There's a girl who keeps puking and it's gross. I would be more sympathetic had I believed she was really sick. I don't think she is. She and her sister room in the suite I had last year, a beautiful room corrupted by two crazy whacked out white girls. I don't like them much. Sometimes the older one screams and screams profanities, and they fight and claw. I can imagine fur and hair flying, like two rabies infested mangy street cats going at it. No one liked them much last semester; they were loud, rude and out of hand. The older one took Russian with me my first and second years here; I found her annoying and quite rude to one of our professors. Ugh.
Well, apparently they've been puking/screaming all week and weekend. Somethings not right. Perhaps one of them is pregnant? Or simply stupid? No, the stupid is a given, the pregnancy a waste. Oh well, let their lives unfold as they will. They'll get theirs somehow, someday.
Today was a long day. I had lab which seemed to last forever, and yet I wasn't able to finish it due to some technical problems my partner was having. Oh well, I really hope it doesn't affect my grade.
I am low today. I am tired and a bit overwhelmed. I have a lot on my plate to figure out.
Academically: my thesis, my sociology project, midterm papers, readings, seminar readings, research, student liason business and events for CST, understanding astro, getting my spring project together for Intouch (which, by the way, I had to start all over; no more GEMS, I'm focusing on getting a Planned Parenthood discussion together).
Socially: some grounding, some organization, some understanding, some piece of mind, some proof of feeling.
I am agitated as well. At what? Who knows? I feel clogged and trapped; I never meant for my life to go this way, but how can I even say I meant for it to go anyway at all? I didn't expect for it to be like this, and I didn't think I'd feel like academia was so big of a sham. I am waiting to get inspired and driven; I am jealous of those with passions and ambitions. I am lazy, perhaps, or maybe a little sad. I just want to feel alive, feel the blood running in my veins, in my head, for me to actually get excited !!!! about something, someone, some dream.
What are my dreams? I can't recall any more. Shit, do I even know who I am? The face in the mirror is a new one everyday, and the words that spill out of my mouth are foreign like a language I don't know. I never meant for it to be like this, and yet, it is.
Hope. It echoes in my head like some sort of salvation: hope. I don't have any. I have nothing but my hands and feet. Now is not a time to feel sorry for myself, but I can't help it. I am afraid, technically, of everything. I'm so used to feeling disappointed and sad and am so bruised from it that I withhold some emotion, withhold from giving just to prevent feeling at all. I am constantly in the fetal position with my hands over my head; even walking to and fro has my mind crawling into the corners of my skull, hiding and whimpering. I am on the defense.
I want you to knock my walls down, and I'd like to enjoy a dream where I'm not constantly fighting for something.
What a shitty day. I hate self revelations and evaluations. People are shit, everything is shit.
I'm going to bed.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
I am ceramic china chafed thighs in vanilla smoke skies.
I am hollowed out chicken bone sheets on inked out sleeves.
Terror wiped eyes on children book faces,
The dawn will bring a truth too quenched to fulfill.
Our bodies are swollen and woolen, full of the water,
Full of the hateful lanolin carded off sheep and fowl, foul play
not necessary.
I am
Running out of time for pieces to fit, for sense
To make right, for might to fly.
Things are never what they seem, when the
Mirror is already cracked and bruised,
Like old summer shoes, our skin is peeling
to older dreams, too brainy to care.
You are witty water worked paper on sanded down pillow cases,
Where I lay my head down and dream of knives and
bloody rat races.
The cheese the prize, the sore the bore, we eat
the fat off the land like some condensed whore; add more
milk. Set to boil. Forget.
(tbc)
**************************
A delightful weekend, indeed. The Oscars were today, I completely did not know. I looked up the nominees and realized I did not see a single film on the lists, except Alice in Wonderland? Haha, so sad. That's what I'm going to do, I 'm going to watch movies more often! Oh if time only allowed it.
http://teaser-trailer.com/movies-2010.html
I'm so sleepy but I have homework to do.
This week should be a little hectic. I'm a little nervous. Last week was nice because things were switched around, however I got nothing done. Bad! Bad, bad, bad!
My throat still hurts. I don't think I remember what it was like to be healthy. This is awful. Absolutely awful. I don't want to cough any more, I don't want to blow my nose, I don't want to grimace when I swallow. Goddamn.
Well, I'm off to do astro. I'm going to the gym in the morning. I love working out. It helps me zone out for a few and just work my body. I miss being an athlete, sometimes. Oh well, I have my goals in sight. It's going to happen!
I am hollowed out chicken bone sheets on inked out sleeves.
Terror wiped eyes on children book faces,
The dawn will bring a truth too quenched to fulfill.
Our bodies are swollen and woolen, full of the water,
Full of the hateful lanolin carded off sheep and fowl, foul play
not necessary.
I am
Running out of time for pieces to fit, for sense
To make right, for might to fly.
