The other day I was walking to work. I have mastered a short cut that saves me at least 3 minutes. My short cut takes me around hallesches tor, along the canal, then up through the hospital parking lot, right to deifenbach straße. I was thinking about this song by Pedro the Lion. It's called Secret of an Easy Yoke. I used to love this song. I even made a zine from the lyrics of the song. For a long time, I treated it like an anthem. I treated it kind of like a theme song. It suited my doubt and discontent with the church. I think it was accompanied by a certain smugness. Also I think I viewed David Bazan (of Pedro the Lion) as some sort of prophet/leader. I think I wished that he would make it okay.
In recent years, I haven't liked the band so much. I went the more bluegrass/dolly parton/damien jurado/bruce springsteen/dusty folk way. I guess I just got tired of mopey sad songs. I got tired of people who like Pedro the Lion.
So I was walking along thinking of these lyrics, and I realized how they apply these days, but not in a protest way. The song now takes on an air of humility that just wasn't there before. I think it is a cry out for something simpler.
So when I came home, I checked it out on youtube (dotcom). This is what I found:
The first few seconds are him just talking...then it gets interesting...then the song starts.
I don't know what it is. I thought that this song might have been the start of some kind of revolution. I think a lot of people hoped this. I thought it was going to happen. It never did. And my leader fizzled out with it. There is a sadness when you suffer a loss of a hero.
Kind of like when Jared Leto started wearing eyeliner, or when they made that awful Anne of Green Gables movie (the one that has NOTHING to do with the books).
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
sometimes I worry
Sometimes I worry the blogging culture is taking over.
Look at me, I have two of them, and little embarrassed about both. Yet here I am, and I don't know why. I don't know why I want people to read this. But I want them to. I want to know that you're reading this. Leave a comment
This piece of shit blog.
I did that thing you know, where you click on the next blog, and it takes you to random blogs (usually written in spanish). The ones that I understood seemed kind of...vanity. Which is exactly what this one is. I guess it's what they all are.
It's an excellent tool for any random nobody to display their talents and possessions and children and travels. Most of it is boring, yet I find myself totally sucked in. Hoping that someone out there in the great wide world will strike me with something profound or clever or interesting.
This is what I have discovered:
1) All babies are cute.
2) All children are hilarious, and sometimes get sick.
3) Any food can look tempting given the right digital means.
4) We are all crafty and talented and have impeckable taste in paint chips.
5) Every flower is beautiful. Every sunset a total stunner. Spring is here
6) The renovations are coming along nicely.
7) The stuff you bought on ebay is super cool and a total deal.
8) Our husbands are a total dream.
9) The Eiffel tower is in Paris.
I don't want to step on toes. I like the blog world, I just sometimes worry about it. We behave this way in real life as well. It's human, we have always wanted to find a way to put ourselves on display.
Sometimes it's just alarming how out there we are with this. I have a web-page so HERE IT IS!!! Take a look. By the time you see a person face to face, there's nothing to talk about because you've already read the blog. I don't need to see the pictures of your kids that you have tucked away in your wallet, because I check you flickr site every week. I don't need to remember your birthday. I don't need to ask you about your trip to Europe. I don't need to see your house, or look at your garden. I don't even need to ask you why you're sad, but I can send you this fantastic e-card. It's all just there.
It has made the personal, impersonal. It makes me sad a little. It has the potential to get out of control.
I like hanging out with humans.
Hey, you should totally check out my other blog. I'm going to post about my life in Berlin!
Look at me, I have two of them, and little embarrassed about both. Yet here I am, and I don't know why. I don't know why I want people to read this. But I want them to. I want to know that you're reading this. Leave a comment
This piece of shit blog.
I did that thing you know, where you click on the next blog, and it takes you to random blogs (usually written in spanish). The ones that I understood seemed kind of...vanity. Which is exactly what this one is. I guess it's what they all are.
It's an excellent tool for any random nobody to display their talents and possessions and children and travels. Most of it is boring, yet I find myself totally sucked in. Hoping that someone out there in the great wide world will strike me with something profound or clever or interesting.
This is what I have discovered:
1) All babies are cute.
2) All children are hilarious, and sometimes get sick.
3) Any food can look tempting given the right digital means.
4) We are all crafty and talented and have impeckable taste in paint chips.
