I don't want to be this person that's always so down and out on myself. I don't want to be exactly everything I am right now. And sometimes I see what has to be done to fix it... and I just don't know how. and sometimes I know how but I don't know how to try. And sometimes I don't know if I'm trying too hard or if I'm continually giving up.
I'm at this strange spot in my life where nothing is happening and I want something to happen and I just don't know what. I've been waiting for this stroke of inspiration or to be hit by some magical faith in myself or to stumble onto something that just made sense. I've been not so patiently waiting for the peices to simply fall into place.
There's a part of me that says that nothing ever just "falls" into place, and that I can't WAIT for things to happen, I have to aggressively make it happen. I can't be passive about success, I need to stand up and grab at it.
But everytime I thought I had done that, when I saw that I was unhappy and aggressively worked for somethign better to make me happier, it hasn't worked out. I seemingly pick these things to do because i can't be doing nothing and I have to make it happen myself, with my own two hands. I force myself along and along and along, and suddenly I realize that I never wanted it to begin with, I just felt the need to have SOMETHING, ANYTHING.
So, I thought I would try something different this time. I wouldn't force myself to swallow anymore. I wouldn't be overtaken by the need to go, go, go, go. I would wait until I found something that I actually, truly, sincerely wanted so I could go for it, get there and be happy. I was waiting for something to make me want it.
And now I don't know. It hasn't come and maybe it never will. Maybe it won't make sense.
It's hard for me right now not to be really down and out on myself. I don't like to admit that I'm such a self-pitying kind of person, but I am. Or at least, I can be. Right now, I just don't know how to believe in myself. I just can't.
Monday, August 31, 2009
In case you were wondering...
The following are currently official:
- I am in the midst of a momentary black hole life crisis. These usually pass in a day or two's time.
- I am a complete and total internet stalker. Go ahead and ask me what I know you want to know but don't want to ask. I know. People should pay me for the information I can dig up.
- I also just received my Lubitel 2. My new medium format TLR that it one half vintage perfect condition wonder and one half gift from god. I haven't played with it TOO much because I've only had it 2 days. Here are some pictures of me and my new favorite toy.
PS I made an entry or two via cellphone email while in Hawaii, none went through apparently.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
It's just been that kind of day
The vet, relatively unimpressed with her symptoms that confounded me (her face and eye were horribly swollen, then the vomiting, diarrhea, she peed in house which she hasn't done in over a month, and she was generally lethargic). He took her temp, barely looked at her, declared her fine. Fucking asshole. If she dies I'll blame him.
Spent all today babysitting (working on a saturday?). Slept most of the day much to emily and adam's chagrin.
It's nice to see the sky without hmb fog.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Let's play that game, you know, the one where I tell one true story and one false and you have to guess which is which.
Last night I had this dream about climbing through a forest. I kept going up and up and up and I kept forgetting what I kept climbing for. I decided I was in love with the birds. I was in love with everything. So I kept on climbing.
Or maybe
Last night I didn't dream at all and it was just this heavy heavy dark and deep slumber where I felt and thought nothing and I felt emotionally congested all day long.
Is it cheating if they're both false and they're both true? Or only one is completely true and neither are actually false?
Last night I had this dream about climbing through a forest. I kept going up and up and up and I kept forgetting what I kept climbing for. I decided I was in love with the birds. I was in love with everything. So I kept on climbing.
Or maybe
Last night I didn't dream at all and it was just this heavy heavy dark and deep slumber where I felt and thought nothing and I felt emotionally congested all day long.
Is it cheating if they're both false and they're both true? Or only one is completely true and neither are actually false?
The Lou
My newest camera crave: A lubitel.
On Lomo I can get a brand spanking new plastic model complete with 1 year warranty for a balk-worthy three hundred and fifty dollars (I spell it out to emphasize the large amount).
OR!
Even better! I can get an old antique most likely working usually sans manual one on ebay for as low as 20!! Granted, the shipping is usually between 25 and 30 dollars. But hey, sounds like a deal to me!
As some of you may know I consider myself a not so artsy, not so fartsy, and not so talented type of person. (I don't MEAN to always be so self deprecating. To me, it isn't an insult or putting myself down, it's simply acknowledging my strengths and faults).
But I do have a growing interest in medium format film cameras. I think there's a potential for me to be SO interested I might even consider photography a hobby (take into consideration that many feel they can call themselves photographers with only a small sense of vanity. I am not this. not quite yet, at least. I'm just a person that takes pictures sometimes). The thing that stops this from being an actual hobby, you wonder?
The mooooonnneeeeeeeey. Developing and printing film runs quite high. I wish I could afford it a thousand times more often.
For now I'm saving money for mine and Adam's trip. But when I get back? Watch out ebay, my unemployed ass is out to get you.
On other hands: underwater camera in hawaii? you're SO on.
On Lomo I can get a brand spanking new plastic model complete with 1 year warranty for a balk-worthy three hundred and fifty dollars (I spell it out to emphasize the large amount).
