I think relationships are two people, two wholes, coming together to create beautiful art together, rather than two parts hoping for a whole. It could also be two people coming together to face the world, to go against it, if must be. That would be preferable to facing the world on one's own.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Snippet
The only two people in an empty classroom...
Girl: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut up and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Me: For some it keeps them going. Not me, I always prefer a good conversation.
Girl: Words are inert. They’re just symbols. They’re dead. And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It’s unspeakable.
Me: You're an interesting girl, aren't you?
Girl: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut up and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Me: For some it keeps them going. Not me, I always prefer a good conversation.
Girl: Words are inert. They’re just symbols. They’re dead. And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It’s unspeakable.
Me: You're an interesting girl, aren't you?
Shower
In the shower I turned my head toward the curtain and felt the jet of water shoot into my ear, eliciting the same reaction from me as when a dog finds the opportunity to lick within my ear.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Many Firsts
Two nights ago I spent the night with my friend Andrew. First we went to one of his coworkers' house for some pre-"gaming" before going to some music venue at a club. They seemed like good people but, according to Andrew, they all have some nasty characteristics once you get to know them. I probably won't ever get to know them because of the scene they associate with, and because they are much older than me.
The club was a little strange to me since I've never been to one before. The music was too loud to talk over; they played some electronic music. Two people were painting off to the side, I guess as paid entertainment? I stood in front of the speakers at one point and it felt like I was standing and there was another me passing through me, forward then backward, reverberating. When I explained that to Andrew he said I should follow the movements of the reverberating me to dance. I never really feel like dancing, if you can call it that, so I just stood around feeling awkward. I was there for Andrew anyway, and don't plan on being in a place like that again. Once more I got the feeling I was being watched and I kept catching people looking at me right before they turned away. I know I've posted about people staring at me and I still don't know what they're seeing. Probably my uncomfortableness and how much I didn't want to be there.
We finally left and went back to Andrew's which has a cool room in the attic with tan walls and a slanted white ceiling to reflect light. The room contained two tables, an armchair, two beds and the walls were mostly bookshelves. The purpose of the night was to try DMT for the first time which is released when you're born, die and sleep. We did it at the same time and became paralyzed; we couldn't really speak or move, only look around. The room, for me, became divided into three separate rooms: the empty bed with a couple carved chairs and bookshelves, the bed I was on facing the computer desk, and the armchair Andrew sat in with the other table and bookshelves. The empty bed room became very stylized, colors warm and vibrant, like the back of some 1950s cereal box. I never looked at Andrew, but the plate on the floor with the painted rim became figures dancing in a circle, and in the mirror over the table I saw myself sitting perfectly still and then the reflection started looking around and moving while I stared. There was also a phase where the entire room became painted like a child's paint-by-number, colorful splotches of paint representing things. It was also a little like Andy Warhol's style. I also saw a membrane on the inside of the room coating the walls; it was a soft gradient blue. I mentally enlarged it by pulling a section of wall towards me and saw a pattern of connected pentagons with a thin black line in the upper half of each pentagon. I didn't enlarge it anymore to see what was inside the line. Perhaps because I noticed it, the membrane began decomposing and was soon gone. Andrew would later tell me he saw the same thing and a variation of the painted sequence. It was like we shared a conscious lucid daydream.
All in all, it was very short, like an abridged mushroom journey, as if all the scenes that would happen with mushrooms were stitched together to make one confusing moment in space and time. I felt like we had lost an hour but it was probably five minutes. For the amount we did to get that effect and with how much it costs, I probably won't do it again. Mushrooms are a lot cheaper and more open in length and content. I have to say, though, that for how short DMT was I remember it very vividly days later.
Then last night I was up for four hours or so making beet burgers and a big salad. There's so many different veggies in each, I'm excited to eat them. I also made two cans of hummus today with my freshly opened spices. I could taste a difference in hummus with the old spices at home and the new ones here. Hopefully everything I bought will last at least three weeks if not four because I did spend a lot on groceries. Fortunately, the organic garden club I am with is still producing food and I've been given permission to take what I need. One of the managers said he's been taking excess home over the summer and composting it because there was just too much to use. So maybe I'll have free organic foods until the end of September, weather permitting.
The club was a little strange to me since I've never been to one before. The music was too loud to talk over; they played some electronic music. Two people were painting off to the side, I guess as paid entertainment? I stood in front of the speakers at one point and it felt like I was standing and there was another me passing through me, forward then backward, reverberating. When I explained that to Andrew he said I should follow the movements of the reverberating me to dance. I never really feel like dancing, if you can call it that, so I just stood around feeling awkward. I was there for Andrew anyway, and don't plan on being in a place like that again. Once more I got the feeling I was being watched and I kept catching people looking at me right before they turned away. I know I've posted about people staring at me and I still don't know what they're seeing. Probably my uncomfortableness and how much I didn't want to be there.
We finally left and went back to Andrew's which has a cool room in the attic with tan walls and a slanted white ceiling to reflect light. The room contained two tables, an armchair, two beds and the walls were mostly bookshelves. The purpose of the night was to try DMT for the first time which is released when you're born, die and sleep. We did it at the same time and became paralyzed; we couldn't really speak or move, only look around. The room, for me, became divided into three separate rooms: the empty bed with a couple carved chairs and bookshelves, the bed I was on facing the computer desk, and the armchair Andrew sat in with the other table and bookshelves. The empty bed room became very stylized, colors warm and vibrant, like the back of some 1950s cereal box. I never looked at Andrew, but the plate on the floor with the painted rim became figures dancing in a circle, and in the mirror over the table I saw myself sitting perfectly still and then the reflection started looking around and moving while I stared. There was also a phase where the entire room became painted like a child's paint-by-number, colorful splotches of paint representing things. It was also a little like Andy Warhol's style. I also saw a membrane on the inside of the room coating the walls; it was a soft gradient blue. I mentally enlarged it by pulling a section of wall towards me and saw a pattern of connected pentagons with a thin black line in the upper half of each pentagon. I didn't enlarge it anymore to see what was inside the line. Perhaps because I noticed it, the membrane began decomposing and was soon gone. Andrew would later tell me he saw the same thing and a variation of the painted sequence. It was like we shared a conscious lucid daydream.
All in all, it was very short, like an abridged mushroom journey, as if all the scenes that would happen with mushrooms were stitched together to make one confusing moment in space and time. I felt like we had lost an hour but it was probably five minutes. For the amount we did to get that effect and with how much it costs, I probably won't do it again. Mushrooms are a lot cheaper and more open in length and content. I have to say, though, that for how short DMT was I remember it very vividly days later.
Then last night I was up for four hours or so making beet burgers and a big salad. There's so many different veggies in each, I'm excited to eat them. I also made two cans of hummus today with my freshly opened spices. I could taste a difference in hummus with the old spices at home and the new ones here. Hopefully everything I bought will last at least three weeks if not four because I did spend a lot on groceries. Fortunately, the organic garden club I am with is still producing food and I've been given permission to take what I need. One of the managers said he's been taking excess home over the summer and composting it because there was just too much to use. So maybe I'll have free organic foods until the end of September, weather permitting.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
My First Apartment
I know you guys have been waiting to hear about my new living situation. It's been a real roller coaster of emotion and uncertainty so I haven't felt okay to post.
I got in to Fort Collins about 6:30 on the 16th. It was raining and everyone was acting like they didn't know how to drive. It's interesting; everyone will speed in snow but not know how to drive in the rain, and in St. Louis it was the other way around.
So I started checking in to the complex but with someone who doesn't normally check people in, so it wasn't until nine that I was fully checked in and I was basically told to figure out the papers myself.
The apartment itself wasn't what I imagined in my head. It's as if they wanted to give as much space as possible but compress it like tetris pieces; the whole things is more like an efficiency apartment. The living room is pretty neglected, containing matchstick furniture with cheap cushions. Other than that it's empty. My roommate keeps all of his stuff in his room, including TV.
Josh has been living here for four months. He was in the smaller bedroom (now mine) until his roommate left, then he switched to the larger room which is roughly twice as big and only thirty dollars more a month. He doesn't really cook but is healthy in the way he eats, though I think he forgets about his food since I had to throw out some moldy bread and sour milk. His facial hair is very sharp, sort of like a greaser or one of those old-time guys with curled mustaches. He wants to be a brewer even though his degree is in natural resources, and he has been working at one of the microbreweries. He seems to get free beer and he drinks a lot, the way I drink lots of water.
The building is two stories with living room and kitchen on the first floor and bedrooms and bathroom on the second. The bathroom is very compact like mine at home, but is a bland white with hospital lighting (the whole apartment has hospital lighting); it's not the sort of bathroom one would want to hang out in. Like I said, my room is the smaller one and I was hoping to be able to finally have a full size bed, but it took up almost half the room! There was no room for my bookcase or for me to access my closet so I had to switch it out for a twin. While it fits me, it kills my chances at cuddling or napping with someone which upsets me. There's a chance Josh will be moving in with his brother because he doesn't really like these college apartments, in which case I could probably take his room and get the full bed.
None of the buildings have AC and they aren't built to catch a breeze. Architecturally this is a very big no-no, you have to have one or the other. I'm not terribly disappointed, though, because I know most of the school year is basically like winter; but it's been a lot hotter and more humid than it should be so who knows.
Unpacking is going well. The bed has been switched and the internet will be reconnected to my room soon. It's difficult to grocery shop right now because I don't know exactly what I need on hand. I bought some boca burgers to hold me until I figure it out. I think Sunday will be my first cooking day with my appliances and I'll be making beetroot burgers! I rekindled relations with a lot of my friends from last year. Last night was a big drinking night and I never made it home, the smart thing to do. Tomorrow I may get together with a friend who has a lot of connections and see a music show and try some new stuff. I probably won't be getting home that night either.
I think that's all I can think of to write about for now. I think all of my emotional issues with how this apartment is stems from having a vision of coming to my furnished apartment and then the realization that I'll have to unpack overwhelms me. Also I've been spoiled my whole life in having lots of space to myself which I think is why I'm such a territorial person and have a hard time adapting to new smaller spaces.
I got in to Fort Collins about 6:30 on the 16th. It was raining and everyone was acting like they didn't know how to drive. It's interesting; everyone will speed in snow but not know how to drive in the rain, and in St. Louis it was the other way around.
So I started checking in to the complex but with someone who doesn't normally check people in, so it wasn't until nine that I was fully checked in and I was basically told to figure out the papers myself.
The apartment itself wasn't what I imagined in my head. It's as if they wanted to give as much space as possible but compress it like tetris pieces; the whole things is more like an efficiency apartment. The living room is pretty neglected, containing matchstick furniture with cheap cushions. Other than that it's empty. My roommate keeps all of his stuff in his room, including TV.
Josh has been living here for four months. He was in the smaller bedroom (now mine) until his roommate left, then he switched to the larger room which is roughly twice as big and only thirty dollars more a month. He doesn't really cook but is healthy in the way he eats, though I think he forgets about his food since I had to throw out some moldy bread and sour milk. His facial hair is very sharp, sort of like a greaser or one of those old-time guys with curled mustaches. He wants to be a brewer even though his degree is in natural resources, and he has been working at one of the microbreweries. He seems to get free beer and he drinks a lot, the way I drink lots of water.
The building is two stories with living room and kitchen on the first floor and bedrooms and bathroom on the second. The bathroom is very compact like mine at home, but is a bland white with hospital lighting (the whole apartment has hospital lighting); it's not the sort of bathroom one would want to hang out in. Like I said, my room is the smaller one and I was hoping to be able to finally have a full size bed, but it took up almost half the room! There was no room for my bookcase or for me to access my closet so I had to switch it out for a twin. While it fits me, it kills my chances at cuddling or napping with someone which upsets me. There's a chance Josh will be moving in with his brother because he doesn't really like these college apartments, in which case I could probably take his room and get the full bed.
None of the buildings have AC and they aren't built to catch a breeze. Architecturally this is a very big no-no, you have to have one or the other. I'm not terribly disappointed, though, because I know most of the school year is basically like winter; but it's been a lot hotter and more humid than it should be so who knows.
Unpacking is going well. The bed has been switched and the internet will be reconnected to my room soon. It's difficult to grocery shop right now because I don't know exactly what I need on hand. I bought some boca burgers to hold me until I figure it out. I think Sunday will be my first cooking day with my appliances and I'll be making beetroot burgers! I rekindled relations with a lot of my friends from last year. Last night was a big drinking night and I never made it home, the smart thing to do. Tomorrow I may get together with a friend who has a lot of connections and see a music show and try some new stuff. I probably won't be getting home that night either.
I think that's all I can think of to write about for now. I think all of my emotional issues with how this apartment is stems from having a vision of coming to my furnished apartment and then the realization that I'll have to unpack overwhelms me. Also I've been spoiled my whole life in having lots of space to myself which I think is why I'm such a territorial person and have a hard time adapting to new smaller spaces.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Interchangeable
From different people I've heard the phrase "I don't want him/her out of my life." I don't exactly know all the situations that give rise to this statement, but I've thought about it in terms of myself. I wonder if there are people that feel that way about me. When I'm around people day-to-day constantly I get a lot of unsolicited interaction, but once I leave it seems like I'm always the one to send the first reconnecting message. It's not that I'm not memorable, people seem to remember me, but it seems like anytime I leave, those near me feel they have had their fill and don't need to chat anymore.