Things are never what they seem, when the
Mirror is already cracked and bruised,
Like old summer shoes, our skin is peeling
to older dreams, too brainy to care.
You are witty water worked paper on sanded down pillow cases,
Where I lay my head down and dream of knives and
bloody rat races.
The cheese the prize, the sore the bore, we eat
the fat off the land like some condensed whore; add more
milk. Set to boil. Forget.
(tbc)
**************************
A delightful weekend, indeed. The Oscars were today, I completely did not know. I looked up the nominees and realized I did not see a single film on the lists, except Alice in Wonderland? Haha, so sad. That's what I'm going to do, I 'm going to watch movies more often! Oh if time only allowed it.
http://teaser-trailer.com/movies-2010.html
I'm so sleepy but I have homework to do.
This week should be a little hectic. I'm a little nervous. Last week was nice because things were switched around, however I got nothing done. Bad! Bad, bad, bad!
My throat still hurts. I don't think I remember what it was like to be healthy. This is awful. Absolutely awful. I don't want to cough any more, I don't want to blow my nose, I don't want to grimace when I swallow. Goddamn.
Well, I'm off to do astro. I'm going to the gym in the morning. I love working out. It helps me zone out for a few and just work my body. I miss being an athlete, sometimes. Oh well, I have my goals in sight. It's going to happen!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Gossip, gossip, n***a just stop it
I am a goddamn American, and a woman at that. I am a goddamn female bodied American, and there you sit in your wooden paneled seat deciding if I can fuck, birth, ovulate and live my life correctly. Goddamn!
Last week was a bad week for America. Wisconsin moved to get rid of public worker rights and unions, South Dakota filed for a 'justifiable homicide' bill that would make it 'ok' to kill an abortion provider or anyone harming a fetus, and THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES MOVED TO DEFUND PLANNED PARENTHOOD 230 to 185! WTF. The EPA, PBS and NPR are on the chopping block too, nevermind the 25 million $$$ set aside for Wall Street prevention measures that would stop the repeat of the continuous cheating of our economy today by capitalist megalomaniacs. FUCK. This is so frustrating. However, I do believe the PP defunding is what shattered me the most.
This is a direct attack not only on reproductive rights and services that are ESSENTIAL for women, but an attack on the American family as a WHOLE. PP is NOT synonymous with ABORTIONS...abortions can only be funded by the patient and by state funds if the state is aligned with abortion healthcare. Not a federal dollar goes towards abortions, and last year, only 3% of all PP functions and actions were abortion related. That's out of how many service transactions and appointments last year? hundreds of thousands?!?! PP is synonymous with reproductive healthcare and women's rights. Its through such services that diseases can be kept in check, cancer screenings are made available, contraception is available (all types!) and overall wellbeing checks can be performed on people who can't afford insurance companies' murderous rates and doctor's visits. PP is a good and necessary program and to attack it and defund will not only hurt Americans everywhere, but it'll be a huge step backwards for AMERICA.
PS, since when were Conservatives so adamant about having control over peoples' bodies? Last I heard they hated Michelle Obama for creating a nutrition bill for public schools for 'interfering into private lives' and 'choices'?
BLUE OR RED, Y'ALL HYPOCRITES.
Last week was a bad week for America. Wisconsin moved to get rid of public worker rights and unions, South Dakota filed for a 'justifiable homicide' bill that would make it 'ok' to kill an abortion provider or anyone harming a fetus, and THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES MOVED TO DEFUND PLANNED PARENTHOOD 230 to 185! WTF. The EPA, PBS and NPR are on the chopping block too, nevermind the 25 million $$$ set aside for Wall Street prevention measures that would stop the repeat of the continuous cheating of our economy today by capitalist megalomaniacs. FUCK. This is so frustrating. However, I do believe the PP defunding is what shattered me the most.
This is a direct attack not only on reproductive rights and services that are ESSENTIAL for women, but an attack on the American family as a WHOLE. PP is NOT synonymous with ABORTIONS...abortions can only be funded by the patient and by state funds if the state is aligned with abortion healthcare. Not a federal dollar goes towards abortions, and last year, only 3% of all PP functions and actions were abortion related. That's out of how many service transactions and appointments last year? hundreds of thousands?!?! PP is synonymous with reproductive healthcare and women's rights. Its through such services that diseases can be kept in check, cancer screenings are made available, contraception is available (all types!) and overall wellbeing checks can be performed on people who can't afford insurance companies' murderous rates and doctor's visits. PP is a good and necessary program and to attack it and defund will not only hurt Americans everywhere, but it'll be a huge step backwards for AMERICA.
PS, since when were Conservatives so adamant about having control over peoples' bodies? Last I heard they hated Michelle Obama for creating a nutrition bill for public schools for 'interfering into private lives' and 'choices'?
