I wrote it in my diary a few weeks ago... "I'm happier than I've ever been. I just want someone to share it with!"
For the first time, not independence, not loneliness... But an enthusiasm for life.

And then, a gift I never expected, much less the way it came.
Talking. I've never loved talking so much.
... I could really love you, someday.

I am utterly confused

How is it that the person you never spare a thought for always likes you? The person you never saw coming is at your side, dying to spend time with you?
And why is it so horrifying, even as its flattering?
I want to run and hiiidee.
And, opposite that, why is it that the person you always seem to become obsessed with is so aloof towards you? Is that because it is the opposite feeling of that special kind of horror? You are overcome with desire, is that the opposite of horror?

Ugh, I don't want either of those. I just want comfortable companionship. I want you, you want me.
I can't handle emotions out of balance... Especially when you take other's and mine.

And the aim is always wrong. You focus all your attention on one person and the one who comes a knocking is the one directly to the left of the one you wanted.

And, its always a great person that you want to be friends with. Except how do you become friends without sending that message?

GRRRRRRRR. Frustration. This was not my intent when I went out tonight.

... Pity

I'm sitting here, feeling like a typical woman sometimes does. Pitiful for myself. Wondering why no one is spending time with me.
Then I take one look and think, "Why would anyone want to?"
I have read that happiness is finding yourself in the world. In work, in people, in life as it is. So we stay in, to find ourselves in the quiet places, and simply relax and exist. And before we can say, What am I doing?, we are feeling pitifully alone and abandoned, forgetting that it was we who did the abandoning, shutting ourselves away. We were looking for ourselves. And we found nothing, because we really did no soul searching. We didn't look out into the world. We didn't do anything. And now we're sad, big surprise.
Its the same with Facebook. I hate Facebook. I have hundreds (yeah, seriously) of friends that I don't want to talk to, don't want to look at pictures of, don't want to connect with at all. But yet I'm drawn to the place where everyone congregates, looking for that place where I belong, and get repeatedly pissed at the infinite nothingness there.
Sex and the City, my favorite show. Great for inspiration or female empowerment. Not great for marathons. No matter that Carrie is going through the same things you are, she's not really there for you. She talks with Miranda for wisdom, Samantha for savvy, Charlotte for sweetness, and you just watch and listen. And learn... what? That you're still on your ass watching them live better (no matter what they say) lives than you.
Please, don't go. I don't mean to whine. Stay, sit with me. If you listen long enough... I'll start to be myself again. You'll see.
Anyway, the exaggeration comes to this...
Every day, ask yourself this. Once, not necessarily morning or evening, just when it occurs to you.
What am I looking for? And where will I find it?
The more simple and honest your answer is, the happier you are. Its not prophetic, just a barometer. Check yourself.

If you wanna be depressive, be depressive. No big deal.
But when you don't wanna be depressive anymore, don't be. Simple as that.

Summer, the first and the last

om
asatoma sadgamaya
tamasoma jyothirgamaya
mrithyorma amrutangamaya
om shanti, shanti, shanti

For the first time, a post that actually reflects the About Me blurb on my profile!
I'm feeling what summer ought to be every year.
Guilt and responsibility free. Its hitting me that I may never feel that sensation again.
I'm focusing completely on myself, again, guilt free. Its not that I don't get to do that often- I suppose I do, but focusing completely on yourself without guilt or responsibility is an entirely different matter.
How interesting that my selfish indulgence, my search for satisfaction, lead me to the practice of yoga.
I have always wanted to do yoga. Ever since I was ten, I think. I tried it on my own, but I respond much better to an instructor in a class setting.
I purchased a one-month unlimited access membership, with a new member and student discount, for $66.50. I've been four times in four days, and I've already skipped many classes out of need for rest.
I think I am in love.
First of all, I found another physical activity I actually enjoy, the only other being dance. My body feels great, I feel in tune with myself, that I'm doing it right, and heading in a good direction. There's no tough love in yoga, its not anything you need to motivate yourself in order to do. Its no wonder to me now that I could be so distrustful of every workout program I've ever heard, people use every kind of psychological trick imaginable to get themselves to even attempt it. The reward for success just seems cheap to me, do people really care about looking good That Much? I believe in health and fitness for all, but at what cost? If I don't enjoy what I'm doing, I'm wasting my life. Period.
So yoga is a joy for two reasons. Its a joy. And its a joy that's GOOD FOR ME! Can I get a AAAmen?
Second of all, of course yoga is more than an exercise. Its Hinduism at its finest, practically a religion itself. Its worship of the universe, the one consciousness, the instrument we've been given, and so much more. As an acute amateur, I have barely even tapped into the spiritual vastness waiting for me, or the potential I know I have in this way. I'm just stating that this is not some shallow thing for me.
But I have to say, I have never felt happier in my body. And that is a good and spiritual thing in itself.
Not that anyone needs to know, but I skipped my Tuesday at 5:30pm to rest, and got my period at about midnight. Miserable in pain and then hopped up on Midol (caffeine), its late and I'll be missing my 10:00am too. Nevermind, though, there's more classes than I could ask for. I am loving experiencing the different instructors (have had a different one each of my four times)! And the people attending class are just as interesting as anything. I am trying to learn the Sanskrit names for the poses as well as my instructors names! Don't I feel bad about that.

