two days after christmas

i walk to work under a blue sky and the sun tries really hard to warm the pink from my nose, but it's windy and winter. summer will be here soon, mr. sun. the days will again be long and hot and yours. the lake looks especially clear today, like it would feel similar to silk on my skin. today there is no dead--but peaceful looking--turtle floating in the headwaters, just cypress needles and oak leaves. i don't really know if they are oak leaves. work has gotten boring. i'm an insider now, and their jobs are never as fun. but i guess everyone sacrifices some enjoyment for money, right? please assure me that my life is not turning mundane. i do not really believe it is, but i feel like i should check my self with these one question pop quizes every so often. i think i'm getting weirded out about how quickly my life is moving. i hope that feeling goes away. probably only when i realize how it's already gone. i know i worry too much, but i convince myself that's the human thing to do. i don't really worry that much. i have forgotten how good it feels to write. i think school makes me forget that. it shouldn't. i love having all of this free time, but it lets me think, which is good, but it also drives me crazy. these thoughts cycle through my head as i stare blankly at my computer's screen trying to remember what boring database entry to do next. i really liked the wall wide window at first, but now it just seems to taunt me. how can people do this all their lives, is life really just that short? it's weird talking to strangers when i'm in this odd mood. i didn't mind filling tanks because the compressor was on and its loudness gave me an excuse not to talk to them. the compressor is so old, and i sit there with my utility earmuffs on trying to imagine it's prime and what the place was like back then. oh back then, i wonder when that will be a constant phrase in my speech pattern. my life feels strange to me sometimes. this fortune cookie just told me that honesty and friendship bring you fortune. this world feels strange to me sometimes. sometimes everything seems so real and sometimes it all seems so fake. othertimes i'm pretty happy, i think. how happy can someone be? othertimes i feel good about what i see. i believe in the colors and faces. othertimes everything amazes me. i like feeling crazy, because the crazy people have more fun in life. it's okay to act exactly how you feel, unless you don't feel good a lot, then that seems wrong.

i've been having weird dreams lately, a lot of them.

getting my life together

I've been torn down. My heart hurts, my mind's tired, and my body's stagnant.

But I'm picking up the pieces.

Went to the dentist for the first time in almost four years yesterday.
Took my car in and got it all fixed up.
Today I'm starting back on my regular work out routine and catching up on my school work.
I'm going to outline a payment plan that I WILL follow for my credit card.
I'm going to start making my future plans reality.
I need to update my resume.
No more sleeping in when I have other things to do.
Why did I stop reading? Starting that up again, too. Library after work.
No more hanging out until my work is finished.

I'm a big girl now.

could it be true..

the love that's tearing you down
is the love that will turn you around

bleep

how do robots learn to love? program me, please.

inside

Now that I don't have a body to occupy my mind it's wandering deeper into the cerebral forest. I keep falling into the same endless philosophical thoughts. Do I stay with them because I love them or because I love the distraction? If that love was true then it would feel like something. But I've just lost part of a routine. I've just stepped onto a different path. I don't feel lost. At all. Curiosity pokes at my brain, but that's it. I don't get to think this way when I'm with others. No, I get to think this way all alone and share it with a nonexistent audience. I guess I like it this way, though. I'm always blamed for not sharing these things. I think the worst part is how much I really enjoy being in my own head. I wish I was more productive in here.

my brain is melting.

I should be drawing hundreds of ants and refining sugar.
But I'm distracted.
Very....dis..trac......t...

It's so cold in this building! Way too cold. I feel like my bones are ice. My feet are ice. But my brain is melting. These goosebumps are about to pop right off my skin.

I lost my favorite coat. I'm about to set into winter without it. I would mourn it's loss, but it was the only black mournish coat I had. Blast. I'll have to find another.

I'm hungry. I don't know if I want to go to that class today. It's quite boring. Happy hour, looking forward to seeing you.

Wish I was going to ACL this weekend. I'm not even going to see Wilco :(, but the coast will be fun. I bought tickets to Regina Spektor in November for him and me. That will be a good one. I just need a new him.

