Brain Therapy

I have gone to three sessions of therapy and although I have revealed quite a bit about myself and my past, I feel no significant breakthroughs. I know it is still early, so I'm not concerned. Furthermore, I like my therapist. I think I lucked out in finding a gay male. Not that being a gay man has anything to do with my issues, but I'm most comfortable around men, and preferably, those who wouldn't exacerbate any soreness surrounding my feelings about the straight male species. And finding a female therapist who felt any trauma similar to mine would only make it worse. And of course, my best friends happen to be gay guys, so it only seems natural to find the same.

So my doctor is an easy and interesting person to talk to: we usually sit and reflect on our travels, pop culture, and other fun topics before settling into more serious ones. But I am afraid. I'm afraid that he can't help me, that he doesn't really understand, he doesn't really care, and despite pouring money and breath into these appointments I will come out of it no different and no better than I am - alone and in pain.

You're a lost little girl
You're a lost little girl
You're lost
Tell me who
Are you?

I think that you know what to do
Impossible? Yes, but it's true
I think that you know what to do, yeah
I'm sure that you know what to do.

-The Doors, "You're a Lost Little Girl"

Moments like this, I wish I had died instead of my aunt.

Liver Therapy

I've laid off the booze for 2 nights in a row and sleep has been pure agony. Sometimes I feel as if there is a heavy, metal plate on my chest, constricting my breathing and crushing me down. My head is filled with furious and painful thoughts. My heart is in horrible shape, and sleep has been sporadic. But when I wake in the morning I feel a little better, a little more confident that I can get through this, and that one day the torment will inevitably end.

This is the repercussion of not drinking myself to sleep - a whole lot healthier, and definitely a lot harder. My ex has finally left me alone. Funny I thought breaking up and healing would be simple, of course he had to persistently stay in contact with me for another 3 weeks and make that impossible. I guess we all want to know that other people care, that the time we had with them meant something. And although he has finally let me go, one thing that would secretly ease the pain is if he gave me some sign of concern like he always did, as I would always respond affectionately, and we would reconcile. That always did the trick, killed the anger, at least temporarily.

But now I am decidedly alone, and wherever I am, out with other people, in class or work, I feel a sharp, singular pain which I and I alone am aware of. Again, luckily, I have my schoolwork cut out for me until November, where I can bury myself and the aching. I have many terrific concerts to see, hobbies to undertake, and friends to lift my mood the way I deserve.

Summer of Love

Checking in after an eventful summer, for the urge for me to write has been rare and comes and goes as quickly as my paycheck. I did end up fulfilling one of my dreams to visit the African continent this summer, and while it was not and could not be all I had romanticized, I must say it was one of the most astounding and capricious experiences of my life. I learned a lot more than I had originally thought I did about Kenyan history, saw some really beautiful landscape, witnessed wildlife and mother nature in all her splendor, picked up some Swahili, taught a class of fourth graders, made new friends, and observed human culture and behavior, both of the Kenyans and of the UC Berkeley students whom I traveled with -a real interesting lot.

I also picked up a boyfriend, who was one of the Cal students on the Kenya study abroad. Our relationship has recently come to an end, but my summer has really revolved around him. Other than the obvious time we spent getting to know each other in Kenya, the following 2 months was a whole 'nother adventure. Every week and eventually nearly every day we planned a new excuse to have fun together, whether that was white water rafting, camping, rock-climbing, beaching, or just going over to his house to watch a flick and fall asleep and have breakfast in the morning. Although it was only a measly 3 month relationship, I fell for him. It wasn't just our mutual activities that captured me, it was his complexity and compassion - moral and emotional, and depth as a person. But I should have seen not what was deeper but what was obvious, and so I can only blame myself for the ultimate heartache. He's the first guy I've allowed myself to love for quite some time, and I suspect he will be for a while, especially given the damage that has come after our breakup. While I won't go into why it ended, I will just say that he is 4 years my junior, and that dishonesty is something I am learning not to tolerate, since my forgiving and somewhat doormat nature has caused me a lot of pain and unnecessary problems.

So I'm simplifying my life. And I'm doing really well now. I took the breakup horribly at first, even regressing to some old adolescent pathologies, but I am well on my way to recovery. There's no denying some agony buried there along with the rest of my exes, but surprisingly my head is level, my heart is already healing, and my intuition is to be optimistic instead of fearful and bitter. Thankfully I have good friends, who are rational and understanding and help me look at things objectively instead of with my own fucked-up, insecure, and depressed head. I'm formulating new and old goals: getting my act together at work, motivating myself for school, rekindling hobbies I dropped, and developing my relationships. And listening to a lot of reggae-rock, which brightens my mood to new levels.

Twin Peaks

Very rough sleep last night. Woke to the sound of my roommate's mule-like laughter, bass-heavy music, and apparently hilarious morning show. Got to bed at around 5am, but the eerie sound of creaking forced me to get up to shut a wind-molested laundry door. Heavy rain started in around that time. Not the comforting, melodic kind of pitter-patter, the obnoxious, threaten-to-cave-in-your-roof type of rain.

I dreamt of being murdered. Incest, rape, and the inadvertent killing brought tears to my murderer's eyes, but all I could feel was fear and disgust. Flashes. Heavy darkness. Grotesque laughter. A menacing presence, intangible.

Obviously, I've been watching too much Twin Peaks. David Lynch is a genius director. And the actors and actresses' talents are very well worth noting. But somehow the unraveling of lives, of hearts, and of secrets hits a little close to home. A combination of Donna and Laura, the surface never tells you quite as much as the past.

I've started writing again to gain control and perspective on my life, for the past few months, it seems like everything I've done to get back on track has landed me in a quandary. A closer examination of my thoughts, patterns, relationships, and dreams will have to take place. I intend on writing often, every morning if possible.

Today, though sluggish, sleep-deprived for over 48 hours, I begin my day with sit-ups, a shower, a bagel, and a trip to the local coffee house, Roadhouse Coffee Shop. Go figure.

strings

My life is the string which oscillates violently between two extremes, and all those I love a vital piece of the symphony.

2009 doesn't have paragraphs.

Shortly after the holidays last year I received a phone call from my dad telling me my aunt was undergoing brain surgery to remove the larger tumors which had spread from her lungs. She had just been diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer. I was on a weekend excursion with my best friend, Anthony and was caught by the startling news which filled me with unease. Around this time, my first ex boyfriend, distraught and plagued by his past and present relationships, found me after four years to sort out old emotions. We had dinner, emailed each other several times, and even considered the possibility of rekindling an old romance, until he proved, for the last time, his inability love me. This destroyed me. This also put me at peace with the past. I moved places, twice, the first being a comfortably darker pit of the city. Ditto with my jobs. I bought a really crappy car, which my brother replaced with my old precious Rav4 out of the kindness of his heart. I took Physics 111 and loved the lectures, but became wrapped up in my two jobs, social life, and riches to get anything but a D. However, what began as a purely academic and perhaps business arrangement became a close and terrific friendship with my tutor, Samy. I dropped Pre-Calculus in the summer, but I retook Physics 111, finally joined a study group, made new friends, of course sought Samy's help, and pulled off a B+. I left both my jobs during these months, and it was beautiful. But I needed to pay off debt, so I was hired at Bevmo at summer's end and began a grueling and chaotic whirlwind of 30-40 hours a week while studying late nights and in-between work for 3 classes. This time, so wrapped up in work and academia, I barely had time for my social life, much less myself. I had several breakdowns, including broken objects in my room and strained friendships. Things hit rock bottom when I received two calls, one from my dad and another from my older brother, telling me that my aunt was not doing well and I should take the weekend off to see her. I took the weekend off, but worked Thursday, then hopped directly on the Greyhound and began my nightlong visit to LA. She passed away at 1:50 a.m. She was gone by the time I arrived by bus Friday morning, 2 weeks before Thanksgiving. I attended the wake ceremony and the funeral, but I had no chance to say goodbye. I then continued my schooling, continued heavy hours at work while battling feelings of depression and guilt. Thanksgiving came, the first holiday without my aunt. I spent 3 days with my friends in Vegas, San Diego and LA - the only vacation I allowed myself since the summer. Directly thereafter, I came down with a fever and bad cough - 2 weeks before finals. Somehow I managed to survive holiday hours and lines at work, severe stress with school, and hanging connections with my friends until it was all over. Christmas with my family was heartfelt. I couldn't love them more. "Life waits for no one," wrote my youngest cousin, Amy, and I have say it's true. Exactly how I feel. I wasn't ready for what 2009 brought, but 2010 will not wait for me.