Saturday 10:30, Yoga Basics My first class. Instructor: Peter. Early forties, or possibly just early male pattern baldness. Stocky and strong, large muscles, a very adorable belly, and I found out after class, devastatingly pure almond-copper eyes. He didn't usually teach the basics, so as he struggled to simplify things for us, I thrived in my first experience. Breathing, my body singing, he caught me serenely smiling up at him. He grinned and instructed the room, breathe, Smile. Which he got to saying for the rest of the 75 minutes. Extra satisfaction there. I enjoyed it even more when he demonstrated the advanced level Sun Salutation- with leaping between poses instead of gliding into them. He was so comfortable and strong, I was adoring his body- and his belly. Giggles.
Monday 10:00 Yoga Basics Instructor: Ronnie. Older gent, tall and sinewy. Touchy feely style of teaching. He clearly understands his practice and spirituality, but that is not what I respond best to. I was missing Peter immediately. But yoga is yoga, and if you do it right, you will experience new wonders each time. Even though Ronnie taught us the basics more basically, it was tougher. Slower, more intense, more focused. I was still sore from Saturday, too. Again I had trouble focusing during Savasana, how we end class, flat on our backs for ten minute silent meditation. I figured that would come with time. Eventually I will learn how to focus throughout the entire class instead of just trying to pull off the poses. I experienced my first chanting of Om, and it was very beautiful.
Monday 5:30 Move, Breathe, Glisten. My first mixed-level class (Hey, i only have one month, I have to get the most of it!). Instructor- Mystery woman! I didn't catch her name, but I loved her as soon as she started to speak. Strong personality. Started the class with a beautiful speech about transformation we undergo. It was a little daunting, considering I am at the beginning of my transformation and all of those people were way ahead of me. My first impression of the class was- Huge! The studio was packed with people of all kinds! The challenge was definitely apparent. Nothing totally new, variations of what I had already learned. It was humbling to see much older people schooling me in balance and flexibility. As a young person I also pride myself in being relaxed and focused, but I know that I was nowhere near in the zone, and many people in the room were in a place I want to be right now. I look forward to more lessons to be learned like this.
Tuesday 10:45 am. SORE! Gentle Yoga. Instructor: Donna. Older woman, gentle and fairylike. Wise and understanding soul. The people in there were all women in their forties and up. This class accommodated for fragile bodies. On mats there were chairs for balance and straps for gentle stretching. The yoga was satisfying on my tender muscles, and yes I still found a challenge in the hamstring stretch (my biggest hindrance, I learned quickly). The most wonderful thing about this class was the camaraderie, the womanhood. Like mystery instructor the night before, Donna opened with a beautiful talk about the world spinning around us, and the challenge it is to stay centered and focused. But no matter what happens, we have ourselves, and we can still come to our yoga to give this gift to ourselves so that we can be a gift to the universe. I felt a great connection building in the room, the women sympathizing with each other. Throughout the class there was all kinds of understanding, laughing about bumping into each other, variating poses for greater ease to limited abilities... It was very satisfying. At the end of the class, after Savasana, we sat together and chanted Om again. I listened to Asatoma Sadgamaya for the first time, and was deeply quieted by the mutual connection there. Instead of hauling it out of the studio like the three times before, I hung around, used the restroom, smiling at the women as they left, chatted with Donna for a second, and found myself one of the last ones out.
So, since its five am, I think I'll wait until this evening for my next class. Back to basics, again. My goals are now to work on my foundation, energy, connection, focus, alignment. I believe the strength and flexibility will come.
Goodnight and
Namaste.