5) Every flower is beautiful. Every sunset a total stunner. Spring is here
6) The renovations are coming along nicely.
7) The stuff you bought on ebay is super cool and a total deal.
8) Our husbands are a total dream.
9) The Eiffel tower is in Paris.
I don't want to step on toes. I like the blog world, I just sometimes worry about it. We behave this way in real life as well. It's human, we have always wanted to find a way to put ourselves on display.
Sometimes it's just alarming how out there we are with this. I have a web-page so HERE IT IS!!! Take a look. By the time you see a person face to face, there's nothing to talk about because you've already read the blog. I don't need to see the pictures of your kids that you have tucked away in your wallet, because I check you flickr site every week. I don't need to remember your birthday. I don't need to ask you about your trip to Europe. I don't need to see your house, or look at your garden. I don't even need to ask you why you're sad, but I can send you this fantastic e-card. It's all just there.
It has made the personal, impersonal. It makes me sad a little. It has the potential to get out of control.
I like hanging out with humans.
Hey, you should totally check out my other blog. I'm going to post about my life in Berlin!
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
dulcimers sound nice
I hope this works.
It's 355 in the morning here in Berlin. I am having a "white night" like the ones I used to have when I was in highschool. Sometimes I miss that blue room tucked in the basement with the Smashing Pumpkins poster and white christmas lights. I still have that poster somewhere.
I found a bit of faith on youtube. I don't know what made me type in Rich Mullins, but I did.
I've been thinking a lot lately about faith. Obviously, my own faith. I was rereading my blog (this one) from the beginning. You can read how my faith waivers and sputters and fizzles out. When I read the start, and it sounds like someone else. Someone trying to be something else. I can hear the effort to drop God's name. I thought that would define me somehow.
Contrary to what you might expect, I don't think that my loss of faith is a bad thing. I truly believe that God gave me this space to discover things on my own...or at least what I think is on my own...but it's probably being very skillfully guided along.
God knows me.
I've never been one who is content with doing something just because someone is telling me to. I am the ass who digs in her heels good and hard until she realizes in her own time that the suggestion was probably good and wise. This annoying need to make these decisions on my own, be it cleaning my room or doing my taxes (ask marilyn).
So I struggled. It was a long one. I didn't want to walk away, but I didn't want o stay either. The only reason I stuck it out so long is because of Holy fear. I mean, you don't really want to get on God's bad side. I've read the Old Testament (or at least parts) God can be a pretty mean dude.
Then, I had this dream. I won't get into it, but I really felt like it was telling me that it's okay to lose faith for a while and ask questions. There would be no abandonment.
I guess that's a long winded approach to simply saying that I am thinking about it more these days than I have in the past 3 or 4 years.
It's still frustrating, but things like old hymns and Dolly Parton and Henri Nouwen and Rich Mullins, make i seem simpler and nicer than it has seemed in a long time. If only it could remain that simple and nice. If only the church could be that simple and nice. I don't get why it has to be all weird and complicated.
This entry annoys me. I find it weird and complicated.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
on being an artist
I think that I have experienced a bit of disenchantment in the realm of art.
I think Berlin really drives this home. There are too many sacrifices to make in the art world. I feel like I watch friends disappear into it.
And yeah, you could make art for art's sake, but some one has got to bring home the bacon.
There is very little that I know on almost every subject, especially art. All I know is what I see, and what I feel. My way of understanding is putting these two things together, and ending up with some product or conclusion. This is how I survive. I may be wrong, but until I find other filters, this is how it is for me.
It makes my stomach hurt when I think about it.
It would be possible to really make it in this art world if you did enough coke and gave enough blowjobs at the right parties. This is how it is simplified in my brain. I suppose you could get ahead in almost any profession this way, but in art, it seems like it's the only way unless you wanna do someone else's art.
The sheer vanity of putting your name everywhere, and being known, not because of art, but because of the parties and openings. A shy person (in my generation) probably won't be able to make money as an artist. Maybe after years of toil, and joe jobs...but by then, we will no longer be young and hot.
I wonder if like, thomas kinkade and robert bateman started out as conceptual artists when they were in their twenties. I wonder if they had to settle into paintings of cottages and cougars in order to get famous.
just a thought.
So I have decided that I don't want it.
I would rather make coffee if it means being honest.
