he is
neither
nothing
nowhere
to be
found
Monday, April 2, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
remembering to write
i don't know why i ever stopped writing on this blog. it was my own fault for jumping onto the tumblr hype without very much satisfaction. so i will come back to you, dear blogspot and share my secrets with few eyes and ears. this way...i can read and write for myself without all the jpegs and gifs.
now i will remember to write.
now i will remember to write.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sleeping with Demons
I know he loves me
When he can stand against my demons.
But I must face them on my own.
It is I who sleeps with them,
all their voices coaxing me under.
They drown my in my own vices:
desire, death, and doubt.
Dream demons
Demon dreams
Psychosis
When he can stand against my demons.
But I must face them on my own.
It is I who sleeps with them,
all their voices coaxing me under.
They drown my in my own vices:
desire, death, and doubt.
Dream demons
Demon dreams
Psychosis
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Thoughts
1. He braces my body.
2. Part of being poor is hunger.
3. Sex should not be the only exercise I get.
4. I am attracted to relationships that are mean to reflect my mean.
5. So badly, I miss Paris and travel.
6. I am terribly afraid of love. No, of commitment.
7. I am more afraid of not making anything of my self.
8. My favorite part of his body is his eyelashes when wet.
9. Gramma thinks the next time I go home is when she is dead. This may be true.
10. He challenges my idealism.
11. Children own me. Even my invisible children.
12. Music=movement. Words=Color. Life=Love. Creation=Art
2. Part of being poor is hunger.
3. Sex should not be the only exercise I get.
4. I am attracted to relationships that are mean to reflect my mean.
5. So badly, I miss Paris and travel.
6. I am terribly afraid of love. No, of commitment.
7. I am more afraid of not making anything of my self.
8. My favorite part of his body is his eyelashes when wet.
9. Gramma thinks the next time I go home is when she is dead. This may be true.
10. He challenges my idealism.
11. Children own me. Even my invisible children.
12. Music=movement. Words=Color. Life=Love. Creation=Art
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Creation Myth
"How many creation myths do you know?"
We count on our fingers, silently.
I know 8. He knows 8 too.
I name them off first:
Chinese, Navajo, Australian,
Egyptian, Christian,
Atlantian, Human Race,
And Darwinian.
He intellectualizes,
"It is interesting
How there are many creation myths within
One culture."
I tell him that my myth is the same
And spans across cultures.
Mine goes like this:
There were 8 aliens
Who wanted to make slaves.
They mixed their blood
With that of an ape,
And out came the human slave.
In Egypt, in Atlantis, in Australia....
We were transported and placed.
He can't seem to remember
The last of his myths,
His pinky pointing up and out
From the rest of his curled fist.
I put his finger down, and affirm,
"WE are a creation myth."
We count on our fingers, silently.
I know 8. He knows 8 too.
I name them off first:
Chinese, Navajo, Australian,
Egyptian, Christian,
Atlantian, Human Race,
And Darwinian.
He intellectualizes,
"It is interesting
How there are many creation myths within
One culture."
I tell him that my myth is the same
And spans across cultures.
Mine goes like this:
There were 8 aliens
Who wanted to make slaves.
They mixed their blood
With that of an ape,
And out came the human slave.
In Egypt, in Atlantis, in Australia....
We were transported and placed.
He can't seem to remember
The last of his myths,
His pinky pointing up and out
From the rest of his curled fist.
I put his finger down, and affirm,
"WE are a creation myth."
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Hangfire
Hangfire definitition: To suspend or fasten so as to allow free movement at or about the point of suspension
I felt inspired to write after sdvfire posted her recent entry. First, let me describe this setting I am sitting in: Keane-she has no time playing, in Nirali boutique in Fashion Island, Teach For America articles on the desk to my right, and no one around to interrupt my blogging.
Everything feels suspended in time. I feel both full of time, and yet, there seems to be no time at all. How can forever feel like a blink and a blink feel like forever? Like sdv, I don't feel like I am accomplishing what I want, nor do I know what I want at this point in my life.
At first, when I got out of August and into September, I was scrambling to make ends meet. Somewhere, internally, subconsciously, I had known about this drop. Drop? What drop? Hope, I guess. I feel like I had lost hope. This is easy in a family that reinforces your unworthiness with negativity and when there is no support network to build you back up. It is easy to falter from the dreamer's path when your peers from high school seem settled with children, with long-term career plans, and complacent about doing the same ol' same ol'.
This month of feeling nothing and everything made me go insane. So I escaped. To save my self. This little dreamer. Reality is not fun already. Why spend my time thinking about reality? AH! But I can't help but think about the state of my life: MONEY. Money, sadly, owns my dreams. I need money to travel. I need money to be independent. I need money to go to pursue higher education.
Today, I was driving on the 5 and in the distance, grey smoke poured into the sky, helicopters surrounding it. I caught myself, thinking, "Oh, gosh! This traffic needs to hurry up because I need to get to so-and-so." Time is money. That is my mindset. Money has polluted my thoughts. How could I forget my compassion? How could I forget my own humanity? How could I forget empathy? So I prayed...I prayed for the people who were caught or around would be safe and out of harm's way.
And in that moment, I understood....how possible it is for money to corrupt and how money has power. No, I never wanted money to own me. No, I never wanted money to have power over me. After having been home for the month, I realized the fate of my folks: they work day and day out, 7 days a week, bustling in a restaurant that doesn't make enough money to make them feel at ease, and money has taken over their lives.....and now mine. This is not what I want.
Money buys time. Money allows one to go forward and backward in time, to move freely in it. Money allows flexibility. Money allows comfort. I have grown up simply: don't buy new clothes, don't eat out, don't spend money on snacks or drinks that i don't need, don't buy books, don't buy anything unnecessary. But I am so angry! I am so angry! How can corporations, CEOs, SEOs, and whoever not share the wealth? I feel castrated, in a sense, of my humanhood to provide for my family. And this makes me extremely angry.
Reality tells each one of us that we are not good enough to make "it." "It" being big time, big leagues, playing with the big boys. I think if I give up and say, "Okay, I'll just accept and ordinary, average life, and fall into the fabric of working-class America" then I will be lost forever! (Not that it is bad, or good)
I just think, this is not ME! Nt right now, at least. Yet here I am, suspending in time....maybe I am just building....building my armor until I am ready for the war. Fuck. I should just leave already. With no sight of where I'm going.
At what point did I gain this mentality where I have to know where I am going to finally start an adventure? When did making mistakes terrify me more than taking the first step? Maybe I am already lost.....