Bleed American

A week ago, I painfully woke from a nap between classes and work, and groggily drove to my next obligation. But on this day, unlike so many others from the past two months, I looked outside as the sun shone on the parking lot outside the store where I work, and thought to myself, "What IS stopping me from being in control of my life?" This question followed me for the next few hours, tossing over and over again in my head while I cashiered, bagged, took money, gave change, smiled at customers, moved boxes, arranged bottles, until the answer became quite clear: nothing. And it was during those perfectly ordinary hours of my day that I decided to take my life back.

The past 2 months have been frustratingly depressing for me. I've been pulling 30+ hours a week at my new job, which devours my entire weekend and majority of the week. I have two days off where I am cramming in schoolwork and studying between classes, catching up with friends, family, household necessities, and sleep. I've been going to bed wretched and waking up angry, agitated by seeing my paycheck disappear to what seems like an insurmountable credit card debt, and aggravated by my friends for their well-intentioned, though time-consuming phone calls. But ever since the moment I decided to be in control, I've felt surprisingly more relaxed, taking on the same load but not fretting over life's blights. And maybe I'm just starting to get used to it.

This is not to say that all is peachy, for even as I write this blog I am tired. So tired, with so much to do this week, even the upcoming holiday gives me a few grey hairs. And I still have a bit of a grudge, and I can feel the urge to retract back inside myself. Solitude is a coping mechanism I've used against the pressures of the outside world for a long time, but one which is dangerous and cannot be over-indulged, for it is also a quick route to insanity. But I feel 10 times better than I did a week ago. Good news: I was accepted into the Physics and Astronomy Department at school, and I'm pretty sure I aced my first Pre-Calculus midterm. And I see no reason why I can't continue to do well, why I can't see my dreams through academically, why I can't get on top of my finances, why I can't be attractive and visit the gym regularly, why I can't make new friends and spend time with my current ones, why I can't read for fun or make music! I see daunting odds and obstacles ahead: days, weeks, years of exhaustion maybe, but I have no doubt of my ability to get through them.

Only the weak are every really strong.

It is well-known, though a myth, that all women are deceitful, conniving beings unworthy of being trusted, just as it is well-known but a myth that all men are brutal, hateful animals whose only motivations are power and sex. The only truth when it comes to the sexes is that ALL people are capable of treachery and harm, and the expression thereof will vary from person to person.

I have seen men ruined by women. Yes, it happens, absolutely. And I, as a female, have undoubtedly been ruined by men. What most people do not know is that I have been so deeply and repeatedly hurt and abused by men, by multiple men in fact, that if it were not for the fact that my closest friends are male, and my father and brother both outstanding people, I would be bereft of the ability to trust and love them. But even my own father instilled such great pain in me that I have only once spoken of, and never again will. It is hard to come to terms with just how injured I really am, and I think in some ways, always will be.

I always told myself that I would never do to another, male or female, the cruelty I had done unto me. And to the best of my knowledge and ability, I have stayed true to this form. I have always tried to be as honest and respectful of others as I could, though I'm sure I have had to let people down sometimes, for I'm not a perfect person by far.

What I don't understand is, why then, when women who are so powerful in the society we live in, who can turn men to butter simply by existing, who can crush even the strongest man with her words or actions, why is it, that I am so weak? I have pondered this over the years and come up with a few answers such as needing more self-love, being honest with myself, seeing reality, and finding the right people, and while all of the above are valid, I think it boils down to this: our greatest weaknesses are our greatest strengths.

The most frail part of me is where I gather the most resilience; where I am vulnerable to be hurt, I am most fiercely devoted to myself and to those I care about. And until someone comes along who can actually prove his worth, no man, or woman for that matter, will be allowed into my heart.

Beauty and Eroticism

It's around that time of month again, and I'm not talking about my menstrual cycle. Though for some reason I feel most like blogging around the 26th. Each few weeks changes rapidly, yet it's the same...

I'm taking an Images of Eroticism class this semester, and other than being able to watch some very enjoyable (and some NOT so enjoyable) erotic films, I feel I am getting something out of this course. One of the topics that came up today was our view of beauty, and the challenge thereof. For every day we are forced to consume this representation of what makes a person attractive, and while beauty is in the eye of the beholder, this eye is heavily influenced by our shallow and materialistic culture.

I, being female, being an Asian female, and not a bad-looking one at that, have never had a problem getting laid. Yet I feel, almost every day, the immense pressures of being a woman in this society. Because, let's face it: if I were fat, or old, or had a nose scrunched inside my face, who would want me? And that's the ugly truth: no one, or at least damn next to it. Not to say that every person who ever wanted me was shallow, for I consider myself far from what you would call "hot," but there will always be some outward aspect of anyone's attraction to me, and there is nothing wrong with that. My ideal is to find someone who thinks I'm one sexy bitch yet appreciates and respects my mind and heart above all else, and here is where it gets tricky. My first boyfriend loved to fuck me, could barely do anything but when we were together. Alas, his problem was that he didn't respect me, didn't value me or my thoughts, and through mind games and hurtful actions, made me feel deep shame for my body, as well as my soul.

What do I find beautiful? Hard to say, for I have been attracted to people of all sizes and shapes and genders and so on. However there are things I'm clear on: I like people who are not afraid to get dirty, who are intelligent and so comfortable with themselves that it naturally emanates from them onto me. I want someone who is not ashamed of him/herself, because for so long it has been made to seem like I should be of myself.

Walls

What good are these walls
that can be penetrated, or delved underneath
to the soft soil which feebly supports them
and spread so pervasively, straight through
to the core of me
which must be protected?
I fought illusion before
but never a reality quite like this
always mistrusting those who touched me
while you remain unquestioned.
Because between our friendship and something more
there is a deep affection
from what occurred before and what is becoming torn,
though, however intermittently you appear
I feel its presence steadily.
I am not the one for you, sadly,
just someone who cares, undoubtedly.

Friends in Passing

Memory is a funny thing. It is independent of our will and desires, and no matter how much we may want to remember or forget something, somehow, it almost always acts opposite to our preferences. Of course, memory can be strengthened, weakened or somewhat controlled, but essentially, the mind remembers what makes a significant impression on it, even if this impression is a very small detail.

I was informed this past week that an old friend and colleague died. He was 26. I have never encountered the death of someone I know, besides my grandparents, and the news came with some very strange feelings. Even though I hadn't seen him in 3 years, I always assume that others' existences runs parallel to mine, just out of sight, and will run for approximately the same duration. But now, knowing that he is gone: that he is no longer alive, and we all go on, is heartbreaking. I was a there for a short period in his life, and though it'd been years since our last correspondence, I was around when it ended. My shock and sadness seemed to be for the identity of him 3 years ago: cool and compulsive Bahman, plagued by his moods and addictions but a sincerely caring and contemplative guy. And for the year that I knew him, we were good friends. People change, but not their essence, and I can still imagine what he was like, his gestures, voice, smile...I can remember him as acutely as I can remember the scent of my first boyfriend, and while our relationship was never sexual/romantic, the strength of its memory persists.

