When you were born, The Creator came and pressed his finger to your lips.
"Shhhh", he said. "you will remember what no one else does".
A scared child runs down the hallway of an empty house. Shadows chase her. She clambers into her room, where they cannot enter and dives under the covers of her bed. She is protected by a fortress. The walls glow while she sleeps and two dark figures stand behind the threshold. The tall one, who she has named Tom, stands and cocks his head to the side, a curious dog. Then he grins. His pale, dead face contorted with the grin as if it causes him pain. The blue-yellow tones of his skin are drowned out by the candle light in the room. His skin, hanging limply from his bones, (if he has any) ready to peel away and melt into the floor. The smaller one, about two feet high, with bright yellow eyes bares his teeth, a green algae color. He has no figure, more of a small lump with legs, no color, just a small black mass of shadow, but his eyes glow with the reflection of the candle.
The child knows she is safe, but they stand there, torturing her, keeping her from sleep. She rolls away from them, pulling the covers over her head, but leaving a space to breathe and more importantly, to see. She turns her head to make sure they are not getting closer. Terrified by the thought of them, she tucks herself back under the covers.
In her mind, she calls her angels. They appear in the middle of the room, glowing. These are not the angels of the bible, white, ethereal, winged. They are a ragtag bunch of spirits. Dead friends, guardians, people from the past. They begin from the right-hand side of the door, spreading a glowing barrier from the floor to the ceiling, working their way clockwise. they work all the way around the room to the other side of the door and seal the door with the same light.She knows she is safe
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I'll see you when we get there
i'm here, reflecting on the past five years.
it has been a long journey, and i feel that i have come a long way. but i also know there is a lot of work to be done. i miss those that are gone, and those that are here but are not around.
i remember the phone calls. i remember the voices that told me. shaky, in shock, and somehow vacant. the voice that you use when all you can do is survive. when people ask you how you are and the reflexive, "i'm doin' alright, you?" automatically comes out. you operate like a robot, all programmed, no impulse, no creativity, no emotion. because once one emotion comes out, they pour out in a release that cannot be stopped.
fall
recover
fall
recover
fall
recover
you get a little more removed each time so that when you fall, you barely feel it anymore. you just know the familiar thud against the ground. you hear the familiar sounds of your life rushing by uncontrollably.
i come from a place where the young die unjustly. i come from a place where people kill each other and kill themselves. where violence is so deeply rooted in our culture that we begin to take it out on ourselves. the violence turns inward and it keeps going.
it has been a long journey, and i feel that i have come a long way. but i also know there is a lot of work to be done. i miss those that are gone, and those that are here but are not around.
i remember the phone calls. i remember the voices that told me. shaky, in shock, and somehow vacant. the voice that you use when all you can do is survive. when people ask you how you are and the reflexive, "i'm doin' alright, you?" automatically comes out. you operate like a robot, all programmed, no impulse, no creativity, no emotion. because once one emotion comes out, they pour out in a release that cannot be stopped.
fall
recover
fall
recover
fall
recover
you get a little more removed each time so that when you fall, you barely feel it anymore. you just know the familiar thud against the ground. you hear the familiar sounds of your life rushing by uncontrollably.
i come from a place where the young die unjustly. i come from a place where people kill each other and kill themselves. where violence is so deeply rooted in our culture that we begin to take it out on ourselves. the violence turns inward and it keeps going.
Monday, August 18, 2008
So You're Going to be a Senior...
as i approach my senior year of college i feel scared, overwhelmed, relieved, happy, and nervous all at the same time.
i have 8 months to get together my whole senior show and be ready to face the world as an adult with a degree...
i have been having a recent onslaught of small panic attacks whenever i think about school. they are usually followed by nausea and exhaustion. i start a week from today. it will be a long, scary road, but i also feel like it's going to go by quicker than i anticipate. i know that "tomorrow" i'm going to be standing at senior show, shitting my pants and wondering where the last 8 months have gone. i know it will be exciting, but it scares the hell out of me to think that shortly, i will be completely responsible for everything that happens to me. no more class, no more papers, no more critiques...
no use in wasting time,
back to Otis in a week!!
i have 8 months to get together my whole senior show and be ready to face the world as an adult with a degree...
i have been having a recent onslaught of small panic attacks whenever i think about school. they are usually followed by nausea and exhaustion. i start a week from today. it will be a long, scary road, but i also feel like it's going to go by quicker than i anticipate. i know that "tomorrow" i'm going to be standing at senior show, shitting my pants and wondering where the last 8 months have gone. i know it will be exciting, but it scares the hell out of me to think that shortly, i will be completely responsible for everything that happens to me. no more class, no more papers, no more critiques...
no use in wasting time,
back to Otis in a week!!
