Looking out from your shoes makes everything crystal clear. Tie the laces, you might just be filled with fear.
Be be your love.
About Me
- Summer
- Here, awaits your chance to unravel very fragile pieces of my brain.
Monday, August 30, 2010
sidenote
Make a list of all those you look up to, and why. See where it goes. I'll tell you what, mine are majority men.
un-pause my heart
There are a few things about fasting I have learned and overcome this year. It isn't just about the cleans of your mind, soul, and body; it's about learning about yourself through your actions and through your mind. I've seen myself resist on things I know I don't need, but want. That's the fine line. There are also things subliminally involved. Say, a blessing in disguise. I've gotten sick, I've been knocked down, and I've been nervous and worried about my health, and survival. Let me just say that it's not only fasting that has gotten me through. Watching The Karate Kid reminded me that as well. He was so scared, he gave up so many times and completed the brilliant movie on his own. I wouldn't say brilliant, but getting up so many times after getting hurt surely was. I have also learned that working hard to the point of being fatigued, if so, brings upon a heavy amount of respect amongst yourself. Getting that triple digit pay check was exactly how Mr. Nguyen-student teacher sophomore year-said it would feel like. "There is nothing more exciting than that." The first pay check. Knowing what you had sacrificed for it, regardless of being treated like a piece of meat (I was an extra in a film, don't worry) it payed off. I know what work feels like. And I'm not afraid of it anymore. I would like to work, because with that reward, I can get what I want. I have yet to know what to use it on, so I save it tucked away in my wallet. This is the truth. This is speaking strongly with my heart and my words might not be as bold and defined as I usually attempt them to be, but it's simple and deliberate. The adrenaline will rush as I find my way. I may not be balanced to where I want, but I don't know what that balance is. I will not search for it, because searching will make you blind. Let balance find me.
I start class tomorrow, so I am nervous for it and also excited with the courses I chose.
Listening and breathing will help me slow my roll and become intuitive and more wise. Looking back at that day on set makes me realize that you don't have to wait to make that move or better yet, you don't have to be hear if you don't want to be. So just go home. Or stand your ground and stay strong. With all that we did, we made fabulous friends and had a bitter sweet (and sweaty) time grooving on that 80s dance floor. My first "never ending" prom, and possibly my one and only. It was special.
My counselor had noticed as I told her myself, "I like to work in different environments and do different things each time." Having a wide variety of what I adore makes it a lot easier to love but a lot harder to choose. Doing different things gives you more feeling, and self control, about what you're getting your head into, and what you do not know. Just go. Go with the flow.
Nothing is stopping us.
There are so many beautiful people in the world, why doesn't it have to be the way you want it to be? Excuse that, let me try to clear that. As I pour this analysis in a straight line of letters, I am visualizing my "lover boy" (joke) on set. Crew member. He was beautiful, and the lock of eyes was enough for me to remember and keep to myself, as much as I wanted to break out and find a way to learn his name. "Look at me, I'm adorable!" I stated to Aaron, the one who pulled us into the set off the bleachers. NJ look-alike with a hint of Scott, both Scotts I know. "You know what I need." He shyly mimicked. I laughed, "I'm going to be a smart girl and walk away now..." Back to the dance floor. Spencer, the pretty blond girl gave me good vibes. Dane Cook laughed at my "Get it get it!" fist pump when we were all supposed to mouth "Verge!" Satisfied enough.
Q: What makes you different?
A: What you think about yourself.
Think about it.
It's in the air, the kindness. No. It's everywhere. Still. "Being still and doing nothing are two different things." I smell cinnamon. Pumpkin pie. Think you've had enough yet? I actually know what I'm talking about right now. I speak through coated days of being unemotional and set them straight here. Christmas time, I want to be ready for it, prepared this year. I want a job so I can satisfy myself with all that I spend. Those bulk grey shoes from ForLove, or maybe sandals from H&M with some wool socks, that yellow thick knitted scarf, that Zara messenger bag, all that jewelry-especially that chunky necklace, and so on and so forth.
"You should wear that outfit on a regular basis. Maybe if those trousers were more fitted." Oh, sweet sweet Robby boy who I wish to have spent more time with.
On to sugar coated days like snow in December, and on to making friends with fresh faces and feeling. On with the cold and sun-peaking through the leaves days of walking tall and not neglected. On with vocabulary. Un-pause the quotes and wit, bring freshness and scarlet love letters, on with you you and you singing to me, on with being a good friend, on with seeing random acts of kindness, on with simple and happy thoughts, on with being tranquil. Letting guards down because there is not reason to have it up if you know yourself enough.
The last text I got from a wise man went a little something like this, "...just don't let the bad tear you apart."
I might be able to imagine all the good and see the dreams spawn with a timeline, because I know it's happening out there. Right now, I lay still, hoping to feel better soon. Because the fear won't tear me apart. Because we're conquering it. I. I will do it. We all have to do it. So I can look back and know I did it the way I wanted to.