OR!
Even better! I can get an old antique most likely working usually sans manual one on ebay for as low as 20!! Granted, the shipping is usually between 25 and 30 dollars. But hey, sounds like a deal to me!
As some of you may know I consider myself a not so artsy, not so fartsy, and not so talented type of person. (I don't MEAN to always be so self deprecating. To me, it isn't an insult or putting myself down, it's simply acknowledging my strengths and faults).
But I do have a growing interest in medium format film cameras. I think there's a potential for me to be SO interested I might even consider photography a hobby (take into consideration that many feel they can call themselves photographers with only a small sense of vanity. I am not this. not quite yet, at least. I'm just a person that takes pictures sometimes). The thing that stops this from being an actual hobby, you wonder?
The mooooonnneeeeeeeey. Developing and printing film runs quite high. I wish I could afford it a thousand times more often.
For now I'm saving money for mine and Adam's trip. But when I get back? Watch out ebay, my unemployed ass is out to get you.
On other hands: underwater camera in hawaii? you're SO on.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
So today I was listening to the radio and that beyonce song "halo" came on. It was a weird song. And then I started thinking about julie and julia and husbands and wives and girls and love and such.
It led me to this:
I have never and probably will never revere a man like that. He's an angel? A saint?? What does that make me? If I think he is those things then what must I think I am? A monster?
And it's kind of gross to imagine a woman, a girl, who thinks SO highly of her significant other that he's her angel, wears a halo, or is a saint. Adam, who is a thousand times wonderful and completely considerate, and always going to do the right thing. To me, even he isn't so high and mighty as to be *evangelical.* I've never thought he was SO great I was blessed just to be loved by him.
So dear world, stop making love sound so gross and servile. No matter what you say he's no god. Just a lowly human like you
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Art of Variation
You know what I get really sick of?
I mean, don't get me wrong, I love art in general, and certain kinds of art (i'll keep it vauge for ease). And I frequent popular art geared blogs and websites and like to see the new sorts of things coming out.
But I'm getting really rather bored. Because I'm sick of all the white girls. No offense for those of a more "fair" complexion. One is not better than the other but I feel like that's rarely represented in popular art. Or possibly just "pop art."
The pictures are these whimsical, gorgeous, breathtaking, and beautiful pictures of women in various states: strong, weak, clothes, naked, plain, adorned, sketched, painted, sculpted, and photographed. And they're nice.
But brown women can be these same things too... And it isn't even just a 'colored' woman that I want to see: I want to see variation. There'll be a sea of red haired, blonde haired, tawny haired, but always white girls... And then one black woman. And if we're lucky a japanese or chinese girl. I want to scream at the world that there are things that exist between these points on the map. All asian is summed into chinese or japanese, all brown is summed into black. I want to see girls I can relate to. I want to see one white, one brown, one tan, one black, and one everything girl.
Even some of the artists I see online that are of a "brown descent" draw these stunningly beautiful blonde girls.
And it's just. so. boring. I get bored of the same eye shapes and nose shapes and chin lines.
Let's start a revolution.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I love art in general, and certain kinds of art (i'll keep it vauge for ease). And I frequent popular art geared blogs and websites and like to see the new sorts of things coming out.
But I'm getting really rather bored. Because I'm sick of all the white girls. No offense for those of a more "fair" complexion. One is not better than the other but I feel like that's rarely represented in popular art. Or possibly just "pop art."
The pictures are these whimsical, gorgeous, breathtaking, and beautiful pictures of women in various states: strong, weak, clothes, naked, plain, adorned, sketched, painted, sculpted, and photographed. And they're nice.
But brown women can be these same things too... And it isn't even just a 'colored' woman that I want to see: I want to see variation. There'll be a sea of red haired, blonde haired, tawny haired, but always white girls... And then one black woman. And if we're lucky a japanese or chinese girl. I want to scream at the world that there are things that exist between these points on the map. All asian is summed into chinese or japanese, all brown is summed into black. I want to see girls I can relate to. I want to see one white, one brown, one tan, one black, and one everything girl.
Even some of the artists I see online that are of a "brown descent" draw these stunningly beautiful blonde girls.
And it's just. so. boring. I get bored of the same eye shapes and nose shapes and chin lines.
Let's start a revolution.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
"You can't eat it but it sustains you"
Late night blog times!!! YAY! It's so exciting for me to have ramble blabber mouth via typos and squinty eyes!! (by that I mean sleepy eyes. not asian ones.)
A couple of things to talk about.
First off, Happiness:
To be ridiculous I could say that I love to be happy (because I know all the rest of you despise it). But to be more coherent and less ri-cock-ulous I will say this: being out with friends, laughing and joking around and talking, actually talking, I feel more like myself. I feel like I'm remembering who I am and coming into my own and being the person I think I am. And that I'm grateful for that.