I felt inspired to write after sdvfire posted her recent entry. First, let me describe this setting I am sitting in: Keane-she has no time playing, in Nirali boutique in Fashion Island, Teach For America articles on the desk to my right, and no one around to interrupt my blogging.
Everything feels suspended in time. I feel both full of time, and yet, there seems to be no time at all. How can forever feel like a blink and a blink feel like forever? Like sdv, I don't feel like I am accomplishing what I want, nor do I know what I want at this point in my life.
At first, when I got out of August and into September, I was scrambling to make ends meet. Somewhere, internally, subconsciously, I had known about this drop. Drop? What drop? Hope, I guess. I feel like I had lost hope. This is easy in a family that reinforces your unworthiness with negativity and when there is no support network to build you back up. It is easy to falter from the dreamer's path when your peers from high school seem settled with children, with long-term career plans, and complacent about doing the same ol' same ol'.
This month of feeling nothing and everything made me go insane. So I escaped. To save my self. This little dreamer. Reality is not fun already. Why spend my time thinking about reality? AH! But I can't help but think about the state of my life: MONEY. Money, sadly, owns my dreams. I need money to travel. I need money to be independent. I need money to go to pursue higher education.
Today, I was driving on the 5 and in the distance, grey smoke poured into the sky, helicopters surrounding it. I caught myself, thinking, "Oh, gosh! This traffic needs to hurry up because I need to get to so-and-so." Time is money. That is my mindset. Money has polluted my thoughts. How could I forget my compassion? How could I forget my own humanity? How could I forget empathy? So I prayed...I prayed for the people who were caught or around would be safe and out of harm's way.
And in that moment, I understood....how possible it is for money to corrupt and how money has power. No, I never wanted money to own me. No, I never wanted money to have power over me. After having been home for the month, I realized the fate of my folks: they work day and day out, 7 days a week, bustling in a restaurant that doesn't make enough money to make them feel at ease, and money has taken over their lives.....and now mine. This is not what I want.
Money buys time. Money allows one to go forward and backward in time, to move freely in it. Money allows flexibility. Money allows comfort. I have grown up simply: don't buy new clothes, don't eat out, don't spend money on snacks or drinks that i don't need, don't buy books, don't buy anything unnecessary. But I am so angry! I am so angry! How can corporations, CEOs, SEOs, and whoever not share the wealth? I feel castrated, in a sense, of my humanhood to provide for my family. And this makes me extremely angry.
Reality tells each one of us that we are not good enough to make "it." "It" being big time, big leagues, playing with the big boys. I think if I give up and say, "Okay, I'll just accept and ordinary, average life, and fall into the fabric of working-class America" then I will be lost forever! (Not that it is bad, or good)
I just think, this is not ME! Nt right now, at least. Yet here I am, suspending in time....maybe I am just building....building my armor until I am ready for the war. Fuck. I should just leave already. With no sight of where I'm going.
At what point did I gain this mentality where I have to know where I am going to finally start an adventure? When did making mistakes terrify me more than taking the first step? Maybe I am already lost.....
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Heavy and Light Minded
It all started with my eyebrows! Whenever I have a bad day, there is nothing better than getting pampered. I decide to thread my eyebrows. That is enough to make me feel like a million bucks!
The great things about being home:
There are three trash cans. 1 for compost, another for non-recyclables, and the last for bottles and cans! YAY! We are saving the Earth!
I finally feel like I am contributing to the family. I realize that the family, as a unit, has an Acts of Service love language. This is how I am helping: Licensing Lava, getting Mia and Nemo their shots, going grocery shopping with Gramma and keeping her company throughout the day, hanging out with my sisters, even little things like make a diet plan for my dad, and help my mom get some comfortable shoes she can stand in for 12 hours. Acts of service isn't my main love language but it's okay. It really makes me happy to see my family's lives a little bit easier.
I am deciding on my future. Everyone is very helpful. My family tells me not to rush and I am taking it to heart, kinda. I have realized that time moves slowly for everyone else. I work in milliseconds. One day=two days for Diana. Please remember this, friends. Oh, and thank you to those who have been keeping up with my fleeting thoughts.
So this is the first time where I don't feel like my decisions are pulled by some stupid relationship, except for the one I have with myself. I am alone. This is one of my biggest fears. However, I have built my home, body, temple up before post-Calvin. I can do this again.
Pros and cons about certain career paths:
Massage therapist: Great environments. It is one that I create for my self. It is a 10-month program. I would love to get certified and be able to work as a part-time masseuse while I am applying for grad schools or when I am not dong anything. In the end, I would love to create an in-home massage business, or work in a nice hotel, or in a chiropractor's office. Why? In-home so that I can cater to people who are not mobile such as old-folk or rich-folk, or people who just feel more comfortable being in their space. A nice hotel because people spend a lot of money on massages at hotels. People pay 90$ for an hour Swedish massage. And Swedish is the most minimal amount of work, I think. Chiropractor's office seems like a consistent place to be. Especially if clients who come in seeking for the help. Most people don't go to a chiropractor's office for nothing.
Social Worker/Counselor: (Warning-This may reveal a lot about me)I want to help people, especially those in need. However, I realized that I am the second-eldest and I need to make money to support my family. As much as I would not want to sell myself out by focusing on money, it is very important to me to help my family with their bills. Also, the annual income to the amount of stress and work you put in is not what I want. I believe I have adequate skill and talent that should be sufficiently compensated.
Pre-school/Elementary school teacher: I keep facing roadblocks to this one. I have been trying to get my substitute teaching stuff squared away, but I don't know which district, I don't know where to get Early Childhood Education Units, nor do I have a school that is willing to hire me right now. To get credentialed in this, I thought about about getting into a Master's program. Even if I applied, it would be difficult for me to know if I am secured into a place in school. Grad school is scary. I never felt prepared. I feel like my education is geared for Higher Education/Education Leadership and policy. Ah!
Am I only good for Student Affairs?
Advice: Being a student is amazing. Undergrad is fun and maybe careful consideration for where you want to go post-college is important. I really wish I had an internship that allowed me to get a hand's on experience in a area that I, now, feel like entering. So really think about where you want to go and start working towards that.
The great things about being home:
There are three trash cans. 1 for compost, another for non-recyclables, and the last for bottles and cans! YAY! We are saving the Earth!
I finally feel like I am contributing to the family. I realize that the family, as a unit, has an Acts of Service love language. This is how I am helping: Licensing Lava, getting Mia and Nemo their shots, going grocery shopping with Gramma and keeping her company throughout the day, hanging out with my sisters, even little things like make a diet plan for my dad, and help my mom get some comfortable shoes she can stand in for 12 hours. Acts of service isn't my main love language but it's okay. It really makes me happy to see my family's lives a little bit easier.
