As the year begins to fade into memory and anticipation fills our minds with the thought of what's to come, I can't help but be reminiscent. I'd like to reflect and say this has been a growing year...one where I hardly recognize the me I used to claim. I see me shining through the dying haze of 2009, almost as if from a movie. I'm waving to the the person on the boat so elegantly drifting from the dock into the horizon surely to be engulfed by the embracing mist.
A third in the past, a third in the now, and the last of me heading for the future, It's strange to stand in three places. I feel my feet secured to the dock but my hair is blowing in the breeze and the sound of sails billows above my head, and between the two I'm also the distance. I'm not one to fear, but these feet seem to be sticking to 2009 in the comfort of familiarity. I have no idea what these winds bring, but I know 2010 will be one to remember. So many things, school on top of having my own house (which of course I'm sharing with wonderful friends) on top of marching again (if they'll have me) on top of more school....oh and back track to Scotland and a potential spring break in Canada, now fast forward to more school and a mile marker b-day *** dear god it has come far to soon and not soon enough at the same time.
Truth be told, I'm not sure what 2010 has in store for me but I'm along for the ride **afterall I can't fight it, the boats already set sail--no use fighting the tides.
So here's to the horizon...may we never stop chasing it and may it always remain elusive, for what's the adventuring in knowing?
27 December 2009
18 December 2009
Drop the Match! It's already burning...
I am absolutely terrified. And then there is this piece of me, there is this peace of me. So convincing and bold, I dare say it takes me for a ride. It makes me believe that this tarnished glint paves the road to silver. You know that lining we've all been grasping through broken fingers of a broken hope. Lined with an impatient dew, yearning to grasp...we gasp.
Give me air
Have you ever seen a tea pot tarnished? Swirls of a translucent copper stained by pools of gasoline-like puddles, shimmering side by side with pure silver, hazy but, if given the chance, lethally brilliant.
Blurring the line of classification, the tarnish swirls so nicely into the silver, I begin to wonder as the silver's reflection seers.
Silver: something of a retired tradition. of memory. Of propriety. Of Secrets reflected back into the eye, kept by the ear, and made messy by the heart.
2.That of the elite. A symbol of financial well-being. Live long, BUT prosper.
--------Silver is a tricky thing, something that sucks you into its own superficiality. The ultimate tease, it is cruel and unattainable. No matter how hard you search, your reflection will always search back...burn into those eyes. The only thing you'll ever find in silver, is the same empty space between those eyes, that same empty space you're looking to fill.
We search through silver for that look, for what is a void to be filled with anything but a void? It has long been evolved from the game it once was. No longer a mission, it now stands as an impossible certainty. Why then? Why do we berate ourselves with this charade?
------Voyeurs, hoping to see someone or something in that glimmering edge... Hoping that whatever we find validates this tea party we hold unto our self---validates this life upon which we have purchased, this life we own. The same that we leave on the shelf, to only be touched with inquisitive opticality.
Don't you see...silver gazes upon us, eyes empty with desire and a reflection awaiting an answer. So we look. We look deep into those eyes and feel; in control, corporeal, and, most importantly, desired. We stare into silver to feel and to know we are still feeling. And though it is a phantom feeling...We swear it's there.
Let go. Let grow. And breath--- I'll take the tarnish; I'll take the time; I'll take the truth...
and I'll be better for it.
~Take your tea pot off the shelf. You'll be happier unhaunted, dreaming in tarnished swirls of gasoline-like puddles, accompanied by squiggled perfections of flamable reflections. Let it burn!
Give me air
Have you ever seen a tea pot tarnished? Swirls of a translucent copper stained by pools of gasoline-like puddles, shimmering side by side with pure silver, hazy but, if given the chance, lethally brilliant.
Blurring the line of classification, the tarnish swirls so nicely into the silver, I begin to wonder as the silver's reflection seers.
Silver: something of a retired tradition. of memory. Of propriety. Of Secrets reflected back into the eye, kept by the ear, and made messy by the heart.
2.That of the elite. A symbol of financial well-being. Live long, BUT prosper.
--------Silver is a tricky thing, something that sucks you into its own superficiality. The ultimate tease, it is cruel and unattainable. No matter how hard you search, your reflection will always search back...burn into those eyes. The only thing you'll ever find in silver, is the same empty space between those eyes, that same empty space you're looking to fill.
We search through silver for that look, for what is a void to be filled with anything but a void? It has long been evolved from the game it once was. No longer a mission, it now stands as an impossible certainty. Why then? Why do we berate ourselves with this charade?
------Voyeurs, hoping to see someone or something in that glimmering edge... Hoping that whatever we find validates this tea party we hold unto our self---validates this life upon which we have purchased, this life we own. The same that we leave on the shelf, to only be touched with inquisitive opticality.
Don't you see...silver gazes upon us, eyes empty with desire and a reflection awaiting an answer. So we look. We look deep into those eyes and feel; in control, corporeal, and, most importantly, desired. We stare into silver to feel and to know we are still feeling. And though it is a phantom feeling...We swear it's there.
Let go. Let grow. And breath--- I'll take the tarnish; I'll take the time; I'll take the truth...
and I'll be better for it.