The upside to be a constantly pessimistic and oft times depressed whine-azoid, is that when I'm happy and truly happy, I know it, I let it run through every part of me. It's like stretching and blossoming, and I don't take it for granted for one second. I'm there and I'm present and I love life and I love my friends and I love myself.
and that's just great.
Second, Tattooooos:
In a flurry of online-ness, late night sleepy face searching, and perhaps a blur of strange deciscion making, I've decided that I need to get the tattoos I've been wanting for awhile asap. I think I want 3... And I'm just SO excited.
Here's the thing. there are a handful of writers that I think to first when I consider favorites. My favorites are my favorites because in some way or other I feel like reading them has utterly and undeniably changed my life. It sounds cheesy but I'm completely sincere. There have been times when the things I have been reading have ignited and inspired me, have helped me grow and walked along the same path as me, have pulled me through and saved me. So it's really important to me, picking which small tidbit, which meager bite of the literary sydney pie, I pick.
Here are the main life changers for me, I think: Gabriel Garcia marquez, pablo neruda, kurt vonnegut (an extreme favorite and incredibly loved but I'm debating whether or not he was a life changed or just an interest and hobby), Anais nin, and Isabel Allende.
I've already practically decided on a pablo neruda quote, "In secret, between the shadow and the soul" with a possible extended version of, "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, / In secret, between the shadow and the soul."
there is the possible K.V. quote, "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt." Which I like.
And I don't know if there are any good isabel allende quotes or if I'll ever be able to pick just one g.g.m. one.
Oh the choices, oh the permanence.
A couple of things to talk about.
First off, Happiness:
To be ridiculous I could say that I love to be happy (because I know all the rest of you despise it). But to be more coherent and less ri-cock-ulous I will say this: being out with friends, laughing and joking around and talking, actually talking, I feel more like myself. I feel like I'm remembering who I am and coming into my own and being the person I think I am. And that I'm grateful for that.
The upside to be a constantly pessimistic and oft times depressed whine-azoid, is that when I'm happy and truly happy, I know it, I let it run through every part of me. It's like stretching and blossoming, and I don't take it for granted for one second. I'm there and I'm present and I love life and I love my friends and I love myself.
and that's just great.
Second, Tattooooos:
In a flurry of online-ness, late night sleepy face searching, and perhaps a blur of strange deciscion making, I've decided that I need to get the tattoos I've been wanting for awhile asap. I think I want 3... And I'm just SO excited.
Here's the thing. there are a handful of writers that I think to first when I consider favorites. My favorites are my favorites because in some way or other I feel like reading them has utterly and undeniably changed my life. It sounds cheesy but I'm completely sincere. There have been times when the things I have been reading have ignited and inspired me, have helped me grow and walked along the same path as me, have pulled me through and saved me. So it's really important to me, picking which small tidbit, which meager bite of the literary sydney pie, I pick.
Here are the main life changers for me, I think: Gabriel Garcia marquez, pablo neruda, kurt vonnegut (an extreme favorite and incredibly loved but I'm debating whether or not he was a life changed or just an interest and hobby), Anais nin, and Isabel Allende.
I've already practically decided on a pablo neruda quote, "In secret, between the shadow and the soul" with a possible extended version of, "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, / In secret, between the shadow and the soul."
there is the possible K.V. quote, "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt." Which I like.
And I don't know if there are any good isabel allende quotes or if I'll ever be able to pick just one g.g.m. one.
Oh the choices, oh the permanence.
Monday, August 3, 2009
A little bit country, a little bit of Rock and Roll
Things I need:
- A job
- A life
- Something to do in the afternoon
- A serious nap.
I'm pretty sure I used to be somewhat... artsy. Nowadays all I do is half assed arts and crafts with my little sister. I feel stagnant, like I haven't produced or done anything worth being proud of in a while. Post-college, sans job, I feel like a deadbeat with no beat. complain, complain, complain, it's all I ever do.
I tell myself it's ok to slouch around for a little while, trying to figure myself out. Because really? I have absolutely no clue. I don't know what I want to do, I don't even know what kinds of things I want to do. I don't know what I enjoy and what makes me feel like a viable human being. And that's ok. Everyone needs to take some time to do these sorts of things all the time... At least, in movies they always do... And I guess it's better I take the time out to do it now rather than 30 years from now (although figuring this out 4 years ago instead of now would have been a better idea). Knowing me, I'll decide something and a handful of eyars later change my mind again. It's a bad habit but I guess it's only human.
And seriously, holy hell, it just took me 5 minutes and a calculator for me to decide if I'm 22 or 23. I keep forgetting... Which is strange. Does this mean I'm getting to that girly age where I start denying how old I am? Nah, I've always had trouble remembering how old I am. Ever since I was 15 when people ask my first instinct is to say whatever number comes to mind first. Either way, time is passing and my "it's ok to figure myself out" time is waning.
Dear world, what am I going to do with myself?
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