Bahman, Bahman, you always liked to do things your own way. Your entire life was unconventionally formatted, and your death was, too.


And so it seems
inevitably, I would return to my place of birth
before the fine tenderness of my mother's womb
back to the rustic depths of the earth.
I recall first feelings which in fact endured
and the warmth of company resurfacing
I was alone - and never at all
I was reckless - and never thought I'd fall
Yet when I did, I could not bring myself to regret it.
For every second, every moment
was a tread closer to the incident
which would render my life to closure
and reunite me with my maker,
Death, came, at last.

Math is fun

This may possibly be the best summer session I've ever had since entering college. I've enrolled myself in Precalculus and General Physics, and never before have I felt such anticipation to wake up at 6:45 a.m to drive across the Bay Bridge and back just to attend classes. I feel that the study of physics opens my mind to see so many invisible worlds all around us, and how they interact with each other to manifest the physical phenomena we observe. And math is the language of all that occurs: a strange, mind-bending game which can in fact be conquered and understood. Yet the more I learn the more questions come to surface, and this makes me appreciate science all the more. These 2 concentrations constantly feed off each other to create a beauty so complete, it just makes me want to smile.

So, how do I know my math instructor is an amazing teacher?

The first day of class, while reviewing the standard definitions of natural numbers, integers, rationals, real numbers, etc. I asked him what another example of a non-real number, besides i could possibly be. Instead of answering with just a dry, 2 second reply, he launches into the history of mathematics:

Math was created to model the world around us. Quite obviously, whole numbers exist since the only way we can quantify more than one object is to count: 1, 2, 3, 4... Negative numbers must exist in order to describe being in debt and such. Fractions are highly useful, and irrational numbers occur naturally e.g. the the hypotenuse of a triangle with both sides of length 1 is the square root of 2. But are non-real numbers, well, real? Can we find them out in the world? A debate was held on this, and the conclusion was reached: no number actually exists. There are no numbers that can tangibly be found in the world, there are only well-defined concepts.

This intrigues me, as I have had this quandary inside myself. As many other scientists have also pondered: to what extent do the mathematical workings actually describe reality?

The other day, confused on his requirements, I asked him if he wanted English sentences as proof or mathematical manipulations. His response to me was, "They are one and the same."

Well, now, isn't that something?

The Final Frontier

I just finished watching the latest Star Trek in theaters for the second time, and I am just as floored as I was after the first showing. There is something about this movie that strikes a very strong chord in me, and it is not just from being an astronomy and physics fan. While this theme is not unvisited, it does resonate loudly: sometimes, it is entirely necessary to renounce logic and embrace emotion.

I find this motif, while comforting, difficult to follow, precisely because of the adjunct it contains: sometimes. I am conflicted and unclear about when to stick with my head and when to abandon it. And if I do, to what degree? I realize I have a sort of internalized sexism, where the idea of being a stereotypically emotion-driven female disgusts me to the point that I often strive to squelch that part of me. Somehow, I believe that if I am not as rational as males are perceived to be, I am inferior. I am inferior because I have a vagina and I incorporate pathos into my decision-making. I realize this is a severely flawed system of thought, but I cannot resolve it inside myself.

Another interesting concept of Star Trek: time-travel. Future Spock meets Past Spock. So, ignoring any paradoxes or physical impossibilities, if I were to travel back in time and could tell myself anything I wanted, what would I say?

My answer would have to be: nothing. Absolutely nothing. I would stand back and watch the past me make all the same mistakes, say and do all the wrong things, and feel the all the same emotions. Because it's not about who I could've been or what I should've done, it's about how I got there. I do not believe in fate, I believe in the way of travel.

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same. -Frost

This Time Last Year

Because I think it is highly important to always keep perspective of one's time, growth, and change, I am following the lead of a retrospective post from Bitch Ph.D's site, one of the blogs I visit regularly.

This time last year I was living in the corner of a living room of a bland, overpriced apartment structure next to my university, frustrated with my lack of privacy and the financial irresponsibility of non-lessee roommates, but also grateful in my luck with finding the 2 other roommates who would become my good friends and support in transitioning to the city.

This time last year I was an English major, ditching class to run off to Borders to check out an inexhaustible amount of superbly fascinating physics titles, and re-taking a summer Intro to Astronomy class for fun.

This time last year I was starting at my first real job in the city, making a ton of new friends from work, developing a terrific fondness for alcohol, and finding my place amongst a new community and location.

This time last year I was falling for a close friend, and finding out just how painful following these emotions could be, and how much the past had played a role in my defective view of relationships and stubborn desire to remain single.

This time, now?
I have just moved into a wonderful house with my own little room with those same good friends as roommates, and a few new ones. I have all the privacy I need and a spectacular view of the luscious trees of the Golden Gate Park, right next to my house.

I am an Undeclared major moving in the direction of becoming declared, and developing a 3 year plan to obtain a B.S. degree in Physics/Astronomy. I am reviewing, as well as learning, my lower-division math at a rapid pace. I am exhausted and often frustrated. But I have never felt better about my academic decisions.

I gradually and heavy-heartedly left my old job for one which was much better paying. I recently made the choice to leave the well-paying gig for some peace of mind. I am currently unemployed, and actively seeking a new employer. So far, to no avail.

I am happily, though very jadedly, single. An old flame, the very first, has forcibly reappeared into my life, and I am dealing with the harrowing repercussions of both the past and the present. I hold my friendships closely and dearly to me, though at bay, so as not to repeat mistakes and wreck the relationships I have.

So. This time last year: where were you and where are you now?

Whirlwind

I write now not because I have a specific subject in mind, but because I haven't expressed myself outwardly in a long time and feel a great knot has developed within. I am entangled in my emotions and the situations around me and find it hard see them from the calm, distant perspective of my psyche.

My current grades leave something to be desired, but I am not worried about them as I know the way I approach my studies are about to change drastically. I am, however, concerned about my social life and how it has and will continue to be affected by these obligations. I place my friends very high on my list of priorities, but am bothered by how very few seem to know or care just how much time I have to put into school. Not only is it a difficult subject matter by nature, but for someone like me who is not quantitatively inclined, it can be excruciatingly challenging and time-consuming. And this is not even including time taken away by work. I only ask that they understand and allow me my space during demanding days of the week. I am exhausted by my own inability to balance the various areas of my life.

I am angry because I have been damaged for a long time, and while some pain is necessary for character, I feel I was ruptured again at a point where I was in the process and perhaps even the completion of healing. I am angry that I let a stranger from my past be granted forgiveness only to have my trust shattered once again, and that this time I must take responsibility for my own demise. I am angry that I let the actions and misfortunes of stupid, inconsiderate individuals speak for those who would actually care and prevent me from seeing myself as worthy of such affection, and that I am psychologically bound by these bad experiences. I am also angry that those who think they are doing me a favor by offering me romance either already have or will only prove to do more to add to my anguish, and they cannot see what I really need more is their friendship. I am angry that I am so hurt, that I have given up so much, but I still have yet, or am emotionally incapable of accepting a genuine hand.

May

But I was weary during the month of May.
And though the coming of summer
spread light by the promise of change,
Those dead flames contained
a harrowing quality. And the memory of thee
however far, still haunting.
So when I heard those four walls call,
almost deafening in their song:
harping, harping
grating upon my soul. I know
much of what I'd thought been freed,
was, in fact, still enclosed.
I wasn't afraid to face the old
I was afraid the old would resurface
within the new.

