Right here

For one moment, daydream. Sit and imagine you have not one thing to do. Not one crumb on your slick plate. Not one. No matter where you are, do it. Do it as you read this, and consume yourself into my words. You can hear nothing but my words. My words are the only thing you know. Listen. Listen to the rain. Watch the way is falls. Watch the pattern dripping from your roof top out the window. My blinds are closed, two are peeking out to the sky. My eyes go beyond the sky. The world is transparent. Nothing is in my way. Focus. Count how many drops heard every moment. Your moments might be longer than my moments. My moments might be longer than your moments. Look straight through your shield, and to the trees. The hallow roots stand in sorrow. My lamp is dim. My desk, scattered in letters to NY. "The distance is only physical, my love," written on the back of the envelope where my saliva and banana yellow paper meet. My kitten, lying under my office chair sound asleep, as my left foot is folded under my right so that I don't hit her by fault. What lay between the keyboard and my soul is a to do list as following: clean room, find journalism photos for interview, choose psychology research topic, study for journalism test on Wednesday, Bonnie and Clyde?, letters to lovelies, and create a birthday wishlist. What a net. As for tonight, I choose between an a cappella show or a symphony for extra credit. Either way, it's going to be a nice night. The rain is much calmer now. Are you still here? Look up, at the ceiling, or at the stars, whatever time it may be while you read along, and smile. You don't need a reason to smile. Do it. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Have a wonderful day. I'm always here for you, as cliche and misused as that saying is.

What? What!? What.

     I'm certain we all ponder about the subject, and to ponder a moment overtime would just knock me to the right as an assassin would shoot his victim in the head. I cant take it. Why must we choose one thing in life to be our life? Let’s dive into this. It’s on every college student’s mind, every high school and even middle school student’s twisted mind. How must we go to school to begin learning about something in specific and mere detail that we must spend the rest of our life with, depending on that one skill to give us life?

     Life can mean multiple things. Life is not just getting by, life is survival. Life is breathing, life is getting you to that 45-minutes-stuck-in-traffic-meeting, a delicious piece of pie, a runner’s high, blinking, nervous habits such as swallowing your saliva, tears of “joy,” and “sorrow,” a breath of fresh air in the white man-made snow, a bruise on the right knee cap, a crooked tooth getting shaved at the dentist’s office on a Friday evening, feeling relief after using the restroom, giving birth, falling in love, a punch in the shoulder, a blow of a kiss, a pump of the heart, curling your toes, biting your bottom crusted lip waiting to buy a new chapstick, failing a test, REM sleep, intuition, a physical distance, a physical appearance, a decision, a dreamer’s nightmare, a nightmare’s fantasy, and so on and so forth. Life; it’s a gosh darn fill-in-the-blank.

I feel as if reading a novel or a poem is like having a conversation with the author; the reader being more of the listener, unless markings define responses.

Do it so that you have stories to tell, and make them ridiculous. Make them so unbelievable. Make them real.

Have you ever payed attention to the street signs, the ads, the song coming on the radio, that... episodic feeling of rejoice and fidelity? What about the ease off your chest, that sleeping melody, the feeling of balance, of being in, here, fully aware and what about stability? Always question yourself inside. Always ask yourself how you can better a moment, a wish, shoot-even an outfit.

And maybe it's over-analyzed. Maybe there's nothing there. No signs, no meaning, no reason. We just are what we are.

life on paper

Aside from that anger-at-my-fingertips-like-fire-from-Ang-the-Avatar, if you look at my life on paper, it looks like a sweet cookie took a bite out of Mr. Bitter. What I mean is, it looks and sounds incredible, if that isn’t too dolled up to say great at the least. It doesn’t feel that way. Allow me to pour you an example like a glass of water.

Last Friday: Laguna Beach with a good friend, bought an outfit, watched the sunset.

Saturday: Gene’s bonfire, made some new friends, crashed two weddings with Marwa, a midnight treat of In-n-out

Sunday: Babysit, watched a movie

Monday: Relaxing day

Tuesday: Nice school day, Disneyland for the rest

Wednesday: Filmed in journalism, looked kind of awesome, yes

Thursday (today): Happy Veteran’s Day to all! Furniture shopping, met so many people, added a stack more of business cards to my collection of my aunt’s indecisiveness, and continued hitting up a dozen stores, passed out, finished some homework

Friday: Class, culinary run with Kayla, counsel apt, Jamie drop-by, Jess date for the evening

Refreshing, isn’t it? So it seems, until you chug it away, being left with a stomach ache.

My cuppa tea is to ease this all away and look at the simple things. Let's just relax and sleep on it. Let it go. I have been really good about taking myself out of a situation and thinking, "Just watch. Don't fret." Seeing slow actions from afar. Provoking thought. Creating a more tense walk yet a less frustrating sight and a stern time on heart beats. 

Oh yeah, and you could totally stalk my life with this oh-so-not-detailed schedule. Maybe. Possibly. Definitely maybe. I wonder if any of my professors read my blog..

Thrill me, don't bill me

Tomorrow’s horoscope: Friday, November 12, 2010

You're wasting your energy, Sagittarius, and you know it. You go out to dinner, attend parties and shows, but you're never really present. You listen to people but what they're saying doesn't interest you in any fundamental way. Yes, you're bored, and you're afraid to admit it to yourself. The depth of your inner search requires that you use a lot of energy to reexamine your life.