Monday, August 11, 2008
traveling through the mental landscape
it's time once again to evaluate my personal journey.
this summer has been a whirlwind adventure emotionally, geographically, and mentally. my limits have been tested and it has come to my attention that i no longer have the capacity for bullshit.
i have driven between Los Angeles and San Francisco at least half a dozen times in the past 4 months. the 6+ hour drive gives you a lot of time to think, as if you are not already lost in your head half the time. my car does not have air conditioning. driving in 95 degree weather for that long with nothing but warm air blowing on you really makes you value simple things in life. if you are ever in a situation similar to that, i suggest closing the windows and turning off the fan for 3 minutes. you will sweat and maybe even get dizzy. but open that window after those 3 minutes and i guarantee, its the best thing you've ever felt. it's not healthy to do this drive with such frequency, nor is it financially advisable with the current gas prices, but like my mom says, "love is supposed to make you retarded".
yes, ladies and gentlemen, i did it for boy. and i don't regret it one bit.
i traveled to the south of france for nearly a month. i have never been there and i speak very little french. it was a test of the mind over there in france. i have never been away from my friends or family for that long, i have always had one or the other. i was with my boss and her two amazing daughters. she and i travel well together and it was a good experience for me. the hard thing was trying to build a relationship while being half way around the world. it taught me a lot about myself and my boundaries. it also taught me a lot about love. it showed me that i can endure very difficult things (as if we didn't already know that) and come out on the other side in one piece. i have always known this about myself deep down, but this brought it to light.
another thing i learned was that i am a down-ass-bitch and a brilliant young woman. i am willing to make sacrifices and compromises for the things that are important to me without sacrificing myself. it has been a hard balance, but for me, the feelings have endured and although the present state of things is not ideal, i know that what i feel is true. i know that no matter what happens, i have been completely honest with myself. no more punk rock nightmares, no more addicts and alcoholics. no more delusional distractions from my personal demons. only loving people who i love who love me. people who see me for what i really am and still like me. people that i can spend days on end with and not get sick of them. people that feel like home. love is one of those things that you can try and try to describe, but it just makes you completely retarded. yep, love makes you retarded. you trip, fall, stumble, stutter, fumble, and slip. but it feels really nice sometimes. other times, it feels like hell. but we endure.
this summer has been a whirlwind adventure emotionally, geographically, and mentally. my limits have been tested and it has come to my attention that i no longer have the capacity for bullshit.
i have driven between Los Angeles and San Francisco at least half a dozen times in the past 4 months. the 6+ hour drive gives you a lot of time to think, as if you are not already lost in your head half the time. my car does not have air conditioning. driving in 95 degree weather for that long with nothing but warm air blowing on you really makes you value simple things in life. if you are ever in a situation similar to that, i suggest closing the windows and turning off the fan for 3 minutes. you will sweat and maybe even get dizzy. but open that window after those 3 minutes and i guarantee, its the best thing you've ever felt. it's not healthy to do this drive with such frequency, nor is it financially advisable with the current gas prices, but like my mom says, "love is supposed to make you retarded".
yes, ladies and gentlemen, i did it for boy. and i don't regret it one bit.
i traveled to the south of france for nearly a month. i have never been there and i speak very little french. it was a test of the mind over there in france. i have never been away from my friends or family for that long, i have always had one or the other. i was with my boss and her two amazing daughters. she and i travel well together and it was a good experience for me. the hard thing was trying to build a relationship while being half way around the world. it taught me a lot about myself and my boundaries. it also taught me a lot about love. it showed me that i can endure very difficult things (as if we didn't already know that) and come out on the other side in one piece. i have always known this about myself deep down, but this brought it to light.