I start class tomorrow, so I am nervous for it and also excited with the courses I chose.
Listening and breathing will help me slow my roll and become intuitive and more wise. Looking back at that day on set makes me realize that you don't have to wait to make that move or better yet, you don't have to be hear if you don't want to be. So just go home. Or stand your ground and stay strong. With all that we did, we made fabulous friends and had a bitter sweet (and sweaty) time grooving on that 80s dance floor. My first "never ending" prom, and possibly my one and only. It was special.
My counselor had noticed as I told her myself, "I like to work in different environments and do different things each time." Having a wide variety of what I adore makes it a lot easier to love but a lot harder to choose. Doing different things gives you more feeling, and self control, about what you're getting your head into, and what you do not know. Just go. Go with the flow.
Nothing is stopping us.
There are so many beautiful people in the world, why doesn't it have to be the way you want it to be? Excuse that, let me try to clear that. As I pour this analysis in a straight line of letters, I am visualizing my "lover boy" (joke) on set. Crew member. He was beautiful, and the lock of eyes was enough for me to remember and keep to myself, as much as I wanted to break out and find a way to learn his name. "Look at me, I'm adorable!" I stated to Aaron, the one who pulled us into the set off the bleachers. NJ look-alike with a hint of Scott, both Scotts I know. "You know what I need." He shyly mimicked. I laughed, "I'm going to be a smart girl and walk away now..." Back to the dance floor. Spencer, the pretty blond girl gave me good vibes. Dane Cook laughed at my "Get it get it!" fist pump when we were all supposed to mouth "Verge!" Satisfied enough.
Q: What makes you different?
A: What you think about yourself.
Think about it.
It's in the air, the kindness. No. It's everywhere. Still. "Being still and doing nothing are two different things." I smell cinnamon. Pumpkin pie. Think you've had enough yet? I actually know what I'm talking about right now. I speak through coated days of being unemotional and set them straight here. Christmas time, I want to be ready for it, prepared this year. I want a job so I can satisfy myself with all that I spend. Those bulk grey shoes from ForLove, or maybe sandals from H&M with some wool socks, that yellow thick knitted scarf, that Zara messenger bag, all that jewelry-especially that chunky necklace, and so on and so forth.
"You should wear that outfit on a regular basis. Maybe if those trousers were more fitted." Oh, sweet sweet Robby boy who I wish to have spent more time with.
On to sugar coated days like snow in December, and on to making friends with fresh faces and feeling. On with the cold and sun-peaking through the leaves days of walking tall and not neglected. On with vocabulary. Un-pause the quotes and wit, bring freshness and scarlet love letters, on with you you and you singing to me, on with being a good friend, on with seeing random acts of kindness, on with simple and happy thoughts, on with being tranquil. Letting guards down because there is not reason to have it up if you know yourself enough.
The last text I got from a wise man went a little something like this, "...just don't let the bad tear you apart."
I might be able to imagine all the good and see the dreams spawn with a timeline, because I know it's happening out there. Right now, I lay still, hoping to feel better soon. Because the fear won't tear me apart. Because we're conquering it. I. I will do it. We all have to do it. So I can look back and know I did it the way I wanted to.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
x
the quantum of physics. statistics. science. no, chemistry. is the variable of 'x' equivalent to the dreamer, or thus the dreamers prey? the x does not let you sit down and feel the chemistry, the rushing butterflies to the stomach. no. the x does coexist. yes, there might be a remainder in the prey's eyes, thousands of pairs of eyes, yes. but no, the formula of x is to take it when it comes, let it go but not give up. and be active, get up and be inspired to do what it takes, but never fully understand it. x is not an equation, it's a critical life question. it's a hard piece of evidence, of gravity and magnetic prestigue. it's strong. it's not easy, but it's not a strategy. it's different on every paper, in every book. in every recipe. it's whatever you want it to be. it could be in the wild, it could be in your head, it could be living next door to you. x is passion. x is love. x is you; whomever you are.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
pause
Required skill for being a good person: listening.
Practice listening, but don't overwhelm. Be a listener. All you have to do is hear, a natural sense we were given at birth. Just listen. Pause. Right now. Listen. Listen to everything that surrounds you. Open the door for someone, but don't wait for a "thank you." In my mind, I say, "you're welcome" whether they speak or stay mute. Their heart went to yours and gave it a hi five. Maybe just a pump, a stomach drop. Listen to yourself, breathing, thinking. Don't think about thinking, just listen. Listen to the world that you don't hear, the one that's not around you. Listen. Far away, across the globe. Imagine. Listen to the words said, but not just said, processed and sounded out in a certain way, with a different accent. Sing, high and low. Listen to the silence of the night while it's still day time. Smell and salivate over your favorite desert that isn't in front of you. Listen to the energy, the prized moments of glory. Listen to the book you threw to the side last night while you drooled to sleep. You're listening to others when you don't know it. Tune-outs do not exist, all but a mind trick. Listen to things you don't want to hear, so that it's easier to cope with when that time comes. Capture air in a bottle. Capture a set of eyes, smiling eyes, on a walk to the park. Give your actions simply. Take action with just a look. Make it easy, simple, better. Listen. Hear the strumming in your mind. Feel the cold chill of air when you're frightened with adrenaline. Rub your palms. Are they soft? But I got you to listen, to hear the smoothness of the sound of friction on your skin. Chatter your teeth when it's not cold. Uneven? Mine too. Listen. Listen to your charismatic self come up with interesting conversation with that favorite person you have. Now sit up straight, don't lean back on your chair. Listen to your body. How do you feel? Better? Stop. Dream. Listen.