I don't think I'm particularly abnormal, but I also don't think there are too many people like me, so I can't be so replaceable that I'm not needed or sought after. I've always had a love-hate relationship with people and I'm usually picky about those I get close with, so I already have a small pool of people I really like; and then they move on and I'm left wondering if people ever don't want me out of their lives. There's sort of a disconnect where people aren't speaking openly about these things and the non-verbal meanings aren't getting through.
I don't think I'm particularly abnormal, but I also don't think there are too many people like me, so I can't be so replaceable that I'm not needed or sought after. I've always had a love-hate relationship with people and I'm usually picky about those I get close with, so I already have a small pool of people I really like; and then they move on and I'm left wondering if people ever don't want me out of their lives. There's sort of a disconnect where people aren't speaking openly about these things and the non-verbal meanings aren't getting through.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Snippet
"I have the Scott Pilgrim movie."
"Oh, that's a great one!"
"I like movies where the guy gets the girl, but it also makes me sad."
"Why is that?"
"Because they make it look so easy."
"Oh, that's a great one!"
"I like movies where the guy gets the girl, but it also makes me sad."
"Why is that?"
"Because they make it look so easy."
Thursday, August 11, 2011
High School Love
I just watched Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, one of the movies I bought at Borders. Michael Cera movies aren't really my favorite but I really got into this one the first time I saw it. I think the visuals that accompany the music played in the movie sync up with what goes on in my mind when I watch music being performed. It's always some battle with one hero able to make things right and triumph. I guess that's what got me into it.
I also like the innocence in Scott Pilgrim, an innocent love like back in high school. That's probably my favorite kind of love, being in the moment day-by-day and having only one expectation, that the other will be in school the next day to see each other. I wish I could go back to that instead of having to meet new people in this older age.
I don't like that actors stop being the characters they play, outside of the movie. The characters were never real in the first place, I guess.
I also like the innocence in Scott Pilgrim, an innocent love like back in high school. That's probably my favorite kind of love, being in the moment day-by-day and having only one expectation, that the other will be in school the next day to see each other. I wish I could go back to that instead of having to meet new people in this older age.
I don't like that actors stop being the characters they play, outside of the movie. The characters were never real in the first place, I guess.
He Was the Sort of Person Who Felt Loss When a Tailing Car Suddenly Took Another Route
I went to Borders yesternight, one of the last in Dallas, probably. I kind of felt a little guilty being there, like a crow looking over the carcass and bones of some dead animal. That's what Borders is now, the name is resigned but the remnants of body linger as if decomposing. My looting of the body went well; the anime sections are picked clean but I found four cheesy movies (my favorite).
I've been consolidating my things so everything will fit in my car to go back to school. In one of my boxes I found a glow stick, one of those sturdy ones. I had found a twisty one earlier in another box but it didn't activate when I cracked it. So I assumed this one was too old as well, but it lit up when I cracked it and its only noon. I feel like I've wasted something good and useful and this is the only one I have. It kind of got me down.
I've been consolidating my things so everything will fit in my car to go back to school. In one of my boxes I found a glow stick, one of those sturdy ones. I had found a twisty one earlier in another box but it didn't activate when I cracked it. So I assumed this one was too old as well, but it lit up when I cracked it and its only noon. I feel like I've wasted something good and useful and this is the only one I have. It kind of got me down.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Sometimes
Sometimes it feels like it should be an easy thing to make a living writing and doing odd jobs on the side, like helping neighbors build things or planting trees or gardening.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Warm Places
Warm places:
the arm of someone driving with the sun on their side
a seat someone just left
the spot of the floor my dog was using
under the covers, plus a few minutes
the arm of someone driving with the sun on their side
a seat someone just left
the spot of the floor my dog was using
under the covers, plus a few minutes
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Double Talk
I think that I usually have double meanings with the things I ask or say; it's sort of one aspect of my vagueness. Maybe by saying certain things I give myself an out, I can claim to have meant something else. I like to be vague and safe that way. On rare occasions, this double meaning is a way to get even, to insult. I'm not even entirely sure when I'm doing this until after it has happened. I don't premeditate my vague meanings.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Moving Wind
So one time in the field we were working and I heard a sound. It was a sort of hollow sound coming toward us and I saw the sound as a ball of wind moving across the field, which is saying something since all the grass was less than an inch high and crisp. So this ball of wind/sound moved and stopped with one of us at its center, then moved on across the field.
Later tonight, Chris and I met up with Tyler, who would have been the field leader if the grass and fire crew had stayed together this season. He had a few beers at a Mexican restaurant with bad service and some gin before walking to the movie theatre. Chris and I got beer at the grocery store to have during the movie. We watched Cowboys and Aliens and poked fun and Chris knocked over all his bottles. It was just a lot of fun.
Later tonight, Chris and I met up with Tyler, who would have been the field leader if the grass and fire crew had stayed together this season. He had a few beers at a Mexican restaurant with bad service and some gin before walking to the movie theatre. Chris and I got beer at the grocery store to have during the movie. We watched Cowboys and Aliens and poked fun and Chris knocked over all his bottles. It was just a lot of fun.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Shit Show
Today was terrible. Since the new intern joined up with us yesterday I took that to be a good sign since he seemed to be good company. However, I didn't realize that having a third worker meant that things would change and she wouldn't keep out personal matters since she didn't really need me anymore.
We started off the day and were looking for the transect and our run with Fort Union has been pretty bad because so many rebar haven't been found and it was believed to be a mistake in the parameters of the GPS unit. So, of course, we couldn't find the first rebar and after a few minutes I commented that if we didn't find it we should call Tomye and ask what to do. So we went on looking and Chris and I started joking with each other about how the bars were never there, while we were looking. One of the jokes was "The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Missing Rebar" and I sent that to Tomye who thought it was funny.
Apparently, Tomye sent a message to Jill saying how much time to spend looking for rebar. At the time I was taking a little break near where the first rebar was supposed to be. Suddenly I hear this yelling and cursing; Jill was yelling at me to start looking again. So I started going again and Chris, who worked with her last year, said she had yelled at him a couple times last year and blamed it later on her diabetes or "girl thing." She's always making excuses and not just taking responsibility for things.
Eventually she came back to the original point after doing her 100+ meter radius (our transects are only 50 meters). She told Chris to start working and me to come with her to the car. That's when my stomach started hurting. She took the spare car key from me and basically put me in time-out by the car for that transect. The whole situation felt like a mom towards her son who had done something wrong. I told her I had only sent a joke and that I was only taking a break when she yelled. She told me to think about what I'd done and went to work, leaving me by the car without water.
The rest of the day I had a stomach ache and my hands would shake when I was around her. I knew that it was because of fear. I've been afraid of her most of the summer because of how unpredictable, and therefore dangerous, she is with her personality tweaks. I've never felt this afraid, though. Chris was a good guy and he couldn't believe all he'd seen.
I knew I couldn't trust her. She's overreacted before. This was just a terrible, depressing day and there's still a lot more to go. If she tries to put me in time-out again I'll call Tomye because I'm not fifteen and I'm here to work and I do good work and never let personal feelings interfere.
We started off the day and were looking for the transect and our run with Fort Union has been pretty bad because so many rebar haven't been found and it was believed to be a mistake in the parameters of the GPS unit. So, of course, we couldn't find the first rebar and after a few minutes I commented that if we didn't find it we should call Tomye and ask what to do. So we went on looking and Chris and I started joking with each other about how the bars were never there, while we were looking. One of the jokes was "The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Missing Rebar" and I sent that to Tomye who thought it was funny.
Apparently, Tomye sent a message to Jill saying how much time to spend looking for rebar. At the time I was taking a little break near where the first rebar was supposed to be. Suddenly I hear this yelling and cursing; Jill was yelling at me to start looking again. So I started going again and Chris, who worked with her last year, said she had yelled at him a couple times last year and blamed it later on her diabetes or "girl thing." She's always making excuses and not just taking responsibility for things.
Eventually she came back to the original point after doing her 100+ meter radius (our transects are only 50 meters). She told Chris to start working and me to come with her to the car. That's when my stomach started hurting. She took the spare car key from me and basically put me in time-out by the car for that transect. The whole situation felt like a mom towards her son who had done something wrong. I told her I had only sent a joke and that I was only taking a break when she yelled. She told me to think about what I'd done and went to work, leaving me by the car without water.
The rest of the day I had a stomach ache and my hands would shake when I was around her. I knew that it was because of fear. I've been afraid of her most of the summer because of how unpredictable, and therefore dangerous, she is with her personality tweaks. I've never felt this afraid, though. Chris was a good guy and he couldn't believe all he'd seen.
I knew I couldn't trust her. She's overreacted before. This was just a terrible, depressing day and there's still a lot more to go. If she tries to put me in time-out again I'll call Tomye because I'm not fifteen and I'm here to work and I do good work and never let personal feelings interfere.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Runaway
Currently listening to:
So This Is Goodbye
William Fitzsimmons
I saw a jack rabbit today in the field. It was sized like a small dog and moved like a deer, several trots then a leap. It leapt away from me and a new intern that joined us (I like to think it was because the other intern was there) and stopped and looked back at us with those tall ears rising high above the grass. I imagined my spirit projecting out of me to run and play with that rabbit.
So This Is Goodbye
William Fitzsimmons
I saw a jack rabbit today in the field. It was sized like a small dog and moved like a deer, several trots then a leap. It leapt away from me and a new intern that joined us (I like to think it was because the other intern was there) and stopped and looked back at us with those tall ears rising high above the grass. I imagined my spirit projecting out of me to run and play with that rabbit.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
This Isn't Happiness
Why do I keep getting a fucking king sized bed when it's just me? Jesus Christ. I just want to go home and smoke and escape myself.
A Song
I saw an interesting music video today where a woman is tied up in a trunk and a guy is driving the car down some lonely country road, looking out the window. Eventually the car is stopped and the man lets the woman out of the trunk, unties her and hands over the rope. She then ties him up and puts him in the trunk. The video begins and ends with the woman tied up on the road with a piece of chalk drawing x's on the ground.
I read an interesting interpretation. It's a sort of love story, one-sided. The x's are what really caught my attention and a connection between the x's and exes was made. An X is two lines which are separate until they meet at one point and then separate. There is a switch: each half of the X seems to be one of the people and each half is a one-hearted situation; the woman feels for the man while he remains ambivalent, until the meeting of the lines when the roles switch and the man falls for her while she becomes distant.
I just like the description of the X. It's a nice idea even though it ends in separation.
I read an interesting interpretation. It's a sort of love story, one-sided. The x's are what really caught my attention and a connection between the x's and exes was made. An X is two lines which are separate until they meet at one point and then separate. There is a switch: each half of the X seems to be one of the people and each half is a one-hearted situation; the woman feels for the man while he remains ambivalent, until the meeting of the lines when the roles switch and the man falls for her while she becomes distant.
I just like the description of the X. It's a nice idea even though it ends in separation.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Flowers Are People Too
"Pain surrounded us shortly after we met. After a while the pain was mine alone."
----
I don't like it when people pick flowers off plants that only put out one flower or if there are few of the plant actually flowering. The reason I don't collect flowers is because there is nothing anyone can do to a flower after it has been picked to make it as beautiful as it was the moment it was noticed in the wild. I've tried; it doesn't work. The only flowers I get are the ones that have already fallen and I never keep them. I once had a bouquet of cut flowers and when they all died I took them outside and buried them. That's how it should be.
In the field today, there was one indian paintbrush blooming in the area and Jill picked the flower. I was so angry with her that I didn't talk or make eye contact the rest of the day out there. It really is one thing to love nature and another thing to love it to its detriment. One of many habits I don't like about that woman.
----
I don't like it when people pick flowers off plants that only put out one flower or if there are few of the plant actually flowering. The reason I don't collect flowers is because there is nothing anyone can do to a flower after it has been picked to make it as beautiful as it was the moment it was noticed in the wild. I've tried; it doesn't work. The only flowers I get are the ones that have already fallen and I never keep them. I once had a bouquet of cut flowers and when they all died I took them outside and buried them. That's how it should be.
In the field today, there was one indian paintbrush blooming in the area and Jill picked the flower. I was so angry with her that I didn't talk or make eye contact the rest of the day out there. It really is one thing to love nature and another thing to love it to its detriment. One of many habits I don't like about that woman.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Quote
I am an expert at speaking while barely saying a word; I’ve been speaking without saying a word all my life, and have endured whole inner tragedies without saying a word.
Dostoevsky
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Power Outage
Some construction is going on nearby which likely caused a blackout at the Hampton. Almost immediately the phones of the front desk began to ring. Take one thing away from people and they turn into children, asking if we're there yet and not knowing how to preoccupy themselves.
"What's going on? A power out?"
"It's my electric personality," jokes one worker.
"I guess it's time for a break," interjects another worker.
A lady comes close to running into the front door head on. She says she doesn't know what to do. Everything is run on electricity here: the doors, the AC, the lights and refrigerators. Our society is run on electricity and people have forgotten even how to deal with a door that will not open. Even a luxury hotel becomes as hot and dark as a low end motel.
Another call comes in, from the elevator. A worker is stuck inside and yet, out of everyone, she is capable of getting out - pulling the doors apart. The other lady still doesn't know how to leave the hotel.
"It's my electric personality," repeats the worker. She will say this many more times, though no one has laughed since the first recitation.
"What's going on? A power out?"
"It's my electric personality," jokes one worker.
"I guess it's time for a break," interjects another worker.
A lady comes close to running into the front door head on. She says she doesn't know what to do. Everything is run on electricity here: the doors, the AC, the lights and refrigerators. Our society is run on electricity and people have forgotten even how to deal with a door that will not open. Even a luxury hotel becomes as hot and dark as a low end motel.
