a ripe lemon. Bad metaphor, but bear with me. Actions might speak louder than words. But words last forever. Ya dig?


I begin night class technically today. Au revoir.


I'm so effortless when it comes to this blog. I could make it a lot more easy on the eyes, fashionable, photos of myself, inspirations, and other treasured garbage but this seems to be where the eject part of my mind vomits. And if you're reading this, enjoy it's bitchin' attitude.