I am deciding on my future. Everyone is very helpful. My family tells me not to rush and I am taking it to heart, kinda. I have realized that time moves slowly for everyone else. I work in milliseconds. One day=two days for Diana. Please remember this, friends. Oh, and thank you to those who have been keeping up with my fleeting thoughts.
So this is the first time where I don't feel like my decisions are pulled by some stupid relationship, except for the one I have with myself. I am alone. This is one of my biggest fears. However, I have built my home, body, temple up before post-Calvin. I can do this again.
Pros and cons about certain career paths:
Massage therapist: Great environments. It is one that I create for my self. It is a 10-month program. I would love to get certified and be able to work as a part-time masseuse while I am applying for grad schools or when I am not dong anything. In the end, I would love to create an in-home massage business, or work in a nice hotel, or in a chiropractor's office. Why? In-home so that I can cater to people who are not mobile such as old-folk or rich-folk, or people who just feel more comfortable being in their space. A nice hotel because people spend a lot of money on massages at hotels. People pay 90$ for an hour Swedish massage. And Swedish is the most minimal amount of work, I think. Chiropractor's office seems like a consistent place to be. Especially if clients who come in seeking for the help. Most people don't go to a chiropractor's office for nothing.
Social Worker/Counselor: (Warning-This may reveal a lot about me)I want to help people, especially those in need. However, I realized that I am the second-eldest and I need to make money to support my family. As much as I would not want to sell myself out by focusing on money, it is very important to me to help my family with their bills. Also, the annual income to the amount of stress and work you put in is not what I want. I believe I have adequate skill and talent that should be sufficiently compensated.
Pre-school/Elementary school teacher: I keep facing roadblocks to this one. I have been trying to get my substitute teaching stuff squared away, but I don't know which district, I don't know where to get Early Childhood Education Units, nor do I have a school that is willing to hire me right now. To get credentialed in this, I thought about about getting into a Master's program. Even if I applied, it would be difficult for me to know if I am secured into a place in school. Grad school is scary. I never felt prepared. I feel like my education is geared for Higher Education/Education Leadership and policy. Ah!
Am I only good for Student Affairs?
Advice: Being a student is amazing. Undergrad is fun and maybe careful consideration for where you want to go post-college is important. I really wish I had an internship that allowed me to get a hand's on experience in a area that I, now, feel like entering. So really think about where you want to go and start working towards that.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Untitled
My gramma sings around the house
The songs of her youth.
She sits me down at the kitchen table,
The place where all chatter comes out.
We share a bowl of eggplant curry
My mother made the night before.
She says,"Y'know? I don't feel old, right?"
Tears well up in her purple-grey eyes.
"At your sister's graduation, they told me
To get into the picture."
It wasn't until she saw them developed
That she realized how old she was.
The songs of her youth.
She sits me down at the kitchen table,
The place where all chatter comes out.
We share a bowl of eggplant curry
My mother made the night before.
She says,"Y'know? I don't feel old, right?"
Tears well up in her purple-grey eyes.
"At your sister's graduation, they told me
To get into the picture."
It wasn't until she saw them developed
That she realized how old she was.
After this guy
We lie in mid-coitus.
I am crying because my insecurities
Come flooding out as we both did
A moment before.
There were 25 men before this one.
All of them were infatuated ideas of love.
All of them got a perfect show--
All smiles; No tears.
But this guy, the one whom
I loved in soul, daggered it
The moment she flew out from
Phantastical orgasm.
"You are a great faker," he exclaimed.
That hurt more than a fist to my face.
I thought this guy
Was different.
No, he is just as afraid
As the others,
Just as small as I am.
I suffocate in his apologies.
My pride swells up over my head and
Crashes my entire body.
I drown in it.
This is where I hide when I want
To get some air, where it is quiet,
Where I am invisible, where I know
Too well, where I never thought
I'd have to come back to....
After this guy.
I am crying because my insecurities
Come flooding out as we both did
A moment before.
There were 25 men before this one.
All of them were infatuated ideas of love.
All of them got a perfect show--
All smiles; No tears.
But this guy, the one whom
I loved in soul, daggered it
The moment she flew out from
Phantastical orgasm.
"You are a great faker," he exclaimed.
That hurt more than a fist to my face.
I thought this guy
Was different.
No, he is just as afraid
As the others,
Just as small as I am.
I suffocate in his apologies.
My pride swells up over my head and
Crashes my entire body.
I drown in it.
This is where I hide when I want
To get some air, where it is quiet,
Where I am invisible, where I know
Too well, where I never thought
I'd have to come back to....
After this guy.
Love, or Survival
We are broke.
In the dead of Winter,
We eat canned sardines
And Baguettes from the
Dollar Store. It is next to
The donut shop my uncle
Used to work at last year;
We go there for dessert.
We split a maple bar, and
Tomorrow a classic glazed.
This is equity.
After dinner,
I lie belly down on the bed
In only my underwear. He decides
The outfit he will wear to school
Tomorrow. I ask him for a show.
He tries on everything he owns,
Mix matches dress pants and t-shirts,
Jeans with a raincoat. He tosses a scarf
Made of cashmere around his neck.
Finally, we settle on something.
All I know are his eyes.
I watch him
With nothing to offer but a smile.
I'm not sure if this is love, or survival
In the dead of Winter,
We eat canned sardines
And Baguettes from the
Dollar Store. It is next to
The donut shop my uncle
Used to work at last year;
We go there for dessert.
We split a maple bar, and
Tomorrow a classic glazed.
This is equity.
After dinner,
I lie belly down on the bed
In only my underwear. He decides
The outfit he will wear to school
Tomorrow. I ask him for a show.
He tries on everything he owns,
Mix matches dress pants and t-shirts,
Jeans with a raincoat. He tosses a scarf
Made of cashmere around his neck.
Finally, we settle on something.
All I know are his eyes.
I watch him
With nothing to offer but a smile.
