Leaving

There's something romantic about leaving, about impermanence and appreciating what is fleeting. I know I'm lucky to have an opportunity to learn, for the scholarships and aid. But I know this isn't where I need to be right now.

Thinking of the things I could be doing with my time makes my heart race. Knowing that I could be spending my days helping other people, being the change I want to see in the world... it makes me anxious and nervous to get out.

I don't want to be a part of the rat race. I have so much love to give and hope that every hug, conversation, smile that I give makes a difference to someone. I want to give my heart on a larger scale, and am currently searching for my dare to be great situation.

I don't want to be another generalization that turns out to be true. I don't want to be boring and ordinary. What is boring or ordinary is subjective, of course. But I like to think that I'm different. I hope that I'm different.

I admire people who are honest. I admire openness. Above my desk is an old Ray-Ban advertisement ripped from a magazine and sent to me years ago from my best friend, Maryela. The models are folded out of sight, with the text as the only thing showing. "NEVER HIDE" is what it reads. I tape it above my desk or bed everywhere I go as a small but loud reminder.

Honesty works because it makes sense. Everything will add up and further your development if you are honest with yourself.

Easy summers and memories from my childhood make me wish I had never grown up. They make me wish I'd never entered the post-adolescent idealistic phase, because no matter how much of an inside joke it is, it's real. And it's going to last a while.

Nostalgia for childhood creeps up on me every time because I'm a sucker for what I can't have. There's absolutely no turning back to the ignorance of not knowing that we live in a broken world. Each video, photo, bit of knowledge, from every documentary, story, class, has been etched into me forever. And for every bit of knowledge I gain about the state of things, I give a bit of my heart in return. I'm forever altered when I learn these things. And there's so much wrong with the world that I feel almost overwhelmed with my desire to help but not even knowing where to begin because so much seems so desolate. But as blissful as the ignorance was... the hot nights, the carefree, the beautiful insignificance of it all... I wouldn't change to have it back.

Why be this way? Why throw yourself into uncomfortable situations, why fight, when you could stay complacent? It reminds me of something I came across when reading about Noam Chomsky... someone asked him a similar question regarding his political activism, and he replied that it had something to do with being able to look yourself in the eyes in the morning.

Quiet

days like these make me wonder what the rest of the city is doing while the day disappears behind rooftops.

So shake the dust and take me with you when you do, for none of this has ever been for me.

I feel it all, I feel it all.

Say yes

The last year or so has been pleasantly forgetful, and I don't realize it's so until I remember things from the past that weren't that way. My best memories, the ones that can still make me sweat, make my heartbeat speed, smell the grass, touch the moisture in the air, and make me feel the way I did when they happened... were before I came here and got caught up in a routine of what I should be doing. I never wanted to be a person who'd grow up and fall into a chain of events, a mindless race towards something that's only important because others have said so. A dollar only has the value you chose to give it.

I wanted to do something worthwhile, something of importance that I could look back on and remember. I want to do it all. I want to remember who I so badly wanted to be and forget who I became for a second, because there's a disconnect and I'm too much everything to stay complacent. I want to be a part of everything, meet everyone, see all the beauty and ugly and in between, because really... it's all beautiful. I hate that I started to do things because someone else thought it would be best, that I've apologized when I wasn't sorry, and that I've even considered changing who I was for someone. Would it have been pleasant? Yeah, it would have. Would I have been happy? Maybe sometimes. But none of it would have been done for me, and I would have forgotten my life in a second.

I'm going to try and remember the list of things I wanted to do before all this and add to it... they're simple.

No more white lies. I was born a bad liar and cursed myself for always having to be honest because honesty can hurt people. However, if I'm surrounding myself with people who want lies, I need to rethink. I'll smile in pictures if I feel like it. I never used to apologize... because I knew that later, I'd be thankful for every moment that made me who I was, and I'm going back to that. I've always had more respect for people who were able to disappoint me with the truth than please me with a lie.

"Money, cars, and clothes..."
The future of an artist is bleak, and it's exciting. Bleak means that there is nothing concrete awaiting me; all the more reason to create. Now, I want to say, "Yes." Yes to every invitation, idea, moment, sense, and feel it all.



If it's a big bucket... be a big drop of water.

Ready for summer again

I feel like I've lost something and I don't know how to get it back. The year's been a whirlwind of pleasant and sad things, smiles and laughs other moments I can't quite recall because they were numb, hazy. As everything was happening, I blamed my forgetfulness of the days on my typical bad memory. But there's something else. Reading old thoughts and remembering how I felt as I wrote them make me miss what I lost.

What are we doing? What are they doing? Gearing up for graduation or finding ways to delay it, making resumes to sell themselves to a faceless person who'll throw them away because of a bent page corner or unattractive font... we work and study to get ready for the real world, a world I still want no part of. At times, I want to be young and insignificant, harmless as I lie and itch in the grass, mistakes forgotten and forgiven because no one is spiteful... but I know it's not that way and that's not what I really want. It would be easier in a daze, of course, but numbness never progressed to anything.

I want to lose myself to find myself. I don't regret any of the past year, never. I try not to regret. But these days, I hate the sound of my own voice because I've forgotten how to think before I speak. I don't know why I want what I want or do what I do, but I know I'm here, solid and breathing, and need to remember.

Bill Nye

Doesn't believe in UFOs. That's depressing. He always used to be right.

Maybe I need fantasy

I'm tired of havin' sex.

You say 'like' too much.

When I'm stable long enough, I start to look around for love.

You are 18 year old girl who live in small city of Japan.

It's time I got back, it's time I got back, and I don't even know how I got off the track.

Might have smoked a few in my time, but never thought it was a crime.

The redhead said you shred the cello... and I'm Jell-O, baby.

I'm a lot like you, so please. Hello, I'm here. I'm waiting.

Goddamn! This business is really lame. I've gotta live on an island.

I asked you to go to the Green Day concert. You said you you'd never heard of them. How cool is that?!

I just need to admit that I want sugar in my tea.

How stupid is it? For all I know, you want me too. And maybe you just don't know what to do. And maybe you're scared to say, "I'm falling for you."

Everyone's a little queer. Can't she be a little straight?

Honestly, Goddamn! You left your cello in the basement!

I've got your letter, you've got my song.

I've got a number of irrational fears that I'd like to share with you.

Excuse the bitchin', I shouldn't complain. I should have no feelin, 'cause feelin is pain.

Shakin' booty, makin sweet love all the night. It's time I got back to the good life