BLUE OR RED, Y'ALL HYPOCRITES.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Landlocked
You've grown around my heart
like a barnacle on the lost
sunken treasure chest
nestled in the sea's skin. We are drowned lovers,
you and I; you breathe in deep salt smells
that linger on every curl, and
every line. I instead forget to swim when
the storm is coming, and let the sweet
hands of salvation pull me down, down, down
to that bottom. We are reckless and recluse,
hidden away in some nook or cranny waiting
at port for the perfect time to jump ship. The depths call,
but we try not to heed it.
I think of your hands as anchors,
that keep me still when the
waves do nothing but haunt and bleach
my salt stained deck.
And when you're wrapped around me,
you are my mast,
my freedom wing singing
hallelujiah winds at losing sight of land.
Should we grow thirsty, we'll have taste for sea water,
bitter as the plants we harvest and
the words we sow in fallow ground.
The truth is there in all her weathered splendor,
winged and wicked like the tired albatross loosely
bound in twine and string. And should
we grow hungry, the eggs of birds of fish
will taunt our plumped bellied souls into
dreaming of jellied fish and ripped nets;
we are the victims we set our traps to.
So when I jump, you will swallow me whole and keep
me close to that essence I can't own.
And when you set sail, with me on the harbor
buried in wood and stone crosses, remember:
time is a vessel, and us, just the sea.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I am really upset about the Planned Parenthood defunding. I will talk about that tomorrow.
I am way too tired, and way too happy, to be talking about a sore subject like that.
"Let good things happen"
like a barnacle on the lost
sunken treasure chest
nestled in the sea's skin. We are drowned lovers,
you and I; you breathe in deep salt smells
that linger on every curl, and
every line. I instead forget to swim when
the storm is coming, and let the sweet
hands of salvation pull me down, down, down
to that bottom. We are reckless and recluse,
hidden away in some nook or cranny waiting
at port for the perfect time to jump ship. The depths call,
but we try not to heed it.
I think of your hands as anchors,
that keep me still when the
waves do nothing but haunt and bleach
my salt stained deck.
And when you're wrapped around me,
you are my mast,
my freedom wing singing
hallelujiah winds at losing sight of land.
Should we grow thirsty, we'll have taste for sea water,
bitter as the plants we harvest and
the words we sow in fallow ground.
The truth is there in all her weathered splendor,
winged and wicked like the tired albatross loosely
bound in twine and string. And should
we grow hungry, the eggs of birds of fish
will taunt our plumped bellied souls into
dreaming of jellied fish and ripped nets;
we are the victims we set our traps to.
So when I jump, you will swallow me whole and keep
me close to that essence I can't own.
And when you set sail, with me on the harbor
buried in wood and stone crosses, remember:
time is a vessel, and us, just the sea.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I am really upset about the Planned Parenthood defunding. I will talk about that tomorrow.
I am way too tired, and way too happy, to be talking about a sore subject like that.
"Let good things happen"
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sand, sand, sand sand everywhere
The one thing I hate most about the winter is the sand that gets everywhere. Even with slippers on and my shoes outside I manage to sleep in a sandbox every night. Awesome. Not.
I burned 456 calories today at the gym and watched the Celts spank the Nets, even while they got ridiculous calls from Richardson. Jerk. Also, Pierce made a comeback from a really bad game this weekend. PS, Vujacic or whatever the flip his name is can suck it. Whatta cry baby.
Anyways, watching the Celts win at the gym is definitely a plus. And def got my juices going.
However, Mount Holyoke Bball lost...to the Coast Guard? Ouch.
I have an extra ticket for Wiz, shhhiiit. I'mma ask Jules if she's still up for it.
I'm pooped. And a little eh. Tomorrow should be good. I hope. Class consists of drinking coffee in two separate establishments and trying to the make the familiar strange or the strange familiar. Oh sociology.
I burned 456 calories today at the gym and watched the Celts spank the Nets, even while they got ridiculous calls from Richardson. Jerk. Also, Pierce made a comeback from a really bad game this weekend. PS, Vujacic or whatever the flip his name is can suck it. Whatta cry baby.
Anyways, watching the Celts win at the gym is definitely a plus. And def got my juices going.
However, Mount Holyoke Bball lost...to the Coast Guard? Ouch.
I have an extra ticket for Wiz, shhhiiit. I'mma ask Jules if she's still up for it.
I'm pooped. And a little eh. Tomorrow should be good. I hope. Class consists of drinking coffee in two separate establishments and trying to the make the familiar strange or the strange familiar. Oh sociology.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
I'll give you my heart, no one lives there any more...
100 Days start tomorrow. Today, getting out of the shower, I looked in the mirror and almost cried. It's not that I was disgusted or freaked out, it's just I didn't recognize the person standing there. It's not who I am. This is not who I am!