What it all means

What it is to be a senior.
I have waited all year to feel what it feels like to be a senior.
That blissful, carefree, wonderment of seniority.
It was a throne I waited to inherit, to achieve for myself.
But I never considered what it really is...
Its that oh shit moment.
Its that, wow, this is all really happening. And I'm here, but really I'm gone.
What it feels like to be a senior is finally realizing that you will never feel like a senior.
But a kid who has been slapped in the face with The Future.
The Future you've been planning, but will never be prepared for.
Its such a blur...
Until it all stands still
That perfect picture of everything that was and is
Everything you had, and everything you missed
The stars of the monuments of your life align, and the future is clear
Your fortune is yours, as is your past...
All the power you had and should have used in the past
Is yours and multiplied for your future.
Its a sad stillness, seeing the whale leap and plunge for breath, for life, for joy
The cycle of life is so clear there,
So its the same as that.
After the walk that seems like forever,
The journey that is four years plus two and a half hours and thirty-eight Nguens
All comes to a standstill
The thousands of hats fly in a rain of blue Balfour
And your heart flies with them, a stage in the cycle of life
And it sinks, as it will, in some near future
But what does it matter?
Because its a perfect moment,
the world stops
You are there
They are there with you, watching, experiencing
Knowing what you feel
Your hearts fly together in a picture shot by Daniel Wang
You cry, you smile, you hold your friends like you never did the years
And suddenly, without warning,
Its all full speed again.



my face on the cover...
http://danielwangphotography.com/

Commencement

Its insane. All these things I never saw happening...
Walking away from a person... forever.
Throwing a cap up in the air...
Writing a song...
New friends, old friends... Such bad timing, we should have started this forever ago.
I can't think or speak.
I'm graduating next Thursday, and its weird.

Wow

The bittersweet emotions
Music in my mind
Magically jump to paper
I am amazed, but still heartaching.
What I would give to tell them to someone
to play the music I slaved over.
But yet I am tired of looking at what I can't have.
Great musicians, sexy and sweet. Strong? Who knows.
But either way, not for me.
Is anyone for me?

Please, pretty

I have nothing to say.
That's how it starts. And then the flow rushes in.
If I could only be a rock at the bottom of a brook,
to be forever cleansed until sand.
Its not empty.
Its just thirsty.
What the hell am I looking for?
Its the law of love, the perpetually watched pot.
That will never boil. That will never love. You cannot find what you are looking for.
We are friends. Yes, I like that. I can be cool with that. As long as we find someone else to fill the void, quickly.
Ugh its so sick, all of my thinking.
I hate thinking you are sweet. I can have sweet friends!
What do I need what do I need what do I need?
I need it. That, whatever it is. Need. Fill need, please.
Robot need filler? Please, pretty.

Painful Friendships

Its an unusual habit to carry. I've just realized this trend of mine...
I destroy friendships?
Or maybe its not me. I don't know. Correlation confused with causation?
I feel so hurt. I try so hard. I want to say its unfair, but everyone has their own issues that they can't express. Just because I want an answer now, doesn't mean they're ready to give it.
Still, it seems crazy to me. Most people have a string of broken relationships. But broken friendships? That seems unusual.
I have only ever had three relationships, only one of them was official. And for someone that's almost eighteen and not a recluse, that seems small. The time period of those three only add up to about a year. It just seems weird that I have a harder time with friends.
One friend wants me to chill out and basically keep my thoughts to myself so we can just enjoy our time together.
The other is literally demanding I speak my mind verily all the time, as though I'm lying to her if I stall before I give an answer. Can't she understand the fear? She doesn't get how afraid of her I am.
I am afraid of her.
I am afraid of her.
I am AFRAID of her?
It is all so clear now.
This is not who I am.
I am not someone to fear people.
Understand, empathize, defend, excuse wrongs for whatever reasons...
But halting fear? No, no no no no.
Something has got to give.