Another call comes in, from the elevator. A worker is stuck inside and yet, out of everyone, she is capable of getting out - pulling the doors apart. The other lady still doesn't know how to leave the hotel.
"It's my electric personality," repeats the worker. She will say this many more times, though no one has laughed since the first recitation.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Laying in Bed Under the Light of My Cell Phone
Last night I had a thought, that I go to sleep when it gets dark only to wake up again when it gets light. That light gives way to dark and then light again, back and forth. I feel like I'm getting tired of the pattern maybe because what I do during the day is so repetitive. I kind of wished that I could do one or the other instead of switching back and forth so rapidly. You know, sleep for an extended period of time then be awake for a similar amount of time. Embrace night or day only. I really wished I would keep sleeping last night. I think the song "Feel It All Around" by Washed Out captures this feeling.
Another strange thing that happened was a commercial that came on before I went to bed. Some aspect of it made me feel sad with longing. It was a realty commercial with a lady standing with tons of signs stuck into this perfect grassy hill. I think it was how perfect the hill looked that got to me, sort of like some of the landscape scenes from David Byrne's movie True Stories. It's like a road trip where you end up on this road with nothing but smooth grass around; and suddenly there are these houses, like a neighborhood of three houses sprouted along the highway. They appear, are passed, and fade in the distance so quickly almost like they are on an island in the middle of no where. I wonder if this description catches the beautiful feeling I'm trying to get across. I wonder if it will rekindle the feeling in me in the future.
I sent out a card to Dandelion, Jeska and my sister. I think it will arrive Friday, you guys.
Another strange thing that happened was a commercial that came on before I went to bed. Some aspect of it made me feel sad with longing. It was a realty commercial with a lady standing with tons of signs stuck into this perfect grassy hill. I think it was how perfect the hill looked that got to me, sort of like some of the landscape scenes from David Byrne's movie True Stories. It's like a road trip where you end up on this road with nothing but smooth grass around; and suddenly there are these houses, like a neighborhood of three houses sprouted along the highway. They appear, are passed, and fade in the distance so quickly almost like they are on an island in the middle of no where. I wonder if this description catches the beautiful feeling I'm trying to get across. I wonder if it will rekindle the feeling in me in the future.
I sent out a card to Dandelion, Jeska and my sister. I think it will arrive Friday, you guys.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Timelessness
Currently listening to:
Soft Music Under Stars
Fila Brazillia
I am finally stuck in the present, though not stuck in a bad way. It could be due to exhaustion and lack of days off but my focus isn't going into the past much and the far future is left alone. What caught my attention is how I have been told that each new location we go to is not as bad as the last, or at least not as difficult as the first Oklahoma site. I noticed that I can't remember how difficult the previous sites were or exactly why Chickasaw was the hardest. Each new place we go seems to be the most difficult, maybe in its own way. When I'm done with work each day, I return to the hotel room and just lay in bed watching the food channel, but of course I can't sleep and get rest. This is the way my days are and there's a timeless feel about them. So I guess all this amounts to living in the present.
Once we arrive at the next place in Colorado there will be more to do. We will be taking three days off once the site is done but before we go to New Mexico. I think we're visiting some caves and cliff dwellings and maybe the Great Sand Dunes. It will be fun to go back there.
I really like the movie Last Holiday with Queen Latifah. I've seen it on TV many times and it always makes me smile, but I never knew the title of the movie until tonight.
Soft Music Under Stars
Fila Brazillia
I am finally stuck in the present, though not stuck in a bad way. It could be due to exhaustion and lack of days off but my focus isn't going into the past much and the far future is left alone. What caught my attention is how I have been told that each new location we go to is not as bad as the last, or at least not as difficult as the first Oklahoma site. I noticed that I can't remember how difficult the previous sites were or exactly why Chickasaw was the hardest. Each new place we go seems to be the most difficult, maybe in its own way. When I'm done with work each day, I return to the hotel room and just lay in bed watching the food channel, but of course I can't sleep and get rest. This is the way my days are and there's a timeless feel about them. So I guess all this amounts to living in the present.
Once we arrive at the next place in Colorado there will be more to do. We will be taking three days off once the site is done but before we go to New Mexico. I think we're visiting some caves and cliff dwellings and maybe the Great Sand Dunes. It will be fun to go back there.
I really like the movie Last Holiday with Queen Latifah. I've seen it on TV many times and it always makes me smile, but I never knew the title of the movie until tonight.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Photographing Prices
While driving, the first concern is gas. I've been in a few situations where my tank ran dangerously low because I kept passing stations with ridiculous prices. For instance, the other day I passed a station selling gas for 3.90/gallon when the area is anywhere between 3.35-3.50/gallon. And in those times every station sticks out as a possible stopping point.
It's important to note that, at high speeds, out of business gas stations look very much like an in business station having a slow day. And then the sign is seen, "unleaded - 1.65," and the heart beats faster at the prospect of finding the cheapest gas in the nation that everyone else somehow did not see. But it's closed. I find it fascinating that more isn't done to make these stations look more unavailable and then I had the idea of making a visual timeline.
Imagine someone traveling the nation photographing old abandoned gas stations, and then arranging the photographs in the order of the dates of their closings. We would then be able to see the fluctuations of that market. Each station is a little time capsule. I know there's probably some paper listing gas prices over time, but this seemed like a more creative way to show it.
It's important to note that, at high speeds, out of business gas stations look very much like an in business station having a slow day. And then the sign is seen, "unleaded - 1.65," and the heart beats faster at the prospect of finding the cheapest gas in the nation that everyone else somehow did not see. But it's closed. I find it fascinating that more isn't done to make these stations look more unavailable and then I had the idea of making a visual timeline.
Imagine someone traveling the nation photographing old abandoned gas stations, and then arranging the photographs in the order of the dates of their closings. We would then be able to see the fluctuations of that market. Each station is a little time capsule. I know there's probably some paper listing gas prices over time, but this seemed like a more creative way to show it.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Soon To Leave Oklahoma
Currently listening to:
I Wish That You Didn't Feel Like My Home
Matt the Electrician
I haven't had much internet access lately; currently, at this small motel in Oklahoma I can't get onto their internet because my computer is picky about what password protected networks it will let me connect with. It's a pain and I can't wait to get a new computer in a few years, when they are even smarter, or whatever. So once in a while I can get a connection with some unprotected network, which isn't great to do so I keep it to a minimum.
Some things I've seen on the road are a skunk, two horses side by side, donkies and layered clouds. I don't think I've ever seen a skunk in the wild and I made sure I didn't hit it lest the area smell like some of the best pot Kansas has ever smelled. The two horses that were exactly next to each other, facing the highway, caught my attention because they were almost like two people you would see in a coffee shop. I wondered what they were thinking and talking about as they watched the far-in between cars pass. It's interesting to see animals positioned like that or facing opposite directions right next to each other; I wonder what it's all about. I have to say I don't like Oklahoma's weather at all, nor their rules or higher prices; however, the state does have pretty awesome skies. The clouds I saw yesterday were layered as if I could be on one and step down like a staircase. The clouds are kind of like a flip book, where each page I turn adds more clouds at a different elevation and distance. It's a pretty awesome sight; I've taken several sky pictures since beginning my job, maybe not as much as I should have.
When we were leaving getting into Oklahoma again, I had an encounter with a sheriff. We were told that cops sometimes pulled government vehicles over because of the odd license plates and lack of an insurance windshield sticker. So this sheriff followed us a bit, then got into my blind spot and stayed there, I assume he was checking out the plate number. After ten minutes since seeing him, he pulled along side and waved, then drove off. I like to think people notice the government license plate and change their behavior accordingly, as if I could really do something about their speeding. I don't think most notice anyway.
It's pretty lonely out here without someone my age to talk with. I did have a good conversation with a guy that works at Washita. He had an aneurism and stroke at a young age and went into a coma, but can't remember any dreams or anything. We talked about rain harvesting and gardens and artificial body parts and why engineers didn't try to recreate the whole instead of just parts. We talked about some literature written by people who have experiences bodily malfunction and were able to write about it as it happened. I later heard from my boss that he was impressed with me. It takes a conversation to bring forth all the little bits of information collected in the back of your mind.
So now I'm quite tipsy. Across the street from the motel is a "liquor store" and, being Oklahoma, it was expensive. I still bought a small flask of three year old whiskey called Canadian Hunter. I don't really like whiskey but wanted to try this and it's smoother than some other cheap whiskey I've tried. Today is just one of those days I don't want to be around Jill or anyone and just want to relax and make a microwave dinner. Andrew suggested a game where I have to say what I'm hunting every time I take a shot: like "I'm hunting WOLVES" or the like.
I Wish That You Didn't Feel Like My Home
Matt the Electrician
I haven't had much internet access lately; currently, at this small motel in Oklahoma I can't get onto their internet because my computer is picky about what password protected networks it will let me connect with. It's a pain and I can't wait to get a new computer in a few years, when they are even smarter, or whatever. So once in a while I can get a connection with some unprotected network, which isn't great to do so I keep it to a minimum.
Some things I've seen on the road are a skunk, two horses side by side, donkies and layered clouds. I don't think I've ever seen a skunk in the wild and I made sure I didn't hit it lest the area smell like some of the best pot Kansas has ever smelled. The two horses that were exactly next to each other, facing the highway, caught my attention because they were almost like two people you would see in a coffee shop. I wondered what they were thinking and talking about as they watched the far-in between cars pass. It's interesting to see animals positioned like that or facing opposite directions right next to each other; I wonder what it's all about. I have to say I don't like Oklahoma's weather at all, nor their rules or higher prices; however, the state does have pretty awesome skies. The clouds I saw yesterday were layered as if I could be on one and step down like a staircase. The clouds are kind of like a flip book, where each page I turn adds more clouds at a different elevation and distance. It's a pretty awesome sight; I've taken several sky pictures since beginning my job, maybe not as much as I should have.
When we were leaving getting into Oklahoma again, I had an encounter with a sheriff. We were told that cops sometimes pulled government vehicles over because of the odd license plates and lack of an insurance windshield sticker. So this sheriff followed us a bit, then got into my blind spot and stayed there, I assume he was checking out the plate number. After ten minutes since seeing him, he pulled along side and waved, then drove off. I like to think people notice the government license plate and change their behavior accordingly, as if I could really do something about their speeding. I don't think most notice anyway.
It's pretty lonely out here without someone my age to talk with. I did have a good conversation with a guy that works at Washita. He had an aneurism and stroke at a young age and went into a coma, but can't remember any dreams or anything. We talked about rain harvesting and gardens and artificial body parts and why engineers didn't try to recreate the whole instead of just parts. We talked about some literature written by people who have experiences bodily malfunction and were able to write about it as it happened. I later heard from my boss that he was impressed with me. It takes a conversation to bring forth all the little bits of information collected in the back of your mind.
So now I'm quite tipsy. Across the street from the motel is a "liquor store" and, being Oklahoma, it was expensive. I still bought a small flask of three year old whiskey called Canadian Hunter. I don't really like whiskey but wanted to try this and it's smoother than some other cheap whiskey I've tried. Today is just one of those days I don't want to be around Jill or anyone and just want to relax and make a microwave dinner. Andrew suggested a game where I have to say what I'm hunting every time I take a shot: like "I'm hunting WOLVES" or the like.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Lost At Sea
Currently listening to:
Tonight I Have To Leave It
Shout Out Louds
I am an oasis. There is something about me that attracts certain people, and sometimes their friends. Many times, however, their friends do not understand or mesh with me. At that point, the relationship is given to certain limitations and I feel my access to their life is diminished while I, free-floating, remain open and welcome. And then I am an oasis.
Tonight I Have To Leave It
Shout Out Louds
I am an oasis. There is something about me that attracts certain people, and sometimes their friends. Many times, however, their friends do not understand or mesh with me. At that point, the relationship is given to certain limitations and I feel my access to their life is diminished while I, free-floating, remain open and welcome. And then I am an oasis.
Friday, June 24, 2011
If I Had An Orchard I'd Work 'Til I'm Sore
Skin pulled taut over the frame of a hand
baked, punctured, bumpy from irritation
silver ring turned black from hours of sweat.
The sun overhead boiling a pot of atmosphere
droplets of humidity excited by the heat
singe skin on contact.
Temporary home
with the cushioned bench by the window
facing a cemetery.
Tomorrow I head out for Kansas. It should be an easier park since there are only eight transects to do and they supposedly mowed and burned much of the area. We're staying in the housing at Fort Larned since they have the facilities and we're working for the government. However, it's likely the case that there won't be any internet to connect with; that and the rooming quarters are shared, so there is reason to hurry along. The first full day there is a day off, finally, but I've been told there isn't much to do there. I like sitting outside, looking at every little thing and nothing at the same time, anyway.
I need to write and send more postcards but it's hard to find the energy and I feel like I'm not deep enough into this living on the road to have anything particular to say about it.
baked, punctured, bumpy from irritation
silver ring turned black from hours of sweat.
The sun overhead boiling a pot of atmosphere
droplets of humidity excited by the heat
singe skin on contact.
Temporary home
with the cushioned bench by the window
facing a cemetery.
Tomorrow I head out for Kansas. It should be an easier park since there are only eight transects to do and they supposedly mowed and burned much of the area. We're staying in the housing at Fort Larned since they have the facilities and we're working for the government. However, it's likely the case that there won't be any internet to connect with; that and the rooming quarters are shared, so there is reason to hurry along. The first full day there is a day off, finally, but I've been told there isn't much to do there. I like sitting outside, looking at every little thing and nothing at the same time, anyway.