What is the point of selling something you don't believe in?
My tolerance for bullshit has always been low.
It gets me in trouble all the time.
I am not the final authority on all things. I am constantly learning the lesson of humility. My high horse gets a little spooked sometimes, and I get thrown off. It happens. I am not a better person because I don't like or understand the art world. I just don't see a lot of good that comes from it...especially in art form.
Why bother if it can't be good.
Not that being a waitress is the best thing in the world, but at least my value isn't measured by the parties I attend.
Sometimes I feel like the little kid sitting at a table of grown-ups who are all talking about people I don't know. I respond to it emotionally. I get angry on the inside, and when I try to enter into the conversation, I get a "yeah but" response. And my little life feels littler, and my little feelings get littler, and my legs swing under my chair.
This is why blogs rule. I can write a few frustrating things and listen to Johnny and the Moon, and I feel like I understand...
Maybe you do too?
I think Berlin really drives this home. There are too many sacrifices to make in the art world. I feel like I watch friends disappear into it.
And yeah, you could make art for art's sake, but some one has got to bring home the bacon.
There is very little that I know on almost every subject, especially art. All I know is what I see, and what I feel. My way of understanding is putting these two things together, and ending up with some product or conclusion. This is how I survive. I may be wrong, but until I find other filters, this is how it is for me.
It makes my stomach hurt when I think about it.
It would be possible to really make it in this art world if you did enough coke and gave enough blowjobs at the right parties. This is how it is simplified in my brain. I suppose you could get ahead in almost any profession this way, but in art, it seems like it's the only way unless you wanna do someone else's art.
The sheer vanity of putting your name everywhere, and being known, not because of art, but because of the parties and openings. A shy person (in my generation) probably won't be able to make money as an artist. Maybe after years of toil, and joe jobs...but by then, we will no longer be young and hot.
I wonder if like, thomas kinkade and robert bateman started out as conceptual artists when they were in their twenties. I wonder if they had to settle into paintings of cottages and cougars in order to get famous.
just a thought.
So I have decided that I don't want it.
I would rather make coffee if it means being honest.
What is the point of selling something you don't believe in?
My tolerance for bullshit has always been low.
It gets me in trouble all the time.
I am not the final authority on all things. I am constantly learning the lesson of humility. My high horse gets a little spooked sometimes, and I get thrown off. It happens. I am not a better person because I don't like or understand the art world. I just don't see a lot of good that comes from it...especially in art form.
Why bother if it can't be good.
Not that being a waitress is the best thing in the world, but at least my value isn't measured by the parties I attend.
Sometimes I feel like the little kid sitting at a table of grown-ups who are all talking about people I don't know. I respond to it emotionally. I get angry on the inside, and when I try to enter into the conversation, I get a "yeah but" response. And my little life feels littler, and my little feelings get littler, and my legs swing under my chair.
This is why blogs rule. I can write a few frustrating things and listen to Johnny and the Moon, and I feel like I understand...
Maybe you do too?
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Singleness is a burden sometimes.
It's not a heavy burden.
It's like a pair of clunky boots. Most of the time, you don't even notice it...until you get tired, and your feet start to drag. Sometimes you just wanna take your boots off for a minute, and wiggle your toes.
This might not be the best metaphor.
Bateman brains are not the same for every Bateman. Some of us are slower, and need simpler metaphors.
All I'm saying is that at the moment, I would prefer not to drag my feet.
It's not a heavy burden.
It's like a pair of clunky boots. Most of the time, you don't even notice it...until you get tired, and your feet start to drag. Sometimes you just wanna take your boots off for a minute, and wiggle your toes.
This might not be the best metaphor.
Bateman brains are not the same for every Bateman. Some of us are slower, and need simpler metaphors.
All I'm saying is that at the moment, I would prefer not to drag my feet.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
pizza
I aplologize for that last bout of self-pity.
It's not a big deal. I am positive my lack of good vibes was due to loss of energy while I was sick.
Ron Telesky's is not so bad.
I learned how to stretch the dough, which is something new, and mildly challenging. So now I can make pizza.
One time Sara and I tried to make pizza. our dough was dismal. an inch thick at one side, and the other side never even stretched to the side of the (9X9) cake pan. Then we discovered that we were out of cheese, so we used cheez whiz. Other toppings included lunch meat and pineapple. It's one of those flavours I still remember.