Christ is risen!

It is the time for new beginnings. Death is dead, sin is dead. We are all alive in Christ, we are all made new this day. Whatever happened yesterday doesn't matter, because Christ has redeemed us all. Praise God! Holy Spirit, come and change me today, I want to feel the true joy and passion that is Easter. Hallelujah! Amen.

Beautiful Spring

Everything is at its loveliest, and it is seeping into my mood.

Nevermind that I feel starved of friends and conversation, there's plenty to look forward to and enjoy in the meantime.

I spent all weekend picking out flowers, gardening, taking care of the new white geranium sitting in my room! And it hit me how much I want to just have a house and take care of it. How I'd love to pour my heart into my home, invite people over to enjoy it with me. It would be so fun and relaxing and rewarding. :)

I'm very excited because everyone is buzzing about prom! Everything is coming beautifully together. I will be going with my amazing best friend who is also an amazing dancer, I have a gorgeous dress, I will be riding in a limo and going to a beach house with a bunch of people I barely know, and everything will be fantastical.

I can't wait :)

Communicating

I love people who are totally true.
Real, completely themselves.
Those people can communicate without even trying.
Whereas most of us can't do half as well with all our facilities at work.

Is that what we do, on Blogger?
Experience people with the pressures of life removed? Meet each other as unjudging new friends?

I guess that is my experiment. To find my own voice, away from the fear of making a mistake or saying too much.

Have you found your voice?

Pointing the Finger

So you're ready to tell me that I know nothing.

But you're not ready to start your life.

You're ready to spit in my face.

But you're not ready to tell him you're sorry.

You're ready to write me a letter, my newly released deer

But you're not ready to use your voice.

You're ready to move on

But you're not ready to apologize, and mean it

You're ready to turn your back

But you're not ready to tell me about it

You're ready to lose me completely

But you're not ready to think about it

You're ready to turn the page

But you can't remember what you left behind

You're ready to think of me as nothing at all

But you're not ready to say goodbye

You're ready to tell me the tension is killing you

But you're so suicidal you can't draw close to alleviate it all

You're ready to throw your life away

But you're not ready to know what is out there

You're ready to say whatever you want to say

But you'll never be ready to see what it will cost you

You're ready to tell me who I am

But you aren't ready to know the truth

You're ready to hold me and forget everything

And I so so want you to.

Dear Imaginary Reader

Dear Imaginary Reader,

Today I would have great things to talk about. I am quite under the influence of my good old friend Jack, a friend Genevieve finds deplorably smelly and unfortunately strong. But he is a good friend to me, so I don't care what She Thinks. No, Genevieve, he is not a better friend than you. But he serves his purposes, as do you. Which tonight, it so happens, was an accidental exploration of the musical pursuits that are soo soo far beyond us. How comes it that two classically trained mademoiselles of the twenty first century would mess around with bass-jump honky tonk and blues in its rawest and boogie woogie form? It was really really fun, compared to the shit I do in choir every day. And, I'm sorry to say, Mr. Brownlee, my dearest and sweetest old friend slash piano teacher, much more fun than anything you have taught me. I take pride in the fact that blues is my rebellion, and much less wholesome to me than my friends who have been tainted by the poison that is today's most popular music. So, Imaginary Reader, if you are out there, let me tell you that music is the greatest thing that God ever let us happen upon. If you don't believe me or feel what I am feeling is true, that is your mission for today, this week, this year, whatever measurement of time is most suited to you, whether based on convenience or true potential for depth and digging. Be an archaeologist, if you must, in order to dig into what is there and has been forever. Ask the people around you, they may have found what you have not. The magic that is music. The wonder that every man is capable of. Experience the history. The daring. The tension and surprise that is music. I believe in you. Be a musical pirate, because that is the only way I have learned anything. Both literally and figuratively, that is. Please don't turn me in for pirating music. I'd keep your secret, if you had one, Imaginary Reader, Imaginary Friend. I hope that you are a fan of Louis Armstrong and Norah Ephron, like I am. Have a good night. I love you, Dear Imaginary Reader...