another thing i learned was that i am a down-ass-bitch and a brilliant young woman. i am willing to make sacrifices and compromises for the things that are important to me without sacrificing myself. it has been a hard balance, but for me, the feelings have endured and although the present state of things is not ideal, i know that what i feel is true. i know that no matter what happens, i have been completely honest with myself. no more punk rock nightmares, no more addicts and alcoholics. no more delusional distractions from my personal demons. only loving people who i love who love me. people who see me for what i really am and still like me. people that i can spend days on end with and not get sick of them. people that feel like home. love is one of those things that you can try and try to describe, but it just makes you completely retarded. yep, love makes you retarded. you trip, fall, stumble, stutter, fumble, and slip. but it feels really nice sometimes. other times, it feels like hell. but we endure.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
lost in lost angeles
written sometime during midterms week:
lately, i have been drawn to the water. and not in a, "hey lets go to the beach sometime" way, but in a "i need to go to the beach and jump in the water NOW" way. i have been four times in the past week or so, three times to dockweiler and once to big dume. if you can make it out there, big dume is worth the trip, its rocky and there's a reef, but there are also tons of freckled little blond boys running around and clean water and awesome tide pools.
i approach the shore hesitantly. i have not been in the water in months. as the mother ocean greets me, i step into the water, the familiar cold sensation rushing through my legs. i feel the sand under my toes. i wiggle them. i look out toward the horizon and inhale deeply, sensing the cold mist filling my lungs.
something inside me crinkles and cracks open like the crust on the top of sand when the salt mixes with the sand when the tide has gone out. it looks solid from afar, but when you step on it, it breaks open to reveal the warm soft sand underneath.
there is something so alluring for me about the beach. i can remember being drawn equally when i was a child, looking out onto the shore from the car and yearning to run full force out into the water. it's not a simple or subtle thing. it's an overwhelming and powerful need. A need in the way that one needs to breathe. i don't feel truly at peace unless i am near water. river, stream, creek, ocean, rain, any body of water will do. fresh or salt, the water makes me feel at home.
having lived in san francisco for all of my life has harbored this need to be near the water. when you are surrounded by water on 3 sides, you kind of can't get away from it. it becomes part of your life. bridges and shores, fisherman and small boats, boat houses, glass beach, sunsets, sunrise. the clearest you've ever seen are on the san francisco shores. nothing is as pure or untainted for me. i am sure that somewhere in nature there is something more pure, but for me, it is the clearest thing i have seen in my travels. from the shores of mexico to the beaches in egypt, i have seen nothing better than a sunrise at the pier in san francisco, and i have seen many.
the world is complicated and i find myself so restricted when i am at school, working, with friends, or elsewhere. even when i am by myself, i feel, at times, so held in. but when i am in the ocean, in the water, i am free. i am myself at the most pure state. i am in my element. i walk through the water away from the shore, towards the great open space held before me. the horizon seems infinitely far away. if i had a boat i would sail toward it until i cold take it in my hands and hold it.
when i am hurting, emotionally or physically, the only medicine that seems to cure me is the salty sea air. a wash in the ocean.
the cold water licks my legs and pulls me forward. i tuck my dress up around my thighs and walk in farther. seaweed swirls around my ankles, teasing and taunting me to go farther. the waves rise like flames and engulf my waist, wrapping around me like the arms of a lover. the sand brushes past my feet and i feel as though i am floating on the surface of some wave, i watch and wait for the water to beckon me more. we play a game. we push and pull each other back and forth. i dare it to come out and it dares me to walk in. we flirt and dance, i walk with a swirling motion, gravity no longer affecting me, like a soft tango or waltz.
then she starts to push. she senses my uncertainty and knows that if i go in further i will not return to shore, i will wade there forever in the surf, content to abandon civilization. so she pushes me out, waves slapping my legs hard, like a mother wolf pushing its pups toward food. she pushes and i follow her lead, slowly retreating to the sand, to the shore. she enjoys the visit, but will not indulge in keeping me for herself.
i return to the shore, tingling and cold, covered in salt and sand, in a complete state of bliss and enjoyment.
we have bonded for as long as it took for me to reconnect with her. we danced, we swayed, we played and sang. and when it was time, she sent be back, with clarity and peace as a farewell.