I'm not sure if this is love, or survival
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
in love as i know it now
i have been trying to write a poem that could capture the type of in love i feel.
instead i can only think of words:
home: you make me feel like i have someone to come home to, whose face in the evening makes all the day work just a dream. i just have to go through the motions of doing things just so time will pass. because nothing matters once i am with you. i am safe. i am warm. i belong with you. it is only when i am with you that everything in the world is rightfully in its place.
chamomile tea: you heal me. (and without all the addictive caffeine properties.) you are quiet, you are still, you are easy to take in....smooth.
high: imagine/think skydiving.....together. yes!
friend: you are my friend. you are someone who will call out my bullshit when i get too bullshitty and reel me back from floating when i dream for too long. it is good to know that someone genuinely cares for me as a friend and hopes good things for me.
belief: you made me believe in myself more than anyone else in the world. i don't know how. i don't know why. maybe because you said it directly to me, eyes-to-eyes. no head turns. no nervous laugh or smile. just a sincere "i believe in you."
poetry: you fill me so much that i need not write sad poetry. the tone my poems only know are longing. i am trying not to write sappy love poems, but i know you'll accept them. and heck, who doesn't love a good romance now and again?
tears: it hurts to love you. the kind of hurt you feel when you laugh so hard that tears come out. you make me laugh so hard that it hurts....my heart is laughing so much it hurts. it's funny how even something once broken can still be functional in the end.
laughter: and so we laugh and laugh and laugh because the inside jokes get funnier, the references from earlier in the day to later jokes are just as funny, and we know how to poke fun without hurting each other. ever since i was a little girl, i've always wanted someone who could make me laugh. i liked jim carey and tim allen because they were funny guys. you are a funny person (minus the scripted jokes. haha j/k). laughter reminds me that we have voices.
scoop: whether it is an ice cream scoop or the way you spoon, something about your body and my body coming together is delicious! i mean you are what you eat and i want to eat you up! it must be the way we share yogurtland, or the way we share a bed, or the way we share our meals. i have someone to share my life with and i am so very thankful that we are two ice cream scoops.
pedagogy: sometimes you teach me sometimes i teach you. sometimes i learn you. and sometime you learn me. and it never stops i feel. i am happy that you believe i am smart and allow me to be. i am happy you are smart and can keep me intrigued by all your knowings and not-knowings.
moon: y'know when you look at the moon and it is so immensely big and breathtaking that you are in utter awe? when i think about the idea of you, i sometimes feel we are so different and that statisticians or sociologists would never in a million years conceive of our togetherness. however, it is when i see your face or am with you that i know there is a pull i can't ignore....you are the moon and i am the sea.....
sleep: let's lie in the sand together. let's lie in the grass. let's lie in warm laundry. let's lie in the clouds. let's lie poolside. let's lie in the desert. let's lie in a hammock. let's lie in the car under galaxies. let's lie in each other's arms and sleep.
fishing: patience brings the fish. my mother used to tell me that i was a fisherman who was never settled with what fish i caught because i knew that there was an ocean full of fish. you remind me that fishing isn't about how many fish you catch or caught, but the fact that i just like to spend all day, patiently, waiting.
gravity: sometimes your mass reminds me that you exist. that is enough. your existence.
lightness: sometimes your mass reminds me that i exist. that is enough. my lifted spirit.
serendipity: it scares me how coincidental our thoughts/ actions have been. we both wanted quadratic equation tattoos on our left forearm. we both wanted to play mah jong. we both ate cookies at the same time! we both fell in love this weekend! i mean....is the universe tugging our tails?
food: i would marry the cook.
committed: i've never been so committed to aligning my life-times with someone else's life-time. it is hard for me to let go of my pride because i have a hard time trusting. but our not-a-couple-togetherness thing, otherwise known as "dating," makes me want to date you forever! and i mean....forever!
here: you make me feel 3-dimensional.
love: i love you.
instead i can only think of words:
home: you make me feel like i have someone to come home to, whose face in the evening makes all the day work just a dream. i just have to go through the motions of doing things just so time will pass. because nothing matters once i am with you. i am safe. i am warm. i belong with you. it is only when i am with you that everything in the world is rightfully in its place.
chamomile tea: you heal me. (and without all the addictive caffeine properties.) you are quiet, you are still, you are easy to take in....smooth.
high: imagine/think skydiving.....together. yes!
friend: you are my friend. you are someone who will call out my bullshit when i get too bullshitty and reel me back from floating when i dream for too long. it is good to know that someone genuinely cares for me as a friend and hopes good things for me.
belief: you made me believe in myself more than anyone else in the world. i don't know how. i don't know why. maybe because you said it directly to me, eyes-to-eyes. no head turns. no nervous laugh or smile. just a sincere "i believe in you."
poetry: you fill me so much that i need not write sad poetry. the tone my poems only know are longing. i am trying not to write sappy love poems, but i know you'll accept them. and heck, who doesn't love a good romance now and again?
tears: it hurts to love you. the kind of hurt you feel when you laugh so hard that tears come out. you make me laugh so hard that it hurts....my heart is laughing so much it hurts. it's funny how even something once broken can still be functional in the end.
laughter: and so we laugh and laugh and laugh because the inside jokes get funnier, the references from earlier in the day to later jokes are just as funny, and we know how to poke fun without hurting each other. ever since i was a little girl, i've always wanted someone who could make me laugh. i liked jim carey and tim allen because they were funny guys. you are a funny person (minus the scripted jokes. haha j/k). laughter reminds me that we have voices.
scoop: whether it is an ice cream scoop or the way you spoon, something about your body and my body coming together is delicious! i mean you are what you eat and i want to eat you up! it must be the way we share yogurtland, or the way we share a bed, or the way we share our meals. i have someone to share my life with and i am so very thankful that we are two ice cream scoops.
pedagogy: sometimes you teach me sometimes i teach you. sometimes i learn you. and sometime you learn me. and it never stops i feel. i am happy that you believe i am smart and allow me to be. i am happy you are smart and can keep me intrigued by all your knowings and not-knowings.
moon: y'know when you look at the moon and it is so immensely big and breathtaking that you are in utter awe? when i think about the idea of you, i sometimes feel we are so different and that statisticians or sociologists would never in a million years conceive of our togetherness. however, it is when i see your face or am with you that i know there is a pull i can't ignore....you are the moon and i am the sea.....
sleep: let's lie in the sand together. let's lie in the grass. let's lie in warm laundry. let's lie in the clouds. let's lie poolside. let's lie in the desert. let's lie in a hammock. let's lie in the car under galaxies. let's lie in each other's arms and sleep.
fishing: patience brings the fish. my mother used to tell me that i was a fisherman who was never settled with what fish i caught because i knew that there was an ocean full of fish. you remind me that fishing isn't about how many fish you catch or caught, but the fact that i just like to spend all day, patiently, waiting.
gravity: sometimes your mass reminds me that you exist. that is enough. your existence.
lightness: sometimes your mass reminds me that i exist. that is enough. my lifted spirit.
serendipity: it scares me how coincidental our thoughts/ actions have been. we both wanted quadratic equation tattoos on our left forearm. we both wanted to play mah jong. we both ate cookies at the same time! we both fell in love this weekend! i mean....is the universe tugging our tails?
food: i would marry the cook.
committed: i've never been so committed to aligning my life-times with someone else's life-time. it is hard for me to let go of my pride because i have a hard time trusting. but our not-a-couple-togetherness thing, otherwise known as "dating," makes me want to date you forever! and i mean....forever!
here: you make me feel 3-dimensional.
love: i love you.