I need to write and send more postcards but it's hard to find the energy and I feel like I'm not deep enough into this living on the road to have anything particular to say about it.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
First Week
It kind of feels like the first month is over already yet I've only been on the job three days, after training. Right now I'm in Oklahoma at Chickasaw. They tell me this is the worst park due to the heat and humidity and the way all the transects are - in dense vegetation. Originally we were supposed to leave for Kansas on Friday, but now it looks like I'll be there Saturday. I decided to take pictures of all the places I'm staying. I've been cut, rashed, stung, and stabbed by the environment out here. My hands looked very damaged by the end of today from chiggers and sweat; it's hard work.
I'm really tired and tomorrow we're going to try to do three transects, hopefully. Jill plans ahead with me on what we will do, then over thinks it and changes it based on what she wants to do. She micromanages herself. We are getting faster at completing transects but today we left at six and didn't start working until nine because the sites were hard to find and she wanted to go back and forth on the same paths. I think a true field leader needs to be even-minded, fit enough to handle a full day of work, not constantly make excuses and take responsibility.
I need to stop ranting all the time.
I'm really tired and tomorrow we're going to try to do three transects, hopefully. Jill plans ahead with me on what we will do, then over thinks it and changes it based on what she wants to do. She micromanages herself. We are getting faster at completing transects but today we left at six and didn't start working until nine because the sites were hard to find and she wanted to go back and forth on the same paths. I think a true field leader needs to be even-minded, fit enough to handle a full day of work, not constantly make excuses and take responsibility.
I need to stop ranting all the time.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
LBJ Grassland
Today we finished training at the LBJ grasslands, culminating in the completion of two transects. I learned a lot more plants and have done every part of the surveying we will be doing. Jill was a little snappy and tried to make an argument about an efficient way of doing something when we're almost done with a transect - tying up pvc pipes while the other is still working with theirs rather than keeping the rope packed until all pipes are together - and I called her out on it. The boss said she just didn't get as much sleep and was tired, but Jill also tried to excuse any future time she gets upset or angry as her being a woman who has a period. While that may be part of it, I think that's bullshit and there's no reason to let negative emotions affect the work we have to do. I've been here as long as she has and she's gotten flustered at least once a day while I haven't felt any negative emotions since I arrived.
She's also diabetic but ate a whole quart of iced cream in one night, drinks diet soda everyday, eats so much shit (junk food isn't food, but she also eats as much as I did when I was a teenager), and moans constantly as if she can't handle mornings. Suffice to say, I knew from the first day we worked together we would butt heads. The rest of the stuff is me and I admit it; she's just too much of an exaggerated mom for me.
In other news, they made an artificial heart using a rotor-motor which keeps blood moving continuously. It has not clogged or broke in any test subjects and so is considered to be better than any of the pulsing artificial hearts. This means that in anyone that gets the new heart, there is no heartbeat or pulse because blood is continuously pushed through. While this is slightly strange, what is also curious is what happens when someone using the heart is frightened or stressed. I don't know exactly what happens but it's the first thing I thought about when I read the article. I guess the blood would flow faster since normally a heart would beat faster.
She's also diabetic but ate a whole quart of iced cream in one night, drinks diet soda everyday, eats so much shit (junk food isn't food, but she also eats as much as I did when I was a teenager), and moans constantly as if she can't handle mornings. Suffice to say, I knew from the first day we worked together we would butt heads. The rest of the stuff is me and I admit it; she's just too much of an exaggerated mom for me.
In other news, they made an artificial heart using a rotor-motor which keeps blood moving continuously. It has not clogged or broke in any test subjects and so is considered to be better than any of the pulsing artificial hearts. This means that in anyone that gets the new heart, there is no heartbeat or pulse because blood is continuously pushed through. While this is slightly strange, what is also curious is what happens when someone using the heart is frightened or stressed. I don't know exactly what happens but it's the first thing I thought about when I read the article. I guess the blood would flow faster since normally a heart would beat faster.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
First Day
Woke up at six today and went to a little bakery. We went to LBJ grasslands and, after a while, found the transect rebar and I went through the process of setting up the tapes. We only did one plot out of five, which is a fraction of a fraction of the work that must be done, but I feel like we made good time given that it was our first day and I'm totally new to it. I think they're happy with how I'm doing. I don't know a ton of names but I'm good at spotting plants that are passed over. I found the only poison ivy plot in the area. I can't escape that stuff.
My poison ivy is healing well, finally. I think the key is roughing it up and hurting it, then using the medicine so it really gets in.
Jill seems to get flustered easily when under the sun. I forget I'm with older people who need to be out of the sun once in a while. I was out there the whole time and only found it difficult when the sun was directly overhead, making everything almost to bright to see and make out details; everything gets super-real. So I think Jill may be bothersome to me eventually, though I won't show it, or course. She also farts loudly, then apologizes. I don't think people are really sorry when they do something and immediately apologize; if they were really sorry they wouldn't do it to begin with. I don't really like that aspect, it's just abrupt.
My poison ivy is healing well, finally. I think the key is roughing it up and hurting it, then using the medicine so it really gets in.
Jill seems to get flustered easily when under the sun. I forget I'm with older people who need to be out of the sun once in a while. I was out there the whole time and only found it difficult when the sun was directly overhead, making everything almost to bright to see and make out details; everything gets super-real. So I think Jill may be bothersome to me eventually, though I won't show it, or course. She also farts loudly, then apologizes. I don't think people are really sorry when they do something and immediately apologize; if they were really sorry they wouldn't do it to begin with. I don't really like that aspect, it's just abrupt.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Marble Falls
Today I drove down to Marble Falls to my boss's house. She looks similar to what I pictured in my mind, an older Roseanne sort of woman. I met Jill, my partner intern, who is much older than I expected, perhaps around my mom's age. The drive was longer than I expected because of the constant traffic leaving Dallas. It was a pretty twisty route.
Jill had done this internship last summer and she and Tomye regaled me with tales of the last plant survey team and how one of the guys had hooked up with one of the young interpretation interns at one site (who always happen to be female). They suggested I might have some fun like that as well. I wonder how one of those young girls might interpret me. All in all, these ladies are pretty laid back, like I could talk about anything around them.
Tomorrow we wake up around eight, which apparently is any old time, to discuss all the aspects of the job. Then we head out to the LBJ grasslands on Tuesday, waking up early at six (I thought eight was early!) and doing one transect. We only have to do two slowly to get the procedure down and that will take us to Wednesday or Thursday, followed by a wrap-up. Everyone is very nice. I hope I live up to expectations.
Jill had done this internship last summer and she and Tomye regaled me with tales of the last plant survey team and how one of the guys had hooked up with one of the young interpretation interns at one site (who always happen to be female). They suggested I might have some fun like that as well. I wonder how one of those young girls might interpret me. All in all, these ladies are pretty laid back, like I could talk about anything around them.
Tomorrow we wake up around eight, which apparently is any old time, to discuss all the aspects of the job. Then we head out to the LBJ grasslands on Tuesday, waking up early at six (I thought eight was early!) and doing one transect. We only have to do two slowly to get the procedure down and that will take us to Wednesday or Thursday, followed by a wrap-up. Everyone is very nice. I hope I live up to expectations.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Shadows in Bloom
Currently listening to:
I Know You Don't Love Me
Peter Bjorn and John
I know that I am a good person because of how calm and gentle I am, even when under the influence of a substance. Any mask can be worn by day-to-day but all that is stripped away with inhibition. That's when you know your true self. I'm pretty pleased with me, but I wish that could be in the day-to-day..
I Know You Don't Love Me
Peter Bjorn and John
I know that I am a good person because of how calm and gentle I am, even when under the influence of a substance. Any mask can be worn by day-to-day but all that is stripped away with inhibition. That's when you know your true self. I'm pretty pleased with me, but I wish that could be in the day-to-day..
Sunday, May 22, 2011
New Thought on Drugs
While listening to the new song "Some Boys" by Death Cab I had a thought. Perhaps things become addictive or dangerous when they are used to fill a hole in one's life. I was thinking about alcohol and drugs in my life and I realized that there is a particular mood in which I do things like that. Perhaps that's why I feel safe doing all I do, I'm not doing them to replace something missing in my life. I don't know, I think that's all I thought.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Tribute to a Live Oak
He lived closest to the house, the one that was abandoned. The old-style red brick facade and the concrete patio enclosed on two sides beginning to crack. Tall, unmanicured bushes began on the exposed side of the patio and continued to the end of the house, blocking the bottom half of the windows from view. The backyard was overgrown with power lines drooping almost to the ground and isolated trees that seemed too out-competed to grow any bigger. The front yard was kept in check sporadically, enough to avoid city fines. On those days, the yard stood out starkly from the shoddy house and decomposing fence.
It wasn't always abandoned, but it was as good as abandoned. The house used to be lived in by an old woman who was never seen. Only the daughter was seen once in a while, to see her mother and to make sure the lawn was cut regularly. It usually was. The old woman died while he was still at home and he was told a family in Highland Park, the old-money neighborhood that thought itself separate from the city that surrounded it, had bought the house after the daughter had had it for a few years. Apparently the family had bought the house for their high school child, to be passed over upon completion of college. So the house was as good as abandoned, with little difference from before except the extended neglect. Perhaps this was for the best because on the small parcel of land, in front of the unkempt house, was a prize rarely seen within city neighborhoods.
A tree left to its own natural devices; huge with lengthy limbs growing outward, falling almost to the ground with weight, and curving back up to take advantage of the sun. The tree grew as if meant for climbing, and like a staircase one could go up one side of the tree and come down the other. Once, he clamored up one side and rested. Above him there was a chattering and he realized a squirrel was already to the top, wanting to go down but unsure of which path kept the most distance between it and him. Another time he met a cat in the branches; and yet another time he climbed to the top during a light rain and watched all the colors change.
Apart from natural encounters, he also had human ones within the tree. Religious speakers shared words with him from below. A few people have noticed him up in the branches but kept going with their daily routine. One person joined him, though; a best friend. She was the only other person he took into the tree. It was where they got to know each other more and the second time, it was where they kissed. After the kiss, he sat in the branch asking what they should do next and not hearing a word of it. She was blocked in by him and looked at him expectantly. He mumbled some excuse about a toll she should pay to pass and he could swear she rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. Still he did not move, wanting to freeze time on the tree, to hold the situation and keep it around a little longer. She pushed him down.
Suffice to say, he had an attachment to the tree, and still does. Though, now it has all changed, as all things do change. The Highland Park connection disappeared, taxes stopped being paid, and the house was auctioned off. Crews started showing up, kicking out the animal residents of the house, tearing down the fence, and butchering the tree. A tree left to its own accord will create the most beautiful living art; however, this comes at the cost of not being easily manipulated by humans. A newborn tree under constant scrutiny can take many forms, of which many look appealing; but once a tree has set its own path, it can only be scarred and mutilated. And so this tree still stands and lives with countless fresh stumps exposed all over its body. No one will easily climb into its arms and nestle into its crooks again. The new owners probably have no children anyway, let alone taste, respect.
It wasn't always abandoned, but it was as good as abandoned. The house used to be lived in by an old woman who was never seen. Only the daughter was seen once in a while, to see her mother and to make sure the lawn was cut regularly. It usually was. The old woman died while he was still at home and he was told a family in Highland Park, the old-money neighborhood that thought itself separate from the city that surrounded it, had bought the house after the daughter had had it for a few years. Apparently the family had bought the house for their high school child, to be passed over upon completion of college. So the house was as good as abandoned, with little difference from before except the extended neglect. Perhaps this was for the best because on the small parcel of land, in front of the unkempt house, was a prize rarely seen within city neighborhoods.
A tree left to its own natural devices; huge with lengthy limbs growing outward, falling almost to the ground with weight, and curving back up to take advantage of the sun. The tree grew as if meant for climbing, and like a staircase one could go up one side of the tree and come down the other. Once, he clamored up one side and rested. Above him there was a chattering and he realized a squirrel was already to the top, wanting to go down but unsure of which path kept the most distance between it and him. Another time he met a cat in the branches; and yet another time he climbed to the top during a light rain and watched all the colors change.
Apart from natural encounters, he also had human ones within the tree. Religious speakers shared words with him from below. A few people have noticed him up in the branches but kept going with their daily routine. One person joined him, though; a best friend. She was the only other person he took into the tree. It was where they got to know each other more and the second time, it was where they kissed. After the kiss, he sat in the branch asking what they should do next and not hearing a word of it. She was blocked in by him and looked at him expectantly. He mumbled some excuse about a toll she should pay to pass and he could swear she rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. Still he did not move, wanting to freeze time on the tree, to hold the situation and keep it around a little longer. She pushed him down.
Suffice to say, he had an attachment to the tree, and still does. Though, now it has all changed, as all things do change. The Highland Park connection disappeared, taxes stopped being paid, and the house was auctioned off. Crews started showing up, kicking out the animal residents of the house, tearing down the fence, and butchering the tree. A tree left to its own accord will create the most beautiful living art; however, this comes at the cost of not being easily manipulated by humans. A newborn tree under constant scrutiny can take many forms, of which many look appealing; but once a tree has set its own path, it can only be scarred and mutilated. And so this tree still stands and lives with countless fresh stumps exposed all over its body. No one will easily climb into its arms and nestle into its crooks again. The new owners probably have no children anyway, let alone taste, respect.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A Past Project
I tried to look for the legal pad I started writing on for the project I started when I met Dandelion. I can't find it, it's not with the loose leaf material I packed. I remember bringing it back to work on during Winter break, but that's it. Even that could be a fake memory - I don't know. This kind of freaks me out because it's a token of the time and I feel like it had a lot of good material in it, a sort of plot line to follow. I guess I'll have to reread what I've already written and go from there on a fresh start...