lately, i have been drawn to the water. and not in a, "hey lets go to the beach sometime" way, but in a "i need to go to the beach and jump in the water NOW" way. i have been four times in the past week or so, three times to dockweiler and once to big dume. if you can make it out there, big dume is worth the trip, its rocky and there's a reef, but there are also tons of freckled little blond boys running around and clean water and awesome tide pools.
i approach the shore hesitantly. i have not been in the water in months. as the mother ocean greets me, i step into the water, the familiar cold sensation rushing through my legs. i feel the sand under my toes. i wiggle them. i look out toward the horizon and inhale deeply, sensing the cold mist filling my lungs.
something inside me crinkles and cracks open like the crust on the top of sand when the salt mixes with the sand when the tide has gone out. it looks solid from afar, but when you step on it, it breaks open to reveal the warm soft sand underneath.
there is something so alluring for me about the beach. i can remember being drawn equally when i was a child, looking out onto the shore from the car and yearning to run full force out into the water. it's not a simple or subtle thing. it's an overwhelming and powerful need. A need in the way that one needs to breathe. i don't feel truly at peace unless i am near water. river, stream, creek, ocean, rain, any body of water will do. fresh or salt, the water makes me feel at home.
having lived in san francisco for all of my life has harbored this need to be near the water. when you are surrounded by water on 3 sides, you kind of can't get away from it. it becomes part of your life. bridges and shores, fisherman and small boats, boat houses, glass beach, sunsets, sunrise. the clearest you've ever seen are on the san francisco shores. nothing is as pure or untainted for me. i am sure that somewhere in nature there is something more pure, but for me, it is the clearest thing i have seen in my travels. from the shores of mexico to the beaches in egypt, i have seen nothing better than a sunrise at the pier in san francisco, and i have seen many.
the world is complicated and i find myself so restricted when i am at school, working, with friends, or elsewhere. even when i am by myself, i feel, at times, so held in. but when i am in the ocean, in the water, i am free. i am myself at the most pure state. i am in my element. i walk through the water away from the shore, towards the great open space held before me. the horizon seems infinitely far away. if i had a boat i would sail toward it until i cold take it in my hands and hold it.
when i am hurting, emotionally or physically, the only medicine that seems to cure me is the salty sea air. a wash in the ocean.
the cold water licks my legs and pulls me forward. i tuck my dress up around my thighs and walk in farther. seaweed swirls around my ankles, teasing and taunting me to go farther. the waves rise like flames and engulf my waist, wrapping around me like the arms of a lover. the sand brushes past my feet and i feel as though i am floating on the surface of some wave, i watch and wait for the water to beckon me more. we play a game. we push and pull each other back and forth. i dare it to come out and it dares me to walk in. we flirt and dance, i walk with a swirling motion, gravity no longer affecting me, like a soft tango or waltz.
then she starts to push. she senses my uncertainty and knows that if i go in further i will not return to shore, i will wade there forever in the surf, content to abandon civilization. so she pushes me out, waves slapping my legs hard, like a mother wolf pushing its pups toward food. she pushes and i follow her lead, slowly retreating to the sand, to the shore. she enjoys the visit, but will not indulge in keeping me for herself.
i return to the shore, tingling and cold, covered in salt and sand, in a complete state of bliss and enjoyment.
we have bonded for as long as it took for me to reconnect with her. we danced, we swayed, we played and sang. and when it was time, she sent be back, with clarity and peace as a farewell.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
in first gear
we started off slow, and built up speed.
before i knew it, we were in 5th gear, careening down the highway with no particular place to go.
and suddenly, you told me to drop it down to second.
the gears were grinding, the engine screaming and i was afraid it would explode.
we slowed down, approaching grid lock and i dropped down to first.
you looked at me as if i had done something wrong.
because for you, first gear was not enough and third was too much, but i still loved you in fifth.
before i knew it, we were in 5th gear, careening down the highway with no particular place to go.
and suddenly, you told me to drop it down to second.
the gears were grinding, the engine screaming and i was afraid it would explode.
we slowed down, approaching grid lock and i dropped down to first.
you looked at me as if i had done something wrong.
because for you, first gear was not enough and third was too much, but i still loved you in fifth.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
face forward, back to the land
i have seen the face of hatred,
and it's funny because it looks a lot like the face of ignorance.