Retirement

Though it has sustained me for quite some time, I am retiring "Life From the Lonely Planet" as the title of this blog, not only for our recent, exciting and increasingly numerous discoveries of exo-planets, nor for the fact that I find more and more wonderous things about this planet through my study of science, but that I honestly no longer feel alone in this world. I don't know how I ever did. For with maturity comes a more keen awareness of those around me the and the effect my existence has on the people I care about, and vice versa. If, in the end, all we have are ourselves, and the final event of our lives is a solitary one, I see no reason to be or feel this way during the course of my life.

A better explication of the new blog title, however, will have to slowly reveal itself through future posts.

Plain Geometry

I believe my life to be dull and violent
in the same line, where several
planes of existence converge, congruent
at first, then shift with time.
I do not pretend to understand
these mechanisms of mine:
why I perceive not through eyes
but fluid emotions,
and when the actions of others
no longer resemble familiar dynamics,
I turn to accuse them of malicious intentions
when I am not truly sure,
but more what I feel in the ache, and the burn
of the moment.
I am in ruins.
Alas, I will not fall to despair;
I still see some shred of logic in there
where, the motions of mind, however disjointed
still hold the bearings of such graceful equations.

The Werewolf and the Heart

I'm taking a Sex & Relationships course this semester, not completely of my own choice but to fulfill a "Relationships of Knowledge" segment required to graduate. This partially forced class is a welcome guest to my schedule (even if it is at 8am), not only for its low difficulty and juicy subject matter, but for the opportunity it gives me to examine a lot of issues I've had with the topic. This course follows the life-cycle of a relationship, among many other aspects, and I can already tell looking through the syllabus that it's going to be a real heart-jerker for me: sexual attraction & beauty, falling in love with whom & why, lovers from friends, friends with benefits, being single, non-monogamy, sources of conflict between the sexes, ex-sex, jealousy, infidelity, abuse, deterioration of a relationship, etc. And that's just a small slice of the pie.

For a long time I have felt myself too plagued to ever be able to enter another romantic relationship, and I've almost too comfortably come to terms with it. Some people pine away at the idea of finding an unearthly partner, helplessly drawn into the raptures of love, and spending the rest of their lives with that person, but I am not one of them. I would be content to be single for the rest of my life, but certain things, like human emotion, seem to get in the way. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised to find that I'm not alone in this mindset, especially among females. Upon talking to a few of my neighbors, though their philosophies not quite as drastic mine, the concept of being in love was supported as being an undesirable thing, at least for the time being, and they were performing careful balancing acts in their lives to ensure what they did have going on did not turn into something too extreme.

What surprises me more is how few people actually know what a healthy relationship is. I, myself have never seen the light of one, though I like to think that I have a good grasp of my own emotions and understanding my interactions with other people. However, I may have to eat my words, for what scares me more than what a potential partner could do to me, is what I could, and have, done to myself. For as F.D.R so kindly admonished:

"Beware the werewolf and your own heart's desire."

I have a feeling there will be many more posts regarding what I'll be getting from this class.

Another Successful Orbit Around the Sun

It's been a hell of a year, and while 2008 turned out to be immensely different from what I'd hoped for, the ride forced me to grow and set things in perspective. There were a number of undesirable (internal as well as external) occurrences, but I can't say my first year of living in San Francisco was a bad one. I'm truly grateful to be able to reside in such an exciting and culturally rich city. And the few good friends I've made here, as well as the ones I've kept from back home have made the occasional urban blues so much more bearable.

I could fix up pretty much everything in my life right now, but my only real new year's resolution is this: to shed away the unnecessary and detrimental emotions that have burdened and hindered my development for too long. Life is overwhelming. We all know this. But does it always have to be? I put ridiculous amounts of energy into adhering to a stubborn pattern of adversity for myself, and I am tired of it.

I might as well list a few things I accomplished this past year, just to wrap up the last Earth-Sun revolution on a positive note:

1) Lived on my own (with amazing friend-roommates, and with other pretty terrible ones).
2) Set specific and high academic goals (for the first time in my life).
3) Worked my first full-time job (then drank away my stress with the coworkers).
4) Remained celibate for 11 months (though this crosses over into half of 2007, and I never intend on going back).
5) Got back into reading for my own interest (Crichton rules).
6) Increased muscle mass (not quite what it was at 19, but always room for improvement).
7) Allowed myself to develop deep feelings for someone of the opposite sex again (i.e. letting go of the axiom "I hate ALL straight men").


And of course, a poem, written a few months ago:

Time has been bent
into the shape of memory
to produce this peculiar feeling, I get
as a stranger, no longer
to your absence
for in your departure, I was thrown off balance
but never truly expected
your return to the planet
and to find you in my orbit again
gives rise to subliminal emotions
hidden there, all along
hinting at remnants of friendship, now gone
and thickening the atmosphere between us.
I hesitate to contact you
whereas once, in retrospect, I never would
but old habits have no basis
in the present
and cannot support what hasn't
existed, for so long
where you've been and where you are now
is much too far,
though is not a matter of distance, for me,
but one of holding on
or forgetting.

A Late Tribute to Michael Crichton

I recently finished reading Crichton's Congo and am actually sorry that I'm done. This novel has completely enthralled and sustained me the past 2 weeks. There have been days when I literally woke up with the thought of continuing the next chapter as my only motivation to get out of bed. There is something so sharp about Crichton's writing: his ability to employ real-life concepts and modern events and then amplify it into a masterpiece of fiction. I'm not ashamed to admit that part of my interest in science has come from reading his works. Any author that has the ability to stir people's curiosity about the world, and in my case, the waking life deserves our ultimate respect and will be immortalized forever.

Walt Whitman was a brilliant man

Walt Whitman on Living, Dying, and Loving

Of Him I Love Day and Night

Of him I love day and night I dream'd I heard he was dead,
And I dream'd I went where they had buried him I love, but he was
not in that place,
And I dream'd I wander'd searching among burial-places to find him,
And I found that every place was a burial-place;
The houses full of life were equally full of death, (this house is now,)
The streets, the shipping, the places of amusement, the Chicago,
Boston, Philadelphia, the Mannahatta, were as full of the dead as
of the living,
And fuller, O vastly fuller of the dead than of the living;
And what I dream'd I will henceforth tell to every person and age,
And I stand henceforth bound to what I dream'd,
And now I am willing to disregard burial-places and dispense with them,
And if the memorials of the dead were put up indifferently everywhere,
even in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied,
And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my own corpse, be duly
render'd to powder and pour'd in the sea, I shall be satisfied,
Or if it be distributed to the winds I shall be satisfied.

A Living Always, Always Dying

O living always, always dying!
O the burials of me past and present,
O me while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever;
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not, I am content;)
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and
look at where I cast them,
To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind.

Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me?

Are you the new person drawn toward me?
To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy'd satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this facade, this smooth and tolerant
manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?

don't know what to do

I am currently at a pivotal point in my school career and life, but I am completely conflicted about which route to take. The past 2 semesters since I transferred have been utterly unproductive, and while I've enjoyed my life upon moving to SF, I need to start getting serious.

So do I attempt to take on the burden of studying Physics and Astronomy? Or do I go back to my original love: English.

Plunging into Calculus was a mistake. Physics 111 was a nightmare. These blatant signals all flash red and point me in the direction of giving up. While the thought of doing this takes off a shitload of weight off my shoulders, I can't help but feel extremely disappointed and broken-hearted, deep down.

I have never truly challenged myself. I have never believed in myself. And this was my chance. But am I just kidding myself?

I don't know what to do. And I feel like the ambivalence is tearing me down.

