i’m not completely sure why, but it seems as if my tastes delve further and further into darkness as i get older. perhaps it is the cruelties of the world that has jaded my hopelessly romantic disposition; perhaps it is my way of saying fuck you right back. i feel myself drawn to evil; amused and titillated. but only to a certain degree. as i feel myself drawing darkness into my soul, i also feel myself wanting to send out more light. i find myself wanting to protect the few good things out there, guard them with my life. i want to remind people that you’re supposed to be good, because i feel like everything out there is telling us it’s okay not to be. it’s a dog eat dog world. you have to kill to survive. i know that’s how it is, but we make it so. i want to tell people to look into the mirror, and then ask themselves who the real threat is. i want to tell myself to do exactly that. i don’t believe the answer is to just forget it and give and give and give. because you will get crushed out there. but don’t just take. try not to make it worse.
a while ago, in the midst of winter, the idea of planting a flower entered my head. as i saw everything around me dead and covered in cold, i became fixated with bringing something to life. i told myself that once spring was here, i’d create something beautiful that whispered spring. that laughed summer. one flower became three, and now i finally have my seeds planted. i’m already too attached. no really. they have names and everything. my thoughts of them are already tinted with love. i think they deserve it though – they’re the earth. the sun’s still being shy, but i hope it’ll work anyway. that the seeds will grow and bloom. you take what you get and do what you can, right?
i. fourteen days ago, i went and had a vein tapped. a blood donation. three days ago, i received a text message from the hospital thanking me. telling me that the blood i gave was given to a patient. tears fell down my cheeks. ever since those fourteen days ago, i’ve felt this warmth inside. as if the blood was replaced with light.
ii. a woman flirted with me today. i was flustered. a person flirted with me today. i was flustered.
iii. we sat outside, preparing for our visit at the kindergarten. i closed my eyes and faced the sun, turning like a leaf, yearning for the rays. it was a regular day at school, expected to be mundane. it was bliss.
iv. down on the west coast, they got a saying.
v. i’ve applied for courses. plural. three. black holes & cosmic explosions, astronomy, creative writing. i keep my eggs in baskets. plural. x.
when you feel your life going stagnant, move. hunt the change. when you can see things clearly, feet on solid plane, start running. blur the lines. never let safety graze your back, avoid its dulling touch. when you find yourself feeling that something is missing, find it. when you think to yourself, i don’t know what i’m looking for, find anyways. see conquer devour until the void is filled. make sure there is always something new amidst all the old that colors your judgement, clouds your vision. let yourself become enraptured. embrace that things are fleeting, use them until they shrivel in your arms. don’t worry, they’ll never be gone, not even eons after you’ve thrown them away. disposable permanence. be greedy, abuse your freedom, take all you can and be selfish, because the world is selfish too. everything you take, the world takes from you. so get to know each other. exchange. exchange. exchange. meet the universe, swallow it and let it become you.
life is a lovely color on you, darling.
when i returned to psych after two and a half weeks and realized i was completely uninterested in him, i found myself wondering: what’s the point? when something can go from being an actual thing to nothing at all, without anything happening. when it’s not even time that makes you move on, but mere circumstance. was it even something to begin with, wasn’t it anything at all? i was, once again, struck by the finality of impermanence. but just now i remembered this post, and realized that there it was. there was the point of it. the experience itself, and the remnant of it, is what makes something worth it. there is solid proof that it was something, right there. because i never could have written that if it hadn’t happened, if i hadn’t really felt it. the reality of it is what makes it so inspired, and it’s only life itself which can breathe life into art. so live – let things begin, let them end – and see the world surge through your creations.
every now and then, i get a little (or a lot) un-aligned with myself. i let myself get carried away with things in life, and dragged along paths that i don’t really want to be on. they’re things that distract me, things that start out small but blow up and take more place than they deserve. petty things. and then i need to stop and think, and realize how small the blown-up things really are. how it doesn’t matter, and what does. i re-direct the camera lens and see myself shift into focus. it’s funny how i never notice myself blurring until i’m gone. but i always come back. i’m always reminded of my main agenda and it all becomes clear again. be a rockstar. whitehotbrilliant. re-aligned. centered. calibration complete.
first drunken post text it. i just came home, and everything is spinning and i am extremely frustrated. what i ask is not much, so why must the universe be so stubborn and insist that you ask nothing at all? life is about restraint: you can’t come off like this, you can’t show that… well life, grow up. and by life, i mean boys… and men. pince-nez are those kind of glasses that don’t have earpieces. i can write that because i’m in a state of inebriation. i can say and do all kinds of things under the excuse of inebriation. is beauty really terror? do we quiver before it? i think yes, in cases when beauty has a heartbeat. christmas is coming up, and i might as well bring up the fact that i turned 20, and that i went to london, as well. comme ci, comme ça. life is strange these days. i’m really priding myself in my ability to write coherent sentences right now, as the letters are spinning around and around. i think alcohol contains an amount of lead, because my limbs feel extremely heavy at this point. so do my eyelids. love you, bye.