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Problem With Writing
It's difficult for me to finish writing projects I start, large ones I mean. I'm a pretty slow worker and writing means taking myself out of the world. I cannot take in the world and, at the same time, place it in another medium. So by writing something that takes much time, I lose that time and miss whatever I would have taken in otherwise. Even when not out and about, when I'm just sitting in my room, I'm seeing things on the computer from all over the world that I wouldn't normally see. Most of the time I'm just a black hole taking in the world around me. I do feel like I should finish something some day.
The Past Is the Past
I'm undertaking a big step in my life. Every time I go back to school, it is with fewer things and then I come home and am in a filled room. I get used to the sparse living and the clutter bothers me; so the past couple summers I have been trying to get rid of my childhood, so to speak. This summer marks the biggest change. Before I do my first internship in something completely foreign, I'll basically be cutting ties with most of my past. Prior to now, I cleaned out my computer of past saved conversations with old girlfriends and high school diary, as well as my hobby of collecting news stories and information of suicide. Then I removed many of my childhood toys. Now I'm fully getting rid of my old toys and some books and clothes. I just microwaved my CD conversations with my psychologist from high school - letting go of a past me without ever revisiting it. Old summer camp art projects will be photographed and trashed. I need to stop living in the past, stop focusing on the future, recognize the present. I think this is the best way to transition myself, to what I don't know. It will help my parents when they move and I'm in the Peace Corps, anyway.
No regrets.
No regrets.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Things I Wrote
Aug. 19, 2003:
"My mind went dumb with stupid things, and I had to keep it moving with dreams of baseball and would-be-girlfriends."
"I had to daydream and keep my mind busy because boredom was a terror almost as aweful as the work itself."
Nov. 2002:
"It was a calm day at school when suddenly, RING! BANG! POP! All the kids knew that those bells meant there was a fire, killer ant, and radioactive chicken alert. Every kid ran to their locker and browsed through their suits. But which suit should they wear? So they put all three suits on. First, the fire burned away the killer ant suit. Second, the radioactive chickens pecked away the fire suit. Third, the killer ants chewed away the radioactive chicken suit. And finally, all three forces destroyed the kids."
Sept. 23, 2002:
"I was flying high above the sky; soaring with the birds. When suddenly there was a boom! Blood dripped down my arm, when suddenly. I woke up. I was on the top floor of the Empire State building. I leaned against the rail when suddenly a kid pushed me! I was falling at top speed when suddenly... I woke up. I was a file in a computer. The cursor dragged me to the recycling bin and emptied it when suddenly... I woke up. I was standing in a burning building. All exits were blocked by fire. I waited to wake up, but I never did."
Feb. 21, 2003:
"In conclusion, blah blah rippety-snippety blah bling blang blah blah blah. You will notice that I said the word "blah" and some other zangy words, that is because this topic is slow and sluggish. I dislike this topic."
"My mind went dumb with stupid things, and I had to keep it moving with dreams of baseball and would-be-girlfriends."
"I had to daydream and keep my mind busy because boredom was a terror almost as aweful as the work itself."
Nov. 2002:
"It was a calm day at school when suddenly, RING! BANG! POP! All the kids knew that those bells meant there was a fire, killer ant, and radioactive chicken alert. Every kid ran to their locker and browsed through their suits. But which suit should they wear? So they put all three suits on. First, the fire burned away the killer ant suit. Second, the radioactive chickens pecked away the fire suit. Third, the killer ants chewed away the radioactive chicken suit. And finally, all three forces destroyed the kids."
Sept. 23, 2002:
"I was flying high above the sky; soaring with the birds. When suddenly there was a boom! Blood dripped down my arm, when suddenly. I woke up. I was on the top floor of the Empire State building. I leaned against the rail when suddenly a kid pushed me! I was falling at top speed when suddenly... I woke up. I was a file in a computer. The cursor dragged me to the recycling bin and emptied it when suddenly... I woke up. I was standing in a burning building. All exits were blocked by fire. I waited to wake up, but I never did."
Feb. 21, 2003:
"In conclusion, blah blah rippety-snippety blah bling blang blah blah blah. You will notice that I said the word "blah" and some other zangy words, that is because this topic is slow and sluggish. I dislike this topic."
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Just a Kid
It's been a while since I've last posted and much has happened, as always, but most of it slipped my mind. To sum up, there was a camping trip with some of the guys and it was very cold. Andrew decided it was better to make a fire rather than put a sweater on, so we were tied down to the camp spot and suddenly used up the wood we had collected before the sun had even set. I'm don't think certain people would survive in a primitive situation, especially when they walk around a grocery store hung over and leave empty-handed despite having no food for the trip.
Anyway, I was able to snag another hit of acid before the trip, so I took two hits. It was kind of like bloomers except without the emotional ending and the desire to go back; it was on and then off, sort of like how salvia is described. Certainly it was more productive, bloomers tend to incapacitate in the way that you can't write down most of what you think because they're emotions at the core, I suppose. At night we smoked and drank, but I just couldn't get drunk for some reason, no matter how much I took. It was a pretty fun farewell event before finals.
Finals were pretty terrible; I only felt positive about a couple of them and the rest have turned out average as I expected. I just want to graduate.
Then I did the fifteen hour drive home. I didn't think about a whole lot this time so it was kind of lame. There were a couple one-lane highway situations where the other lane was being repaired. I chatted with a couple workers and posed the question of what they would do if they received no calls and no next shift came to relieve them. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, they didn't seem too worried. I might make a play about that or something, sort of a Waiting for Godot sort of thing.
Last night some of my old friends came over and brought everclear and some fruit punch from a Mexican grocery store. We passed that wine around and then a bong and we were all messed up and jovial. I haven't been that messed up since I started CSU; it felt good to let loose and laugh for no reason. Rebekah told me she stopped doing drugs to learn things, about herself of the world, and now just does them to feel something different and get messed up. Well, she didn't use those exact words so some of that may not be true. But I thought about what she said and realized that while I still feel I have things to learn, recently it has been more about feeling messed up and I want to feel it more, but not in a totally self-destructive way. I've been thinking about this idea of doing a certain order or amount or frequency of things to initiate some sort of reality shift.
Today I went to see Dandelion. She was helping Josh with his hair and we played Jenga and watched the Office. I haven't played a game like that in a while. Adian came home from work and he seemed about the same, though I didn't really know what to say to him, or really anyone, today. It was his birthday recently, or maybe today so Kasey was going to make some birthday dinner and do laundry, so Josh and I got kicked out. She seemed pretty eager to do laundry.
Anyway, I was able to snag another hit of acid before the trip, so I took two hits. It was kind of like bloomers except without the emotional ending and the desire to go back; it was on and then off, sort of like how salvia is described. Certainly it was more productive, bloomers tend to incapacitate in the way that you can't write down most of what you think because they're emotions at the core, I suppose. At night we smoked and drank, but I just couldn't get drunk for some reason, no matter how much I took. It was a pretty fun farewell event before finals.
Finals were pretty terrible; I only felt positive about a couple of them and the rest have turned out average as I expected. I just want to graduate.
Then I did the fifteen hour drive home. I didn't think about a whole lot this time so it was kind of lame. There were a couple one-lane highway situations where the other lane was being repaired. I chatted with a couple workers and posed the question of what they would do if they received no calls and no next shift came to relieve them. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, they didn't seem too worried. I might make a play about that or something, sort of a Waiting for Godot sort of thing.
Last night some of my old friends came over and brought everclear and some fruit punch from a Mexican grocery store. We passed that wine around and then a bong and we were all messed up and jovial. I haven't been that messed up since I started CSU; it felt good to let loose and laugh for no reason. Rebekah told me she stopped doing drugs to learn things, about herself of the world, and now just does them to feel something different and get messed up. Well, she didn't use those exact words so some of that may not be true. But I thought about what she said and realized that while I still feel I have things to learn, recently it has been more about feeling messed up and I want to feel it more, but not in a totally self-destructive way. I've been thinking about this idea of doing a certain order or amount or frequency of things to initiate some sort of reality shift.
Today I went to see Dandelion. She was helping Josh with his hair and we played Jenga and watched the Office. I haven't played a game like that in a while. Adian came home from work and he seemed about the same, though I didn't really know what to say to him, or really anyone, today. It was his birthday recently, or maybe today so Kasey was going to make some birthday dinner and do laundry, so Josh and I got kicked out. She seemed pretty eager to do laundry.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
In Another's Shoes
Once in a while I dress in tatters;
the pants that lost their blue
leaving skeleton threads of white-
but not from activity, I know,
the threads never broke.
The second-hand shirt,
too big or too small
with missing buttons
and shrunken collar.
The shoes, scratched and stained
from abrasive ice and salt,
the leather worn smooth
and the soles worn uneven.
Within a coffee shop I try to order
and they look over me and inquire
The days of store credit are over.
But I have what they desire.
The paper that is not quite paper
and little disks a drop spread out.
the pants that lost their blue
leaving skeleton threads of white-
but not from activity, I know,
the threads never broke.
The second-hand shirt,
too big or too small
with missing buttons
and shrunken collar.
The shoes, scratched and stained
from abrasive ice and salt,
the leather worn smooth
and the soles worn uneven.
Within a coffee shop I try to order
and they look over me and inquire
The days of store credit are over.
But I have what they desire.
The paper that is not quite paper
and little disks a drop spread out.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Personality Test
Often concerned with right and wrong, and punctilious in expressing it, you are best represented by the Customs Agent or the IRS inspector. Initially seen by others as cold or uncaring, you are difficult for those more spontaneous members of society to understand. You are extremely stable, responsible and dependable. You manifest an amazing ability to concentrate on the issue at hand, and are difficult to distract from issues that are important. You manifest a great sense of loyalty to your employers and your government. You tend to show love through a display of committed works, believing that actions speak louder than words. You are also resistant to change and tend to believe that the old ways are best. If a behavior has been successful in the past, why would anyone want to change? You work best in a controlled environment.
I'd be interested to hear the results of others: http://www.hypnoid.com/psytest2.html?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_term=Very%20Short%20List%20-%20Daily&utm_campaign=VSL
I'd be interested to hear the results of others: http://www.hypnoid.com/psytest2.html?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_term=Very%20Short%20List%20-%20Daily&utm_campaign=VSL
Ray
There comes a time
A time in everyone's life
Where lovin' seems to go away
When nothin' seems to turn out right
There may come a time
You just can't seem to find your place
For every door you open
Seems like you get two slammed in your face
That's when you need, someone
Someone that you, you can hold
When all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go home
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you always comin' up last
Pockets full of nothin', ain't got no cash
No matter where you turn, you ain't got no place to stand
You reach out for somethin', and they slap your hand
I remember all too well
Just how it feels to be all alone
Feels like you give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need, someone
Someone that you, you can hold
When all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go home
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
A time in everyone's life
Where lovin' seems to go away
When nothin' seems to turn out right
There may come a time
You just can't seem to find your place
For every door you open
Seems like you get two slammed in your face
That's when you need, someone
Someone that you, you can hold
When all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go home
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you always comin' up last
Pockets full of nothin', ain't got no cash
No matter where you turn, you ain't got no place to stand
You reach out for somethin', and they slap your hand
I remember all too well
Just how it feels to be all alone
Feels like you give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need, someone
Someone that you, you can hold
When all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go home
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend, you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
Friday, April 15, 2011
Yellow Country Teeth
"...a child with a shotgun can shoot down honeybees that sting, but this boy could use a little sting."
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
In My Mind
I think about the people I know or have seen and I make up stories about them, and me. I love, fight, sustain friendships, and spend my whole life with people. In this way, in real life, I get very close to people or keep them at a faraway distance. The funny thing is people aren't even aware of this and the stories become memories that can confuse me, and eventually they fade like many memories do. It's also interesting to note that, while I get closer to people or sustain friendships this way, I'm doing so with my last memory of the person. I haven't yet been totally shocked when meeting with someone I had old memories of, but I have the feeling it's going to happen soon - people can't help but change.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
When you ran outside with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
Currently listening to:
Casimir Pulaski Day
Sufjan Stevens
I thought about this post half of the day but between there and now I've been involved with some people which broke the steady mood I had been thinking in to that moment. Rather than just throw down the good fragments, I'm going to try and make this as flowy and conducive as I can. I kind of wonder what point there is in conversation these days, with all the catch-up recorded somewhere online. It's all third person these days.
I was watching people today out the big bay window of an alcove in this building I would have class in. Windows are nice because it's like looking at a movie screen or some moving photograph. I like to imagine the lives of the people I see: where they go home at night and what their evening routines are, who they are going to meet and how they interact with them and if they would be interested in me, what their hopes and dreams are, and so on. There are so many little stories out there.
Today has been a sad sort of day, a desire to meet new people sort of day, or picnic with old friends. People just keep looking at me; maybe it's my hair. I think there's a correlation between hunger and despair; when hunger is present, despair begins to increase, but there's some peak point where despair continues to increase but hunger suddenly decreases. It's a dangerous correlation. I remember a time in high school when I had it and my parents worried about me. Today wasn't as bad as back then.