Totally delicious.
It's not a big deal. I am positive my lack of good vibes was due to loss of energy while I was sick.
Ron Telesky's is not so bad.
I learned how to stretch the dough, which is something new, and mildly challenging. So now I can make pizza.
One time Sara and I tried to make pizza. our dough was dismal. an inch thick at one side, and the other side never even stretched to the side of the (9X9) cake pan. Then we discovered that we were out of cheese, so we used cheez whiz. Other toppings included lunch meat and pineapple. It's one of those flavours I still remember.
Totally delicious.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
the green monster.
jealousy.
It sits deep in my chest, snapping and snarling and hungry. Usually it's kept at bay in a drugged slumber, but not today. Or yesterday. It's easy to say that things aren't fair. It's harder to shrug it off and scan the english classfieds for shitty jobs. The truth is that we are all sort of competing for the sweet job, and only a few of us can have it. I've just got to ignore the monster, and carry on.
Easier said than done.
I don't know why I seem to think that I am more deserving.
The bird caged inside of Dunkin' Donuts is signing.
It sits deep in my chest, snapping and snarling and hungry. Usually it's kept at bay in a drugged slumber, but not today. Or yesterday. It's easy to say that things aren't fair. It's harder to shrug it off and scan the english classfieds for shitty jobs. The truth is that we are all sort of competing for the sweet job, and only a few of us can have it. I've just got to ignore the monster, and carry on.
Easier said than done.
I don't know why I seem to think that I am more deserving.
The bird caged inside of Dunkin' Donuts is signing.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
reality of berlin
Yesterday Ben, Chad and I went to the Memorial for the Murdered Jews in Europe. It´s a neat place to walk around in. We decided to actually check out the information center.
That shit is so fucked up.
I think that fucked up is the best way to describe it.
We study the world wars, and watch the movies, and it never seems too real. But it´s real. It was so real. So evil. Cruel history faces me everytime I step out the door. The whole area around our apartment was bombed to nothing. And how people could get together and try to wipe entire races of people. Who stands there and pulls the trigger on babies and grannies and pretty yound girls? How do you do that?
This whole business makes me aware of how irresponsible I am when it comes to world issues. If it could happen 60 years ago, it could happen again....for sure.
So weird.
That shit is so fucked up.
I think that fucked up is the best way to describe it.
We study the world wars, and watch the movies, and it never seems too real. But it´s real. It was so real. So evil. Cruel history faces me everytime I step out the door. The whole area around our apartment was bombed to nothing. And how people could get together and try to wipe entire races of people. Who stands there and pulls the trigger on babies and grannies and pretty yound girls? How do you do that?
This whole business makes me aware of how irresponsible I am when it comes to world issues. If it could happen 60 years ago, it could happen again....for sure.
So weird.
Friday, January 11, 2008
nonsense number 1
I've been thinking a lot about things.
Berlin is a very huge challenge. Not just geographically speaking...or not speaking, but also in the day to day.
I am not bummed out or anything, in fact, quite the opposite. I feel ready to face this coming year with energy and gusto.
Since arriving, I have become very inspired to do something amazing. I want to make some art. But I think the art I want to do is not quite Berlin styles. There are a bunch of art openings tonight, and there's a posse of ex-pats going around from gallery to gallery. To tell the truth, i am thankful for my sore throat that will keep me home tonight. I have never been fond of openings. I am not a fan of the schmooze....free wine or not.
I am encouraged by the fact that I want to make shit. This hasn't really happened in years.
I went for a walk today. I have an appointment with a potential employer tomorrow, and I wanted to be sure that I know where I am going. So I walked into Mitte. It's not a long walk. Everywhere I walk is interesting these days. The sun was setting, turning buildings pink. I was heart-glad that I came. I can do this.
If I can, anyone can. I am sure.
I had huge idea of what I would write here, but it's all forgotten. sorry. so it blogs.
Berlin is a very huge challenge. Not just geographically speaking...or not speaking, but also in the day to day.
I am not bummed out or anything, in fact, quite the opposite. I feel ready to face this coming year with energy and gusto.