~Take your tea pot off the shelf. You'll be happier unhaunted, dreaming in tarnished swirls of gasoline-like puddles, accompanied by squiggled perfections of flamable reflections. Let it burn!
09 December 2009
Riding the Breeze like a Bullet
True to my tells, I'm writing and have yet to fully admit why. When you think, or maybe it's just me, there are lots of me. Perhaps a better way to put it would be there are many facets or components of myself that think and react differently. I'm assuming everyone has these with the advent of phrases such as 'fighting with oneself'. Honestly? I often feel like the outward me is just the mediation of all these facets, that none of them are more indicative than the others. A little piece of my pieces seems to come through with every step on this breeze and every word in my head. So now is the wait.
Do we have any bets, because I'm not sure that I stand a bet's chance at this point. This is just so totally doomed, it's all going to hell, and when I'm through, when everything is thoroughly damaged, I will see it there.
Hold me. Hold my eyes close. Let me go and view the destruction. Let's see what kind of apocalypse I'll come with. Come to truly find how underestimated I am. How deep my secrets run. Scar tissue of steel and a heart of glass. But you'd never know because seeing is believing and I'm nothing but blanks.
As soon as you know how to read them, I run.
Do we have any bets, because I'm not sure that I stand a bet's chance at this point. This is just so totally doomed, it's all going to hell, and when I'm through, when everything is thoroughly damaged, I will see it there.
Hold me. Hold my eyes close. Let me go and view the destruction. Let's see what kind of apocalypse I'll come with. Come to truly find how underestimated I am. How deep my secrets run. Scar tissue of steel and a heart of glass. But you'd never know because seeing is believing and I'm nothing but blanks.
As soon as you know how to read them, I run.
30 November 2009
A long road: Severed in Silence
I keep waiting for someone to save me. I'm not sure what leaves me feeling so helpless or continues time and again to catch my breath. I don't know what will solve these feelings or who will come on that shining white horse. Looking over the horizon, no mane is flowing in a stream of sunlight and no hoof beats are riding in on a breeze. I am sitting in this clearing of my life and I am just sitting. I have no reason to be there nor do I have reason to leave. so I'm sitting. Waiting, breathing, living.
Living?
I guess---
In transit, en route, invalid...wordplay. Each night the sun will set upon my dreams and reality will tell me when to wake and how impossible those oranges, yellows, reds, and pinks are in face of the day. I've been opening my eyes to hard blue realities, where you don't talk to me and I've loss much of what I worked towards for so long.
I miss you. And I want you to know---it's a plural you. You are the one who crossed the creek with me, the one I would run through corn alongside, the one I think I fell in love with (you hurt me perhaps past repair, I'm still reeling and I shouldn't remember you), the one who held my hand so convincingly you told me it could be real...but when the sun rose once again the promises of the night, the oranges, yellows, and reds were muted in the colors of today. of the morning. of your actions. of your consequence. My reality.
I can't love you singularly. You would hurt me and that would be more than I can handle.
but what's this you've handed me?
Living?
I guess---
In transit, en route, invalid...wordplay. Each night the sun will set upon my dreams and reality will tell me when to wake and how impossible those oranges, yellows, reds, and pinks are in face of the day. I've been opening my eyes to hard blue realities, where you don't talk to me and I've loss much of what I worked towards for so long.
I miss you. And I want you to know---it's a plural you. You are the one who crossed the creek with me, the one I would run through corn alongside, the one I think I fell in love with (you hurt me perhaps past repair, I'm still reeling and I shouldn't remember you), the one who held my hand so convincingly you told me it could be real...but when the sun rose once again the promises of the night, the oranges, yellows, and reds were muted in the colors of today. of the morning. of your actions. of your consequence. My reality.
I can't love you singularly. You would hurt me and that would be more than I can handle.
but what's this you've handed me?
08 November 2009
Retraction: an internal warfare
No one hears the ticks. They just blur into the quotidienne white noise that floats udner the air. No one can feel the tension. No one can know. Understand. Hold your breath. Wait for the rhythm to slow, inhale, repeat. Continue until it doesn't feel anymore.
Perform yourself how you want. They can touch your mask, but not your essence. Without a barrier the critics words resound with shrill pains, stinging years after. Attack. Run. Run back inside yourself. Remember why you stay there. Find your comfort, stop apologizing and be.
There will always be one, one for you.
Will it matter? It matters. Remove. Remove everything that you feel has some sort of hold on being. Who you think you are, who you want to be, who you wanted to be, who you were and can never go back to. Run. Run the water over yourself and cry so you can no longer hear. Burn everything until it's untraceable. Reinvent, stage a differnet play. Even if you are the one person standing in the back, amongst a crowd of laughter stand strong. Even if they're laughing at you, play your role. Play the best damn role you have and hold on to it. Steadfast, for if you falter, you have already diminished. The you you were, is no more.
Once broken, no amount of repair will replenish the various voids and cracks. Your whole person is disembled. You become a ghost to yourself; only to return in glimpses of memory and manerisms. You lose.
And even then...It's not the same.
Perform yourself how you want. They can touch your mask, but not your essence. Without a barrier the critics words resound with shrill pains, stinging years after. Attack. Run. Run back inside yourself. Remember why you stay there. Find your comfort, stop apologizing and be.
There will always be one, one for you.