i heard the sound of beads hitting each other when i was leaving the train station today. i assumed they were praying beads, like the ones that the men around here carry around. beads like the earth or like the sea, maybe even like the sky but never like fire. i thought what i heard was the sound of praying beads. but then again, why were the beads even hitting together like that, making that sound? and what was that sound even called? i searched and found the name – clicking. obviously, it’s clicking. “… method is to hold all of the worry beads in one hand and roll them against each other, creating soft clicking sounds.” they weren’t praying beads after all. the sound i had heard when i was leaving the train station was the sound of worrying. the sound of beads being manipulated to pass the time. to guard against bad luck. to stop smoking so much. to mark power and prestige. in the sound of beads hitting each other, i heard a life. and i didn’t even turn around.
i heard the sound of stars burning in the sky just now. i assumed they were fireworks, like the ones kids light up around here. fireworks like barium or like copper, maybe even like cesium and always like fire. i was sure what i heard was the crackling of fireworks. even though, for a second, it was more like bang bang bang and i had the word “gunshots” hovering in my mind. the sound i heard just now was the sound of not worrying. the sound of fireworks being lit to pass the time. to not care about luck. to not even beginning to think about smoking too much. to show guts and rebellion. in the sound of stars burning, i heard a life. and i didn’t even look outside.
it’s actually a very conscious decision to not sleep at all. it’s a realization made in not-quite-late portion of the night where i internally utter the words “this night will be spent with my eyes open”. no preamble. it’s very instinctual. a fact created in an instant – not in the eleventh hour, but rather the third or fourth. my relation to the night is pretty wonderful. the night is promises, and energy and creativity, even within the confines of my own room. maybe even more so. total freedom, a welcome to roam without restrictions… as long as i keep quiet. no one must hear me. so i can’t scream out loud. can’t listen to sounds out loud. can’t see things out loud. only virtually. so i write. i let the audio waves enter my ears directly, filtered through shells bridged over my brain. i look at the fruit of the creative labor of others. beautiful, colorful, black-and-white, emotion-inducing outcomes. everything feels clearer at night. more poignant. surrounded by sparks. time moves slower and the fuel reserve is bigger. there’s no rush, because i have hours upon hours. and no one’s there to pressure me. to tell me to go faster, do better. there’s only me and the everything as a whole. so many possibilities. i have all the space in the universe to fill with my presence. the world is my oyster.
welcome to my kingdom.
it’s about anarchy. a question of independence and disobedience. tearing yourself free. feeling the ghosting burn of the ropes that have been gripping you for 3837 years or so. about choking back the guilt and restraining yourself from saying the words “i’m sorry”. it’s about facing expectations and predictabilities and spitting in their gloriously metaphorical faces. chaos. purging everything that’s been inside, tar black or otherwise. showing the world what you’ve got. who you are. radicality. kicking and punching and screaming. it’s totaling any semblance of a pre-conceived notion within reach. it’s destruction. gripping the want in one hand, and the need in the other. it’s hurtling and letting the weight completely and utterly demolish the glass house. startling it into shards. obliteration, annihilation of something that wasn’t really there in the first place. the illusion. gone. it’s about looking superego dead in the eye and saying “fuck you”. it’s my existence.
(until we meet again, summer.)
summer’s officially over for me tomorrow. school begins and with it, i take a step out of the spotlight of sunbeams and spontaneity. into the shadows of academia darkness i go. i’m ready. i’m so ready. if it’s anything this summer has given me, it’s a taste of life and a hunger for more. i don’t think i’ve ever had a more eventful summer. not a day passed that didn’t feel substantial. friends and new people and partying and conversing and soaking up the sun and craziness. it was awesome. not to mention the pièce de résistance – a week in rome.
oh roma. rome was big. it meant a lot. rome meant independence and exploring and learning and enjoying and just wow. my first trip without adult supervision. my first time actually being my own adult supervision. i am pretty much all grown up and that notion feels insane. i mean, it wasn’t just living alone in a city i know next to nothing about. it was being with a friend and deciding exactly what we wanted to do. making our own mistakes and dealing with the actual consequences, and not someone just berating us while nothing “real” really happened. it was
buying the most expensive item i own with my own money,
(a rose gold watch that is pretty and perfect and mine)
being in a place where everything is so different;
(the buildings, the history, the people, the culture, the energy)
you simultaneously feel like an alien,
(fumbling, stumbling around trying to figure it all out)
more accepted than in your own country and
(because difference is actually a fathomable concept, it’s not all judgement and cold, hard truth but also religion and feeling it out)
like you’re the only human on a planet filled with creatures from countless worlds at the same time.