I'm going to New Zealand. I have new enthusiasm for my painting direction. I'm moving through time. I have to. We all have to. Time, I hope you're on my side now.

thanks, House.

To start off this entry, I would like to quote some ABBA lyrics. I do want to state for the record, though, that I much prefer the cover by Camera Obscura.

Facing twenty thousand of your friends
How can anyone be so lonely
Part of a success that never ends
Still I'm thinking about you only
There are moments when I think I'm going crazy
But it's gonna be alright
Everything will be so different
When I'm on the stage tonight

If you're not one for cheesy self analysis, then this probably won't be a good read. I write these things mainly for myself, anyway. In fact, I have unfortunately learned that I should put my whole faith of whatever into myself. Friends and family, of course, will always be there, and I'm more than happy that they are, but I have to live for myself. For at least a short or long while, I cannot devote myself to anyone other than me.

It is very true that sometimes I think I'm going crazy. I know if I speak these words to anyone, they will agree and say that they too feel this way at times. At what point should this feeling be talked about, and why is it just 'normal' to think you're going crazy? Our society is so fucked up. And I'm sure it's not limited to just our society. So do I just suck it up and accept that, yes, there are times in every person's life when she feels she's going insane? What else is there to do?

I feel like intelligence can be a burden. My rational side kicks whatever other side I have's ass. I always refrain from fully acting out my emotions. Why is that? Even now I'm trying to figure myself out. This is rational. I hate and love this trait. Sometimes I feel it compels me to the feeling of insanity, it makes me crazy to know how much control I have over myself. I feel like a robot. I feel like a basic instinctual creature that deflects any hurtful forces. I can say I feel guilty about certain things in my life, like loosing friends and connections with family out of neglect, but I don't really feel it. Is there actually a distinct feeling that comes with guilt? I feel the basic sadness and happiness of life, but not for those things.

I can't feel the warmth of most people. Very few people bring me comfort. I write these sentences down and they seem so fake to me. This is when I feel crazy, when I don't even know if the words coming out of my head are true. What good does this self analysis do? It just digs me deeper into my own hole. I wonder sometimes if counseling would do anything. But there are plenty of days when these thoughts are completely absent. Fuck. I think the House season premiere influenced these thoughts. But I like being influenced, I like external sources that provoke me to think and question myself. I do like a quote that was presented in the episode by one of the mental patients,

"Thinking sucks."

baked cake

So there are these stages of getting older. One day things just feel a slight bit different. I'm not sure in what way, maybe just a side effect of jadedness. But it's not necessarily a negative different. No, it's just familiarity, it's knowing. Like when you realize that just because people are older than you, that doesn't, unfortunately, make them smarter. Maybe I just feel more at peace with my life. Maybe this busy schedule has brought the balance I've been looking for. Maybe I'm just writing down every thought passing through my brain because this stuff is really good. Make stuff into whatever you like. I should probably go to bed. I work tomorrow at 7:45AM. Good night to the nobodies that read this. I don't even think they do.

gone again.

And you wonder why I don't let you in.

today is terrific

I'm walking into every room like a badass...AS a badass. Master diver extraordinaire right here. I hope the rain on the horizon floods this shit so I can dive the new San Marcos Lake. I think I'm going to add the assistant instructor course to my schedule this fall...talk about busy. That'll make 18 hours. But maybe I need that again. I've been stuck in the paced routine of 12 for the last two semesters. If I push myself I think I can make it out of this place as scheduled with a double major and a scuba instructor certification. I'll have everything I need to invade countries. Man, I'm getting so excited, because I'm gonna have the life.

dive

Bottomless, tired, unwashed and tangled hair. I feel like I'm still bobbing in and out of the waves. My body has a temporarily natural back and forth sway. Now topless. My bed beckons me in. But for some crazy reason I still crave the sun...or the water? I feel so much lighter now. I wish I had gills. I could swim forever.

life?