Will it matter? It matters. Remove. Remove everything that you feel has some sort of hold on being. Who you think you are, who you want to be, who you wanted to be, who you were and can never go back to. Run. Run the water over yourself and cry so you can no longer hear. Burn everything until it's untraceable. Reinvent, stage a differnet play. Even if you are the one person standing in the back, amongst a crowd of laughter stand strong. Even if they're laughing at you, play your role. Play the best damn role you have and hold on to it. Steadfast, for if you falter, you have already diminished. The you you were, is no more.
Once broken, no amount of repair will replenish the various voids and cracks. Your whole person is disembled. You become a ghost to yourself; only to return in glimpses of memory and manerisms. You lose.
And even then...It's not the same.
03 November 2009
A hopelessness that must be explored
Lately, I've been struggling for an identification. I'm struggling for the comprehension of so many broad concepts; language, labels, emotions. What are these things? We know them and identify them in their own existence but what's to say that it's concrete. Ambiguity and generality reigns supreme and I'm finding it hard to not be taken with the tide. Refusing to nod in agreement 'just because', I'm being devoured. Thoughts surround me and enforce a coat of indignation and resentment.
Unable to get past these things, everything is being depreciated. My head is bobbing not but a breath above water and I'm having that out of body experience where you watch yourself, in all of your faults and (for that matter) all the faults inherited by humanity. I'm encompassed. Confined and marinating. Literally drowning in my own confines. Trying to understand how I'm using my thought process, thoughts actualized in language, to somehow transform confines to fluid clarity, floating in free space.
I'm struggling with morality and self worth and whys and hows and pieces of the puzzle that are forming epiphanic moments full of lucid limitation. Experimentation is a hazy line to walk; where you're never quite sure of whether you're evolving the you you once were or are completely deviating into something that could be just dangerous or even worse redundant.
Individuality basks in the glow of those who have already traversed these ambiguities, where dirt is road and road is wilderness and none of us know where we are going until we've already been there. I think we make limits as protections. What's to be done if we fall from a peak that has never been climbed? Once broken, we can never be put back together just as before...we can never go back to being unbreakable. Boundaries make us invincible.
The only time I feel any freedom is when I find myself caught in a moment, free of self scrutiny, morality, boundary; free of judgment---free of society, only floating below my mind. These moments rush through my veins so quickly I know they will leave tracks, but it takes time for them to sear into the previously damaged tissue.
We're all fucked up, in one way or another. We all have therapies, most of which are to the disapproval of society. Some of us run away; we hide, we pretend, we rationalize. Others of us run toward; we indulge, we forget, we wake in the dawn of danger. We hurt you because we hurt ourselves.
I'm just beginning to understand that our fevers burn us deeper than we'll ever know.
Unable to get past these things, everything is being depreciated. My head is bobbing not but a breath above water and I'm having that out of body experience where you watch yourself, in all of your faults and (for that matter) all the faults inherited by humanity. I'm encompassed. Confined and marinating. Literally drowning in my own confines. Trying to understand how I'm using my thought process, thoughts actualized in language, to somehow transform confines to fluid clarity, floating in free space.
I'm struggling with morality and self worth and whys and hows and pieces of the puzzle that are forming epiphanic moments full of lucid limitation. Experimentation is a hazy line to walk; where you're never quite sure of whether you're evolving the you you once were or are completely deviating into something that could be just dangerous or even worse redundant.
Individuality basks in the glow of those who have already traversed these ambiguities, where dirt is road and road is wilderness and none of us know where we are going until we've already been there. I think we make limits as protections. What's to be done if we fall from a peak that has never been climbed? Once broken, we can never be put back together just as before...we can never go back to being unbreakable. Boundaries make us invincible.
The only time I feel any freedom is when I find myself caught in a moment, free of self scrutiny, morality, boundary; free of judgment---free of society, only floating below my mind. These moments rush through my veins so quickly I know they will leave tracks, but it takes time for them to sear into the previously damaged tissue.
We're all fucked up, in one way or another. We all have therapies, most of which are to the disapproval of society. Some of us run away; we hide, we pretend, we rationalize. Others of us run toward; we indulge, we forget, we wake in the dawn of danger. We hurt you because we hurt ourselves.
I'm just beginning to understand that our fevers burn us deeper than we'll ever know.
21 September 2009
ungrounded: soaring in clarity without reason
Currently I am not scared. Right now I know I can do this...that I'm making this work and wouldn't like it if I weren't working for it. Coded words are flowing and once again non-sense returns to this crazy crazy keyboard. Have I been here before? Words drip from my mind and roll off my sleeve, the same that has been housing my heart *and with this I'm okay. I'm trusting...and it hasn't been broken yet. I trust it won't be anytime soon.
I've safeguarded enough to know that this comfort, the same that I found so misleading and deceiving, is just what it is. Comfortable. I hear it projected through speakers--I sleep on it soundly. Blaring is just a difference in magnitude and magnitude a variance of magnificence. I'm ready. I won't say it because I want it to be sure. I'm pretty sure when its concrete it will be already known. Good things are happening with time. Slow is more meaningful. I'm attempting more than understanding I'm becoming. Emotions don't overcome nor overwhelm (but they are clearly guiding). Providing a tour of this sanction and a garden for which to continue growth.