i have seen the face of fear,
and it looks a lot like the face of love.
i have looked into the eyes of adversity and seen the swelling tide within them.
i have watched the hearts of those around me fall to pieces, crumble and blow away.
but today,
i face the sky.
and it's funny because it looks a lot like the face of ignorance.
i have seen the face of fear,
and it looks a lot like the face of love.
i have looked into the eyes of adversity and seen the swelling tide within them.
i have watched the hearts of those around me fall to pieces, crumble and blow away.
but today,
i face the sky.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Yemaya and Oshun: a ceremony
we went to the land about a month or two after Frick died. we had all been through some traumatizing experience, and it was a chance for us to go out in nature and find peace. sarah taught us a ceremony. it was the reunion of the sister orishas Yemaya and Oshun. Yemaya is the goddess of the sea, of salt water. Oshun is the goddess of sweet water, the rivers and lakes. we waited until night time and she gathered us around next to the fire and presented a few objects.
components: fresh water, sea salt, a bowl, cedar branches, rose petals.
Sarah arranges the cedar branches around the fire in a path. she holds out rose petals and explains that we are talking about death. the rose petals represent beauty. at death, beauty is always present. i feel a rush of sadness through me. i can see the words "no regret, no blame, no pain, ONLY BEAUTY" written on the wall in permanent marker. images of dead eyes resound in my mind.
she assigns me the job of holding a large bowl of sweet water at the dark end of the path. i stand by myself, in darkness while people come around the circle, pick up a pinch of salt and then come to my end and place it in the bowl and then proceed out of the circle. i stand alone, isolated, in darkness, tears streaming down my face as my arms weaken under the weight of the bowl. this experience is a metaphor for my life. people come and go, but in the end, i am standing alone, bearing the weight of our experiences.
we walk in a procession down a steep hill that leads to the river. we are singing Amazing Grace. we get to the edge of the water and each person tosses in a handful of rose petals and i reunite the two orishas Yemaya and Oshun as i pour the salt water from the bowl, mixed with my tears into the river. i pour the pain of loss and heartbreak into the river and i watch it get taken by the current and swept down under the surface of the water. i am the messenger of our pain, the group of people that are here with me. we pour our sorrows into the river and feel the water take them. they come out of us and become a part of the universe, no longer a private, internal experience, but a thing that all kind share. we become a part of a world older than our grandfathers, our thoughts, feelings, and spirits are rejoined with that from which we came.
components: fresh water, sea salt, a bowl, cedar branches, rose petals.
Sarah arranges the cedar branches around the fire in a path. she holds out rose petals and explains that we are talking about death. the rose petals represent beauty. at death, beauty is always present. i feel a rush of sadness through me. i can see the words "no regret, no blame, no pain, ONLY BEAUTY" written on the wall in permanent marker. images of dead eyes resound in my mind.
she assigns me the job of holding a large bowl of sweet water at the dark end of the path. i stand by myself, in darkness while people come around the circle, pick up a pinch of salt and then come to my end and place it in the bowl and then proceed out of the circle. i stand alone, isolated, in darkness, tears streaming down my face as my arms weaken under the weight of the bowl. this experience is a metaphor for my life. people come and go, but in the end, i am standing alone, bearing the weight of our experiences.
we walk in a procession down a steep hill that leads to the river. we are singing Amazing Grace. we get to the edge of the water and each person tosses in a handful of rose petals and i reunite the two orishas Yemaya and Oshun as i pour the salt water from the bowl, mixed with my tears into the river. i pour the pain of loss and heartbreak into the river and i watch it get taken by the current and swept down under the surface of the water. i am the messenger of our pain, the group of people that are here with me. we pour our sorrows into the river and feel the water take them. they come out of us and become a part of the universe, no longer a private, internal experience, but a thing that all kind share. we become a part of a world older than our grandfathers, our thoughts, feelings, and spirits are rejoined with that from which we came.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Love, The Blues, and Adrenaline
Hey all you kids out there in stereoland,
I have spent the last 4 days straight at school from sometime in the early afternoon until at least 3 or 4 in the morning. I believe I am running out of steam. But that is unrelated.