Friday, September 24, 2010
transitional tears
even though it is most difficult to bring change within your family, some pivotal moments happened this week that I feel changed things for the better.
first some realizations: my family is extremely negative toward each other. i mean my brother would end every one of his statements with "stupid" or "dumbass." the way my mother jokes aroud is pretty negative too. actually....most of everyone's jokes here are sarcastic because they just can't seem to say it straight to my face what my flaws are. and this is where i stand in the eyes of the family. i have flawed. all they know of me is not my redemption but my past. let me explain further: in high school i raised hell. i stayed out late at night. i brought boys over and they slept over, in the same room, in the same bed. i snuck out. i didn't pick up my mother's phone calls until the 21st one. i knew better but didn't act on it. i tore down these walls as if i owned the place. in reality, i didn't pay for my car. i didn't pay for my health insurance. i didn't pay for this house. in reality, i was living under my parents' roof and my gramma's traditions. in their eyes, presentation, respect, and dignity were important.
so here i am....feeling as if i've changed for the better. positive thinker, able to help out the house, feeling like there is a celebration waiting at the door when i arrive. at first, it seemed so. every one was so nice. my mother cut me fruit. my gramma made me food....a lot of it. no one seemed to comment on my weight. people asked me questions as though they were generally interested in my life. as the phonograph stopped spinning and the party balloons deflated, the critiques came flying through the window.
so the drama comes filtering in. aunts and cousins tell my gramma that i am unhappy here at home. that i turned down jobs because i was told to come home. i really was told to come home, but of course, people forget the things they tell a person. plus, it's easier to save your own ass and make the other person look like the ass. so i look like the ass for calling out my immediate family and for hurting them. to deal with my immediate family is to also deal with my 6 sets of aunts and uncles, and my 27 other cousins. everyone's got their ears on the door waiting to hear about my next disappointing act. the next thing i do to burden my immediate family. i'm second in line and of course i should be more responsible. but everyone knows that even when i was a baby, i cried every time i woke up, and i wanted to run away to new york in the second grade. i would take my clothes off just to prove that i only needed my self to go. lesson learned: keep my mouth shut. third-accounts are usually not accurate and people surely get what i said twisted...a lot of the times.
christopher came up here on saturday and stayed a good 5 days. the first night we slept in the same bed together. the next morning i get a call from my mother yelling at me that he has to sleep outside in the living room. i get a call from my brother yelling at me because my aunt has just yelled at gramma for telling me to come home. the weather is gloomy this day. i don't feel like eating the food my gramma made, which is a sign of rejection. these acts of service aren't my primary love language. i'm a words-of-affirmation-type. sometimes people aren't aware of their tones when they yell. i am sensitive to tones, especially if they reach an outdoors-voice decibel in my ear at 10 am. of course, christopher and i sleep in the living room. i stay on the floor and he sleeps on an airbed. we dare to reside in the microscopic eyes of the entire immediate family. "see? we aren't doing anything? we just want to sleep!" so we do for the following four nights. lesson learned: if you do what they want, they can't say anything to you.
an extremely large argument broke out between my brother and my sister. it's really difficult to stay out of an argument when there are no walls in the house. i tried to hide my room. christopher was on the bed quietly listening too. this seems to always happen when i am home. instead of jumping right in and yelling, i try to mediate. so does judy, my older sister. she and i are the mediators. there were definitely times when we both got a little heated and wanted to jump in but it was good we kept each other in check. i see my brother's anger parallel my father's. i think i have that same anger. but i try really hard to control it. we are all crying: my brother, my sister, christopher in the room, my gramma, and me. i bring my gramma into her room because 1) she is too old to be hearing this, 2) she is too old to understand that this argument is necessary for us siblings, 3) she kept cutting people off when it was their turn to talk. so e take turns, saying what we needed to say, decoding it for each other. and calling out each other's flaws. it wasn't easy. this took 3 hours. it is when i see my sister rage with anger and frustration that i understand what i must have looked like when i was younger. so i finally see my role: to tell my younger sister that she shouldn't grow up to try to be me. my brother and my sister are trying to save her from walking my path. christopher even came out into the living room after his shower and helped mediate. lessons learned: people want someone to listen to them; others want to get credit for their efforts; and others need to initiate service to help lessen the burdens of life.
i also fell in love with christopher. there was no more hiding my past. yes, i am the way i am for a reason. you can trace it back. i rebelled against my family so everything they wanted i did the opposite. tons of back story to share. he held me when i broke down. he sat and listened when my siblings were transformed into monsters. he ate my gramma's food even though his gut was going to explode. (he gained 4 pounds.) he made my family laugh. he reminded me that this dimension may not be the best but we were together and that's enough. he makes me want to slow down and cry happier tears. he inspires me to be better, more family-focused and family-oriented. he never left me and that's more commitment than i could ever ask for.
the days after that seemed a lot easier and better. i know i have the time and pleasure to listen to other people. not only within my immediate family, but the extended too want some love too. it is harder to filter this love out to them though. there is a meditation method called tonglin. you inhale the negative air and exhale a positive thought, love, or emotion. i learned that the power of empathy is that i can take so much of this family's negativity and still love them. unconditionally for all that they do and don't provide me. i know that these traditional social rules aren't how i want to live and it motivates me to get out. there is no rush. time moves slowly here. i am learning that being with family isn't just a two-second wave on ring road. to be with family is usually a five hour thing. and i've got time. i feel like i'm making time to help. i feel like i'm taking initiative. i feel like i'm giving back.....or kissing ass, for now.
and even though i'm not contacting everyone who has helped me. their voices, their stories, and their wisdoms flash through me, are lived through me in real life! big ups to sherweezy, mike knox, kevin, flai, spop staff, jhust, suj, ray ray, edi dai, DTR, susan diep, all of DOS, and the students. i really do miss uci and the good people there.