I'm no longer 19, but I was once, I'm no longer haunted though I've had my fair share of disappointments, and I'm certainly not waiting around or finding backups for what I've attempted in case I fall.
Damn it, this time I'm going to fall. This time I'm trusting...I've been scared enough for it in the past that fear itself escapes me and instead I am free. Free falling. Most definitely not in moderation or fragmented realities nor in fairy tales or splenda'd dreams.
I. AM. AND. FOR. THAT. I. WILL. CONTINUE. FOR THAT I WILL FALL. because that is me soaring, for once these feet aren't touching the ground
I've safeguarded enough to know that this comfort, the same that I found so misleading and deceiving, is just what it is. Comfortable. I hear it projected through speakers--I sleep on it soundly. Blaring is just a difference in magnitude and magnitude a variance of magnificence. I'm ready. I won't say it because I want it to be sure. I'm pretty sure when its concrete it will be already known. Good things are happening with time. Slow is more meaningful. I'm attempting more than understanding I'm becoming. Emotions don't overcome nor overwhelm (but they are clearly guiding). Providing a tour of this sanction and a garden for which to continue growth.
I'm no longer 19, but I was once, I'm no longer haunted though I've had my fair share of disappointments, and I'm certainly not waiting around or finding backups for what I've attempted in case I fall.
Damn it, this time I'm going to fall. This time I'm trusting...I've been scared enough for it in the past that fear itself escapes me and instead I am free. Free falling. Most definitely not in moderation or fragmented realities nor in fairy tales or splenda'd dreams.
I. AM. AND. FOR. THAT. I. WILL. CONTINUE. FOR THAT I WILL FALL. because that is me soaring, for once these feet aren't touching the ground
19 April 2009
 | stephanie took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! ""Highly optimistic and outgoing personality. Love..."
|
this was weird and said a lot of true things, just by clicking on colors...you should try it out.
14 April 2009
Hurling words without Air. Playing with Fire.
Life is situational and there is only so much you can do with the situations that string together. We weave them and our reactions, in turn, break ties or strengthen knots or smooth tangles. We breathe life into this maze we walk. We step where we shouldn't and we strive for what we can not obtain. Dealing seems to be a theme always present. We settle for fear that pushing higher and harder will break the mold and end in mess. Comprehension is lost in words and phrases too simple to be true; we refuse to believe for we can not will not understand. We like to say we know ourselves, but with all the change...if not in us around us, in others, in the air we inhale, in the intonation of thoughts and memories better silenced.
Life is volatile...but this makes it worth living.
I know this isn't the storm before the calm, or the breaking light of any new revelation. I know these thoughts run rampant across the red bricks of Athens, and hold less power than elevated epiphanies found at the bottom of porcelain bowls or a brisk 8am one-socked walk. We are volatile...and as luck would have it, we hope.
Awake to hope and dream in torturous fits of it. Don't allow the weight to crush you or the fall to break you, don't buy but don't sell, and...be. allow. free from stillness yet supported by a consistent, instability. Dependable and stable in its unpredictability.
right before you jump, your breath may catch-- and in that moment
without breath
continuously catching
in that moment is life.
Understandable through absence and necessity. Life-
to inhale. and. breathe freely. again.
"We're going down...My Dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room" What a beautiful life spent waking to dreams and living in moments that take your breath away; Perspectively Yours
Life is volatile...but this makes it worth living.
I know this isn't the storm before the calm, or the breaking light of any new revelation. I know these thoughts run rampant across the red bricks of Athens, and hold less power than elevated epiphanies found at the bottom of porcelain bowls or a brisk 8am one-socked walk. We are volatile...and as luck would have it, we hope.
Awake to hope and dream in torturous fits of it. Don't allow the weight to crush you or the fall to break you, don't buy but don't sell, and...be. allow. free from stillness yet supported by a consistent, instability. Dependable and stable in its unpredictability.
right before you jump, your breath may catch-- and in that moment
without breath
continuously catching
in that moment is life.
Understandable through absence and necessity. Life-
to inhale. and. breathe freely. again.
"We're going down...My Dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room" What a beautiful life spent waking to dreams and living in moments that take your breath away; Perspectively Yours
06 March 2009
a rampant disconnect with a confused cohesion...
I don't know what I'm thinking, and I'm hoping maybe this will come to some ending or some beginning or just something comprehensive so I can stop wondering what is being processed. The things I'm mulling over, the thoughts compiling on my tongue--unreleased to the world, are contained by silent lips. I keep them there. I taste them and run them over and over again. Exhausting every angle and utilizing all and any resources. My resevoir is running on empty and the sleep that fuels me is running scarce as well. How many f(x)= will continue to be variable, unstable, or volatile? Where comes the solution and am I to arrive to it or it to me?
Where the fuck is the pencil? #2 and it better have an eraser, because nothing in life is permanent: no solution solves but to find another question and nothing serves a function but a solution...so in the end any solution is a question or confusion in disguise and really just mirrors the original problem; mocking its ability to function, as a mere mirror reflection. What is real?
...but a partition of an imaginary number.
What is reality?
...but a biased state of cognition.
What is truth?
...but a denial of innovation.