So, I've decided to take agency and to fully come into myself. I'm taking life by the balls; everything is going to change: my organization, my habits, my shit. I have to get this show on the road. No one's going to do it for me. Also, I realize I have so much ambition for my life, so much stuff I want to do and I get motivated for like 12 hours and then before I know it, it's gone, or somehow I feel stupid for even wishing such a thing. Well, I'm high on it now, motivation I mean, so I might as well ride the wave and see where it gets me.
So. 100 days. Tomorrow. I am ready. I start by pulling an all nighter haha. So counter productive, yet, I have a lot to do/prepare for a change of this magnitude.
I do want to stress that I am happy. I really am. What I'm doing now is simply for me and for towards a better quality of life.
Today I had pho with Jenna and her partner Nancy. I missed them so much. It so nice to see them and a completely worthwhile sacrifice of time. They are magnificent. I want them in my pocket forever burning holes with their hot hot love and passion haha. Ohh man, miss them already.
I made a certain someone a 'Get Well' assortment. :)
Wish me luck<3
(Yes, I like you :)).
So, I've decided to take agency and to fully come into myself. I'm taking life by the balls; everything is going to change: my organization, my habits, my shit. I have to get this show on the road. No one's going to do it for me. Also, I realize I have so much ambition for my life, so much stuff I want to do and I get motivated for like 12 hours and then before I know it, it's gone, or somehow I feel stupid for even wishing such a thing. Well, I'm high on it now, motivation I mean, so I might as well ride the wave and see where it gets me.
So. 100 days. Tomorrow. I am ready. I start by pulling an all nighter haha. So counter productive, yet, I have a lot to do/prepare for a change of this magnitude.
I do want to stress that I am happy. I really am. What I'm doing now is simply for me and for towards a better quality of life.
Today I had pho with Jenna and her partner Nancy. I missed them so much. It so nice to see them and a completely worthwhile sacrifice of time. They are magnificent. I want them in my pocket forever burning holes with their hot hot love and passion haha. Ohh man, miss them already.
I made a certain someone a 'Get Well' assortment. :)
Wish me luck<3
(Yes, I like you :)).
Monday, February 7, 2011
meow meow
domesticated
sleep is the cousin of death
so i stay lifted, shifted like fine grains
out of some sort of strainer
pushing my guts out my ears like
sausage spitting meat grinders where
nervosas are flowers in life's great wonderful
fucking garden, my thoughts like weeds
plowing through god's good seed spilled on
fallow, hungry, dry earth.
this is that moment when the moon
even hides its face outta boredom
from peeking in too much trying to gain a
pervert knowledge of my turns and curves
the way my spine collects at the dimple above my
ass, where the bruise keeps singing every time i press it...
yeah that's how i'll remember you.
ugly, yellow, outlined in a purple hue hugging
onto muscle craters that once would produce
strong children.
or so grandmother says.
it's that type of night where nightmares come
peeking outta closets and nestling onto the bookshelf
eating pages outta my mysteries and legends,
already foretelling a bad ending and i
forget to breathe knowing all these bad ass
bitches think they have me pieced together,
think they know me so well
like some sort of piece of worn leather you wear
over that softly torn cheek i told you to turn over
every time i spat in your face, your eyes, you are beat.
sleep, the cousin of death crowds this room
asking me why i hate him so and all i can
recall is that moment on my back when clarity came
knocking but I was too fucking dry to make a noise,
a peep, just a fuckin squeal and i would have been saved.
but instead i took these bruises like badges of honor
from lost sisters, fuck those brothers, stuck in the mud
in the crud, in the lies and the pains every striking blow
aimed. i hate you because i can. i hate you,
because I will. i hate you, because it's something i can manage
turning into a feeling, a thought, an action and something i
can believe in. I hate you because you're fucking human. I hate
because I am.
this is that sort of moment when tears are supposed to crowd my eyes
like bullet points at that meeting where
we figure out who to cut and carry, divide and bury to make
our profits sprout out of some poor desk slave's neck.
this is that moment i'm supposed to lay my head down in sighs and wonder
what's it like to not be rude, bruised, crude and abused.
the part where i stand up and raise my hand crying out
"teacher, teacher what's my lesson...I'm a victim, I'm a blessing"
I'm sorry but my shit has never blossomed poppies and dried out opium seeds
where i can dumb your mind into thinking im some
sort of storybook line, or rhyme or better yet,
accept me as some sort of crime.
you know youre good when youre not caught.
you steal away from the scene with blood on your hands, someone
else's screams erupting out of your ears.
i hope the next time she cries, you see me.
i hope the next time she lies, you fucking feel me
writhing and squirming under your big, harsh dry hands
like that earthworm in second grade you would tear apart
just to feel like digging dirt
was worth somebody's fee of life.
i hope the next time she leaves, she doesn't come back.
i hope the next time she bleeds, it'll be her last.
i hope the next time she runs, she'll never stop
and i hope the next time I tell her she's beautiful
she'll know it's true.