Eric and Fire

Log of undetermined age, supporting me this night
Colors of coal and white hot ash
Timber and sweat and flint in trembling hands
I've cried over this fire, that it may flourish
I loved its warmth and felt the light caressing my face
And basked in the glory that came, with only a little encouragement
He was so proud and smug in my attentions, boasting of my beauty in his hues
Alas, morning came. And I needed the warmth no more.
The smoldering fire became drifting ember and the pit was not as before.
The sun shone upon me and I squinted towards it
Seeing the world revealed in its rays
The day called on me, beckoned me onward
But I looked back at the ash, and missed the privacy of that night
The softness and quietness with my fire.
Our world was gone in a blink of the earth
I wept for our love as he disappeared
A wave of the blue flame bye

Spring Break

Good morning and Happy Spring Break!

I have in front of me the Texas State University Housing Preferences online form.
Its almost fun. Stand in front of the menu at your local coffee bar, determine the identity of your next latte. This is a reflection on yourself, so choose wisely.
I guess its the same with student resident life. You will be identified with the hall you call home.
Then I get to thinking. Wow, I'm going to call some building with tiny rooms and a community bathroom home. I have two instincts, to groan and to cheer. Cheering to get away from home. Groaning because, come on, that's not really a home.
It will be nice to control more of what I do during the day. If I'm annoyed with my roommate, I can leave the room. If I'm tired of a few people, I walk away. There's always somewhere else to go or someone else with whom to talk. It sounds easier than high school, where I'm only allowed to be in one room per hour, or home, when I can't very well just walk out of the house whenever I please.
Now, when I start to feel steam coming out of my ears, I silently repeat my mantra to myself. "Five months. And I'll be gone. Five months. And I'll be gone."
Its frustrating, now in my bored state, to enjoy life as it is, treasure the last moments, or even to let loose. I just don't want to do anything, but leave.
But, the sun is out. The sky is blue. Its beautiful. And so are you.

Five months. And I'll be gone.

Have a good day :)

Its starting to set in...

I can be pretty moody. I'm emotional, I have mood swings frequently. But its starting to set in that this spell isn't going away. It seems that I just keep going along in this funk of being without excitement or intrigue. Its exceptionally lonely, which is a lonely word in and of itself. I feel like the closest friend I have right now is my sister. I just keep big eyes open to the occurrences of the day, occurrences that happen around me, but seem to have nothing to do with me. I apologize for talking about myself so much. I apologize for being so self-centered and arrogant of others. I wish there was a magical way to make it go away, to snap myself out of it, to become a part of the real world again. But it seems that Saturn has called me to be among his numbers. Children of Saturn are predisposed to melancholy, as well as wisdom and self-inflicted isolation. God, the more I talk, the more of an egotist I sound. Thomas Moore said, in Care of the Soul, that Saturnine moods deserve the individual's respect. Depression, when contemplated and thoughtfully allowed, has gifts of its own to bring to the soul. It fosters wisdom, maturity, substantiation of the personality. In these words, living, however sad, sounds beautiful and poetic and idealistic. But in reality, I have been taught since birth that I am in charge of myself, the best plan is the most aggressive plan. Care of the soul is about listening, respect, care and attention. There's no methodology. So then I'm left with listening to my own depressive thoughts, contemplating empty dreams, and allowing the bitterness to emerge. Bitterness, coldness, isolation. Its as blunt and lonely as an empty store. Once a haven of bustling joys and lively agendas, its nothing but a vat of dry memories and stale air circulating.







More on Saturn's tendencies...
http://avalon100.tripod.com/Saturn.html

truly mundane

Right now, its just me. I kind of like it, but mostly, it sucks. I want to be with a large group of great friends. But due to some recent scourging, I don't have very many friends anymore. Not people I can rely on, anyhow. People I can talk to at school, sure. But no one I can call. Thank God for texting, right? So then I can talk to someone with a totally casual (invisible) face, without revealing the God's honest truth: I need you so much right now. How awfully lonely. I feel like my day is Lost in Translation on loop. They see me and hear me, but don't know or understand me.
Furthermore, I'm sorry to all the people I text when I need to desperately. I rarely talk to those people, I feel fine without them most of the time, I have little to say, or I just don't care. What if they need me desperately all the time? And I just use them when I need them. Ugh, its so awful. All of it.
If only there was a balanced economy of relationships. A perfect competition of dependency and independency. I need you, you need me, you need space, I need sun. Wouldn't it be nicer? Simpler, at least.
And if we all spoke the same language- pure feelings or logic, badinage lost to the tides of time. We could speak to each other, to the heart of the matter, letting nothing stand in the way of perfect communication and, thus, understanding. It would be worth it, I think. Art would be lost, beautiful expression lost. But almost worth it, just to really speak to one another.