I'll let you know when I get there...but little things always make the biggest difference. Now, all smiles and thoughts tucked away for a different night, it finally stops. The sense it doesn't provide is enough--I'll let you know when I get there---far away in the distance, my heart pounds detached from my brain...There are a great many decisions that are calling for attention. I'm keeping them in the distance. The darkness afar, farther still from the light I'm seeking.
Farther still from a resolution or any kind of closing...Farther still, I back away.
Where the fuck is the pencil? #2 and it better have an eraser, because nothing in life is permanent: no solution solves but to find another question and nothing serves a function but a solution...so in the end any solution is a question or confusion in disguise and really just mirrors the original problem; mocking its ability to function, as a mere mirror reflection. What is real?
...but a partition of an imaginary number.
What is reality?
...but a biased state of cognition.
What is truth?
...but a denial of innovation.
I'll let you know when I get there...but little things always make the biggest difference. Now, all smiles and thoughts tucked away for a different night, it finally stops. The sense it doesn't provide is enough--I'll let you know when I get there---far away in the distance, my heart pounds detached from my brain...There are a great many decisions that are calling for attention. I'm keeping them in the distance. The darkness afar, farther still from the light I'm seeking.
Farther still from a resolution or any kind of closing...Farther still, I back away.
26 February 2009
kick up the covers and lay down...mess up my bed with me
Breathing in the fresh dew of midnight, I realized we all need something to hold on to. Oddly enough, at the time of this great epiphany (where cosmic wonders were becoming comprehensible beside non-languaged feelings of just-right) I was holding three trash bags. Trash and baggage: all that had been contained by my hand--and I realized that too many people are wanting to hold something else, but are too afraid to release. To afraid to slip...to slip into what? On the fall down, you might find something better to grab on to, and when you find it...don't let go. Don't be afraid to reach for it. Hold it. Don't let go--
Some hold their person. A person of years, months, weeks, days, nights, seconds...it takes time to grow. Time to fuse pieces of your soul, embrace the parts that have changed. Make them your own. Let go of parts that need to fall away. Others hold themselves, lift their faces above the crowd and, heads held high, go on by. Seeing. Knowing. Being. We move amongst each other. Hardly aware of what drives one foot in front of the other or fuels our motivation. We just keep going. Our knowledge is going. Moving on. Oblivious
We hold standards, goals, and morals. We cling to objects, concepts, and memories. Have any of us really slipped? Let alone fallen to a point where we, as people, are unable to support ourselves? Or have we just become dependent on this faux-feeling of faux-comfort? Comfort in this contradicting paradigm lulls us to a sleep. A sleep so warm, we sweat with anticipation and fear that, sometime soon, the sun will rise. Reality must be approaching. Don't Come. We fight it. Don't come. We cry in the faux-night of closed eyes, hearts, and minds. We fight reality.
And so it is. Life goes easy on us most of the time. And so it is. Shorter story, no love no glory, no hero in our sky. We'll all forget the breeze most of the time. And so it is. And so it will continue.
Open your eyes, surprise yourself with what you see. If you're lucky, whatever you saw, whatever you felt behind that shielding comfort of your eyelids, whatever you think was beyond here, beyond now, might just BE.
...standing in front of you. Reaching. Wanting. Wishing, just as you are.
but you have to let go to re-grab. You have to open your eyes to see. Leap before you can truly understand faith. And don't forget come daylight...
Some hold their person. A person of years, months, weeks, days, nights, seconds...it takes time to grow. Time to fuse pieces of your soul, embrace the parts that have changed. Make them your own. Let go of parts that need to fall away. Others hold themselves, lift their faces above the crowd and, heads held high, go on by. Seeing. Knowing. Being. We move amongst each other. Hardly aware of what drives one foot in front of the other or fuels our motivation. We just keep going. Our knowledge is going. Moving on. Oblivious
We hold standards, goals, and morals. We cling to objects, concepts, and memories. Have any of us really slipped? Let alone fallen to a point where we, as people, are unable to support ourselves? Or have we just become dependent on this faux-feeling of faux-comfort? Comfort in this contradicting paradigm lulls us to a sleep. A sleep so warm, we sweat with anticipation and fear that, sometime soon, the sun will rise. Reality must be approaching. Don't Come. We fight it. Don't come. We cry in the faux-night of closed eyes, hearts, and minds. We fight reality.
And so it is. Life goes easy on us most of the time. And so it is. Shorter story, no love no glory, no hero in our sky. We'll all forget the breeze most of the time. And so it is. And so it will continue.
Open your eyes, surprise yourself with what you see. If you're lucky, whatever you saw, whatever you felt behind that shielding comfort of your eyelids, whatever you think was beyond here, beyond now, might just BE.
...standing in front of you. Reaching. Wanting. Wishing, just as you are.
but you have to let go to re-grab. You have to open your eyes to see. Leap before you can truly understand faith. And don't forget come daylight...
19 February 2009
Try to unBREAK broken-- it won't happen
...it won't happen. I know this. A piece of common knowledge not quite opaque and neither translucent. It will be what you make it, but will remain what it is. What it has always been, and even there ambiguity saturates and weighs heavily. For what it was to you, was not how I experienced it--nor is my reality held near to your heart. And, in a swimming sea of neithers and nors and in betweens, I didn't expect it to lie or become akin to the steady rhythm of an essence such as life. An essence in which a slowed or rushed beat, where what lies can be truth, can end and be final. Can become electrified by an outside source and will continue to beat on. breathe on. walk away. walk toward.