Sleep. I tell her to sleep. She wants to tell
me stories. She fears the dark corners.
I tell her I could never understand.
But it's that moment, when the Moon gets bored of
peaking inside you, it's that moment
where worth is but a scar, a passing shade,
and you believe it's true when you're called every
name in the book, and he does it to protect you,
and you believe the lies and traps set for you,
the hollow eyes devouring every ounce of your fresh
young skin, using cracked nails to tear the semblance
of humanity you thought you had left where ugly is the
best thing you could hope for on those roughed nights
where your favorite color is the pool of blood on the blue tiled floor
because it reminds you of that dress you wore when you first met,
but you hate when it gets on the rug, somehow it always gets on the rug
and the bleach you use burns the cuticles you took so much time
to cut away and remove, where you are not good enough
and your apologies are insults to injuries you wish you understood,
where youll never know why his love is so...
is so...
is so...
sleep. It'll all be over, soon.
xoxoxoxooxxoxo
Open mic tomorrow. We shall see :)
I want to sleep so badly. This sickness is just killing me. Also, it doesn't help I get hung up on assignments and blog postings when i could be sleeping. BOO :(
Taco Bell fast starts today haha. I am such an enabler.
sleep is the cousin of death
so i stay lifted, shifted like fine grains
out of some sort of strainer
pushing my guts out my ears like
sausage spitting meat grinders where
nervosas are flowers in life's great wonderful
fucking garden, my thoughts like weeds
plowing through god's good seed spilled on
fallow, hungry, dry earth.
this is that moment when the moon
even hides its face outta boredom
from peeking in too much trying to gain a
pervert knowledge of my turns and curves
the way my spine collects at the dimple above my
ass, where the bruise keeps singing every time i press it...
yeah that's how i'll remember you.
ugly, yellow, outlined in a purple hue hugging
onto muscle craters that once would produce
strong children.
or so grandmother says.
it's that type of night where nightmares come
peeking outta closets and nestling onto the bookshelf
eating pages outta my mysteries and legends,
already foretelling a bad ending and i
forget to breathe knowing all these bad ass
bitches think they have me pieced together,
think they know me so well
like some sort of piece of worn leather you wear
over that softly torn cheek i told you to turn over
every time i spat in your face, your eyes, you are beat.
sleep, the cousin of death crowds this room
asking me why i hate him so and all i can
recall is that moment on my back when clarity came
knocking but I was too fucking dry to make a noise,
a peep, just a fuckin squeal and i would have been saved.
but instead i took these bruises like badges of honor
from lost sisters, fuck those brothers, stuck in the mud
in the crud, in the lies and the pains every striking blow
aimed. i hate you because i can. i hate you,
because I will. i hate you, because it's something i can manage
turning into a feeling, a thought, an action and something i
can believe in. I hate you because you're fucking human. I hate
because I am.
this is that sort of moment when tears are supposed to crowd my eyes
like bullet points at that meeting where
we figure out who to cut and carry, divide and bury to make
our profits sprout out of some poor desk slave's neck.
this is that moment i'm supposed to lay my head down in sighs and wonder
what's it like to not be rude, bruised, crude and abused.
the part where i stand up and raise my hand crying out
"teacher, teacher what's my lesson...I'm a victim, I'm a blessing"
I'm sorry but my shit has never blossomed poppies and dried out opium seeds
where i can dumb your mind into thinking im some
sort of storybook line, or rhyme or better yet,
accept me as some sort of crime.
you know youre good when youre not caught.
you steal away from the scene with blood on your hands, someone
else's screams erupting out of your ears.
i hope the next time she cries, you see me.
i hope the next time she lies, you fucking feel me
writhing and squirming under your big, harsh dry hands
like that earthworm in second grade you would tear apart
just to feel like digging dirt
was worth somebody's fee of life.
i hope the next time she leaves, she doesn't come back.
i hope the next time she bleeds, it'll be her last.
i hope the next time she runs, she'll never stop
and i hope the next time I tell her she's beautiful
she'll know it's true.
Sleep. I tell her to sleep. She wants to tell
me stories. She fears the dark corners.
I tell her I could never understand.
But it's that moment, when the Moon gets bored of
peaking inside you, it's that moment
where worth is but a scar, a passing shade,
and you believe it's true when you're called every
name in the book, and he does it to protect you,
and you believe the lies and traps set for you,
the hollow eyes devouring every ounce of your fresh
young skin, using cracked nails to tear the semblance
of humanity you thought you had left where ugly is the
best thing you could hope for on those roughed nights
where your favorite color is the pool of blood on the blue tiled floor
because it reminds you of that dress you wore when you first met,
but you hate when it gets on the rug, somehow it always gets on the rug
and the bleach you use burns the cuticles you took so much time
to cut away and remove, where you are not good enough
and your apologies are insults to injuries you wish you understood,
where youll never know why his love is so...
is so...
is so...
sleep. It'll all be over, soon.
xoxoxoxooxxoxo
Open mic tomorrow. We shall see :)
I want to sleep so badly. This sickness is just killing me. Also, it doesn't help I get hung up on assignments and blog postings when i could be sleeping. BOO :(
Taco Bell fast starts today haha. I am such an enabler.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Alabama, Arkansas...!