There comes a time in your life when you feel like you are done playing games and you just want to grow up and lead a normal life. I wonder what normal looks like anyway. Normal has always seemed boring to me. Big house, white picket fence, 2.3 children, a husband that works, and....where do I fit into this picture again? I am nobody's wife, I am nobody's woman, I am not a baker, a waitress, a house cleaner, or a homemaker. I don't put my hair in curlers, I don't cook dinner every night, and I don't wear an apron.I know this may seem a little rash, but I kind of don't know what home life is supposed to look like. I see what my family looked like. My dad working hard every day, ruining his back and knees, my mom taking night classes when I was a kid to get her credential. Dinner was on the table (thanks to my grandmother) and for the most part we all sat down and ate together every night. That's not to say that my childhood was perfect. I had my fair share of family feuding. But that's not what I'm talking about.
I have reached a point where childish games and superficial relationships are no longer fulfilling enough. I have realized that the friendships that I have had and the friends that I have lost make me see friendship and relationships differently that a lot of other people. I see friendship as a malleable thing. Friendship to me has always gone deeper than "oh, we hang out". I have had my share of pseudo-non-platonic friendships with people. I'm not talking about sex. I'm not talking about romance. I guess the closest word to it is intimacy. There is this level of friendship that if you can reach it, will change your entire perspective on what a friend is and can be. It is a friendship where you can be physically, emotionally, and spiritually close with someone without all of the things that come along with relationships. It is a complex and tricky thing to have, I won't lie. But it is also beautiful and precious. I don't know many people that can relate to me on this, but if you're out there, you'll know what I mean. Flings and fair weather friends aren't enough anymore. Romantic relationships are borderline impossible at this point. I don't expect people to be willing to give of themselves so much as I have given to a select few people. It can be exhausting, but it can also be the most rewarding thing you will ever experience.
Is this what love looks like? Do we wait around for that exact feeling? And, excuse the pity party but, what if the person we found that feeling in is gone? Do you strive for that same feeling, or take each individual for a new opportunity to learn and grow in a completely unique and challenging way?
The moments in my life seem so much more digestible when I look at them from afar. When seen in a macro lens, they become way too intense for me to handle. One memory acts as a catalyst for another, and out pours my entire life in the car on the freeway to an unsuspecting friend that until now has only heard snippets of these things.
It sends you in a downward spiral, especially when you think about what tomorrow means and it seems impossible to scrape your way back up the walls of this rabbit hole that we are all falling down and suddenly, no one cares but me.
so, love. You hear all the songs, you read all the poetry, you see all the movies, but you have no idea what it means until it completely smacks you in the face. You stumble, you fall, you can't make coherent sentences. It feels like you are actually degenerating. You feel crazy. I asked my mom, "why do I feel so stupid?". she told me, "love'll do that to you honey". Makes me wonder if this love thing is really good for us. It kind of seems like a blinder to hide the ugly truth. But I think that's a little pessimistic, even for me. I guess I'll figure out what it means as I go. For now, I'm just tumbling down, without pause, full force, headed straight for some insane crazy upside down wonderland.
In conclusion to my rant:
--Adrenaline is not infinite.
--The Blues make you...blue
--love makes you stupid
good night,
get some sleep,
dream sweet dreams.
I have spent the last 4 days straight at school from sometime in the early afternoon until at least 3 or 4 in the morning. I believe I am running out of steam. But that is unrelated.
There comes a time in your life when you feel like you are done playing games and you just want to grow up and lead a normal life. I wonder what normal looks like anyway. Normal has always seemed boring to me. Big house, white picket fence, 2.3 children, a husband that works, and....where do I fit into this picture again? I am nobody's wife, I am nobody's woman, I am not a baker, a waitress, a house cleaner, or a homemaker. I don't put my hair in curlers, I don't cook dinner every night, and I don't wear an apron.I know this may seem a little rash, but I kind of don't know what home life is supposed to look like. I see what my family looked like. My dad working hard every day, ruining his back and knees, my mom taking night classes when I was a kid to get her credential. Dinner was on the table (thanks to my grandmother) and for the most part we all sat down and ate together every night. That's not to say that my childhood was perfect. I had my fair share of family feuding. But that's not what I'm talking about.