first some realizations: my family is extremely negative toward each other. i mean my brother would end every one of his statements with "stupid" or "dumbass." the way my mother jokes aroud is pretty negative too. actually....most of everyone's jokes here are sarcastic because they just can't seem to say it straight to my face what my flaws are. and this is where i stand in the eyes of the family. i have flawed. all they know of me is not my redemption but my past. let me explain further: in high school i raised hell. i stayed out late at night. i brought boys over and they slept over, in the same room, in the same bed. i snuck out. i didn't pick up my mother's phone calls until the 21st one. i knew better but didn't act on it. i tore down these walls as if i owned the place. in reality, i didn't pay for my car. i didn't pay for my health insurance. i didn't pay for this house. in reality, i was living under my parents' roof and my gramma's traditions. in their eyes, presentation, respect, and dignity were important.
so here i am....feeling as if i've changed for the better. positive thinker, able to help out the house, feeling like there is a celebration waiting at the door when i arrive. at first, it seemed so. every one was so nice. my mother cut me fruit. my gramma made me food....a lot of it. no one seemed to comment on my weight. people asked me questions as though they were generally interested in my life. as the phonograph stopped spinning and the party balloons deflated, the critiques came flying through the window.
so the drama comes filtering in. aunts and cousins tell my gramma that i am unhappy here at home. that i turned down jobs because i was told to come home. i really was told to come home, but of course, people forget the things they tell a person. plus, it's easier to save your own ass and make the other person look like the ass. so i look like the ass for calling out my immediate family and for hurting them. to deal with my immediate family is to also deal with my 6 sets of aunts and uncles, and my 27 other cousins. everyone's got their ears on the door waiting to hear about my next disappointing act. the next thing i do to burden my immediate family. i'm second in line and of course i should be more responsible. but everyone knows that even when i was a baby, i cried every time i woke up, and i wanted to run away to new york in the second grade. i would take my clothes off just to prove that i only needed my self to go. lesson learned: keep my mouth shut. third-accounts are usually not accurate and people surely get what i said twisted...a lot of the times.
christopher came up here on saturday and stayed a good 5 days. the first night we slept in the same bed together. the next morning i get a call from my mother yelling at me that he has to sleep outside in the living room. i get a call from my brother yelling at me because my aunt has just yelled at gramma for telling me to come home. the weather is gloomy this day. i don't feel like eating the food my gramma made, which is a sign of rejection. these acts of service aren't my primary love language. i'm a words-of-affirmation-type. sometimes people aren't aware of their tones when they yell. i am sensitive to tones, especially if they reach an outdoors-voice decibel in my ear at 10 am. of course, christopher and i sleep in the living room. i stay on the floor and he sleeps on an airbed. we dare to reside in the microscopic eyes of the entire immediate family. "see? we aren't doing anything? we just want to sleep!" so we do for the following four nights. lesson learned: if you do what they want, they can't say anything to you.
an extremely large argument broke out between my brother and my sister. it's really difficult to stay out of an argument when there are no walls in the house. i tried to hide my room. christopher was on the bed quietly listening too. this seems to always happen when i am home. instead of jumping right in and yelling, i try to mediate. so does judy, my older sister. she and i are the mediators. there were definitely times when we both got a little heated and wanted to jump in but it was good we kept each other in check. i see my brother's anger parallel my father's. i think i have that same anger. but i try really hard to control it. we are all crying: my brother, my sister, christopher in the room, my gramma, and me. i bring my gramma into her room because 1) she is too old to be hearing this, 2) she is too old to understand that this argument is necessary for us siblings, 3) she kept cutting people off when it was their turn to talk. so e take turns, saying what we needed to say, decoding it for each other. and calling out each other's flaws. it wasn't easy. this took 3 hours. it is when i see my sister rage with anger and frustration that i understand what i must have looked like when i was younger. so i finally see my role: to tell my younger sister that she shouldn't grow up to try to be me. my brother and my sister are trying to save her from walking my path. christopher even came out into the living room after his shower and helped mediate. lessons learned: people want someone to listen to them; others want to get credit for their efforts; and others need to initiate service to help lessen the burdens of life.
i also fell in love with christopher. there was no more hiding my past. yes, i am the way i am for a reason. you can trace it back. i rebelled against my family so everything they wanted i did the opposite. tons of back story to share. he held me when i broke down. he sat and listened when my siblings were transformed into monsters. he ate my gramma's food even though his gut was going to explode. (he gained 4 pounds.) he made my family laugh. he reminded me that this dimension may not be the best but we were together and that's enough. he makes me want to slow down and cry happier tears. he inspires me to be better, more family-focused and family-oriented. he never left me and that's more commitment than i could ever ask for.
the days after that seemed a lot easier and better. i know i have the time and pleasure to listen to other people. not only within my immediate family, but the extended too want some love too. it is harder to filter this love out to them though. there is a meditation method called tonglin. you inhale the negative air and exhale a positive thought, love, or emotion. i learned that the power of empathy is that i can take so much of this family's negativity and still love them. unconditionally for all that they do and don't provide me. i know that these traditional social rules aren't how i want to live and it motivates me to get out. there is no rush. time moves slowly here. i am learning that being with family isn't just a two-second wave on ring road. to be with family is usually a five hour thing. and i've got time. i feel like i'm making time to help. i feel like i'm taking initiative. i feel like i'm giving back.....or kissing ass, for now.
and even though i'm not contacting everyone who has helped me. their voices, their stories, and their wisdoms flash through me, are lived through me in real life! big ups to sherweezy, mike knox, kevin, flai, spop staff, jhust, suj, ray ray, edi dai, DTR, susan diep, all of DOS, and the students. i really do miss uci and the good people there.
Friday, August 27, 2010
SPOP in 3 stages
I
First, imagine crowd surfing: hands awkwardly placed under your should blades, ankles, calves, head, upper back, lower back, and accidentally your butt. You are floating in the air, eyes closed and being pushed side to side scared you will fall but trusting that people won't drop you. SPOP is like crowd surfing, people awkwardly touching parts of you that you might not have been so ready to be touched. Coming toes to toes to share secrets, touching your ears with voices ricocheting off all these other voices, your shoulders to cry on, your arm's embrace, your minds' open doors, your hearts' worries. We didn't know someone could lift us up in such intimate places, yet we trusted the hands reaching out to us, the strangers who became close. We are close because we share a common love for the same music, the beta waves that help us meditate on our purpose. SPOP is like crowd surfing.
II
Now imagine that there are no more hands holding you up. No, you don't fall. You levitate on the sweaty air of summer's passings. You levitate on the feel-good moments of highs. And you bob like a buoy in water. Imagine buoyancy. It is not empty space, not less density. In fact, it is the lightness of our being that keeps us up. The surrounding air is filled with light. I believe I am light. I believe you are light. So post-SPOP it may seem like there are no hands around to carry you, but hopefully you believe in the lightness within yourself to carry you.