Since arriving, I have become very inspired to do something amazing. I want to make some art. But I think the art I want to do is not quite Berlin styles. There are a bunch of art openings tonight, and there's a posse of ex-pats going around from gallery to gallery. To tell the truth, i am thankful for my sore throat that will keep me home tonight. I have never been fond of openings. I am not a fan of the schmooze....free wine or not.
I am encouraged by the fact that I want to make shit. This hasn't really happened in years.
I went for a walk today. I have an appointment with a potential employer tomorrow, and I wanted to be sure that I know where I am going. So I walked into Mitte. It's not a long walk. Everywhere I walk is interesting these days. The sun was setting, turning buildings pink. I was heart-glad that I came. I can do this.
If I can, anyone can. I am sure.
I had huge idea of what I would write here, but it's all forgotten. sorry. so it blogs.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
party
I had a mulled wine and snacks party last night. It was mellow, warm and relaxed. A nice time.
I can't help but feel a little disappointed in some of my friends. The ones that never showed. The ones who respond with "yeah, maybe'. Or the ones who respond with "yeah, totally!". I know better. I should have lowered my expectations. I shouldn't have bought so much wine.
Anyway, it's over and I'm leaving, so big deal right?
One of my friends brought an old highschool pal of his, and I was not stoked on him. He was just standing there totally complaining about the music I was playing. He was like, 19. That's the age the music asshole rears it's ugy head. I know this because when I was 19 I was a total music asshole. I doubt I went to parties at strangers houses and openly griped about the music. Besides, I wish that I had listened to Paul Simon when I was 19, and not wasted my time and money on pop punk...or whatever.
I don't feel sad about leaving.
I feel relieved.
I can't help but feel a little disappointed in some of my friends. The ones that never showed. The ones who respond with "yeah, maybe'. Or the ones who respond with "yeah, totally!". I know better. I should have lowered my expectations. I shouldn't have bought so much wine.
Anyway, it's over and I'm leaving, so big deal right?
One of my friends brought an old highschool pal of his, and I was not stoked on him. He was just standing there totally complaining about the music I was playing. He was like, 19. That's the age the music asshole rears it's ugy head. I know this because when I was 19 I was a total music asshole. I doubt I went to parties at strangers houses and openly griped about the music. Besides, I wish that I had listened to Paul Simon when I was 19, and not wasted my time and money on pop punk...or whatever.
I don't feel sad about leaving.
I feel relieved.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
heavy hearts
Sadness.
I can't enter into the sadness of my breakfast date. The hands of friends are tied in the face of grief. I have not lost my mother. I cannot make anything better, I am unable to help. My feeble attempt at comfort is second-rate pancakes at the greasy spoon on broadway and main. If only I could make it said in a hug. I am a clumsy friend.
But this isn't even about me.
I can't enter into the sadness of my breakfast date. The hands of friends are tied in the face of grief. I have not lost my mother. I cannot make anything better, I am unable to help. My feeble attempt at comfort is second-rate pancakes at the greasy spoon on broadway and main. If only I could make it said in a hug. I am a clumsy friend.
But this isn't even about me.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
cat sitter
i am in matt and kim's bed. it's my new job to look after wee merger. merger is their cat. he is big and orange and very handsome. at the moment he is skulking noisily about the house. i think he is trying to tell me something, but i am no good at the complexities of cattish languages. he might also just singing along with tom waits. the two voices blend quite nicely. sometimes tom waits seeps into the cracks that you didn't know were in your heart. i like music like this.
last night was the jj bean christmas party. lots of dancing. a handful of fun. i danced a button right off my dress. i am glad that my jj days are over. i feel a certain level of chagrin about that place. it was hard to wipe the smirk off my face while the speech/pep rally was going on. i think it was your regular, garden variety staff christmas party.
tonight is the foundation party. i think it will be fun. more relaxed. better food. the last time i will see bryan. i called him a jerk (to his face) a couple of weeks ago, and things haven't been the same since. i am sorry about this because i like him.
i am very excited about this christmas business coming up.
the other day, i was getting all excited about the orange in the stocking and the cup of coffee in the morning. bateman family christmas.
last night was the jj bean christmas party. lots of dancing. a handful of fun. i danced a button right off my dress. i am glad that my jj days are over. i feel a certain level of chagrin about that place. it was hard to wipe the smirk off my face while the speech/pep rally was going on. i think it was your regular, garden variety staff christmas party.