This creates misunderstanding and aggravation. This creates Darkness.Darkness is not comprehensive. Only to be understood as dark, the closest thing to nothing you can imagine. A nothing imagined everything, conceptually designed as a black depth containing unseen people. People grasping in the void for anything that might be in reach. For anything to connect. For anything to be amongst them, beat with them, breathe with them, walk with them. Words of wisdom float in the darkness, as invisibly apparent as the depth known surrounding. It claims TBA and reclaims it as a constant state of being.
This darkness is all we have, that's where it becomes everything. Our everything. It drives our search, our advancement, our pain, our success. Us, driven like cars, by an unmistakable force comprised of blackness and depth and unknown. It drives. We go. We live.
Life is TBA and we don't know how to deal with it so we rationalize it. or we run from it. or we dive towards it. or we bathe in it. We DEAL with it and that's okay.
Just know as you're groping in your own darkness, you are really reaching into another's plot of depth. Respect. Reach out. Go slow.
---yeah I don't know what this is about, but it's something. I'm not sad about it, nor indifferent...just learning. I don't see it as unfortunate, neither should you
...whoever you may be :)
We are stars in the same darkness of a deep nothing, blind to the brilliance beside us and tragically mistaking our own brilliance to be insignificant. Shine bright.
I'll find you.
This creates misunderstanding and aggravation. This creates Darkness.Darkness is not comprehensive. Only to be understood as dark, the closest thing to nothing you can imagine. A nothing imagined everything, conceptually designed as a black depth containing unseen people. People grasping in the void for anything that might be in reach. For anything to connect. For anything to be amongst them, beat with them, breathe with them, walk with them. Words of wisdom float in the darkness, as invisibly apparent as the depth known surrounding. It claims TBA and reclaims it as a constant state of being.
This darkness is all we have, that's where it becomes everything. Our everything. It drives our search, our advancement, our pain, our success. Us, driven like cars, by an unmistakable force comprised of blackness and depth and unknown. It drives. We go. We live.
Life is TBA and we don't know how to deal with it so we rationalize it. or we run from it. or we dive towards it. or we bathe in it. We DEAL with it and that's okay.
Just know as you're groping in your own darkness, you are really reaching into another's plot of depth. Respect. Reach out. Go slow.
---yeah I don't know what this is about, but it's something. I'm not sad about it, nor indifferent...just learning. I don't see it as unfortunate, neither should you
...whoever you may be :)
We are stars in the same darkness of a deep nothing, blind to the brilliance beside us and tragically mistaking our own brilliance to be insignificant. Shine bright.
I'll find you.
10 February 2009
...fall with me?
As it was, and continues to be, raining in Athens, I walked outside of myself. Though I could have brought an umbrella, a canopy of protection, I decided to decline and feel the rain.
I let it fall on me. It dampened my hair, it dewed on my skin, and droplets fell from my fingers. I didn't mind and I don't know why. The rain was not liberating nor hindering. And it wasn't until my surroundings were dry, that I realized the moisture resting on my superficial. Outside, I felt outside. And Inside, I was really still outside just contained. Four walls, floor, and ceiling. Surrounded by dry, making the cool, comfortable dampness of Outside warm. Uncomfortable.
Inside makes Outside uncomfortable.
I think I was able to be vulnerable Outside. Too often I carry my own umbrella, I'll see but won't allow myself to feel. Without my guard, the drops hit...but I find they don't hit hard. When usually I see them fall through space, plummeting to an end. to the ground. I feel protected from the violence surrounding me. Without my guard, I see them dancing beside my feet in the puddle to the right, left, front, and the one's I've passed-- I know they've remained frenzied though I can no longer see them.
I often lose the opportunity to feel the cool dampness, because I am afraid of the return Inside. The discomfort when the cool warms. When the refreshing vulnerability wraps around you and sticks. Confines you like wet clothes, finding every freedom of movement and oppressing it with the scratchy fabric that refuses to release, refuses to breathe, and weighs down so much that all you can think about is becoming dry, conforming....becoming....
Inside.
I'm making an active choice to walk outside my comfort. To walk outside myself. To not focus on the Inside, but to relish walking on the Outside. To let past my guard or perhaps drop my guard all together. Baby steps.... I trust * but not with myself.
I'm always strong-- independence proclaims me. Proceeds me. Protects me.
...but in the end, while drops fall from the sky, just as we fall through life, I want to see dancing underneath me and company beside me, falling in a different space but falling all the same. Together.
I let it fall on me. It dampened my hair, it dewed on my skin, and droplets fell from my fingers. I didn't mind and I don't know why. The rain was not liberating nor hindering. And it wasn't until my surroundings were dry, that I realized the moisture resting on my superficial. Outside, I felt outside. And Inside, I was really still outside just contained. Four walls, floor, and ceiling. Surrounded by dry, making the cool, comfortable dampness of Outside warm. Uncomfortable.
Inside makes Outside uncomfortable.