February's Expense
Spring is in the wind, today. I can feel her tearing at my flesh, pulling each woolly hair out, strand by strand. Joseph, make your coat. My footprints echo the splashing of tears when the sun is woken, and the bursts of light are caught in curls too tightly sprung for this kind of weather. Oh, oh, oh it is like running on piano keys, can you hear it? The music is strained and taut like the violin strings of the veins of leaves; I hide here. Everything is pressed and dressed, ironed to a finery I can only see with eyes closed. The breeze tells me the stories the dust of old bones are too shy to admit to and I eat every word like a scalloped shell; the lump in my throat is too much, chew before I swallow a regret I could never name. I am dancing, the feet are alive. But...
...(there is so much I will never tell you. Buried with time, stolen with age, keep quiet and still. How could I lie? Should you peel the layers, you will find the heart of the matter, but the layers provide a warmth you will never know. I pray that I do not offend you here, but what is the question? AGAIN, it's the rush, you say, but one cannot trust the piper. Your hands are caked in a blood that is not red, I cannot see. But it is there. Heal your wounds, they bleed onto me. I cannot be your bandage now, I cannot clip my wings for you too see)....
...(there is so much I believe in, but there is only so much I can believe in. You, foe, are not an aide, but an inhalant, so I breathe you deep. You burn the hairs of my throat, you thrash and crash into my stomach, swallowed by my fears that singe your truths for the jokes they are. The jokes, the jokes. They tumble out your mouth like dust clouds, and trust me, I have tasted truth; it is history cremated. My eyes burn from tears that are too offended to fall)....
...but after all, it is a beautiful day.
xoxoxoxox
What an exciting weekend. I was Team USA for the Beerolympics on Friday and danced my ass off last night here at Mount Holyoke. I legit feel like SHIT though, too much for poor widdle me. I am so looking forward to sleep. I am turning in early today.
I have decided to keep both blogs up and active. One, not this one, will be strictly for creative pieces, while this one will be me bitching and moaning and theorizing about why I am here and not there. So be it. This is me pretending to organize.
Oh fuck yes, "Lover's Spit" just came on. Such a fave.
Sushi on Thursday! I'm excited.
I have a few choice words on the topic of presentation. Will I ever be queer enough? Probably not. However, it you gauge that and refuse me, I feel for you. I understand our clothes, mannerisms, and actions denote and 'present' who we would like to be seen and taken in as, but it's bullshit. It's an art based on assumptions and falsities. It's an act. I am as true as I can be to me, myself and my tastes, but I will never cater to an image molded out for me. I am not here to please you, love, but me. If I ask you to dance, take it as a compliment, I am interested; deny me, and unfortunately, be lost. It's like that Hedwig quote: Deny me and be doomed! Love it.
This doesn't end at sexual presentation, or gender presentation, but in general. Layer on the materials, the clothes, the jewelry, the accessories, the haircuts, the everything: you are still a bag of decaying matter. You all have started dying the moment you were born, and dressing yourselves in lies is an injustice. What is image? What is this impact you are trying to make? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Well, I don't even know. You may think your clothes speak volumes, but they don't. I'm no impressed and I don't speak the language.
On that note, I am so hungry. I hunger for meeting people with some depth to their personalities and souls. I want curiosity, I want amazement. I am so tired of bullshit arbitrary pretentious statements. I am sick of 'artists' of intellectuals and self proclaimed prophets. I am sick, sick, sick! You all leave me drained. Most of you aren't even in contact with the 'real world', and then, the other half of you have no base of thought to begin with! OI. I need an advil.
That ends that rant. End of story: don't judge people based on their material appearances and presentations. It's all bullshit.
Anyways, I leave this update on a positive swing. I am absolutely in love with my friends here and I am going to cry so hard when a couple of them graduate. I have made room for them in my life, and it's going to leave such a jarring hole in me when they leave. Thus is life; a constant trading of seats and friends. Emily, you are beautiful.
xoxo
Spring is in the wind, today. I can feel her tearing at my flesh, pulling each woolly hair out, strand by strand. Joseph, make your coat. My footprints echo the splashing of tears when the sun is woken, and the bursts of light are caught in curls too tightly sprung for this kind of weather. Oh, oh, oh it is like running on piano keys, can you hear it? The music is strained and taut like the violin strings of the veins of leaves; I hide here. Everything is pressed and dressed, ironed to a finery I can only see with eyes closed. The breeze tells me the stories the dust of old bones are too shy to admit to and I eat every word like a scalloped shell; the lump in my throat is too much, chew before I swallow a regret I could never name. I am dancing, the feet are alive. But...