tonight is the foundation party. i think it will be fun. more relaxed. better food. the last time i will see bryan. i called him a jerk (to his face) a couple of weeks ago, and things haven't been the same since. i am sorry about this because i like him.
i am very excited about this christmas business coming up.
the other day, i was getting all excited about the orange in the stocking and the cup of coffee in the morning. bateman family christmas.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
tickets
The romance has been taken out of travel a little bit. it's kind of crazy that you can buy an airplane ticket in your pj's. i think a taste of excitement is held in the actual ticket. never the less, i have my ticket, and i am excited. the boys leave in a few days, and they are thrilled. at least, ben is. i hardly ever see chad. december 27th. til june 8th. the truth is that i don't konw what i'm doing, but going for a year freaked me out before. i have set my sites lower this time. i can't wait to be there. i kind of already am...in my daydreams. i am jealous that ben and chad are going to be in paris in a week and a half.
do you know i love paris?
well.
i do.
i am thinking in very short sentences tonight.
my friend dave came into foundation tonight. dave and i have the exact same birthday....he is my gay soulmate. i feel nothing but pure joy when i see his face. he came in 20 minutes before i got to leave so after work i sat down with him and his new boyf. it was nice. i think i sort of relish meeting new people. establishing friendships. it's also pretty great when people you really like are with people who are worthy of them. dave's new fella is a keeper.
it's been a dramatic week. i've fallen straight on my ass bone, and it hurts like the dickens. i've also stuck my nose in something that is not my business, but ultimately, i think i've done the right thing. if i makes me unpoplular with one or two poeple, so be it. i simply do not tolerate domestic abuse.
that's it.
do you know i love paris?
well.
i do.
i am thinking in very short sentences tonight.
my friend dave came into foundation tonight. dave and i have the exact same birthday....he is my gay soulmate. i feel nothing but pure joy when i see his face. he came in 20 minutes before i got to leave so after work i sat down with him and his new boyf. it was nice. i think i sort of relish meeting new people. establishing friendships. it's also pretty great when people you really like are with people who are worthy of them. dave's new fella is a keeper.
it's been a dramatic week. i've fallen straight on my ass bone, and it hurts like the dickens. i've also stuck my nose in something that is not my business, but ultimately, i think i've done the right thing. if i makes me unpoplular with one or two poeple, so be it. i simply do not tolerate domestic abuse.
that's it.
Friday, October 19, 2007
It's not the world that I am changing...
Once in a while, I get suddenly filled with this strange sense of urgency. That I need to do something NOW! If I don't, I'll miss my chance. I never know what tangible thing it is that I get so fevered about. I can never pin point it. I can never grab root. It's the pacing around the house thinking and thinking with your mind skipping about. And it's never about what to wear tomorrow or what my friends are doing. It's this deep fountain that bubbles out. It's the place where frustration and fufillment meet. It's hope and disappointment. Doubt and bravery. On one hand it feels like the purest thing I've ever known, on the other hand it's the faintest. It's skimpy.
In the Emily books, L.M Montgomery writes about the flash. The lifting of the veil. I think maybe the two are related. The urgency to see what lies beyond, to hold onto the flash. It's a bit of a motivator because it always makes me want to make changes. I want to make apologies and friends. It provokes this need to be honest and true. It makes me feel like I am not big enough or strong enough to love the world.
It makes me want to write up this big pretentious mission statement (a la Jerry Macguire).
But I never could. I simply lack the eloquence.
I just think that everyone should know how rad they are. And I think they should embrace it. What can I do to encourage it?
I need to come up with a better word than "rad".
I'm wearing goth nail polish. I don't recognize my hands.
I am crunching on an unattainable boy so hard. Every day it gets worse, because as I get to know him better, he just turns more magical. I think magical is the best word. However, he of girlfriend and dread locks and vandalism, he needs to be out of the picture...fast.
This is what always happens, by the way.
In the Emily books, L.M Montgomery writes about the flash. The lifting of the veil. I think maybe the two are related. The urgency to see what lies beyond, to hold onto the flash. It's a bit of a motivator because it always makes me want to make changes. I want to make apologies and friends. It provokes this need to be honest and true. It makes me feel like I am not big enough or strong enough to love the world.
It makes me want to write up this big pretentious mission statement (a la Jerry Macguire).