Practice listening, but don't overwhelm. Be a listener. All you have to do is hear, a natural sense we were given at birth. Just listen. Pause. Right now. Listen. Listen to everything that surrounds you. Open the door for someone, but don't wait for a "thank you." In my mind, I say, "you're welcome" whether they speak or stay mute. Their heart went to yours and gave it a hi five. Maybe just a pump, a stomach drop. Listen to yourself, breathing, thinking. Don't think about thinking, just listen. Listen to the world that you don't hear, the one that's not around you. Listen. Far away, across the globe. Imagine. Listen to the words said, but not just said, processed and sounded out in a certain way, with a different accent. Sing, high and low. Listen to the silence of the night while it's still day time. Smell and salivate over your favorite desert that isn't in front of you. Listen to the energy, the prized moments of glory. Listen to the book you threw to the side last night while you drooled to sleep. You're listening to others when you don't know it. Tune-outs do not exist, all but a mind trick. Listen to things you don't want to hear, so that it's easier to cope with when that time comes. Capture air in a bottle. Capture a set of eyes, smiling eyes, on a walk to the park. Give your actions simply. Take action with just a look. Make it easy, simple, better. Listen. Hear the strumming in your mind. Feel the cold chill of air when you're frightened with adrenaline. Rub your palms. Are they soft? But I got you to listen, to hear the smoothness of the sound of friction on your skin. Chatter your teeth when it's not cold. Uneven? Mine too. Listen. Listen to your charismatic self come up with interesting conversation with that favorite person you have. Now sit up straight, don't lean back on your chair. Listen to your body. How do you feel? Better? Stop. Dream. Listen.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Wash. Me. Out.
Writing is the ultimate addiction. I'm a chain writer. Don't be fooled, this blog is nothing; I don't show you my freelancing, I don't show you much. Just tiny pieces. This, this is my warm up space. The space where you babble and gibber and throw it all up until the ultimate structure comes to mind.
Peace and emptiness, serenity, and a big smackaroo. My mind is set on simplicity, just as I was born.
Peace and emptiness, serenity, and a big smackaroo. My mind is set on simplicity, just as I was born.
"The general journal entry"
"I took off my nail polish, except I only had enough remover for one side. Didn't realize how hard this kind was to get off. My hair, is in a braid across my head. Everything else falls down, messily and fresh and so clean. My messy hippie do. Chuck Taylors are too classic and comfy. These are a teensy weency larger than my size, but all is well. Old Indian blouse, and jeans I haven't worn for over a fortnight. They fit so well, they're just right."
Who reads that ish?
So I sit around, nocturnally wondering what a gal like me does. What do you do? What do people think you do? Besides seemingly having a crazy schedule and always on the go, yet, still breathing. Breathing without knowing you're okay. Because you are just fine, but the outside makes you everything but chilly, you want to hide, bear away from it? From them? They won't bite. I feel as if the way I type is like playing a piano, with my Adele playing so smoothly, so softly in the dimness of my tiny space. It's like my Pandora is my subconscious. It reads my mood, that mood-reader. "Just breathe" plays now, and suddenly I sulk in sadness.
I think it's time to get out of this box of a page. Today was a good day. Day one of Ramadan, owned!
How about that?
Nah.
Who reads that ish?
So I sit around, nocturnally wondering what a gal like me does. What do you do? What do people think you do? Besides seemingly having a crazy schedule and always on the go, yet, still breathing. Breathing without knowing you're okay. Because you are just fine, but the outside makes you everything but chilly, you want to hide, bear away from it? From them? They won't bite. I feel as if the way I type is like playing a piano, with my Adele playing so smoothly, so softly in the dimness of my tiny space. It's like my Pandora is my subconscious. It reads my mood, that mood-reader. "Just breathe" plays now, and suddenly I sulk in sadness.
I think it's time to get out of this box of a page. Today was a good day. Day one of Ramadan, owned!
How about that?
Nah.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
the un in pun
Purify the unpure.
Prove the unproven.
Popularize the unpopular.
It's changing. Or, is it?
Prove the unproven.
Popularize the unpopular.
It's changing. Or, is it?
tiresome
Written last Thursday, July 29th.
I sometimes feel as if my mind is so unadjustable, unflushable, and crooked that it may seem as if it stands hallow.
I sometimes feel as if my mind is so unadjustable, unflushable, and crooked that it may seem as if it stands hallow.
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