...(there is so much I will never tell you. Buried with time, stolen with age, keep quiet and still. How could I lie? Should you peel the layers, you will find the heart of the matter, but the layers provide a warmth you will never know. I pray that I do not offend you here, but what is the question? AGAIN, it's the rush, you say, but one cannot trust the piper. Your hands are caked in a blood that is not red, I cannot see. But it is there. Heal your wounds, they bleed onto me. I cannot be your bandage now, I cannot clip my wings for you too see)....
...(there is so much I believe in, but there is only so much I can believe in. You, foe, are not an aide, but an inhalant, so I breathe you deep. You burn the hairs of my throat, you thrash and crash into my stomach, swallowed by my fears that singe your truths for the jokes they are. The jokes, the jokes. They tumble out your mouth like dust clouds, and trust me, I have tasted truth; it is history cremated. My eyes burn from tears that are too offended to fall)....
...but after all, it is a beautiful day.
xoxoxoxox
What an exciting weekend. I was Team USA for the Beerolympics on Friday and danced my ass off last night here at Mount Holyoke. I legit feel like SHIT though, too much for poor widdle me. I am so looking forward to sleep. I am turning in early today.
I have decided to keep both blogs up and active. One, not this one, will be strictly for creative pieces, while this one will be me bitching and moaning and theorizing about why I am here and not there. So be it. This is me pretending to organize.
Oh fuck yes, "Lover's Spit" just came on. Such a fave.
Sushi on Thursday! I'm excited.
I have a few choice words on the topic of presentation. Will I ever be queer enough? Probably not. However, it you gauge that and refuse me, I feel for you. I understand our clothes, mannerisms, and actions denote and 'present' who we would like to be seen and taken in as, but it's bullshit. It's an art based on assumptions and falsities. It's an act. I am as true as I can be to me, myself and my tastes, but I will never cater to an image molded out for me. I am not here to please you, love, but me. If I ask you to dance, take it as a compliment, I am interested; deny me, and unfortunately, be lost. It's like that Hedwig quote: Deny me and be doomed! Love it.
This doesn't end at sexual presentation, or gender presentation, but in general. Layer on the materials, the clothes, the jewelry, the accessories, the haircuts, the everything: you are still a bag of decaying matter. You all have started dying the moment you were born, and dressing yourselves in lies is an injustice. What is image? What is this impact you are trying to make? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Well, I don't even know. You may think your clothes speak volumes, but they don't. I'm no impressed and I don't speak the language.
On that note, I am so hungry. I hunger for meeting people with some depth to their personalities and souls. I want curiosity, I want amazement. I am so tired of bullshit arbitrary pretentious statements. I am sick of 'artists' of intellectuals and self proclaimed prophets. I am sick, sick, sick! You all leave me drained. Most of you aren't even in contact with the 'real world', and then, the other half of you have no base of thought to begin with! OI. I need an advil.
That ends that rant. End of story: don't judge people based on their material appearances and presentations. It's all bullshit.
Anyways, I leave this update on a positive swing. I am absolutely in love with my friends here and I am going to cry so hard when a couple of them graduate. I have made room for them in my life, and it's going to leave such a jarring hole in me when they leave. Thus is life; a constant trading of seats and friends. Emily, you are beautiful.
xoxo
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Runnin' outta earth
I am such a grumpy pants today. I need to think twice before I speak. I think this the worst part of my sickness; my body is fighting it but it takes a toll on me. I'm so sleepy. I just want to catnap all day.
I have one class tomorrow and a meeting with Barb and KJ. KJ told the group she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It's tough. I want to start a Relay for Life team for her. I'm trying to learn how to deal and cope with my emotions based on this. It's just a phenomenon you can't really accept until it hits close to home. It's so weird though because my Tarot reading said someone close to me was going to be sick and was going to go to the hospital, not family, but someone close and that they weren't going to be in bad shape, but the hospital would play a big role. KJ has been to like two hospitals everyday this week. How unsettling.
I just want to cuddle :( and have hot choco with marshmallows. And watch a cheesy flick.
Fuck homework, I'm so over it! I might as well get it done now. Boo hoo.
Drinking last night with my biddies was fun. I miss little hangouts and get together meetings. I love Sarah's partner, Mike, from NZ. He's a hilarious Kiwi and he's so good to her and for her. Happy things do indeed make me happy. She deserves it :) Emily has a hot date tonight with an old fling! I wish her luck, her ex was a downer. I gave her some little gifts ;)
And tonight, if nothing comes through, I will be happy with my hot choco, bed and Netflix account. My hot date with some good old R&R.