I haven’t been listening to music as much lately. Well, not when I’m sitting in front of my computer. I forgot about silence for a little bit. I like hearing my own pure thoughts. The days continue to trap me in this thick Texas heat. I want to paint, but I guess not badly enough, or I would paint. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I do with my time. I wonder this and soon after realize that I spend my time writing about wondering what I do with my time. Cycles. That’s life. Has my generation age embedded me with a dependency on technology? One might even call it an addiction. I’m more addicted to the computer and Internet than I am any other physical substance. I would like to say I don’t need it, but I check it every day. I think a lot about what other people live for. What do those people sitting on the bench waiting for the bus think of all this? And do they tell anyone? Does anyone know what I think this all means? I’m not sure if I even have that figured out.

lack of warmth in funerals

We've sat together since the first day of class. Partners. Strangers. Completely separate lives until a week ago. Now we share 600 minutes of every week sitting next to each other. Solving problems. Numerical, logical, distant problems. Both completely ignorant to the life problems unconsciously controlling the other's individual mind.

Every human has a temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit in their normal state. So why is it so surprising when I feel just the slightest warmth of another person? Knuckles touching knuckles. Strangers seem more or less like objects around me, and I expect objects to be cooler to the touch. Now I'm reminded of the cold touch of a living object after the fact. Beyond cold. A state. A cold and very strange state. Almost irrational. And I can feel this strangeness without touching the dead. Open caskets suffocate my heart. The expression of lost life dries my mouth. I hate funerals. Who likes them? I have a really hard time with them. The shortness of breath and watery eyes. Pain creeping around the room, weaving in and out through the mourners. A smog of sympathy, loss, and heartbreak looms over the black attired crowd. The air's as stale as the body.

jumping in to cold water

Mornings of cold water jumping shock me into the deep breath of the day. Swimming against the cool force of the current washes my mind to banks unpolluted with worry. I like the ironic calm I feel as I stare into the interweaving waters. In this moment of my life, I see my existence differently. I consciously understand that I am on this earth merely existing like so many others. And I become intrigued. I become fascinated. With all of it, all of the minuscule details that come together and define everything I know, everything I don't know.

I can't fight my urge to stare. At everyone. I want to know the lines on your face. I want to know how you pick up objects to investigate and the faces you make within that investigation. I want to know the experiences that sculpted you into your daily routine or chaos, whatever the case may be. I love to watch people live. But I also like to live. I like to live outside, and report back to the in.

Here I am. In my bed debating whether I should get up for a swim or remain in the dream world. Lately getting out has been winning. I rarely experience the town in the early morning, and have found it an amiable place. Today I'm really enjoying it. I met up with my friend Andrew, who's one of my favorite people right now. With him, a stranger. Casper. Casper interests me. Different life styles always intrigue me. He has one I would never take up, but I enjoy listening to his details. DMT. He swears by it, life altering, though he says changing. For the better, they both assure me. They recollect the visions they experienced within the five to twenty minute periods of their trips. Sounds much like salvia, though they guarantee it's better. Casper does hallucinogens on a regular basis. Crazy kid. Constant conscious dreaming, seems mentally exhausting.

It's a funny world. With all of these funny people. All of these funny people searching for funny things. I've started trying to look at my life more from outside of me. As if I were just watching a movie. I'm the protagonist, and it seems easier to dream up goals and destinations for myself when it's my movie instead of my life. Everyone knows a good movie when they watch one, so I know I have to make changes when this plot of mine hits a plateau. I can't just walk out on this one.