All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman erect upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.
-W.B. Yeats, from "The Wild Old Wicked Man"

Summer is over

August was the time of my life,
I turned 21 and drank all the time.
September I rejoined humanity,
I met a cute girl at a bar
and ended my celibacy.
But now October has come,
the wind has chilled
the summer is gone
All Hallow's Eve is near
and it's time to face my demons.

Bones

You always knew
that if you dug hard enough
the bones would start to show
so it came as no surprise
when the cartilage began to intrude
upon the tender tissue
which surrounded the stabbing sensation inside
you turned away from grief, content,
only to find it still resides.
And now, allowed to fester for so long
beneath the skin
No wonder, that sadness has become infected;
mutated, from its original form
and hardened, to take on a more tangible contour.
Where sorrow once dwelled,
Fury now reigns.
Someday, there will be a healing membrane
to replace the initial hurt,
instead of this thick, discolored skeleton
protruding from your shirt.

Closure

Katya: Sometimes, even if you have the keys those doors still can't be opened. Can they?
Jeremy: Even if the door is open, the person you're looking for may not be there, Katya.

-My Blueberry Nights

Solar Eclipse

This past weekend, on my 21st birthday, the moon passed in front of the sun, and was visible from northern Canada to certain areas of China. Although I could not be there to see it, August 1st was a memorable day for me as I felt loved by those around me, as well as the ones who could not be present for either of these premier events. Twenty-one is definitely a milestone, not only for the obvious legal liberties (which I've taken full advantage of), but for the realization that I cannot escape life by wishing for death, nor will death come any sooner. Although suicide became exempt from my options long ago, life continues to be an uphill struggle, but I have learned to deal with these hardships in light of an end which I can deem worthwhile. All in all, I know I have more to be grateful for than cross, as is enunciated by my friends, family, and this picture:

old photographs

All we ever see of the stars are their old photographs.

-The Watchmen

Ruminations

Here I am. This is my college life. And when I look at it I see that it is nearly perfect; that aside from my accumulated debt, I am living the life I wanted for this stage. The older I get, the more I understand and accept that nothing is stable, that every negative emotion and situation that comes my way will pass with the days, seasons, and years. It is utterly amazing to me that the sun always rises, even in this cold city, after any dreary or turbulent night, and throughout, as well as following, this lonely life.


The Doppler Shift

Such an array of emotions
from the distance, I am captivated by the simplicity of its truth
but up close, and in the raw
I am heartbroken by the knowledge
that the most luminescent
will be the most hard
to experience; to absorb into the center of this retina
with a reception much too skewed and limited
to perceive from.
These colors are cruel
they breach misery from their roots.
So when the shift comes to change my view
from the sweetly blue to a harsh and daunting red
I can already tell, and ruefully accept:
there will be many more moments before I perish
that I shall wish to be dead.

The Murder

I pray you can't tell
I pray I never show
the depths of these emotions
which I so viciously feel.
So I stifle them well
like a murder victim, gagged and bound
held at gunpoint, 'till the trigger held taut
relaxes, and before the muscles can unrestrain,
the detonation hits my head,
and penetrates the skull.
The only sound -
the shock of death, so frighteningly loud
but only exists
between my own ears
and merely echoes
throughout closely confined chambers
of this heart.

Notes from my trip to Taiwan last Winter

The Mold (written Jan 10, 2008)

I put my trapped life on hold
to lay back, observe, and rinse away the mold.
Though the stain will still leave the glass discolored,
I would rather rip away the hurt
than leave these heavy layers uncovered.

It is not enough to be loved;
one must be understood.


Bury Your Dead (written around Jan 4, 2008)

Those who do not bury their dead
will feel the fury of memory at their windowsills
and no matter how hard you slam down the glass
the shutters will still murmur their utterances.
There is no need to avoid the gravesite,
you sleep with a corpse next to your head
and when you reach out to caress the body you once loved,
it will reek of a dead man's scent.
So be it, your misgivings were so unfairly placed
upon the living, but when the phantom's touch instead
becomes a choking clutch, you will have wished
you had left the dead buried.


One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul, yet no one ever comes to sit by it. Passers-by only see a wisp of smoke from the distance and continue on their way.
~Vincent Van Gogh

It is just in learning to suffer without complaint, in learning to look on pain without repugnance, that you risk vertigo, and yet it is possible, yet you may even catch a glimpse of a vague likelihood that on the other side of life we shall see good reason for the existence of pain, which seen from have sometimes so fills the whole horizon that it takes on the proportions of a hopeless deluge. We know very little about this, about its proportions, and it is better to look at a wheat field, even in the form of a picture.
~Vincent Van Gogh


It's not enough to conquer; one must know how to seduce.
~Voltaire

If we don't find anything pleasant, at least we shall find something new.
~Voltaire

If God did not exist, he would have to be invented.
~Voltaire

Minds differ still more than faces.
~Voltaire

The heart is simple; fixing it is complicated. ~Tadpole the movie


(Jan 13, 2008)

On the flip side of sadness, there is anger.

My skull is burning. I long to die.

Estranged

a poem about first moving to the city.

This is not my life
It is someone else's
I am only the shadow of the body,
dragging, lagging - and walking helpless
Which would explain why, every object-
street, tree, and person alive
seems cold and alien
Strange, to be subject to one's own existence
as a distant relative, dissociated
Just as the serpent sheds away a previous form of skin,
like him, my own has left me behind
now I run to chase the darkness of a sudden asymmetry,
lopsided, in feeble attempt to find
the comfort of a former home.

My Next Journey

Don't come near me.
My next trip will be on a red-sheeted gurney
I've lost track of all sight, but I can tell
that life's no longer a journey.
It is an ending waiting to manifest;
It never should have started, now I hate to admit:
I lived my life sleeping in the cellar
of someone else's heart
It pounded loud and lucid
but always left me in the dark.
Now there's not enough blood pumping
to satisfy my own breathing.
My last wish is to leave this bed in peace
for this is the trivial sound
of an existence unraveling.

The Pulp

I placed the fault upon others
when the seed resided within myself,
and when others cared enough to touch me
the pulp began to develop:
What started small and insignificant,
sprouted thorns and leaves, while I,
powerless to cease my own vegetation
became dependent upon an artificial fertilization.
What I thought was love - was poison.
I thrived on a toxin so exquisite, the taste
never quite left my recollection
Now it courses through my veins, like acid
rendering every feeble cell, contaminated. Well,
everyone knows the only way to kill the vine
is to trace it back to the roots, unfortunately mine
lay at the center of all my breaths and fruits:
the Heart, so be it.
I will be satisfied when the job is completed;
when I suffer from my own obsessions no more,
my body will be depleted.

the cancer

I was trying not to let it spread
as it lay, heavy, against my chest
but the cancer became a welcome guest
and I; its host -
It greedily fed
upon the empty niche inside my breast
see, I was a glutton
for unrest, from the very onset
of this life I led
and it won't be much longer, now
my heart's almost gone.
they say, "Death be not proud"
but they were wrong.
I am filled with pride:
the darkness gives me strength, and desire,
and drive
to walk not only through euphoria vines
but to battle this perpetual oppression of night
and relief, in knowing
that someday,
I may end my fight.