But I never could. I simply lack the eloquence.
I just think that everyone should know how rad they are. And I think they should embrace it. What can I do to encourage it?
I need to come up with a better word than "rad".
I'm wearing goth nail polish. I don't recognize my hands.
I am crunching on an unattainable boy so hard. Every day it gets worse, because as I get to know him better, he just turns more magical. I think magical is the best word. However, he of girlfriend and dread locks and vandalism, he needs to be out of the picture...fast.
This is what always happens, by the way.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sometimes I am old.
Times when when I can feel wrinkles around my eyes just by smiling. Getting crushes on boys who are nearly ten years my junior. When the music is too loud and the lights are too dim. When I sit and grieve for the immerging generation. When the trichotillomania is at a peak. When my back and legs and feet are tired from working. When things look generally grey and gloomy.
I am thankful for my life and my work and I am excited about so many things. It's nice to be optimistic for real tangible things. Things are good.
It's just these late night thoughts and no one to share them with. The worry about being single and working in a coffee shop forever. I think it's okay to feel like you a limit with singleness. It's okay to not want to go to bed because it seems so empty. I know how to suck it up and deal with it, but sometimes, when I am particularily old and tired, I do not want to be alone anymore. I had a kissing dream last night....with Owen Wilson. It was a great dream. Waking up sucked.
I've been entertaining some ideas today. Not sure if they're good ideas, but it doesn't matter because i have absolutely no intention of following through with any of them.
I have decided to try to not have a drink until Christmas time. I just feel like it's a little to easy to have one too many. We'll see how it goes. It's also very easy to have a wee drink at work
Today I downloaded about 15 Garth Brooks songs. He's amazing. If this officially gives me bad taste in music, so be it. You can take your wolf/horse/mother/mountain bands. Garth is rad. In particular, The Change. I don't know why. It's been made into this super american song, but if you take it out of the context of 9/11, it's a great song on it's own. And don't get me started on The Redstrokes....
I've been thinking about all this stuff. Like the video in the last post. How can I love? I feel like I'm not loving enough. I sometimes feel like my purpose here on earth is to make people feel loved. I usually end up hurting them. i am constantly forgetting birthdays and putting off writing that email. I like a lot of people, I get along with a lot of people, but i don't know if I love them. It's kind of a tragedy when I really think about it. I'm just here on Main Street doing a half-assed job.
I need to stop writing about it.
good night
Times when when I can feel wrinkles around my eyes just by smiling. Getting crushes on boys who are nearly ten years my junior. When the music is too loud and the lights are too dim. When I sit and grieve for the immerging generation. When the trichotillomania is at a peak. When my back and legs and feet are tired from working. When things look generally grey and gloomy.
I am thankful for my life and my work and I am excited about so many things. It's nice to be optimistic for real tangible things. Things are good.
It's just these late night thoughts and no one to share them with. The worry about being single and working in a coffee shop forever. I think it's okay to feel like you a limit with singleness. It's okay to not want to go to bed because it seems so empty. I know how to suck it up and deal with it, but sometimes, when I am particularily old and tired, I do not want to be alone anymore. I had a kissing dream last night....with Owen Wilson. It was a great dream. Waking up sucked.
I've been entertaining some ideas today. Not sure if they're good ideas, but it doesn't matter because i have absolutely no intention of following through with any of them.
I have decided to try to not have a drink until Christmas time. I just feel like it's a little to easy to have one too many. We'll see how it goes. It's also very easy to have a wee drink at work
Today I downloaded about 15 Garth Brooks songs. He's amazing. If this officially gives me bad taste in music, so be it. You can take your wolf/horse/mother/mountain bands. Garth is rad. In particular, The Change. I don't know why. It's been made into this super american song, but if you take it out of the context of 9/11, it's a great song on it's own. And don't get me started on The Redstrokes....
I've been thinking about all this stuff. Like the video in the last post. How can I love? I feel like I'm not loving enough. I sometimes feel like my purpose here on earth is to make people feel loved. I usually end up hurting them. i am constantly forgetting birthdays and putting off writing that email. I like a lot of people, I get along with a lot of people, but i don't know if I love them. It's kind of a tragedy when I really think about it. I'm just here on Main Street doing a half-assed job.
I need to stop writing about it.
good night
Sunday, October 07, 2007
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