I have one class tomorrow and a meeting with Barb and KJ. KJ told the group she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It's tough. I want to start a Relay for Life team for her. I'm trying to learn how to deal and cope with my emotions based on this. It's just a phenomenon you can't really accept until it hits close to home. It's so weird though because my Tarot reading said someone close to me was going to be sick and was going to go to the hospital, not family, but someone close and that they weren't going to be in bad shape, but the hospital would play a big role. KJ has been to like two hospitals everyday this week. How unsettling.
I just want to cuddle :( and have hot choco with marshmallows. And watch a cheesy flick.
Fuck homework, I'm so over it! I might as well get it done now. Boo hoo.
Drinking last night with my biddies was fun. I miss little hangouts and get together meetings. I love Sarah's partner, Mike, from NZ. He's a hilarious Kiwi and he's so good to her and for her. Happy things do indeed make me happy. She deserves it :) Emily has a hot date tonight with an old fling! I wish her luck, her ex was a downer. I gave her some little gifts ;)
And tonight, if nothing comes through, I will be happy with my hot choco, bed and Netflix account. My hot date with some good old R&R.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Schnow Schtorm
I stupidly thought I could take on Mother Nature. I was born in New England and raised as closely to the standard as possible growing up in an immigrant home. I drove out this morning after clearing the snow off my car with a chocolate chip scone in hand and a very pugnacious pride in my heart. I was wrong.
I wasn't even out five miles when I got stuck on a hill. The Environmental Police helped me back out and turn around, only for me to get stuck on the opposite hill I had gone down before. A phone call was made to my family; my dad was coming to tow me out with the Jeep. An hour passed with four plows and a multitude of pilgrim cars passing me. My anxieties were quite high, but I wasn't going to sit idle. Bad things happen when I'm idle.
I rocked the car back and forth pressing on the gas, in 2nd gear. Slowly, I made my car turn 90 degrees to the left onto quickly disappearing previously plowed pavement. Once my front tires kissed the greying edge, great progress was made inching up the hill. 20 minutes later found me getting out my car in the exact same parking spot, only filled with 3 more inches of snow.
Quite a defeat. I emailed the professor. It really was out of my control. All Mount Holyoke classes have been cancelled for today and tomorrow. The second storm will hit tomorrow, only with ice. Luckily, the Ultimate team has offered to dig out cars for 5, 10, 15 dollars, depending on the accumulation around the car. I believe they're going to make a good profit. There are some cars who have been plowed in and snowed on since December without being cleaned once. I'll definitely make use of them ;)
I went with Emily and Steph while they donated blood. I'm still sick so I couldn't, but I was happy to talk to them and keep them busy while the bags vacuumed their arms out. Quite gruesome.
I'm going to take advantage of these snow days to catch up on my reading. The gym is out of the question, as it is closed, but I have TurboJam! HOLLA!
Maybe I'm not a playa? I don't know. I just have this sinking feeling. Oh well, I'm just going to keep listening to N.W.A. Hopefully they make me hard.
THE GRAVEYARD IS FULL; WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF EARTH. BUT WE CAN USE THE BONES TO BUILD ANOTHER CHURCH.
THe Growlers, Graveyard's Full
I wasn't even out five miles when I got stuck on a hill. The Environmental Police helped me back out and turn around, only for me to get stuck on the opposite hill I had gone down before. A phone call was made to my family; my dad was coming to tow me out with the Jeep. An hour passed with four plows and a multitude of pilgrim cars passing me. My anxieties were quite high, but I wasn't going to sit idle. Bad things happen when I'm idle.
I rocked the car back and forth pressing on the gas, in 2nd gear. Slowly, I made my car turn 90 degrees to the left onto quickly disappearing previously plowed pavement. Once my front tires kissed the greying edge, great progress was made inching up the hill. 20 minutes later found me getting out my car in the exact same parking spot, only filled with 3 more inches of snow.
Quite a defeat. I emailed the professor. It really was out of my control. All Mount Holyoke classes have been cancelled for today and tomorrow. The second storm will hit tomorrow, only with ice. Luckily, the Ultimate team has offered to dig out cars for 5, 10, 15 dollars, depending on the accumulation around the car. I believe they're going to make a good profit. There are some cars who have been plowed in and snowed on since December without being cleaned once. I'll definitely make use of them ;)
I went with Emily and Steph while they donated blood. I'm still sick so I couldn't, but I was happy to talk to them and keep them busy while the bags vacuumed their arms out. Quite gruesome.
I'm going to take advantage of these snow days to catch up on my reading. The gym is out of the question, as it is closed, but I have TurboJam! HOLLA!
Maybe I'm not a playa? I don't know. I just have this sinking feeling. Oh well, I'm just going to keep listening to N.W.A. Hopefully they make me hard.
THE GRAVEYARD IS FULL; WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF EARTH. BUT WE CAN USE THE BONES TO BUILD ANOTHER CHURCH.
THe Growlers, Graveyard's Full
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