Glad

Glad to understand that you never saw much in me i remember being terrified of what you would think knowing my looks were lacking and my personality insufficient but what really mattered was not my overall disposition but just a human presence you wanted to fill in the missing segments she took with her when she left and the trauma you suffered last summer i don't blame you i feel for you i can't compare to but i must admit i felt dead before i met you i liked it because you were a blow to my pride i let it down for yours and now i'm paying the price even as i watched all this happen i was aware of a painful recurrence i nurtured another developing ache now it's swollen it's just the same old still i wonder if you ever thought of her when you were with me when you lay with me and touched my skin yours was icy cold it stung my lips it doesn't matter i created meaning to something which didn't exist i'm glad i was good enough for the moment just a substance to make you forget or act as another ephemeral high i hope what you said wasn't a lie that you really liked me not just to stroke my broken ego or an attempt for atonement i think the move was a smart one to protect your heart from those who would destroy it i hope you heal from your hurt and the damage she's done i understand you deserved someone after her defective love glad i could be of assistance grateful for what heartsickness you added to my experience and finally glad you let me go before i could show resistance.

temporary insanity

Good to know I never parted with insanity
good to know I'm still a living piece of shit
For a moment there
thought I might've had a chance to quit
all these self-damaging fabrications of hurt
they're not real, no not legit,
then how the fuck did they get in?
Do you know the reason I'm fascinated by God
is that I don't believe in Him
I'm enthralled by the beauty of all incantations
but have no regard for sin.
remember I'm a walking piece of shit
i seek love where there is none left
I am the body
of the soul gone dead.

I hate insomnia

Because I've got trouble sleeping at night
I exhaust my body's energy until
my mind can no longer hold the abuse
It collapses on the other side -
as the unconcscious takes this opportunity to let loose,
the inner eye seeks but does not find
and what is not seen is devoured with time.
So when I wonder what is gnawing inside my chest
when I wake to morning fog.
Is not the lack of oxygen
But an internal perception temporarily lost.

the stranger blues

people are strange
and she's just another stranger passin' by.
had to get the hell out of my room
before i died
from lying in an idle position too damn long
feeling my soul hurting like no other
deteriorating and withering away, whaddya say
stranger? you can be my lover for a few days
and then we can get the fuck outta each other's lives.
how does that sound? just fine.
that's just fine.
i soothe the innercore by blowin my trumpet horn.
i satisfy the outercore by blowin dough at the cd store.
i satisfy the crust by buyin a brand new tee
i've got the stranger blues, but it fits me perfectly.
i'd rather not know you.
after all, you're just another stranger to me.

My Own Butcher

Still don't know what to believe
but you say i wasn't a tool.
i accept the way i feel for you
i accept how you don't.
besides unreturned emotions are far better than most
there are worse states of mentality...
and i butchered my arm off before it got ugly,
before the limb developed a mind of its own - dismembered,
along with a loss of hope.
i cope, so shakily.
you faked, your vacancy.
i moved right in, suitcases filled, teeming with exhilaration
at the simple coziness of your rib case.
i didn't know a living ghost lingered;
didn't notice
the bloodstains on the couch.
i must've been too busy kissing your mouth.
or bathing in blankets of raunchy affection
i naively mistook for flame.
(hasn't this happened before?)
but it was real from my side of the bed, by the way.
(i hope i never say that again.)
so props to you and your name.
in one week
you turned a rational being insane.
and i'm suffering now because i still adore you.
excuse me please, while i keep my insides from caving.

Answering my Own Questions

i don't really want to answer my own questions;
don't feel the need to answer to my old demons
i left enough of them behind.
but lately, with you on mind
why, i'm the epitome of glee,
succeeded by a penetrating misery.
this, i safely hide.
but it's got me on edge.
while i strain from tapping again the end of a cigarette,
damn it's got me fucking irritated.
i can't find you-
inside your head
while you're inside mine.

i'm just a lopsided star

I must've believed I was made of elastic
straining myself in five different directions
and even though the pressure shrieked frantic,
the band should've snapped sooner than unexpected.
and now I retreat back to size,
defeated.
Fuck.
I cannot afford to lose any one point.
For one connection omitted means a lopsided star.
the story of my life: a center-missing heart.

MISERY LOVES COMPANY

floating on contentedness
is just a strange way of loving both sides of the coin.
not exactly cloud nine, but that's besides the point
the point is happiness; that is the cure.
that is the only way to get by, even if it doesn't always work.
i can't keep my head above water if everyone else is drowning
i can't keep my mask of smiles if yours is frowning.
can't you see
how you are affecting me.
these dominos are just plain fucking depressing.
and you know i'm willing
but you can only drag it out so far till we both head down,
sinking.
let's find us some remedy.
there's got to be better ways of dealing
and right now you're the best thing i've got for coping.
SO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!

my life so far

Finally
giving myself a break
and pulling away from the skin I tore,
from the late-night reevaluations, adjustments, philosophical epiphanies, and more.
Much like waking up to a hangover without the migraine
knowing something big's gotta change...
It's such a pain; memories of methods we used for coping,
the mind is such a great thing to rearrange
and continuously apt for leeway...
How do you describe experiencing the middle road?
The feeling of being perfectly happy being alone
and at the same time wishing it weren't so.
My contentedness lies within my ambivalence.
My loneliness is only a side effect of this condition.
If I can get through this,
I know I'm a glutton for bliss.

You Make It Better

I grow restless
I shot a clean one to my head
But what's this the bullet has not yet penetrated
It's been filtered out by your presence
It's been blocked off, and now i'm saved by your love.
Oh it's more than I could ask for
It's more than a boyfriend
Because it means you've dug my insides, made it cake, instead.

i'm not a fucking fish

i didn't make you a clam
but i did pry you open
and your timing was just right
when you slammed shut on my hand.
i screamed for escape; i belong not in the water.
but the salt in my eye makes leaving you much harder.
did you think i could fully love you?
do gills grow from your ass?
i told you i'm not a fish; I'M NOT A FUCKING FISH!!!
you wouldn't believe me -
now look what's happened:
i threw you against a sinking ships sail, for cushion.
i hope you survived,
now leave me in the past.

well aren't i exasperated to the point of snapping!
what an intriguing world of Mammals this is:
we all need each other we're all searching for each other.
and we'll find it when the archealogists discover our bones with shock,
and so meticuously assemble it together for us.
so what's the fucking point.
there is no need to hide anymore
there is no real meaning to our lives but whatever we can.
it's only a matter of time now till impact
until i find my soul's goal and land.

Lump

I think I must enjoy being this lying lump of pity
yearning still for your dissipating memory,
I exhausted it long ago.
Would you be scared to know
I still piece it together
with scraps and glue
with obsession and gloom
with my own heart's desire for an artificial fuel.
It keeps me going, keeps me moving
in hopes of finding someone to fill that place.
your presence is too large; there is no space,
yet I keep you there as the centerfold.
i think i must enjoy loneliness
i've rejected every good thing that's come my way
there's truth to the statement after all:
not all men are dogs.
then why can't i seem to get my head from the clouds; the fog
distorts my view
I can't seem to realize
that there might be someone more magnificent than you.

Being a Stalker is No Fun

i think i'm dying of loneliness
i think i'm being eaten alive from inside my organs
my senses are lost to every numb cell
no longer fighting the leeches' teeth
a hopeless battle; a cause unworthy
of your salvation or your heed.
how i hate
how i can taste the starched dryness of this one-way love
this disgusting obsession i cannot escape from
so consuming, so embarrassingly painful to know
this is what i have become:
no longer a person,
but a Stalker in your eyes.
i wish to destroy myself from sight.
i wish to free you from my life.

The Skin I'm In

i have built so much since my days of darkness
i have struggled through the stench of self-pity
i wash myself clean
but it's never quite thorough enough
to get between pressure-induced cracks hidden beneath inadequacies.
i conceal my face, my body, my layers of doubt
but ooh, i never hide my scarred arms anymore.
let my mutilated vitality leak through; i am in fact alive after drowning
i survived the wreckage; i am no longer in danger of ceased breathing.
still, it's so much easier to retreat
than to compare myself
the way he compared me to those beauties
those forms of goddesses; their thighs were not fat or pore-stricken
their bodies softly curved, and eyelashes gracefully aligned
their femininity not perfect, but somehow more substantial than mine
and on days like these i am reminded
of everything i've tried so hard not to be:
a self-reprimanding figure of ugliness,
a gluttonous result of low self-esteem.
well, fuck that.
i am not a marble sculpture,
my skin is my own.
i will take my fill of self-love and happiness
even if i have to take it alone.

corny...but it WORKS...