In statistics I got a quiz back and got 100% and my eyes started to tear up. I thought to myself, why do my teachers keep giving me these numbers, which probably sounds silly since it will really help my grade out. It's just not what I really want or need. I wish my teachers would put their hand on my shoulder and lead me outside and tell me there's more to life than all this, even though this is all I've known so far. They would take me to their homes which would be tastefully old-fashioned with translucent drapes over the lamps casting patterns on the walls, and they would have a big radio that would be the main fixture of the living room. We would go to their patio outback where the grass hasn't been mowed in a few weeks and the potted tomato plants would be perky with the recent rain. The paint would be chipping and the bricks would be cracked, but we'd drink tea and discuss why things are the way they are and why we feel the way we do.
It was during this that I realized I no longer enjoy school. Maybe it's just a temporary feeling produced from a year of classes I have to take but that I have no interest in. I figured out my schedule for next semester and took it a step farther by listing every class I need to graduate. If there are no conflictions with time and I get into every class I need and if one class is suddenly offered in the fall instead of spring, I'll graduate in three semesters and be out of here. But that's a lot of ifs.
I've been dreaming of the American Dream lately. I've got so much school work that keeps rolling in and it's all harder than I'm used to now that I'm in the upper level classes and it makes me worry a lot more about the uncertainty of summer. I'm working hard to get the summer nailed down, but there are too many other people trying to do the same thing. How thin can the American Dream stretch? I get caught in the cycle of needing experience to get a good internship and needing a good internship to get experience. If I can't get an internship I hope I at least find a farm/ranch I can work and live within.
Casimir Pulaski Day
Sufjan Stevens
I thought about this post half of the day but between there and now I've been involved with some people which broke the steady mood I had been thinking in to that moment. Rather than just throw down the good fragments, I'm going to try and make this as flowy and conducive as I can. I kind of wonder what point there is in conversation these days, with all the catch-up recorded somewhere online. It's all third person these days.
I was watching people today out the big bay window of an alcove in this building I would have class in. Windows are nice because it's like looking at a movie screen or some moving photograph. I like to imagine the lives of the people I see: where they go home at night and what their evening routines are, who they are going to meet and how they interact with them and if they would be interested in me, what their hopes and dreams are, and so on. There are so many little stories out there.
Today has been a sad sort of day, a desire to meet new people sort of day, or picnic with old friends. People just keep looking at me; maybe it's my hair. I think there's a correlation between hunger and despair; when hunger is present, despair begins to increase, but there's some peak point where despair continues to increase but hunger suddenly decreases. It's a dangerous correlation. I remember a time in high school when I had it and my parents worried about me. Today wasn't as bad as back then.
In statistics I got a quiz back and got 100% and my eyes started to tear up. I thought to myself, why do my teachers keep giving me these numbers, which probably sounds silly since it will really help my grade out. It's just not what I really want or need. I wish my teachers would put their hand on my shoulder and lead me outside and tell me there's more to life than all this, even though this is all I've known so far. They would take me to their homes which would be tastefully old-fashioned with translucent drapes over the lamps casting patterns on the walls, and they would have a big radio that would be the main fixture of the living room. We would go to their patio outback where the grass hasn't been mowed in a few weeks and the potted tomato plants would be perky with the recent rain. The paint would be chipping and the bricks would be cracked, but we'd drink tea and discuss why things are the way they are and why we feel the way we do.
It was during this that I realized I no longer enjoy school. Maybe it's just a temporary feeling produced from a year of classes I have to take but that I have no interest in. I figured out my schedule for next semester and took it a step farther by listing every class I need to graduate. If there are no conflictions with time and I get into every class I need and if one class is suddenly offered in the fall instead of spring, I'll graduate in three semesters and be out of here. But that's a lot of ifs.
I've been dreaming of the American Dream lately. I've got so much school work that keeps rolling in and it's all harder than I'm used to now that I'm in the upper level classes and it makes me worry a lot more about the uncertainty of summer. I'm working hard to get the summer nailed down, but there are too many other people trying to do the same thing. How thin can the American Dream stretch? I get caught in the cycle of needing experience to get a good internship and needing a good internship to get experience. If I can't get an internship I hope I at least find a farm/ranch I can work and live within.
Boogidy
Eyes cascade and hold
walking through plazas
no distance
what they see in me
I do not see
what they see in me
they cross away
steady smile accompany
steady eyes
what a creep
something strange about-
that peaceful face
what's behind
sheep afraid with nothing but sheep
walking through plazas
no distance
trotting away
walking through plazas
no distance
what they see in me
I do not see
what they see in me
they cross away
steady smile accompany
steady eyes
what a creep
something strange about-
that peaceful face
what's behind
sheep afraid with nothing but sheep
walking through plazas
no distance
trotting away
Monday, April 4, 2011
Can't Judge By the Cover
Since my first alone lunch with Kristin, who I thought would be a new friend, I haven't seen her. I took it to mean she didn't want me bothering her since she stopped coming to her usual lunch spot all together. I saw her tonight after I'd finished eating and I couldn't tell if she was surprised to see me, she just gave me a side glance and a meek smile and walked past me. As I left I looked over at where she was eating alone and she was looking at her phone and smiling.
Journey Round My Skull
Recently I've been having this soreness in the back of my head, feels like the lower left side of my skull. To the touch it doesn't feel asymmetrical from the other side, meaning there's no bump or anything. It's sort of a dull pain when I touch it. I've been getting plenty of sleep so I don't think it's a lack of rest thing, but when it gets later in the evening it seems to become more pronounced and I start feeling pretty lethargic.
I think around the same time the pain started I began seeing flashes. I'll be working on my computer and out of the corner of my eye I'll see this sparkle, and when I focus my sight on it all that's there is a tiny scrap of paper or something else that's white. It can be annoying and distracting. I could be wrong about it starting up when my head started hurting. I hope they aren't related and my brain is inflating and pressing on my skull or something. That would be a bother.
I think the soreness is getting better, though. At least I'm able to touch the spot more easily now.
I think around the same time the pain started I began seeing flashes. I'll be working on my computer and out of the corner of my eye I'll see this sparkle, and when I focus my sight on it all that's there is a tiny scrap of paper or something else that's white. It can be annoying and distracting. I could be wrong about it starting up when my head started hurting. I hope they aren't related and my brain is inflating and pressing on my skull or something. That would be a bother.
I think the soreness is getting better, though. At least I'm able to touch the spot more easily now.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
I Still Will
Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.
- Charles Warnke
Saturday, March 26, 2011
General Malaise
Currently listening to:
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
I just found this band today. They have some of the saddest songs I've heard in a while. The repetitive melody and strained vocals really fit the mood. I've been feeling strange this weekend. Last night I drank with friends and we smoked and I felt happy and a sense of well-being, then people went on their own way for the weekend and I couldn't go camping like I'd planned because the weather became colder and threatened to snow, as it always does when there is time to do something other than school.
I dream the long meaningful dreams I have these days and wake up groggy like the characters in movies when life isn't going their way, only I don't smoke a cigarette and rub my slightly unshaven face.
I have homework to do and a test to prepare for, yet I don't want to do these things. I didn't pass my second phone interview and am more uncertain about whether I'll have something meaningful to do this summer. Everything feels so fragile right now and I may just blow away. These are times for becoming stone and watching one scene for a long stretch of time.
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
I just found this band today. They have some of the saddest songs I've heard in a while. The repetitive melody and strained vocals really fit the mood. I've been feeling strange this weekend. Last night I drank with friends and we smoked and I felt happy and a sense of well-being, then people went on their own way for the weekend and I couldn't go camping like I'd planned because the weather became colder and threatened to snow, as it always does when there is time to do something other than school.
I dream the long meaningful dreams I have these days and wake up groggy like the characters in movies when life isn't going their way, only I don't smoke a cigarette and rub my slightly unshaven face.
I have homework to do and a test to prepare for, yet I don't want to do these things. I didn't pass my second phone interview and am more uncertain about whether I'll have something meaningful to do this summer. Everything feels so fragile right now and I may just blow away. These are times for becoming stone and watching one scene for a long stretch of time.
Types of Perception Distortion
Currently listening to:
Young Adult Friction
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
1. The Fun House: Described by a friend. In the broad scape of seeing all things, certain things will stand out depending on the state of the person. You look at a desk and see what is pertinent to you at the time. In different states of self you will notice what you normally pass over. The smallest details will be the most interesting.
2. The Pop-up Book: Similar to the Gallery, everything appears flat, but there are layers. Shakespeare wrote, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." The world appears to be a set and if you remain a part of the audience it would be no different than the Gallery except for the curiosity as to what exactly is behind each two-dimensional piece. As an actor, the set can be explored; each new location is another page turned in the Pop-up Book.
3. The Natural Way: Patterns of the ground reveal paths that would not normally stand out in such a way. Strips of dead grass surrounded by green, lines of gold leaves just fallen from a tree, ruts. Patterns in nature which someone once noticed and permanently replicated with concrete and metals. These are the paths less taken or subconsciously taken.
4. Forest Patterns: I have only experienced this in places of thick vegetation or trees; this is a branch off the Natural Way. Some aspects are seen at any time: a line around tree trunks, like belts that connect into one long line at a distance, for example. This differs from the Natural Way because the paths are not necessarily always present; the paths are presented by the forest, or so it seems, as if it is guiding each person towards something it wants them to see. The paths I see often lead to clearings centered on something.
5. The Gallery: Sitting back, the world before you appears flat and slightly fuzzy. What you see is almost like a giant painting, remaining the same in all directions. It is almost as if you and those around you are in a gallery, totally removed, looking at various pieces, commenting on them.
Young Adult Friction
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
1. The Fun House: Described by a friend. In the broad scape of seeing all things, certain things will stand out depending on the state of the person. You look at a desk and see what is pertinent to you at the time. In different states of self you will notice what you normally pass over. The smallest details will be the most interesting.
2. The Pop-up Book: Similar to the Gallery, everything appears flat, but there are layers. Shakespeare wrote, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." The world appears to be a set and if you remain a part of the audience it would be no different than the Gallery except for the curiosity as to what exactly is behind each two-dimensional piece. As an actor, the set can be explored; each new location is another page turned in the Pop-up Book.
3. The Natural Way: Patterns of the ground reveal paths that would not normally stand out in such a way. Strips of dead grass surrounded by green, lines of gold leaves just fallen from a tree, ruts. Patterns in nature which someone once noticed and permanently replicated with concrete and metals. These are the paths less taken or subconsciously taken.
4. Forest Patterns: I have only experienced this in places of thick vegetation or trees; this is a branch off the Natural Way. Some aspects are seen at any time: a line around tree trunks, like belts that connect into one long line at a distance, for example. This differs from the Natural Way because the paths are not necessarily always present; the paths are presented by the forest, or so it seems, as if it is guiding each person towards something it wants them to see. The paths I see often lead to clearings centered on something.
5. The Gallery: Sitting back, the world before you appears flat and slightly fuzzy. What you see is almost like a giant painting, remaining the same in all directions. It is almost as if you and those around you are in a gallery, totally removed, looking at various pieces, commenting on them.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
At the Ashram
I had this idea when we were being told about demons that come into the world to wreak havoc and the Sacred Mother is the one who disposes of them rather than the Babaji of the time. So I was thinking about demons that came down with evil intentions but got distracted - because our planet has so many. It's the opposite spectrum of Edward Sharpe's idea of the prophet who comes down to guide humanity but gets distracted by girls and love.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Spring Break
I began the break by going on a floor trip to the Great Sand Dunes. We had a good group going and it was pretty fun. I hiked mountains and the sands and we visited a place called Creststone which was one large parcel of land split up amongst anyone with a religion they wanted to represent, so it's thought of as a zone of spiritual energy. We stayed in park ranger housing; from a window i could see both mountains and the dunes depending on the angle I looked from.
I got back to the dorms Tuesday and have been enjoying the quiet despite my hoped for plans of another experience with drugs. The break has gone by so quickly, I'm dreading the beginning of classes again, especially since I'll have an additional class starting. So I've just been eating and watching movies. I took my car in for a recall deal, reformatted my computer, and I'll write postcards and do homework.
I did hear back about the interview I did for an internship. Forty people applied for five positions; I'm not one of them. The other four internships I put my application in for never really took off the ground. It's interesting, talking about it with my parents, they were so assured I'd get one of them as if I were overqualified educationally. I'm just another student, perhaps one that doesn't know how to interview over the phone, and there are a lot of people out there. It really puts things in perspective; I'm not that special. So I will be looking at newly posted internships tomorrow and hopefully I'll get one before summer.
I got back to the dorms Tuesday and have been enjoying the quiet despite my hoped for plans of another experience with drugs. The break has gone by so quickly, I'm dreading the beginning of classes again, especially since I'll have an additional class starting. So I've just been eating and watching movies. I took my car in for a recall deal, reformatted my computer, and I'll write postcards and do homework.
I did hear back about the interview I did for an internship. Forty people applied for five positions; I'm not one of them. The other four internships I put my application in for never really took off the ground. It's interesting, talking about it with my parents, they were so assured I'd get one of them as if I were overqualified educationally. I'm just another student, perhaps one that doesn't know how to interview over the phone, and there are a lot of people out there. It really puts things in perspective; I'm not that special. So I will be looking at newly posted internships tomorrow and hopefully I'll get one before summer.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Dreamt
I've been having vivid dreams lately, strange ones. It seems the melatonin is becoming variable because not all my dreams are like this, though I have started taking it every night rather than stopping on the weekends, to avoid the hangover effect of the hormone.
I forget these dreams because I stop thinking about them which is why I'm writing this one here. I believe I had two dreams last night, and this isn't strange but for the fact that each was at the same location and yet not.