III
Lastly, imagine you are invisible. You are still floating and can see everything. Sheer will keeps you afloat, and suddenly there is a breeze. You are as light as a breeze. This breeze will move you beyond UCI, circulate around the globe, catch you in the sails of exploration, and ask you to lift others when they are feeling heavy. Remember that the world is heavy and the incoming freshmen want to fly, so be the wind that guides them in their exploration.
First, imagine crowd surfing: hands awkwardly placed under your should blades, ankles, calves, head, upper back, lower back, and accidentally your butt. You are floating in the air, eyes closed and being pushed side to side scared you will fall but trusting that people won't drop you. SPOP is like crowd surfing, people awkwardly touching parts of you that you might not have been so ready to be touched. Coming toes to toes to share secrets, touching your ears with voices ricocheting off all these other voices, your shoulders to cry on, your arm's embrace, your minds' open doors, your hearts' worries. We didn't know someone could lift us up in such intimate places, yet we trusted the hands reaching out to us, the strangers who became close. We are close because we share a common love for the same music, the beta waves that help us meditate on our purpose. SPOP is like crowd surfing.
II
Now imagine that there are no more hands holding you up. No, you don't fall. You levitate on the sweaty air of summer's passings. You levitate on the feel-good moments of highs. And you bob like a buoy in water. Imagine buoyancy. It is not empty space, not less density. In fact, it is the lightness of our being that keeps us up. The surrounding air is filled with light. I believe I am light. I believe you are light. So post-SPOP it may seem like there are no hands around to carry you, but hopefully you believe in the lightness within yourself to carry you.
III
Lastly, imagine you are invisible. You are still floating and can see everything. Sheer will keeps you afloat, and suddenly there is a breeze. You are as light as a breeze. This breeze will move you beyond UCI, circulate around the globe, catch you in the sails of exploration, and ask you to lift others when they are feeling heavy. Remember that the world is heavy and the incoming freshmen want to fly, so be the wind that guides them in their exploration.
drafting spop
there's are so much so i'm just going to start typing.
people i remember: niko is from a military base in italy. he was surprised to see how friendly people where in california. we talked about fusion, technology in the US out pacing other countries.
spop 8 boyband singing "end of the road" and ralph starts balling saying thank you. i didn't know how to respond but cry too. happy tears....sad tears...the emotions waved while the tears flowed. watching spop modern right after that feeling, seeing edge, alex, alek, tom, thy, kristine....seriously my babies!!! ah!
eric who graduated in a class of 7, he came from a school of 23. he told me about his attention disorder. kids in his public school get put into this one for more one on one attention. because of that, he got into UCI. i was so proud of him. His sister got into santa barbara too. their parents must be so proud.
spop 7 crying in the parking lot in the coney because i did not want to face thinking about the transition between spop and home.
coord adventure to the arts building rooftop, having our dandelion ceremony.
driving fabrizio to the train station right after spop 8 so he can make it home. made it there with ten minutes to spare.
discovering after a day with mel how positivity is literally a change in thought and attitude. this affects how you live.
bat watching with mel.
photoshoot. weho. screaming. buck nasty. best friends.
mai-chi cha who has 10 brothers and sisters. she is hmong and an ics major. she wanted to leave as soon as possible because she was from norcal. her dad was coming to get her. at the end of that spop i was walking and saw her. full circle. she smiled.
stephanie tran....she told me about how she didn't want to be at uci. how her parents are forcing her to commute and take the bus. how they will call the cops on her.....again....if ever she stood up for herself.
evgene: he cam up to me and asked about my vegetarianism. he knew about factory farming. pesticides. about organic free-range meat. we talked for 15 minutes about the pharmaceutical industry. he is a bme major looking to cure cancer. he asked me how i knew certain things. he asked me if i was a freshman. i told him i graduated. he asked if i had a job. i said this is my job. one that pays he quips. i do get paid i exclaimed because i'm one of the coordinators...and he walks away from me....and never looks back.
i remember doing adam's family with jansen and with jenny and with patrick and....psychiatrist with jansen, with megan and joey, and with jase and alyssa.
i remember feeling filled by all the light :]
parents who cried. yolanda from tuczan, arizona, suze the helicopter mom, the courageous man who admitted he had difficulty verbalizing/showing love to his child, to mike knox, and to nam, and to all the staffers who share home with me.
realizing the difference between a great staffer and a good staffer. remembering what it felt like to sacrifice a meal to make someone's day.
people i remember: niko is from a military base in italy. he was surprised to see how friendly people where in california. we talked about fusion, technology in the US out pacing other countries.
spop 8 boyband singing "end of the road" and ralph starts balling saying thank you. i didn't know how to respond but cry too. happy tears....sad tears...the emotions waved while the tears flowed. watching spop modern right after that feeling, seeing edge, alex, alek, tom, thy, kristine....seriously my babies!!! ah!
eric who graduated in a class of 7, he came from a school of 23. he told me about his attention disorder. kids in his public school get put into this one for more one on one attention. because of that, he got into UCI. i was so proud of him. His sister got into santa barbara too. their parents must be so proud.
spop 7 crying in the parking lot in the coney because i did not want to face thinking about the transition between spop and home.
coord adventure to the arts building rooftop, having our dandelion ceremony.
driving fabrizio to the train station right after spop 8 so he can make it home. made it there with ten minutes to spare.
discovering after a day with mel how positivity is literally a change in thought and attitude. this affects how you live.
bat watching with mel.
photoshoot. weho. screaming. buck nasty. best friends.
mai-chi cha who has 10 brothers and sisters. she is hmong and an ics major. she wanted to leave as soon as possible because she was from norcal. her dad was coming to get her. at the end of that spop i was walking and saw her. full circle. she smiled.
stephanie tran....she told me about how she didn't want to be at uci. how her parents are forcing her to commute and take the bus. how they will call the cops on her.....again....if ever she stood up for herself.
evgene: he cam up to me and asked about my vegetarianism. he knew about factory farming. pesticides. about organic free-range meat. we talked for 15 minutes about the pharmaceutical industry. he is a bme major looking to cure cancer. he asked me how i knew certain things. he asked me if i was a freshman. i told him i graduated. he asked if i had a job. i said this is my job. one that pays he quips. i do get paid i exclaimed because i'm one of the coordinators...and he walks away from me....and never looks back.
i remember doing adam's family with jansen and with jenny and with patrick and....psychiatrist with jansen, with megan and joey, and with jase and alyssa.
i remember feeling filled by all the light :]
parents who cried. yolanda from tuczan, arizona, suze the helicopter mom, the courageous man who admitted he had difficulty verbalizing/showing love to his child, to mike knox, and to nam, and to all the staffers who share home with me.
realizing the difference between a great staffer and a good staffer. remembering what it felt like to sacrifice a meal to make someone's day.
drunk girl songs
I'm addicted to drunk girls
who throw up on their 21st birthdays.