(i mean, tourists as a general concept)
it was seeing the wonders that humans can accomplish with enough conviction,
(the colosseum, the pantheon, the sistine chapel and the
buildings monuments in general)
and realizing that logic and practicality getting flicked on the nose by passion can have beautiful results
most of all, it was realizing how small i really am, and how huge the world really is. and that it doesn’t mean i’m insignificant at all, but just that there is so much space for me to see, explore, affect. i’m ready to play.
ps. i really wanted to put a relevant “if this trip had a soundtrack, it’d be this…” song on here, but when i thought about it, the only song i could think of was “fuckin’ problems” by a$ap featuring a bunch of people (namely the line “girl, i know you want this d. girl i’m kendrick lamar aka benz-is-to-me-just-a-car” by *surprise* kendrick lamar) but that’s just thanks to kiki and her incessant singing and just no.
here i am in an empty library, surrounded by words and silence. so what’s new? uhm, getting high for the first time… if that one time even counted. i think it did, though barely. the whole experience was a bit anticlimatic to be honest. the whole night kind of was. i mean don’t get me wrong, i had a good time and all, but i’d been expecting so much more. and that is my perpetual mistake, isn’t it? to always expect so much. or to expect at all. why is it so hard to stop expecting things? anyways, things that are to come. hm. in a couple of hours, comforting a friend that’s currently in the limbo between happiness and heartbreak. in a couple of days, listening to musical booms and ahs with relatively new friends that are slowly but surely becoming old and real. and a day after that, seeing pacific rim. in a couple of weeks, going to roma with one of the most important people in my life. and then finally, taking a psych class in the fall. now, i’m trying my hardest not to expect anything here, but it’s mighty hard. it’s like doing the same test and getting the results over and over again, but never learning the lesson. i think i’ll try getting high again, if given the chance. maybe smoking is more my thing. eating chocolate cake might sound good in theory, but the aftertaste of herbs gone awry – not so much. i barely felt the high either. the combo of being a big chica, therefore needing a big dose, and not being able to eat large quantities of sus matters (like a weed-spiked cake) makes for a weak trip. so yeah, at the right place and time, with the right people, i think i’ll try smoking it. the scene in spring breakers when britney spears’ everytime is playing and james franco is playing the piano in riffraff-y getup and the girls are dancing around and holding each other in bikinis, hot pink skimasks and big guns just popped into my head. what a bizarre montage. what a bizarre movie. i can’t believe i actually semi-liked it. it was better than the bling ring, i think. i feel like there are two teams – team sb and team br. i mean, it was super fake, but in the frames of that fakeness, i think it was kinda real? i don’t know, i felt like the characterizations/actions/lines/cinematography was motivated. i believed in the vision. however, the blatant objectification of women (referring to the montage of random tits and asses) is feeling so tired at this point. it’s funny, because on the other hand, i think the main characters were portrayed pretty well. i mean yeah, ridiculous, but also kind of badass in their weakness and once again, pretty real. i actually had a moment of “who am i?” when i realized that fact. to give something trivial more meaning than it actually deserves: i guess you can never say that you know everything about yourself. at least there’s that, that there’s always more. on an unrelated-but-kinda-not note, i’ve always said (in my head) that my biggest fears are death and becoming irrelevant. but now i’m kind of realizing that i fear life a lot too. not in the conventional sense, but the fickleness of it. everything is so fleeting, and it’s scary, because i get so easily attached. and then we’re supposed to just “move on”, because we’re humans but actually animals and that’s what we have to do to survive? like, what is that? and i get that we have to move on, that each life has its course or whatever, but still – why does the rug always have to be pulled from underneath our feet? i mean, it will always hurt to hit the ground, always, and that just… sucks. royally. it’s just really frustrating to know that oh you’re alive? well just so you know, you will be fucked over! repeatedly. like, it’s a fact. why, thank you so much. i really wish you didn’t have to pay to change the font on your blog. typewritertypewriter. i’m a bit amused at the fact that i’m writing this while being at work. getting payed by the hour. i feel a little guilty, but whatever. it’s not like we’ve opened yet. and besides, everybody (nearly nobody) knows that a library assistant is more of a literary bench warmer anyways. it’s kind of cold in here. and really green. haven’t thought of that before. loopy.
I used to think that life was this thing I couldn’t keep up with, that I was a child expected to be an adult. But something has shifted. I still feel like I sometimes can’t keep up with things, and the expectations are still breathing down my neck, but there’s one thing I can say for certain – I’m not a child anymore. I think I’ve been straining against this realization for some time now, immaturely refusing to conform to the societal norm, but I feel like the process has been accelerated this summer, the signs magnified to the point that ignoring them is impossible. Changes. A lot of changes. Like enjoying a TV show that I used to figuratively blush at. Like leaving the country because I want to. Like seeing myself being completely independent. Like making decisions based on ethics. Like realizing I can actually do something based on ethics. I think that it’s only now I’m starting to really feel like there is an “I”, and how much in control of that “I” I am. And at the same time, how much the world tries to take that control away from me. I think growing, and gaining maturity, is all about awareness, and I feel myself becoming more and more aware… Of everything, really. It’s a strange realization to have, and it’s constant. I can feel myself growing taller and it’s pretty amazing.
There was a bird chirping in the dead of the night. A lone bird, singing bravely. Defying the silence. Then the bird stopped. I strained to listen, but there was sound no more. Seconds, minutes, hours passed with nothing but silence. Until I heard a chirp. No, not chirp, but chirps. There were now two birds, singing bravely. Defying the silence. Lone no more. Making a joyful promise of springs to come. Of summers, falls, winters and life, life, life. Life. What a wonderful promise to be made.