I'm tired of expressing myself. I just want someone to talk to.

Polarity of Emotion

I miss you all the time.

I'm drunk.

I had fun today, even though the show was frightening and awful.

i want to be better.

I want to be in love.

I'm sorry.

I want to just get married and have babies.

I want to go to college.

I don't know what I want.

I love music so much.

I just want to be with you. Without being with you. Is that possible?

I love just being around you and absorbing you. Sometimes I can't, or I just don't want to. But right now I do want you. I'm sorry I've been so horrible. But you would never say that. You just take it. I'm so so sorry.

I want to know what it did to you. i want to know how you're doing.

i wish I had a looking glass into your life, I wish I could see without being seen. I just want to know.

Sometimes I look at you and think, God, he really is handsome.

Sometimes I look at you and think, thank God I got out of that one. I could never handle this long-term.

What is wrong with me?

After the Show

Alone after the show. Its nice staring into a beautiful face making beautiful noises with beautiful expressions and a crowd that cares less than you. You know why you're there, you're special, you have a reason. Those moments are magical, and you know it.
But you're still alone after the show.
You say things, and you think people will care. You think someone listens and cherishes and maybe once thinks that you are art. But who will? Maybe someone does, but they are no one. They aren't what you thought they were, their meaning to you lost in the rest of you. Am I the only person that thinks that no one is never enough for them, most especially myself?
Its hard to believe in things that fade and die. Love is a blossom, young and beautiful, with the depth of color that is more than you can say. But it always, always, dies in winter. And then another blossom, sometime. Do I have to have a new blossom every spring? Can't I keep one, just once? No. Because that's not the way it works.
Music. That's a love I can have any way I want. Music is totally renewable, it never runs out on you. It never stops giving or being. If you don't like it, you find different music. You have one magical night together, and never meet again. Or you can dedicate yourself to it every day for your whole life, and it will change you and change for you and be the perfect relationship you never had.
Unfortunately, though. It will never be your companion. You're still alone after the show.

When I'm Angry

I actually do say things I mean. That's pretty bad.
I am so intolerant of... everything.
I can be ugly and vain and harsh.
Unabashedly so.

Until I hate myself.
Not that I really wanted to bite my tongue. Speaking your mind is a means to an end.
But that I hurt people. Every time.

I just give it all, I guess.
I always do. All my good, all my bad.
If you're close, that's what you get.
You get it all.

The luckiest friends of mine are those that are far away.
They get the phone calls filled with rationality and wisdom, charm and wit overflowing.
The great vat of understanding and beautiful things to share.
I feel sorry for the ones I need the most, because they get it all.
There's just too much of me.
Don't feel bad, though.
I can't handle it, either.
Myself, that is.

Eric

"Hey- you're watching me type this right now." I felt very clever . My first heart pounding moment associated with Eric was a few hours later, a response in my inbox, "Hey. You're not watching me type this right now. How mysterious of me." And just like that, we became very very You've Got Mail. His emails were the highlights of my days. For many days.
It took a very long time to break down his walls. But once I did, it was so worth it. He was the breath of fresh air you've never had. His romance is that which made me squirm and blush. I couldn't figure out if we could really handle each other, but I guess that once made everything exciting. We're both very intense in different ways.
I think he fell in love with me.
But he has shown me so much. Allen Ginsberg and My Bloody Valentine and how I had forgotten how much I love meditating. I have dreams, and I tell them to him.
But now we have turned back time, before hanging out or warm hand in cold hand. I keep forgetting to give Ragged Point Road back to him.
Sometimes, you just run out. Of interest, I guess. Its horrible. Depressing. But its life.