dear brandon,

I awoke by your side this morning as I do a lot. After I finished up my laundry obligations we rode to my house and I didn't ride back. No, someone, who would be me in this particular situation, had to fill the small void on the 3rd floor of the art building that someone, or rather, some many people, have spent half their waking life in over the last few weeks. On my stroll into the windowed entrance and around the corner of the hall I run into Tom. And Tom, he is the perfect character. A hound dog you can't help but love. He talks a raised volume greeting to me as he limps, surprisingly quickly, forward. When we're close enough for conversation I can't help but study him. His long white beard, the icon of his face, still has surprises of brown hairs. The wrinkles, especially around those eyes that have seen so much, sometimes make my heart sink a little when I look at them too long. I'm sure it's because I'm reminded so much of my father. And his smile shows his teeth, few in number and crooked. But he has one of my favorite smiles. He has glasses, of course, but that always happens when you get old. I've been blessed with them for most of my life. And by blessed, I mean cursed. I'm glad to see he's wearing his lion shirt with cut off sleeves. When I imagine Tom, he wears this shirt. The classic lion head, mane and all, stares out to anyone who may have their doubts about him. It sits on the shirt's textured surface that you can't help but wonder if it's just built up stains. After concentrating so much on his physical self, I look at him. I look at him and his gestures, I listen to his words and how he says them, I smell cigarettes on his breath, and notice one stashed behind his ear. And this is beautiful. The whole scene creates a masterpiece. Here is a man who has been worn and weathered by the best and the worst. And here is a girl, so ignorant in her young age, oblivious to the limitless world she walks on. A reminder and a memory together in conversation. She looks at his folded time lines, anticipating whatever's to come, and he sees smooth skin and thinks of all he's been through. A lovely interaction that changes both of their days, if only in the slightest.

Tom reminds me of all the things to come. Of all the experiences to have. Of all the stories to eventually tell. Of how it's silly to be down when I know I will have an amazing life. We will live life amazingly, and sometimes that thought strays, and sometimes it feels like we'll never get out. But we just have to remind one another how great life is, and how better it will be. The sun shines almost everyday, and when it gets too hot there's a river, and when it rains it's exciting, and there are trees all over, and animals a lot of people don't really see, and a history that can still be felt. This is a good place to be, and we're lucky. We should enjoy it while we're here because time will soon change everything we know. And it's all so exciting, and it will be hard to wait.

wise marley

You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.

— Bob Marley

badly draw boy's four leaf clover

Go on, do what you've got to do
You've got your dreams, I've got mine too
Be strong, get off at the next stop, don't worry about a thing
Keep taking it easy
This time it's not personal
The universe will help you now
To find a place you can breathe and do what you've got to do
Keep taking it easy
Keep taking it easy

Come on, I'll let you borrow my four leaf clover
Come on, take it with you you can pass it on
Come on, you know I'm not the kind to say that it's over
We'll be rubbing shoulders once again in the sun

Come on, take your dreams where nobody can find them
Come on, you know i wont be happy 'til you've won
So come on, come on over, borrow my clover
Is there anything left that you haven't done

Go on, do what you've got to do
You've got your dreams, I've got mine too
Be strong, get off at the next stop, don't worry about a thing
Keep taking it easy, easy

wake up

Light seeps in through the loose folds of the blanket. Her alarm will go off in four minutes. She tries to remember the dream life in her sleepy head. When the images won't come back, she peaks outside her nest of warm fabric and feathers to see if the world's still there. Yep.
Her toes reach as far from her crown as they can. She yawns out the stretch and her freckles return to their natural places. She sighs deeply and addresses the cat, "Asherrrr, meooow, the sun arrived early again." Her alarm goes off, forcing her out of her cozy covers to hit the snooze button. These days she finds it harder to get out of bed. The cat climbs the curves of her body beneath the blankets and settles himself too close to her face. "Asher," her voice muffled by cat hair, "I have to breathe too, you know."
After readjusting her head she closes her eyes for the extended seven minutes. During the seven minutes of half sleep she plays a piano for someone she used to know but has chosen to forget.
The second alarm startles her awake this time, and she regrets not getting up for the first. A groan one might expect from an old man rumbles from her throat. Like father, like daughter. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, anchoring her in an upright sit. She uses her fingers to rub sleep from her eyes, and reaches for the hidden stars on the ceiling. The toilet seat feels chilly when she takes her morning pee. She picks up the white plastic rectangle, opens it, and pushes on the front of the next small white pill, popping it out the back of the package into her palm. She rolls the pill around in her hand a few seconds before throwing it to the back of her throat. Like these are really necessary anymore, she thinks to herself. The cat watches her curiously as he does every morning. He drinks from that toilet quite often.

wake up, wake the sun

I feel nothing.
Did I ever feel anything?
I've just awaken from a long nap.
I feel as though time has barely passed.
I have grown, but exactly how much, I do not realize now.
The monumental growth will come in the next few months.
I'm onto something, I can feel it.
I see it lingering in sidewalks and strangers.
I feel it calling, wanting to be discovered.
But how do I get there?
How do I break through this barrier?
Anyway I can.
I will collect shovels and rocks and swords and stones.
I will bring it down.
I will see the horizon.