The first scene took place in a large mansion and all I remember is that it was a rugged old home and that I had some purpose within it.
The second scene took place outdoors in a mid-depth pool of clear, still water. Looking one direction showed me the mansion a little way off and looking the other way showed me an orange-red marmalade sky of a setting sun. A little grassy distance on every side ended abruptly as if the location were on a cliff or it was floating in the air.
Mikenzie, a small girl in my hall with an attractive pixie cut, was there and looked quite cat-like. She had these sharp claws that dug into me and hurt me. There was someone or something else there that told me things, like the fact that Mikenzie was cat girl and evil and had nine lives. I picked up bits that reminded me that within the house I fought many evil characters, and Mikenzie was the last. I can't remember who the hinter was or why it was there.
The only thing I had at my disposal was the pool, so I drowned Mikenzie many times as she scratched back. Suddenly, though, everything went melodramatic and the setting sun became even deeper, the hinter was farther in the background, and Mikenzie was laying in my arms looking up at me with innocent eyes, as is shown in many movies. She said that she was evil and had to die and so was resigned to it. I started to cry because I really didn't want to take her last life, and so I held her to me, and she said it had to be done. I kept crying as I started lowering her without resistance to the water and the sun kept setting. Then I woke up.
I've been tired all day. I think I wanted to keep dreaming to see what would have happened next.
I forget these dreams because I stop thinking about them which is why I'm writing this one here. I believe I had two dreams last night, and this isn't strange but for the fact that each was at the same location and yet not.
The first scene took place in a large mansion and all I remember is that it was a rugged old home and that I had some purpose within it.
The second scene took place outdoors in a mid-depth pool of clear, still water. Looking one direction showed me the mansion a little way off and looking the other way showed me an orange-red marmalade sky of a setting sun. A little grassy distance on every side ended abruptly as if the location were on a cliff or it was floating in the air.
Mikenzie, a small girl in my hall with an attractive pixie cut, was there and looked quite cat-like. She had these sharp claws that dug into me and hurt me. There was someone or something else there that told me things, like the fact that Mikenzie was cat girl and evil and had nine lives. I picked up bits that reminded me that within the house I fought many evil characters, and Mikenzie was the last. I can't remember who the hinter was or why it was there.
The only thing I had at my disposal was the pool, so I drowned Mikenzie many times as she scratched back. Suddenly, though, everything went melodramatic and the setting sun became even deeper, the hinter was farther in the background, and Mikenzie was laying in my arms looking up at me with innocent eyes, as is shown in many movies. She said that she was evil and had to die and so was resigned to it. I started to cry because I really didn't want to take her last life, and so I held her to me, and she said it had to be done. I kept crying as I started lowering her without resistance to the water and the sun kept setting. Then I woke up.
I've been tired all day. I think I wanted to keep dreaming to see what would have happened next.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Zadig
"When one is loved by a beautiful woman, says the great Zoroaster, one always gets out of trouble in the world."
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Class
I see couples in my classes that always sit together as if they planned their schedules to have the same class. I hate those classes.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Shifting Realities
Everyday this semester, and it's felt like many more days than it has actually been, I've told myself that I'm just a ghost here. I'm seen but unseen. I think I'm touching peoples' lives or at least making some kind of impression and yet I feel I could so easily just disappear off the map. I will be graduating soon enough and that will happen, and before then I'll be in an apartment which I could see being a sort of womb in which I could spend a lot of my time.
I suppose it's a sort of Donnie Darko-esque idea; being a part of the lives of people in one reality and, in another reality where you didn't interact with those people, they still feel you. Sort of a ghost in that respect. It's a strange idea to be fading from one reality into another. I feel like a disconnect from reality could cause me to disappear in which case this ghost presence in others' lives would be felt.
This sounded clearer and more poetic when I was writing it in my head hours ago.
****
On another note, I've gone to a sustainable development club meeting, which started the only organic garden on campus, and a horticulture club meeting. The people there are interesting and older... maybe my sort? I went to another horticulture club meeting and we found out the club greenhouse has mealy bugs, which are apparently impossible to get rid off. So those whole club stock of propagation had to be thrown away, pots and all. Some plants seemed to be free of them so they were submerged in neen oil which suffocated all air spaces within pot and plant without harming the plant somehow. It's sad that so many plants died from this, but funny because when I asked about recruitment the guys said members couldn't really take plants they want yet today I gained seven plants! Further, the whole bay of the greenhouse has to be burned. Flamethrowers will be brought in and the earth will literally be scorched.
I suppose it's a sort of Donnie Darko-esque idea; being a part of the lives of people in one reality and, in another reality where you didn't interact with those people, they still feel you. Sort of a ghost in that respect. It's a strange idea to be fading from one reality into another. I feel like a disconnect from reality could cause me to disappear in which case this ghost presence in others' lives would be felt.
This sounded clearer and more poetic when I was writing it in my head hours ago.
****
On another note, I've gone to a sustainable development club meeting, which started the only organic garden on campus, and a horticulture club meeting. The people there are interesting and older... maybe my sort? I went to another horticulture club meeting and we found out the club greenhouse has mealy bugs, which are apparently impossible to get rid off. So those whole club stock of propagation had to be thrown away, pots and all. Some plants seemed to be free of them so they were submerged in neen oil which suffocated all air spaces within pot and plant without harming the plant somehow. It's sad that so many plants died from this, but funny because when I asked about recruitment the guys said members couldn't really take plants they want yet today I gained seven plants! Further, the whole bay of the greenhouse has to be burned. Flamethrowers will be brought in and the earth will literally be scorched.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Something I Never Published
Sometimes I wonder if I could actually perform in a job in the field I'm heading into. I struggle with completing tasks outdoors because I'm so overwhelmed and over calmed by the atmosphere of the natural world. I have a hard time concentrating with the wind wrapping her arms around me and the trees casting their scents to me. I would have to overcome the liberal arts tendencies to complete a scientific job. Sometimes I think I'm going into my major to get a job which would give me material for my liberal arts hobbies.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Good Dream Place
The place that feels best and that I would like to revisit someday is within an RV. Compact living is fun, especially when mobile, and the limited space allows you to only keep what you need. You have to choose your possessions wisely. I have a memory of being in the very cramped bathroom of an RV, after a shower. I was toweling off when I opened the very small window that befits such a small room. Through this tiny peephole I glimpsed the park we were camped in and the shady breeze of Summer came in and gave me goosebumps. It smelled of juniper.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Another Snowy Day
Currently listening to:
I Was a Landscape in Your Dream
Of Montreal
He was the sort of boy the cold clung to, like a pretty girl draping her arms over his shoulders from behind. The sort all boys fall into. His jacket is an adequate shield, but she slowly sinks in anyway, given time. The moisture within him bubbles up and out, intermingling with snow which blows back onto his eyelashes and stitches his eyes closed. Blind as the first day in his world, though perhaps more so; more drained and flickering, moving as a mummy. And poor cold, the girl that clings to the sort that can be clung to, is left alone. Shields have been reinvented and shelters have gone up that constantly provide warmth - places she cannot survive in cut off from her whole. So she waits outside a building entered by someone she was with, waiting for another. Always with someone new.
I Was a Landscape in Your Dream
Of Montreal
He was the sort of boy the cold clung to, like a pretty girl draping her arms over his shoulders from behind. The sort all boys fall into. His jacket is an adequate shield, but she slowly sinks in anyway, given time. The moisture within him bubbles up and out, intermingling with snow which blows back onto his eyelashes and stitches his eyes closed. Blind as the first day in his world, though perhaps more so; more drained and flickering, moving as a mummy. And poor cold, the girl that clings to the sort that can be clung to, is left alone. Shields have been reinvented and shelters have gone up that constantly provide warmth - places she cannot survive in cut off from her whole. So she waits outside a building entered by someone she was with, waiting for another. Always with someone new.
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Jacket
A small girl and large boy
in a room of trapped heat
everyone heavy, looking forward
she leans on his sleepy form
and doesn't stay still
and vibrates like a young bird
or rabbit in restlessness
they sneak a kiss
I've been told my jacket is too big for me, it's obviously many sizes bigger than me. I like its largeness and how it flows around me, like being within a home outside of home. I can keep possessions inside and maybe even sit down to tea within it. Its extra spaces capture extra heat and coze me. It has room for two.
in a room of trapped heat
everyone heavy, looking forward
she leans on his sleepy form
and doesn't stay still
and vibrates like a young bird
or rabbit in restlessness
they sneak a kiss
I've been told my jacket is too big for me, it's obviously many sizes bigger than me. I like its largeness and how it flows around me, like being within a home outside of home. I can keep possessions inside and maybe even sit down to tea within it. Its extra spaces capture extra heat and coze me. It has room for two.
Monday, January 31, 2011
New Friend
Currently listening to:
Little Deschutes
Laura Veirs
I'm learning all these maths and sciences which are all very impressive. Somehow humans figured out patterns and cause and effect within how things work. Numbers and symbols which arrange into equations that seem to govern processes and produce the correct answer. How can we be so smart and consider truth in the results shown by an instrument made only to the best of our ability and understanding. I need some particular information so I make a machine that feeds me something I take to be the answer, since that's why the machine was made after all. Just because what we call truth and laws of nature work doesn't mean that's the way it is; there are many ways to an answer and we don't know which one is more correct.
I met a girl today. Actually I had seen her before, in the new cafeteria I eat at most of the week for lunch. She has this messy short brown hair and dresses like students at prestigious schools from those older movies, the ones that lay in the shade discussing and smoking pipes. I was too nervous to make eye contact with her long enough to see what color they are. I've noticed her a couple times and she only eats alone with a school binder open by her lunch. I figured she was older and my lunch buddies said I should talk to her, but I've just never been able to force anything like that. However, I mentioned her and how she looked interesting in my think-I'm-quiet-but-actually-loud way and she smirked, but maybe it was what she was reading.
Well today we happened to sit by a lunch that she happened to be away from at the time. So she returned and I glanced a bit until one of Andrew's friends came over. He's a clever guy that talks a lot. We were talking in our humorous manner and I noticed her small smile from time to time. He got on the topic of wishing it were permissible to take fries from strangers in the cafeteria (she was eating some) and she moved her fries farther from us and from there we wrangled her into the conversation on and off. In our side conversation I found out her name is Kristin (but I don't know the correct spelling) and shes from New Mexico; 21, senior in biology, living off campus with an off campus meal plan. It's strange to think that without that meal plan I wouldn't know she existed. The way she dresses and her hair style and the way she only does small smiles (and only once in a while at that) leaves me wondering what past made her a sophisticated-seeming student. I know I'm trying to focus on just the present, but it's hard to fight my nature.
Anyway, I told her we eat there during the working hours of Monday through Wednesday, noon to one-thirty. Andrew's friend said he's there only Monday and Wednesday so she should come then; I think he was joking. I think I'll be seeing her again.
Little Deschutes
Laura Veirs
I'm learning all these maths and sciences which are all very impressive. Somehow humans figured out patterns and cause and effect within how things work. Numbers and symbols which arrange into equations that seem to govern processes and produce the correct answer. How can we be so smart and consider truth in the results shown by an instrument made only to the best of our ability and understanding. I need some particular information so I make a machine that feeds me something I take to be the answer, since that's why the machine was made after all. Just because what we call truth and laws of nature work doesn't mean that's the way it is; there are many ways to an answer and we don't know which one is more correct.
I met a girl today. Actually I had seen her before, in the new cafeteria I eat at most of the week for lunch. She has this messy short brown hair and dresses like students at prestigious schools from those older movies, the ones that lay in the shade discussing and smoking pipes. I was too nervous to make eye contact with her long enough to see what color they are. I've noticed her a couple times and she only eats alone with a school binder open by her lunch. I figured she was older and my lunch buddies said I should talk to her, but I've just never been able to force anything like that. However, I mentioned her and how she looked interesting in my think-I'm-quiet-but-actually-loud way and she smirked, but maybe it was what she was reading.
Well today we happened to sit by a lunch that she happened to be away from at the time. So she returned and I glanced a bit until one of Andrew's friends came over. He's a clever guy that talks a lot. We were talking in our humorous manner and I noticed her small smile from time to time. He got on the topic of wishing it were permissible to take fries from strangers in the cafeteria (she was eating some) and she moved her fries farther from us and from there we wrangled her into the conversation on and off. In our side conversation I found out her name is Kristin (but I don't know the correct spelling) and shes from New Mexico; 21, senior in biology, living off campus with an off campus meal plan. It's strange to think that without that meal plan I wouldn't know she existed. The way she dresses and her hair style and the way she only does small smiles (and only once in a while at that) leaves me wondering what past made her a sophisticated-seeming student. I know I'm trying to focus on just the present, but it's hard to fight my nature.
Anyway, I told her we eat there during the working hours of Monday through Wednesday, noon to one-thirty. Andrew's friend said he's there only Monday and Wednesday so she should come then; I think he was joking. I think I'll be seeing her again.
The Lonely Shower
I made headway in my application for SCA internships. I'm at the stage where I have to get the permission of three people to use as references and for recommendation letters. So far I've gotten the permission of my favorite philosophy professor at Webster, Britt-Marie. I updated her a bit about the new college life and she commented that I didn't sound too happy here. I thought about it and realized I'm not too attached to this school except for graduating purposes. I further realized that since I've been here I feel I've somewhat lost touch with time and reality. I have no idea what I'm doing here and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be here.
"Have you ever looked up at a plane flying overhead and wished to be on it? To leave everything and put your life on some track that's already been going, only with other people?"