The way they hover over toilets,
snotty, projectile vomit forcing through
the basins on her small stomach. She purges
all the painful layers of adolescence
to leave her butterfly body.
She is broken. Her hands are on the ground,
holding up the weight oh her mother's voice,
"A cold washcloth and an aspirin. That'll do
The trick." Her shoulder blades rounded up
like mountains afraid of the sky. These
are her growing wings.
Her forehead is on the backs on her hands.
With the pounding of her father's voice,
"This is what you wanted. Suck it up!"
Her spine is a raised railroad track that
gets lost in the tunnel of her spaghetti strap.
Here lies her courage.
Yet she cries like smallness in a big world.
She apologizes for being weak, not ready
for performance in the world stage.
She cries and apologizes in
the embrace of an echoey bathroom
And to my listening ears. I stroke her back
and hand her tissue until the box runs out.
I am beside her, her sob songs in my ear:
Songs of girls who grow into women too soon,
These songs of battered women,
songs of her period, songs of leaving
her family for her husband's home,
songs of shame, songs of feeling ugly
and not enough, the song of her first daughter,
songs of her dead mother, songs so deep
they fill the hallows of honeycombs.
These 21 year old drunk girls hold
the music collection of our women's souls.
They hold it in the deepest pit, reverberating
in the toilet bowl. Alcohol happens to be the key
that unlock these songs of being a girl.
who throw up on their 21st birthdays.
The way they hover over toilets,
snotty, projectile vomit forcing through
the basins on her small stomach. She purges
all the painful layers of adolescence
to leave her butterfly body.
She is broken. Her hands are on the ground,
holding up the weight oh her mother's voice,
"A cold washcloth and an aspirin. That'll do
The trick." Her shoulder blades rounded up
like mountains afraid of the sky. These
are her growing wings.
Her forehead is on the backs on her hands.
With the pounding of her father's voice,
"This is what you wanted. Suck it up!"
Her spine is a raised railroad track that
gets lost in the tunnel of her spaghetti strap.
Here lies her courage.
Yet she cries like smallness in a big world.
She apologizes for being weak, not ready
for performance in the world stage.
She cries and apologizes in
the embrace of an echoey bathroom
And to my listening ears. I stroke her back
and hand her tissue until the box runs out.
I am beside her, her sob songs in my ear:
Songs of girls who grow into women too soon,
These songs of battered women,
songs of her period, songs of leaving
her family for her husband's home,
songs of shame, songs of feeling ugly
and not enough, the song of her first daughter,
songs of her dead mother, songs so deep
they fill the hallows of honeycombs.
These 21 year old drunk girls hold
the music collection of our women's souls.
They hold it in the deepest pit, reverberating
in the toilet bowl. Alcohol happens to be the key
that unlock these songs of being a girl.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
boo
i was feeling so good talking to akshay about levitating people and the power of belief.
i was having a good time trying to connect to people
and y'know what happens?
i get pulled over....by the same cop who gave me my first ticket.....
full circle.
thanks city of irvine
i was having a good time trying to connect to people
and y'know what happens?
i get pulled over....by the same cop who gave me my first ticket.....
full circle.
thanks city of irvine
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
thoughts of lucy
Seeing myself in the mirror made my eyes water. Wanted to share the sob stories of my diaries with my sister. The way she is like me, and how much I take from her. I can't hide it. I've made a mess and it's time to clean up. This is probably the first thing to teach a child--to clean up after herself.
Why am I competing with my sisters? When really the power is in our hands and we can rule the world together. But why don't we do this? Why do we keep our diaries from each other? The closer I got to things the more I got consumed. Sister, help me see the colours that surround me. Sometimes I feel like the escape is to sleep. Eternal sleep.
Our electricity will fuel the current of the next generation though. Maybe the pulse and pull is getting too heavy. I can't keep my mind in one place....maybe that's why my mother wants me home. To keep her mind in one place. And the closer we get to the core of it, you want to escape, to runaway, runaway....
The words are throbbing and seems to only make sense in my mind. I can always make things better. That my place is at home. Whoa. Mazed ourselves back behind our masks. Or maybe home is no longer a space that can contain me. That's why the universe exploded into itself.
The place in our society where women are still cordial with each other is a beauty salon. To trust another person with your hair or appearance is a sacred code. Sounds like this is all bull.
Why am I competing with my sisters? When really the power is in our hands and we can rule the world together. But why don't we do this? Why do we keep our diaries from each other? The closer I got to things the more I got consumed. Sister, help me see the colours that surround me. Sometimes I feel like the escape is to sleep. Eternal sleep.
Our electricity will fuel the current of the next generation though. Maybe the pulse and pull is getting too heavy. I can't keep my mind in one place....maybe that's why my mother wants me home. To keep her mind in one place. And the closer we get to the core of it, you want to escape, to runaway, runaway....
The words are throbbing and seems to only make sense in my mind. I can always make things better. That my place is at home. Whoa. Mazed ourselves back behind our masks. Or maybe home is no longer a space that can contain me. That's why the universe exploded into itself.
The place in our society where women are still cordial with each other is a beauty salon. To trust another person with your hair or appearance is a sacred code. Sounds like this is all bull.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
notes to self:
diana
don't stir the miso soup....be still and you will find clarity
the grass is always greener where you water...be here and invest your time in the now so it can thrive.
life is just a reflection of our dreams...
Everything inside and around us wans to reflect itself in us. We don't have to go anywhere to obtain truth. We only need to be still and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.
All the wonderful things that you are looking for--happiness, peace, and joy--can be found inside of you. You do not need to look anywhere else.
Thoughts and dreams reign supreme when questions have no ontological answer. Human is being able to reflect on the limitations of his existence.
don't stir the miso soup....be still and you will find clarity
the grass is always greener where you water...be here and invest your time in the now so it can thrive.
life is just a reflection of our dreams...
Everything inside and around us wans to reflect itself in us. We don't have to go anywhere to obtain truth. We only need to be still and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.
All the wonderful things that you are looking for--happiness, peace, and joy--can be found inside of you. You do not need to look anywhere else.
Thoughts and dreams reign supreme when questions have no ontological answer. Human is being able to reflect on the limitations of his existence.
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