"There are too many people praying for mountains of difficulty to be removed, when what they really need is courage to climb them." -unknown

my failed experiment

you were a beautiful experiment
which failed miserably
the tube cracked under the pressure
of such stinging heat in chemicals stirred with belligerence
and my futile effort to save you, running my thumb against cracked glass,
worriedly watching over you, scrutinizing those last few drops
sadly, hoping for more than failed result
finding nothing but the common elements:
sentiments, some annoyance, and affliction
i kept the remaining pieces, affectionately, protectively
until one day i cut myself on them, accidentally
i realized they were never meant to mix
now i only use water.

Black Hole

I cannot explain your essence
I cannot explain the aura of your being.
you are only flesh and blood,
but somehow, your body is refracted back
as deep, abysmal mystery
Like the sun-tinted horizon
at the end of a Black Hole
you are soft and warming, but ultimately
unreachable
Unreachable.
That is your name.
That is the irony of your beauty,
so enthralling by nature, a true gem in the sky
only to find you as a pitch-black vacuum of light,
sucking away the agony from life
replacing it instead, returning those who enter,
with emptiness.
and an obliqueness of your mind.

Devil's Whore

It is like there is a world I cannot reach
The bridge is burnt.
The gate's slammed shut.
I am a fraud for even peering over the edge.
I belong to neither side
the unwanted child; a bastard's creation,
undeserving of true affection.
I stuff myself of scraps and pieces,
here and there.
Greedily devouring what others will throw,
I will take your love if you'll give it;
I am the devil's whore.
I am so confused.

can't sleep, but this made me feel better

maybe if i drink something hot
i can put myself to sleep
enwrap my body in the safety of the soothing, drowsy steam
and resist the urge to stain tobacco on my teeth.
no, instead please
guide me down, turn my dreams to your lipped kiss, mildly...
but what i hear is not my heart that's pounding
THAT'S MY HEAD.
my god, it's going to hammer me consciously to death!
what a slow, excruciating torture
jammed open from the sore muscles on my eyelids
the veins threaten to burst from their threads
to guarantee i'll be a dysfunctional mess,
early next morning
as soon as i stumble out of bed.
let me live, get me on meds...

an island in novato

Is it time to move on?
I cannot.
I am the solid stone jammed in the sand
The water rises above my head to wash away the wreckage,
alter my view, and bring new plans
But there you remain.
You are a breath of fresh air to a dying sea
You are an anchor luring down suicide's name.
I am your greatest fan.
Your loyal mapper; I believe in your location, a latitude of faith.
I stumbled upon you, an obscure, alien island
Those who discover your riches
sink to their deaths in your lands.
This is why I watch from afar, safe as I perceive it
Though secretly I long for your wrath,
floating on this pathetic raft
waiting, waiting
for my rescue at last...

A moon-bound vessel bound to take me far from you.

take me away

take me to a place
far from here
cut and chase
away all miseries and longings
all hopeful inclinations of a simplistic solace
so difficult to find it's complex
so fucking sick
of searching
i'm so sick of feeling alien in my own body
of this parasite living inside my head
he's taken over and won't let go
he's grasping so tight i feel i'll choke
but he's all i know
if i stay safe in my comfort zone i'll be alright
i can drown in my own saliva at least then
i'll be warm

best valentines day ever

how is it possible that i'm single and i had a better valentine's day than i ever had with a bf? even though i only got about 6 or 7 hours of sleep last night i woke up happy and wide awake today. yesterday i dressed in red, hot for work, sunny day, enjoying my new job, got valentines wishes from a new friend in class and my cousin alice, a phonecall from an old high school buddy, had anthony come over at 11 last night to gorge ourselves with coldstone heart strawberry chocolate ice cream cakes and laugh till 1 a.m...

this weekend i am driving down to LA to the sports camp counselor meeting with calli and alex and have a campout. calli is raving about how i'll meet a ton of cool ppl and how it'll be such a blast. i'm excited but honestly, i'm a little nervous too. i'm sure my social skills won't fail on me, but still. i'm not used to putting myself out there for things like this. still, i'm happy with my life and i think there's a lot of stuff to look forward to.

i'm fucking 18, pretty much on my own, and i'm not gonna be fucking unhappy or lonely anymore

I'm entering a new phase of my life called, "i'm fucking 18, pretty much on my own, and i'm not going to be fucking unhappy or lonely anymore."

i am loving all the new friendships i'm making in my deanza classes. it gives me hope that perhaps i will be able survive in this world, and i will not have to go at it alone. alex and i came to a new revelation, thanks in part to calli, that we don't need a significant other to sustain us, that if our relationships with our friends/family are strong enough, they can make up for it and we can get through life content. sometimes things still get so hard. what if the void comes back, esp. after alex and anthony leave? it is easy to make aquaintances, but to find the real, deeper connection that i share with my two best friends is a different story. and with my not-so-exciting personality? we will see. i have hope.

i wish i could be more useful

I guess my loneliness was a tool for your own
you trap me in your blender, mix it on high
pieces blur together like sadness and wine
i'm such a sucker for love
i'm such a loser i have no idea what's going on
in your head things play out over and over to a dreaded nights sleep
and when you wake up i'll try to be there
i'll try to be there

but it's like running through broken furniture and water
it's like thinking you came out on top right before you go back under
i'm so scared
you'll quit breathing and then what happens next?
you're so fragile you didn't notice that despair crept
up on you
while you slept

and i'm all smiles right up to my ears
i'm nervous because your voice confirms my fears
and i don't know what to do i want to comfort you
but i'm at a loss for words
i'm at a loss for emotions and now i know i've lost you

how i felt then and now

Low self-esteem can take a hike
or at least ride in the backseat for now
I'm done with bitchin and never getting anything done
I'm done with the high of feeling like a loser and never expecting one
good thing to come my way and be genuine, say
would you like to be my girlfriend?
My god, I'm scared shitless
your body frame is small but you fill up a whole lot of space
right here beneath my lung case
I'm gonna fuck it up, I know I will
nervously slap and streak on my makeup an hour before
no but I'll never be good enough for you, not until
you say you're mine and even then your beauty so unique
blows my mind, and transcends gender
You came along at just the right time
just right after that loser what's-his-face split
Holy shit, I think I'm gonna die
We're both an hour late but that's okay
I'm dressed in a short skirt and ready to rock n' roll
from the corner of my eye behind you
you turn your head back to catch my stroll
what a great feeling
kiss me with those scorching eyes,
see through me with that soft mouse smile
i'm upside down on the inside, so we leave the Rocky Horror show
and have ourselves a ball
i'll sit back at home happy disoriented waiting for your call
that'll never come, that'll never come
i'm so much in love
with something that never was.

Derma

I claim no one for myself
I battle inner demons and lonliness bouts
I take only enough to maintain my health
and then some, sometimes...
but that is only because I forget where I stand
when the wind has shaken my sense of validity
and my eyes sting from a hailing reality
I cannot hold solid to the ground.
My legs grow weak where your love is concerned
which is no concern of yours at all
why, it's only a fraction of your life in return
for my bloody heart pestering every waking moment
of this existence, just knowing of your existence
is like sun to sky
spreading every inch of warmth through the nerves
then burning the hell out from these cells of derm
my skin is thin
it breaks too easily
much too sensitive to just let you in
but i do,
and so it begins.