Hah

Single again. My life is a joke.
No, I take that back. Your life is a joke.

dandelion dreams come true

I blew my false hope through dandelions knowing there would be no return. When does anyone's delicately whispered wishes come true? I watched the seeds float away, not expecting them to take root. But the sun shines on the brave and hopeful. Though rain refused to fall, my aspirations prevailed. Saint Valentine spared me that lonely night, and I finally felt like Patsy Kline was singing "Back in Baby's Arms" for me. The happiness I felt sent warm tears down my rosy cheeks. My lungs no longer fought the air, but took it all in. How I missed this warmth I hadn't felt for weeks.

Yes. I missed him. I tried to ignore it, but the hole remained unfilled. I went out only to stand disconnected from whatever surroundings, enveloped in my fear of forgetting his embrace. I had accepted the loss, but felt I was trudging through the dullest of grays. Oh, how far off seemed those brighter days. I adopted a cat to keep me company. Friendly purring fur proved comforting. We would get through it, Asher and I. And we got through it, but the light came sooner than we expected.

Life is a funny thing, and it's all we really have.

Letter 2

February 8, 2009

We have to be careful. Yes, we have to be careful....of what? Of our emotions we do not share, of our feelings that already suffer? Be careful. Be careful when you talk to me, friendships can turn deadly. Be careful when you think of me. Smiles turn to dried cracks in the earth that beg for rain. Happy memories remind us of, careful now, the once inviting water. Careful looking into these eyes, you won't feel good in stone. Careful not to write back, try to forget you're alone. Let's live our days carefully, so we won't regret?...Let's live carefully, digging ourselves into emotional debt.

I don't write to keep the flame alive. I write to you because, from the beginning, I found you an interesting person. I write to you as a caring friend. Even in my dreams you do not talk to me, you do not share your thoughts. What would it hurt? My feelings are no longer a factor to think about. I have come to terms with the situation, and agree that this is not the right time. But to disconnect all communication from a being you can still learn from? Well, what's the gain in that? You say it's hard to write back, and what for, what's the point? What's the reason for talking to me in the first place? I'm not asking you to sign a contract, I just wanted to keep a friendship intact. You can tell me you do not wish to continue communication, it will not hurt. I am aware of my young age, and I know there are years and years ahead of me, and I'll inevitably find happiness down the road. But I have cared for you six months deep, and I like to talk to people I care for. If you truly wish this an end, please be honest with me and yourself. Respect me enough to answer my questions in concrete language. I don't know is a false statement. You may not know it all, but you know bits and pieces, so, please, humor me.

Yesterday a strange air flowed through my lungs. Clouds falsely promised rain, covering the sky in displacement. We all have our hopes up, thirsts that need to be quenched. These days make believers wonder if God teases. I spent the day cleaning and running errands. When I awoke the first time that morning, thoughts of a kitty ran through my head. An excitement trickled through me at the thought of a purring companion. Sleep on it. At ten my heart was still set. It's amazing how much it costs to adopt. I understand the fees cover medical services, but I remain a poor college student. Through Craigslist I stumbled and after a long search came upon him. He's so handsome, and still available. Monday may finally fill the void Beethoven left. The past year my motherly instinct has kicked in, so I find furry little babies to console myself. Sometimes I feel as though I'm the only one in the town. But I believe we all sometimes feel that way. It's great to be human, but we carry many burdens. Oh, the college years. They say this is the time in life when you figure things out. I disagree. I think this is the time in life when everyone has time to think about what it's all about. Once you grow up and get a 'real job' thoughts are plagued with work and bills and family and meetings and money and ties and shiny leather shoes. We only think we've figured it out because we no longer have space in our brains for it. But at the same time, trying to figure it out for the rest of your life would be a waste. Oh, being human. What will we do, Brandon, what will we do? We can never answer these questions, never with a definitive answer. We can continue, we can persevere, we can strive for happiness, but that's all we can do. I find myself rambling, but that's all those questions ever lead to. We can ramble or we can live. I need to live. I need to paint. I need to sing. I need to dance. I need to laugh. I need to cry. I need to love. I need to miss. I need to search. I need to find. I need to live.