I think I was able to be vulnerable Outside. Too often I carry my own umbrella, I'll see but won't allow myself to feel. Without my guard, the drops hit...but I find they don't hit hard. When usually I see them fall through space, plummeting to an end. to the ground. I feel protected from the violence surrounding me. Without my guard, I see them dancing beside my feet in the puddle to the right, left, front, and the one's I've passed-- I know they've remained frenzied though I can no longer see them.
I often lose the opportunity to feel the cool dampness, because I am afraid of the return Inside. The discomfort when the cool warms. When the refreshing vulnerability wraps around you and sticks. Confines you like wet clothes, finding every freedom of movement and oppressing it with the scratchy fabric that refuses to release, refuses to breathe, and weighs down so much that all you can think about is becoming dry, conforming....becoming....
Inside.
I'm making an active choice to walk outside my comfort. To walk outside myself. To not focus on the Inside, but to relish walking on the Outside. To let past my guard or perhaps drop my guard all together. Baby steps.... I trust * but not with myself.
I'm always strong-- independence proclaims me. Proceeds me. Protects me.
...but in the end, while drops fall from the sky, just as we fall through life, I want to see dancing underneath me and company beside me, falling in a different space but falling all the same. Together.
09 February 2009
so i answered 9 mult. choice....and it told me who i was
Your view on yourself:
You are down-to-earth and people like you because you are so straightforward. You are an efficient problem solver because you will listen to both sides of an argument before making a decision that usually appeals to both parties.
The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:
You are not looking merely for a girl/boyfriend - you are looking for your life partner. Perhaps you should be more open-minded about who you spend time with. The person you are looking for might hide their charm under their exterior.
Your readiness to commit to a relationship:
You prefer to get to know a person very well before deciding whether you will commit to the relationship.
The seriousness of your love:
You like to flirt and behave seductively. The opposite sex finds this very attractive, and that's why you'll always have admirers hanging off your arms. But how serious are you about choosing someone to be in a relationship with?
Your views on education
Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can.
The right job for you:
You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important. Find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life.
How do you view success:
Success in your career is not the most important thing in life. You are content with what you have and think that being with someone you love is more than spending all of your precious time just working.
What are you most afraid of:
You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you.
Who is your true self:
You are mature, reasonable, honest and give good advice. People ask for your comments on all sorts of different issues. Sometimes you might find yourself in a dilemma when trapped with a problem, which your heart rather than your head needs to solve.
You are down-to-earth and people like you because you are so straightforward. You are an efficient problem solver because you will listen to both sides of an argument before making a decision that usually appeals to both parties.
The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:
You are not looking merely for a girl/boyfriend - you are looking for your life partner. Perhaps you should be more open-minded about who you spend time with. The person you are looking for might hide their charm under their exterior.
Your readiness to commit to a relationship:
You prefer to get to know a person very well before deciding whether you will commit to the relationship.
The seriousness of your love:
You like to flirt and behave seductively. The opposite sex finds this very attractive, and that's why you'll always have admirers hanging off your arms. But how serious are you about choosing someone to be in a relationship with?
Your views on education
Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can.
The right job for you:
You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important. Find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life.
How do you view success:
Success in your career is not the most important thing in life. You are content with what you have and think that being with someone you love is more than spending all of your precious time just working.
What are you most afraid of:
You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you.
Who is your true self:
You are mature, reasonable, honest and give good advice. People ask for your comments on all sorts of different issues. Sometimes you might find yourself in a dilemma when trapped with a problem, which your heart rather than your head needs to solve.
31 January 2009
Weaving: Memories. Intermingling. Uncertainty
Today I find myself missing my best friend on her birthday. Seriously, why weren't we sisters....it should've happened. hahah I think back to that one time when we were at Marc's house :) We were talking about sisters and Abby said "well we can be. My mom can be your mom". I responded by saying how weird that would be and she said "well technically, your mom isn't your mom either". We just cocked our heads in silence and then burst out laughing.
I miss you :(
:) I love you :)
And I hope you get your present soon, because it's pretty awesome...
Transitioning....I'm glad I've met the people I have, and am extremely grateful for my groups of friends on this current ice rink of a campus. As the days go on, I more positively view life, more often I see reason in the unreasonable, and question less the practicality in impossibility. Despite a heavy work load, and uncertainty in everything I'm doing--despite the fact that I sometimes feel myself failing or doubting, or wishing or wanting * I just know that everything is working out. I am happy and slightly proud of all of us, the solid bonds we've formed(but even more so the one's we've broken), and the way we help weave our lives, sharing string or wicker or whatever the hell you weave with.
Thinking about it, I guess we weave our memories and share them amongst ourselves. I like this sharing.
So thank you.
In another relative notation-- I feel a shift, a changing starting to encapsulate. Not sure if the change is going to take me, or whether or not I'll like it. It's stuck on potential...just resting. But I feel it's there. Not quite sure how I feel about that yet, but no worries. Ya'll are here to stay.
And I'm not planning leaving anytime soon :)
I miss you :(
:) I love you :)
And I hope you get your present soon, because it's pretty awesome...
Transitioning....I'm glad I've met the people I have, and am extremely grateful for my groups of friends on this current ice rink of a campus. As the days go on, I more positively view life, more often I see reason in the unreasonable, and question less the practicality in impossibility. Despite a heavy work load, and uncertainty in everything I'm doing--despite the fact that I sometimes feel myself failing or doubting, or wishing or wanting * I just know that everything is working out. I am happy and slightly proud of all of us, the solid bonds we've formed(but even more so the one's we've broken), and the way we help weave our lives, sharing string or wicker or whatever the hell you weave with.