"I don't often look up."
I guess that's what I should expect to hear.
It's strange. I shower each night, and shave, go to class, and eat, and sleep (though now with the help of melatonin). The same schedule repeats so often it's no wonder I can't keep things straight. Sure the assignments and projects differ, but they're all the same in frequency and effect. If it were warmer I could go to the mountain on the weekends. The only thing to do around here is go to parties, and they've never been my scene.
I think Britt-Marie may be the only adult I'd confide in regarding reality and the drugs and life. But maybe I'm just feeling that for this moment.
"Have you ever looked up at a plane flying overhead and wished to be on it? To leave everything and put your life on some track that's already been going, only with other people?"
"I don't often look up."
I guess that's what I should expect to hear.
It's strange. I shower each night, and shave, go to class, and eat, and sleep (though now with the help of melatonin). The same schedule repeats so often it's no wonder I can't keep things straight. Sure the assignments and projects differ, but they're all the same in frequency and effect. If it were warmer I could go to the mountain on the weekends. The only thing to do around here is go to parties, and they've never been my scene.
I think Britt-Marie may be the only adult I'd confide in regarding reality and the drugs and life. But maybe I'm just feeling that for this moment.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Just Another Day
How many military people does it take to raise a flag? 5. Two to turn the rope, two to unfold and attach the flag, and one to salute in the background the whole time.
The only thing that made the scene human was the leader (I'm assuming) who murmured encouragement or orders. The rest might as well have been robots.
I met a girl today. Her name is Alena (not sure if that's how it's spelled but it's pronounced all-ee-na). I misunderstood her the first time.
"Athena?"
"I'm no goddess," she replied. I liked that reply.
She has nice shoulder length hair and glasses.
The only thing that made the scene human was the leader (I'm assuming) who murmured encouragement or orders. The rest might as well have been robots.
I met a girl today. Her name is Alena (not sure if that's how it's spelled but it's pronounced all-ee-na). I misunderstood her the first time.
"Athena?"
"I'm no goddess," she replied. I liked that reply.
She has nice shoulder length hair and glasses.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Fragment
Currently listening to:
Take a Picture
Filter
I'm still never really bored. I look up into the smooth blue sky that somehow makes "floaters" present, visible. These flying worms that leave short-live trails could be outside of me or could be within my eye. I like to think that if they are outside of me, they are bits of the spiritual energy of the world, keys to what is beyond our blue ceiling; that they are there to protect me or guide me. If they're only inside my eyes, I'm not sure what they would do. I guess it's something to watch instead of TV. When other people stare off into space, I wonder if they are watching them too. I wonder why they're only visible with a sky background.
You and I are dolphins, cutting through water, switching positions, twirling around. Our paths intersect briefly and we circle each other and separate on paths that will take us to the peak of our separation only to bring us back together again . We will undulate like this.
Take a Picture
Filter
I'm still never really bored. I look up into the smooth blue sky that somehow makes "floaters" present, visible. These flying worms that leave short-live trails could be outside of me or could be within my eye. I like to think that if they are outside of me, they are bits of the spiritual energy of the world, keys to what is beyond our blue ceiling; that they are there to protect me or guide me. If they're only inside my eyes, I'm not sure what they would do. I guess it's something to watch instead of TV. When other people stare off into space, I wonder if they are watching them too. I wonder why they're only visible with a sky background.
You and I are dolphins, cutting through water, switching positions, twirling around. Our paths intersect briefly and we circle each other and separate on paths that will take us to the peak of our separation only to bring us back together again . We will undulate like this.
Friday, January 14, 2011
In a Ship In a Bottle
My favorite part of the highway are the different "over-sized load"s that come my way. I can usually never tell what they belong to. I thought about Native American tribes and if they were to still migrate as they used to, in this day and age, perhaps they would construct tepees on flatbed 18-wheelers and migrate that way. What a sight to see.
At night, I've been driving over ten hours straight. In the final stretch my mind blanks and I see things. I wouldn't call it sensory deprivation and yet I'm just sitting here and everything is moving around me. In my rear view mirror my string of pine cones appear very much to be the heads of passengers since it's too dark to make out any features. I suppose I'm not alone.
And against the night sky are plumes jutting out from man-made volcanoes. The uppermost wisps take forms, like ducks, before dissipating. The plumes alternate colors from shades of blue to red against a deep blue sky that appears to be just as shallow, like a layer of paint on a wall. I leave this quickly.
I see the shadow of a front bumper, the sort you see on police cars. It is a normal white car pretty dirty with a sticker of a stag on the rear. I know that some old police cars get auctioned off and I see no extra attached mirror, so I don't know what to make of it for sure. Checking out the license plate for the state it's from, it says "EXEMPT." 'There's no state called "exempt,"' I think to myself. 'What kind of state is called exempt? What sort of business do they do there?' And I look at the bottom and see "Wyoming." They should really put the state name where it usually is. I didn't know if they would have jurisdiction in Colorado so I kept my nose clean.
I feel like a ship suspended on a bottle. I don't know what emotions go with that - probably some anxiety, longing, detachment from reality. College is about leaving, constantly dropping situations (classes, vacations, schools). I need something steady. It's getting really hard to keep leaving.
At night, I've been driving over ten hours straight. In the final stretch my mind blanks and I see things. I wouldn't call it sensory deprivation and yet I'm just sitting here and everything is moving around me. In my rear view mirror my string of pine cones appear very much to be the heads of passengers since it's too dark to make out any features. I suppose I'm not alone.
And against the night sky are plumes jutting out from man-made volcanoes. The uppermost wisps take forms, like ducks, before dissipating. The plumes alternate colors from shades of blue to red against a deep blue sky that appears to be just as shallow, like a layer of paint on a wall. I leave this quickly.
I see the shadow of a front bumper, the sort you see on police cars. It is a normal white car pretty dirty with a sticker of a stag on the rear. I know that some old police cars get auctioned off and I see no extra attached mirror, so I don't know what to make of it for sure. Checking out the license plate for the state it's from, it says "EXEMPT." 'There's no state called "exempt,"' I think to myself. 'What kind of state is called exempt? What sort of business do they do there?' And I look at the bottom and see "Wyoming." They should really put the state name where it usually is. I didn't know if they would have jurisdiction in Colorado so I kept my nose clean.
I feel like a ship suspended on a bottle. I don't know what emotions go with that - probably some anxiety, longing, detachment from reality. College is about leaving, constantly dropping situations (classes, vacations, schools). I need something steady. It's getting really hard to keep leaving.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Bath
Showers are very sudden things. The water goes on and hot, in, water off immediately, out. Baths take longer to draw and empty; there is a sort of choreography about it. And you seep into the water and are immersed rather than pelted all over. When the bath is over, you get out, leaving the water sitting as if it were waiting on you. A shower is shut off and the water leaves you standing there in the cleaning area. I think I prefer baths though I haven't had one since I was a child.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Don't Know What Brought This On
An old man moved down the road in tattered clothing, layers on layers to create the would be warmth of one sweater. Nighttime. Anyone out this late could be any normahl taking a walk, going somewhere, but then again they could be a little kooky. No one knows why they are out shuffling in the cold except them, and they aren't talking. The old man is. He crosses paths this those that aren't crossing. A group of teenagers that are basically kids, some stooping some standing, on the side of the road. They look a little mean, emotionless, living just another stage in life. The old man stopped and spoke My people have taken the fight out of me. I am human and less than an animal for an animal thrives in the world, they possess all roles to equal ability. My role is not the farmer, and without the farmer I can only scratch a little from the ground and hold on like a cold claw to a slipping surface. No, survival has been bred out of me. My people have taken my fight away. And he shuffled onward with a stumble. The boys looked on after him and walked the opposite way. There was nothing to take from him.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Who We Really Are
Currently listening to:
The World Without
A Fine Frenzy
We were talking about the past, and the present. I come to Dallas to reconnect with who I think I really am. This town is filled with memories and emotion. It's so heavy with them, I'm weighed down. It kind of sounds like my true self is the product of suppression, but I don't think that's totally the meaning.
In college I'm myself and then begin to lose myself. After some amount of time I ease into somewhat of a jerky personality. Plain and simple I can be a jerk, which surprises my friends in Dallas who only know me deep down. By jerk I mean the snarky retorts and rude returns.
Those who were with me in high school also know a jerky side. A different sort. High school was a time of such hopelessness and depression. I suppose it was as if I had a well full of myself that had to be sorted through even though by that age I hadn't experienced all that much that would need sorting. I always have daydreamed a lot and seen many pasts and many more futures that would not come to pass - in that respect I've always lived many lifetimes. Maybe that's what weighed me down in high school, made me feel so old.
The jerkiness then was more serious; now I've come to realize my current jerkiness is more a veneer and deep down I depend upon and care about those around me. She was surprised when I explained that; maybe she thought who I have been "acting" as is some cover. She asked why I revert to being a jerk in college when I could be the Dallas me. I guess everyone has some tendency they can't escape and we're always moving back and forth. Why my tendency is snarky, I don't know. I suppose I should find a way to keep myself in the Dallas me despite its occasional sadness. I'm going to take my postcard with an image of Dallas aglow back with me and see if that will help me recall. I'll just have to see how this next semester goes.
The World Without
A Fine Frenzy
We were talking about the past, and the present. I come to Dallas to reconnect with who I think I really am. This town is filled with memories and emotion. It's so heavy with them, I'm weighed down. It kind of sounds like my true self is the product of suppression, but I don't think that's totally the meaning.
In college I'm myself and then begin to lose myself. After some amount of time I ease into somewhat of a jerky personality. Plain and simple I can be a jerk, which surprises my friends in Dallas who only know me deep down. By jerk I mean the snarky retorts and rude returns.
Those who were with me in high school also know a jerky side. A different sort. High school was a time of such hopelessness and depression. I suppose it was as if I had a well full of myself that had to be sorted through even though by that age I hadn't experienced all that much that would need sorting. I always have daydreamed a lot and seen many pasts and many more futures that would not come to pass - in that respect I've always lived many lifetimes. Maybe that's what weighed me down in high school, made me feel so old.
The jerkiness then was more serious; now I've come to realize my current jerkiness is more a veneer and deep down I depend upon and care about those around me. She was surprised when I explained that; maybe she thought who I have been "acting" as is some cover. She asked why I revert to being a jerk in college when I could be the Dallas me. I guess everyone has some tendency they can't escape and we're always moving back and forth. Why my tendency is snarky, I don't know. I suppose I should find a way to keep myself in the Dallas me despite its occasional sadness. I'm going to take my postcard with an image of Dallas aglow back with me and see if that will help me recall. I'll just have to see how this next semester goes.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Kellye
Kellye said she was going to break up with her boyfriend when she goes back to school. It feels strange knowing that something is going to happen before it does, like seeing a movie based on a book you've read. This doesn't really involve me, though, so I don't feel too affected by it. Still, it's a strange feeling.
We had another long hang out, the first one since we did mushrooms together, which was the first hang out of the season. The trip was good and she felt she learned a lot, about herself and time, of course. It was much more mind oriented than I have experienced, and I attribute that to her. That's how it was in brief.
This final goodbye took us to Braum's for iced cream, but I didn't eat much of mine because I took a Focalin because I thought she'd be on Adderall. She hadn't brought any home so she was off it while I was on. Not what I expected, but it was also interesting in a humorous way. I started talking to a guy in line who had a cousin working there and we all started talking about things that probably made them think I was on something. We sat and talked for hours.
We got lost trying to drive back to my house so she could see the dogs and I could grab my coat. I was so focused that I forgot I had a GPS.
After that we went to Brookhaven and wandered around. The whole place looked so different than it does during the daytime. Kellye said it seemed more magical because it was night or because I was there, and it seemed so, I could vividly recall being back on that Tuesday when we jumped out of time's track. We drank some and made our way to the car and sat in the backseat and talked more while the radio played. Then we cuddled and she said I was of a different breed of skinny boys because I wasn't uncomfortable to lay on, but perhaps everyone cuddles differently and our bodies remember the way other people cuddle so it works. So we cuddled and that was enough.
Dandelion focuses on and lives in the now and I wanted to apply that in my own life, and I think I'm slowly exploring it. It kind of takes the sting out of life.
We had another long hang out, the first one since we did mushrooms together, which was the first hang out of the season. The trip was good and she felt she learned a lot, about herself and time, of course. It was much more mind oriented than I have experienced, and I attribute that to her. That's how it was in brief.
This final goodbye took us to Braum's for iced cream, but I didn't eat much of mine because I took a Focalin because I thought she'd be on Adderall. She hadn't brought any home so she was off it while I was on. Not what I expected, but it was also interesting in a humorous way. I started talking to a guy in line who had a cousin working there and we all started talking about things that probably made them think I was on something. We sat and talked for hours.
We got lost trying to drive back to my house so she could see the dogs and I could grab my coat. I was so focused that I forgot I had a GPS.
After that we went to Brookhaven and wandered around. The whole place looked so different than it does during the daytime. Kellye said it seemed more magical because it was night or because I was there, and it seemed so, I could vividly recall being back on that Tuesday when we jumped out of time's track. We drank some and made our way to the car and sat in the backseat and talked more while the radio played. Then we cuddled and she said I was of a different breed of skinny boys because I wasn't uncomfortable to lay on, but perhaps everyone cuddles differently and our bodies remember the way other people cuddle so it works. So we cuddled and that was enough.
Dandelion focuses on and lives in the now and I wanted to apply that in my own life, and I think I'm slowly exploring it. It kind of takes the sting out of life.
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