How do you know?! Listening to someone else, or a computer, rather, allows me to see the truth. How sad is that? I am bored. I’ve been bored with life. I seek out adrenaline-pumping situations that I wouldn't ordinarily do, things that would get me in trouble, things that aren’t like me. Instead of attending a few of the bundle parties I get invited to, I crash a wedding. Instead of watching a popular television show with I’m-ridiculously-good-looking ‘actors,’ I sneak on a set of the show being filmed. Instead of watching the drunks run into the water along the sea’s side, I’m running with them (sober).

I’m so tired and so bored with my life. It screams change, but I don’t dare open to door too much, just peek a little so that I can feel the slight breeze. It’s not enough. I need full action. Full on ridicule that allows me to wake up the next morning saying, instead of thinking, “Fuck yeah, I did that.”

This didn't change. Your perspective changed.

There's just so much out there. If only we all just... look up. We are not alone. That's why there's 6 billion of us out there, right?

Think about when you look back at this moment. "What if" isn't an option. Spread love. Pay it forward. Every moment counts. Look back smiling with no doubt.

Questions provoke thought. Thoughts provoke reasoning, intuitive flow, waves&length of energy, a knock on the heart's door, a tap with expectation.

Stop dreaming. Start creating.

I don't know what I'm practicing for, but it's something magnificant.

Hey world

Do ya miss me? I've sobbed, breathed, tasted, sensed, listened, heard, bruised, and spit bitter sweet moments lately. Today, I relax and dream of the inspirations I push myself toward. The future always has some goodies in store, but why not create some more?

Just baked some cinnamon rolls. Another sweet moment.

Redundant tea sipping, to find my voice that has been lost for a couple days. Bitter moment.

I'll color your sky.
Let's just all breathe together.
Heart breakers get their hearts broken. The only kind of karma that makes sense.

You don't say goodnight anymore

Too busy to write? Too busy enjoying, actually. Writing, yes; just not here.
Life is sweet, in case you're wondering.

'healing my throat, choking my neck with a giant scarf, and burning up on multiple levels. i hate writing because my english teacher . i hate thinking about what i'm going to say. i have become paranoid. i do it to myself. i can't sleep without waking up with a tooth ache. i am sick of having a social life. i need to think for myself. be with myself. actually move myself. will it happen this time? venting is preventing me to vent. staying simple because bill says so. stop pushing me. its one of those days where i give up. i dont care. push me around and forget about it. it was a dazed dream and i didnt stop it. i dont know and you dont care. or you care too much that makes me not want to care. what are you doing anyway? why me? spit it out and treat me like royalty and mean  it. i want my room back. i want my dream. a dream. i have no dream. once you tell, its not a secret. i am not in love with anything. how am i supposed to go through life without knowing what love is, what im going to be, what i want to be, first; where i want to go and who i want to be with. what is it? i dont know. i dont know what im giving up on because i have no love. i have nothing to lose. i have no reason to wake up. no self motivation. no real dream. i don't care about a thing right now. lately. im only using my right brain. my senses. my legs. and no drive. no driven life. so what does this mean? open your eyes, widely and stay still. blunt. what is it that you feel? thinking and feeling are different. sanity, that's just telling yourself you are okay. we are not okay. we are never okay. okay seems to be bland and normal. what is life? what is love? what is it, that i want?'

Wowza.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/genkidavid/5035217027/

It's in the bag

Cross my path, I'll make you laugh.
Oh, life is what ever, where ever, as long, short, and as great as you please.

Cute guitar boy, you're on my radar. Here's to document the day I opened the door for you. Not literally speaking, of course. Let's see how long it will take us to become friends.

Now let's rise our glasses (punch and wine) and sing sing sing to where we want to shine. Let's smile at those who we'll never see again until they die. Slap high-fives to those in need, dollars in between. Creme and light, not in spite of anything. Just be, be be and take it, give it, anywhere and everywhere. No where could be somewhere.

So, let's just breathe in this miracle that brings us together, no questioning variables to bring. And don't collapse when you lean, we'll keep you knitted, tight and clean. Classic and natural, it's real. Teal. No deal. Squeak in honor of Jolly. Squeal. No holidays. Everyday, celebrate. Holidays should be highlights. Everyday isn't memorable, as much, but don't be afraid to create holidays. Moments withing moments. Magic.
Make magic.

And when our crystal glasses click and ring, white pearl smiles in delight. Scout first. Sip. Breathe. Don't stop. You cannot stop. Not until you walk away. I hope that one wouldn't stop breathing when one walks away.

Au revoir, the night is young.

sardines

Always thank the ones who got you to where you are today. Sent some e-mails out to former teachers.
I may not be known by the world, but that doesn't make me a nobody. We are each a somebody.

I was just sipping my Yogi tea in the living room with sweat pants, hair up, chillin' with no make up on, and watching the new MTV's "World of Jenks." Andrew Jenks, brilliant idea cooker-upper, went into the life of a rapper this episode. He chose Maino, and behind all the partying, girls, and successful lifestyle, his true stories are what keeps him strong and driven. "I've come a long way." We can all say that, at one point in time, sure. But experiencing someone else's life, rather than hearing the stories, is a whole new level of spontaneousness, if you will. You were there. You saw the police pull up. You saw the drug attics and the poverty.You heard it. You felt the chills. You even have stories of your own. And now, you keep on, from "hell and back," and sign on those autographs for those who look up to the true you, and not just the image. If that was a story about just one rapper, imagine everyone else's story. Yet, don't just imagine, think deeply. What would it be like to wake up as them in the morning? That is the question. You're not doing it because you have a body and life of your own. Imagine. Imagine all the people in the world, one stereotype at a time, as all the labels erase after breathing with their lungs and blood pumping with their heart.

Listen to your body.

At the end of the tea bag, my fortune said, "Live in your strength."