I have reached a point where childish games and superficial relationships are no longer fulfilling enough. I have realized that the friendships that I have had and the friends that I have lost make me see friendship and relationships differently that a lot of other people. I see friendship as a malleable thing. Friendship to me has always gone deeper than "oh, we hang out". I have had my share of pseudo-non-platonic friendships with people. I'm not talking about sex. I'm not talking about romance. I guess the closest word to it is intimacy. There is this level of friendship that if you can reach it, will change your entire perspective on what a friend is and can be. It is a friendship where you can be physically, emotionally, and spiritually close with someone without all of the things that come along with relationships. It is a complex and tricky thing to have, I won't lie. But it is also beautiful and precious. I don't know many people that can relate to me on this, but if you're out there, you'll know what I mean. Flings and fair weather friends aren't enough anymore. Romantic relationships are borderline impossible at this point. I don't expect people to be willing to give of themselves so much as I have given to a select few people. It can be exhausting, but it can also be the most rewarding thing you will ever experience.
Is this what love looks like? Do we wait around for that exact feeling? And, excuse the pity party but, what if the person we found that feeling in is gone? Do you strive for that same feeling, or take each individual for a new opportunity to learn and grow in a completely unique and challenging way?
The moments in my life seem so much more digestible when I look at them from afar. When seen in a macro lens, they become way too intense for me to handle. One memory acts as a catalyst for another, and out pours my entire life in the car on the freeway to an unsuspecting friend that until now has only heard snippets of these things.
It sends you in a downward spiral, especially when you think about what tomorrow means and it seems impossible to scrape your way back up the walls of this rabbit hole that we are all falling down and suddenly, no one cares but me.
so, love. You hear all the songs, you read all the poetry, you see all the movies, but you have no idea what it means until it completely smacks you in the face. You stumble, you fall, you can't make coherent sentences. It feels like you are actually degenerating. You feel crazy. I asked my mom, "why do I feel so stupid?". she told me, "love'll do that to you honey". Makes me wonder if this love thing is really good for us. It kind of seems like a blinder to hide the ugly truth. But I think that's a little pessimistic, even for me. I guess I'll figure out what it means as I go. For now, I'm just tumbling down, without pause, full force, headed straight for some insane crazy upside down wonderland.
In conclusion to my rant:
--Adrenaline is not infinite.
--The Blues make you...blue
--love makes you stupid
good night,
get some sleep,
dream sweet dreams.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
winter break
my eyes reach across the dense yet charmingly cozy landscape that is San Francisco. the past year of my life has been spent running circles around my two lives. when i was younger i had my palm read and the person told me that i have two life lines which means that i will always live two lives, always walk down two paths and always struggle to keep them in balance.
So as I stand atop twin peaks, gazing down at this place that is so familiar to me, i am comforted knowing that although progress has taken its toll on our little city, the landscape remains essentially the same. the silhouette of the monstrous tower condominiums looms next to the bay bridge as a sign of progress for the sake of progress. San Francisco cannot expand laterally anymore, so it must go up. I question whether we can fit anymore people here.
While i watch the Los Angeles urban and suburban sprawl spread like cancer over the once serene flat lands and the smog reach its soot-covered hands out to what used to be wetlands and Indian territory, I wonder if San Francisco will ever get that bad and I pray that it won't.
I spent a lot of time this break contemplating myself and where i fit in this world. i live in a metropolitan area that is very different from most metropolitan areas and when i am in LA i live in a working class area with people who look like me and work like my parents work and earn the wages my parents earn.
As i strive to do well in my department at school i wonder what effect my demographics will have on the work world when i enter it. i am entering a field that gives you a one shot chance at either being great or being doomed to be poor and homeless. Since concept art is so competitive, i want to up my game this semester so that i can equal if not surpass my classmates. five drawing classes should do the trick. but i wonder, when this is all said and done, if i get an amazing high paying job, will i still be able to harbor the same values that i do now? or will i be sucked down into the abyss of the workaholic and the strive for a bigger paycheck?
It seems as though in the art world you are either on top or you're a nobody. there are a few freelance and independent artists that are breaking these boundaries lately, but it is rare and you still have to know the right people and the right people still have to know you. networking is a three-headed demon that can either make or break your career. if the right people remember you for the right reasons, you can make it big. if they dont remember you at all, or worse, if they remember you but hate you, you're S.O.L.