dear brandon,

At times I like to write more than I like to draw. Writing allows me to illustrate how I feel with words, and involves less thinking than an art piece. That's an obstacle I wish to over come - the difficulty I have with creating art. I think about it too much. But I digress.

Here's the first e-mail of my written series that I will call Letters to Brandon. The text of these letters will convey all of my thoughts, feelings, ideas, revelations, disappointments, and other things about that certain day. I feel that these letters have potential to aid in my growth, so I'm writing and introducing them as a new chapter in my life. Which means I'm going to need a copy of the original hand written letter I left on your door sometime in the future (don't lose it!). So anyway, writing seems to be the easiest method for me to get things off my chest, and instead of letting my words sit stagnantly in a blog that no one reads, (though, they will be posted there too) I'm passing them to you. I hope for your feedback and opinion in return, because that is the factor of change. Tell me what you like about them, how you feel about the diction, ask questions when you don't understand, you know, just like a critique. I share with you so you will share with me, and we will learn about each other and ourselves. Now, after that introduction, here is Letter 1:

February 1, 2009

It’s a day on the edge. The edge of overcoming or breaking down, and these deep breaths keep my balance. My insides feel like a soda freshly shaken, tense and unstable, ready to explode. But a pleasant feeling resides deep within it all. It’s the day after the storm, and though I’m hurting in more ways than one, a fresh start lies ahead. Relief runs through my hair, whispering comfort in my ear. I am outside of my head today and look at things without seeing them. My mind lingers unconsciously in a deeper realm. My body tries to hide the hope of the future as the present presses on my chest and occasionally steals my breath. But I know time moves obliviously, neutral to the individual, and I must take stride along side the man-made, abstract form that controls existence. I’m teaching myself to embrace my emotions. I need to feel more like a human. But dwelling in feelings is different. I want to recognize, address, and learn from them. I will dwell and expand only on those that take me forward through my journey.

It’s hard to realize how young you are until you’re older. Pain passes with time. These are words I repeat to myself even though they are understood. Without these days of sorrow the bright days would be dim. I look forward to the brighter days. I have always looked forward to them, and I feel ready to embark on my discovering search. I have told myself that before, but repetition only becomes a progressive tool when we no longer need it. I must live the way that makes me happy. I will too soon be in shoes of nostalgia, looking back on the life time has stolen.

Deep breaths today. I gulp it all in and feel the colors in my lungs.

walk on

An ambulance came to take me away today. I could feel it coming, I could feel the nothingness dissolving over me. Gone. This is the first time I've ever fainted. It's like your body restarting itself. A foreign blackness that consumes you. But it's my own doing. I foolishly forgot to eat after I gave blood today. But my mind has been else where. Last night I earned another crack in my heart. Single again, but definitely not on the prowl. I knew it would hit sooner or later. I felt the tremors a while back. Earlier this week my mom's heart broke. When your mom's heart breaks, yours follows stead. Sometimes the weeks are filled with rocks, and you have to walk on to softer ground. Baggage gets heavy, but you have to push forward. Where else do we go? Today wasn't the best follow up to last night, but I'm going to take them as they come, conscious or unconscious.

Just bandage up your feet and walk on.

2:31

Swava Pearl, what will you do with yourself? You can paint and write and read. You can sing in the shower with any famous pop star. You can cry and dream of better days. You can say time will fix it all. But what will you do with yourself?