Sadness Falls

Sadness falls
like a furrowed, dripping leaf
Gravity takes you lovingly by the hand
caresses and slowly pulls you down
to a gritty, cemented grief.
The scent of asphault intertwined with rain
like emotions mixed with bodily pain
is almost too much to bear

Bullshit

stand in fog
wait for news of the inevitable
gloomy calm
is all to name the indescribable.
a family torn apart by thunder
it's like waiting to die,
like trying to block the sound of drumfire
and explosions outside
and supress the fear
of breakdowns and screams at night.

doesn't it make you sad to think of the very beginning?
an old photograph kept in my head
the happy couple is whole again
they never endured the loss of innocence
never crossed the bridge to death
never had a child, 2 actually
to breathe in life so they could witness
so much agony
it's bullshit.

threshold

I feel like I'm right at the very threshold of happiness, but there's something so simple and so obvious that I just can't see that's keeping me from it. And I think I know what that is, but it's just so difficult. It's buried too deeply. At least I can now take a step out of my body and realize it.

time to get a new job

that's right!

o yea, and about a hundred-yr-old couple dented my car this evening! i'm having such a wonderful day!

thank god for anthony, who took me out to eat at cheescake factory to make me feel better.

alkaline trio show

so i saw my favorite band play last night. rock shows are all about getting up to the very front and being so close to everyone else that you're pushed and swayed and stepped on and elbowed and soaked in sweat, a little yours but mostly from all the other the bodies your slammed against...and i admit it was fun, but sometimes it got to be too much for me. i was there to support my fav band, but there were times when i wanted to breathe too while watching them. Alkaline Trio should NOT have been an opener for My Chemical Romance, but truth be told, i was a little disappointed by my experience in the audience and how my chemical romance outshined my band. i should have stepped back just a little to really take in and enjoy the music. o well, i still love them to death.

and i dunno why, afterwards i just felt a little lonely.

even though it won't last

i'm pretty happy nowadays, for the most part.

school starts monday, got all my books. a whoppin $230. not including Brave New World.

i'll be studying in ITALY for spring qtr!

within the next month i'll be going to 5 concerts...first one (nin w/ queens of the stone age) starts this friday!

i've got enough to get my skull heart tattoo in a couple weeks...shh.

sax lessons are going great. this instrument is damn sexy.

because i have social anxiety disorder

ya know, even though i really only have 2 friends that i hang out with, my life feels more than full. even a little overwhelming at times, but i love them. in fact, whenever i try to include a new person to my life, it seems to take up so much energy on my part that i begin to wonder if it's even worth it and eventually cast them out, like a floating bubble that slowly levitates and pops. it's just that i'm such a shy and guarded person. it's emotionally draining to be forced past my social comfort zone for too long. i'd love to make new friends, but it's difficult.

treated my old friend brian to a meal at the gourmet diner for his last night in cupertino. he's off to ucla. i've lost touch with him too, i know, but tonight was great. starting school myself will be stressful but a relief at the same time. this summer has been long and dreamlike, with certain moments like nightmares, some emptily comatose, and some like the sweetest taste of heaven.

now that i finally no longer feel the need to smoke, anthony has gone and bought some strawberry cigarillos! oh rats...

Peach Cigarillo

Once I couldn't get you out of my head
You're similar to but much stronger than my first cigarette
or the peach cigarillo that wouldn't burn at the end
it took 50 tries for the flame to give
And when it did
You set my heart on fire
then flicked away the ashes like you didn't give a shit.
Oh, the first taste is always the sweetest
the inhalation burns my throat
But I don't mind
I was dead inside
the emptiness ate at me from the core
like waking up thinking there's nothing to live for
until the smoke reached my head and opened my eyes
that was you
the greatest high of my life.
now I turn to fumes to light up the times.

un-high

Let me tell you. I have never been more happy to be un-high than right now in my life. That scared the shit out of me. I am taking better care of Annie from now on.

Smokennnnnnn'

ever since guillermo's party, i've had this obsession with smoking anything i can get my hands on. hookah, cigarettes, whatever. well, really, i use these as a substitute for what i've really been wanting, but that's alright, even cigarettes can get me a little buzzed.

the get-together at anthony's was lots of fun. smoked hookah and didn't sleep at all, went home at 7 a.m to help my brother pack and see him off for ucsd again. then work, work, work. i can't wait for my own school to start, even if it is just De Anza. i want to meet new people and move my life forward (and see all the freakin' concerts in october!). didn't do anything too big this summer, but there have been a few experiences that have had quite an impact on me.

i can proudly, finally, say i AM over my ex and our past horrible, tumultuous relationship. and this may not be very often or last very long, but for the most part, i am happy.

what?!?!?

i'm so confused. last night i went to a party at guillermo's and had my first weed 'baptism'. i don't think i got that high but i did feel the world get very light. something guillermo said made me think. i'm really just searching for understanding, like everyone else in this messed up world.

i was still a bit lightheaded at work but i felt okay. god this is so much easier than alcohol! then gradually as the day progressed i crashed, and i got really tired, couldn't think, could barely function at the register. it didn't help that the system on my register also crashed in the middle of a transaction, and somehow i always stumble my words or get confused and sound like a freakin idiot in front of my managers. DAMMNIT!!! i hate looking stupid.

anyways now i'm pretty low, and i really just want to go hang out with anthony and watch 'skeleton key' and laugh and be okay and forget everything for awhile. cuz i do find understanding in anthony, and maybe for a bit w/ guillermo.

the hole is getting bigger

This bleedin' life
I wake up to reject the sun and try to fall back asleep
My dreams are incoherent thoughts of you
however unreal,
I'll take what happiness I can and leave
Go to work and come back home
The hole is getting bigger but somehow doesn't show
Unlike the scars on my arms
No one wants to ask but they already know
what the hell they're from
It doesn't matter, the pain's enough
to know I am in fact alive.
And these stupid, stupid boys
They think they can save me.
They offer me drugs
They offer me love
Don't they know
all I feel is fucking numb.

depression is rage turned inwards

popular quote Freud, and i don't agree with everything he thought but this he nailed right on. now i'm not saying i'm Depressed but i can significantly identify with this, especially lately. i don't know what it is but i just feel this antsy need to escape from my stupid, boring, boring ass self or from this uneventful life i'm leading. i hate myself sometimes. i hate being plain and shy and inarticulate, uncreative, unsocial, unable to make people love me. i know this sounds trite, but i want to be someone else. no, i just want to be someone. someone with personality.

2 nights ago i ran up to Hunter's Point with Anthony. i'm so out of shape. my temples were pounding like hell by the time i got up there. but the view was beautiful. anthony pointed out the Golden Gate from up there to our left. it looked so close. we ate Doritos and drank Arizona ice tea and i took some pictures of anthony. it was a lonely feeling being up there, but not. at least i have anthony, one close friend i was able to keep throughout high school's many changes. and yes, alex deserves some credit for this year too.

actually

actually, the more time i spend thinking about it, the more i can remember things about my parents and the way they interacted with me (or didn't) which might have caused me to be the way i am. it's weird 'cuz i haven't thought of these memories for years.

then again, it's also in the genes.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

Last Saturday was the night I'd been excited and nervous as hell for! It was weird ass but I loved it and the weird ass night/early morning that followed. Thanks Anthony, Alex, Cameron for taggin along. Damn, I've got a crush.

living with the past but still alive

Steve was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I hate him so much it keeps me awake at night.

Welp, happy to announce I just got a job at Bed Bath & Beyond, and it is by far the best paying and most clean (no greasy pizzas or sandwiches!) job I've ever had.

I will also be staying at DeAnza for a little longer, because I know I can do better.