Let's get one thing straight. I am not, nor have I ever been or doubtfully will be one of those people that lives in their sketchbook. I try and try to sit myself down and sketch for hours. Often, at most, i get about an hour of work done. Soon thereafter, i start either hating everything i've drawn, or i just go stir crazy and throw the damned thing across the room. the edges of the page seem limiting to me and i long for a bigger canvas. i long for the medium, space, and skill to make the pictures in my head a reality. Much of the time, these representations come out muddled, half-assed, or just plane ugly. i think the best bet for me at this point is a multimedia project where i can just let loose. again, time, space, medium, skill, all factors in the completion of the piece. not to mention that i have no idea what to make it about. as a concept artist i must discipline myself to draw draw draw. no sleep, just draw, no eat, just draw, no life, just draw. but many of you who know me would say, "F* that!"
...and i agree. the pull between my personal life and my art life is strong and unyielding. it is relentless and un-tamable. my art side is an amorphous being that swirls with colors and undefinable shapes that choke me in my sleep. and my personal life is like an angry tree goddess curled in the corner of my mind, ready to strangle me with her long branches at any moment for neglecting her.
i must find a metaphorical rolling pin with which to roll myself out to a medium thickness without bubbles or rips so that i may comfortably fit over the pie that is my life.
So as I stand atop twin peaks, gazing down at this place that is so familiar to me, i am comforted knowing that although progress has taken its toll on our little city, the landscape remains essentially the same. the silhouette of the monstrous tower condominiums looms next to the bay bridge as a sign of progress for the sake of progress. San Francisco cannot expand laterally anymore, so it must go up. I question whether we can fit anymore people here.
While i watch the Los Angeles urban and suburban sprawl spread like cancer over the once serene flat lands and the smog reach its soot-covered hands out to what used to be wetlands and Indian territory, I wonder if San Francisco will ever get that bad and I pray that it won't.
I spent a lot of time this break contemplating myself and where i fit in this world. i live in a metropolitan area that is very different from most metropolitan areas and when i am in LA i live in a working class area with people who look like me and work like my parents work and earn the wages my parents earn.
As i strive to do well in my department at school i wonder what effect my demographics will have on the work world when i enter it. i am entering a field that gives you a one shot chance at either being great or being doomed to be poor and homeless. Since concept art is so competitive, i want to up my game this semester so that i can equal if not surpass my classmates. five drawing classes should do the trick. but i wonder, when this is all said and done, if i get an amazing high paying job, will i still be able to harbor the same values that i do now? or will i be sucked down into the abyss of the workaholic and the strive for a bigger paycheck?
It seems as though in the art world you are either on top or you're a nobody. there are a few freelance and independent artists that are breaking these boundaries lately, but it is rare and you still have to know the right people and the right people still have to know you. networking is a three-headed demon that can either make or break your career. if the right people remember you for the right reasons, you can make it big. if they dont remember you at all, or worse, if they remember you but hate you, you're S.O.L.
Let's get one thing straight. I am not, nor have I ever been or doubtfully will be one of those people that lives in their sketchbook. I try and try to sit myself down and sketch for hours. Often, at most, i get about an hour of work done. Soon thereafter, i start either hating everything i've drawn, or i just go stir crazy and throw the damned thing across the room. the edges of the page seem limiting to me and i long for a bigger canvas. i long for the medium, space, and skill to make the pictures in my head a reality. Much of the time, these representations come out muddled, half-assed, or just plane ugly. i think the best bet for me at this point is a multimedia project where i can just let loose. again, time, space, medium, skill, all factors in the completion of the piece. not to mention that i have no idea what to make it about. as a concept artist i must discipline myself to draw draw draw. no sleep, just draw, no eat, just draw, no life, just draw. but many of you who know me would say, "F* that!"
...and i agree. the pull between my personal life and my art life is strong and unyielding. it is relentless and un-tamable. my art side is an amorphous being that swirls with colors and undefinable shapes that choke me in my sleep. and my personal life is like an angry tree goddess curled in the corner of my mind, ready to strangle me with her long branches at any moment for neglecting her.
i must find a metaphorical rolling pin with which to roll myself out to a medium thickness without bubbles or rips so that i may comfortably fit over the pie that is my life.
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