Thinking about it, I guess we weave our memories and share them amongst ourselves. I like this sharing.
So thank you.
In another relative notation-- I feel a shift, a changing starting to encapsulate. Not sure if the change is going to take me, or whether or not I'll like it. It's stuck on potential...just resting. But I feel it's there. Not quite sure how I feel about that yet, but no worries. Ya'll are here to stay.
And I'm not planning leaving anytime soon :)
24 January 2009
a rounded freedom--a full life
I have no idea what I want from the life I'm living-- but something tells me it's all going to pan out. I want to look back and remember. Not question. Not want more or less from the times I can not change. I never go into something thinking...okay, so this is why and what I wish to gain. I simply ride the ride until I find myself wishing I was off.
I like circles, round about points with no end and no beginning. My life is a circle-- I don't know what the end result is going to be, and often find myself wondering when I'm going to choose to a straight path from clarified point A to distinct point B. When will the motion sickness take effect?
When I'm looking back, I'm not sure if I'm going to regret the loops I've jumped from or the spheres of my life *but I don't know how to live any other way. So, it will just have to work and be alright. I'm in this to have fun.
So I'll ride the merry-go-round, the ferris wheel, the yo-yo, and the ring of fire
I'll live in circles full of indecision and open options--with little commitment and little concern. Enjoying every moment...
...to the fullest
I like circles, round about points with no end and no beginning. My life is a circle-- I don't know what the end result is going to be, and often find myself wondering when I'm going to choose to a straight path from clarified point A to distinct point B. When will the motion sickness take effect?
When I'm looking back, I'm not sure if I'm going to regret the loops I've jumped from or the spheres of my life *but I don't know how to live any other way. So, it will just have to work and be alright. I'm in this to have fun.
So I'll ride the merry-go-round, the ferris wheel, the yo-yo, and the ring of fire
I'll live in circles full of indecision and open options--with little commitment and little concern. Enjoying every moment...
...to the fullest
20 January 2009
i've been watching, but i'm not a watcher
The world seems to be floating in a busy stagnation. I mean nothing really seems to be changing but I'm feeling the constant need to move and to do. The only problem is the my indecision and lack of motivation. Nothing seems very appealing, and on the occasion it does--as soon as I start I'm anticipating a change of activity.
My thoughts won't leave me but they won't stay. I'm stuck in mid-thought, mid-stare, mid-breath. Mid-ground. I'm stuck waiting. Between two worlds of movement and stillness. I stand wrapped in placid calmness. Fighting for motion. Left just breathing.
I like the game, the chase, the race, the fun. I want a hurling force to send my world back into motion. I want a frenzied catalyst to set my world back on point. To pick up my feet and sprint on my toes. To melt the ice and feel the pavement. To live continuously without lull.
I want
My thoughts won't leave me but they won't stay. I'm stuck in mid-thought, mid-stare, mid-breath. Mid-ground. I'm stuck waiting. Between two worlds of movement and stillness. I stand wrapped in placid calmness. Fighting for motion. Left just breathing.
I like the game, the chase, the race, the fun. I want a hurling force to send my world back into motion. I want a frenzied catalyst to set my world back on point. To pick up my feet and sprint on my toes. To melt the ice and feel the pavement. To live continuously without lull.
I want
09 January 2009
Forever yours, Time
Today was a weird day. There was no sun, yet rain did not fall. The weather was cold, yet the wind was not biting. And I survived the fast paced Thursday despite the risks it presented. It was just a queer ass Thursday. The first of many I am assured.
I'm falling in love with improv dance. But I'm having trouble listening. I hear myself and what I want to do--but everyone else is so foreign to me. I think its because I don't know many of them. They might as well be speaking Chinese or a quick Russian--because for every word I think they say *I am wrong. I'll find a balance.
I'm convinced that everything is just so weird now because everything is transitional. An awkward state of in between that I don't care to travel though, let alone rest in. It will pass--but the last six weeks have seemed similar to forever. I was hoping this week would be different. And, though it was...somehow, it still made week seven.
forever yours time... I await what the next week holds. I hope for you to be week one, because eight weeks is a long time. And as time goes on expectations and hopes are driven higher out of anticipation. Eight weeks is a long way to fall.
But week one. Week one is a beginning. Week one is closer to the ground.
I'm falling in love with improv dance. But I'm having trouble listening. I hear myself and what I want to do--but everyone else is so foreign to me. I think its because I don't know many of them. They might as well be speaking Chinese or a quick Russian--because for every word I think they say *I am wrong. I'll find a balance.
I'm convinced that everything is just so weird now because everything is transitional. An awkward state of in between that I don't care to travel though, let alone rest in. It will pass--but the last six weeks have seemed similar to forever. I was hoping this week would be different. And, though it was...somehow, it still made week seven.
forever yours time... I await what the next week holds. I hope for you to be week one, because eight weeks is a long time. And as time goes on expectations and hopes are driven higher out of anticipation. Eight weeks is a long way to fall.
But week one. Week one is a beginning. Week one is closer to the ground.
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