The bottom line is some people just aren't going to like me

And i have to realize that it is to be expected, this turn of events when one word can hurt you. The judgemental eye harms my conscience. Instead, it should be an anticipated and normal event with limited power. An event which i can generally ignore. Its a good plan.

But this plan failed after Eve's perfection left and leaves remained. People are going to have different personalities. People are going to look across the room and think they understand you. People will judge. People will always hate the difference.

I have never been one to care what people think. Except when i let them close, close enough to where by heartwalls are paper thin. Thumb print bruise.

Then the tendency is to overreact and draw back trust. In theory, this reaction is unbeneficial. But it sure feels right.

i am aware of the complexities of this situation

And, in all of this, I have no idea what i am doing. I am scared. You are trusting me because the world trusts me.

Tonight

I had a conversation with a girl that i celebrate as genuine. She helped.
I worked out.
I laughed at a funny song my girl wrote to express my state of mind.
I texted.
I opened facebook
I somehow sparked a little unexpected excitement.
I took a shower.
I watched a movie and found sweet relief.
I snuggled on the couch with a blanket.
I had a conversation and found approval.
I smiled to myself.
I watched the bachelor and wondered about speed.
I forgot to watch my words.
I felt my stomach turn.
I looked in the mirror.
I coughed.

...and i counted the days till i get to see you.

And then something snapped

Mostly, it's fear.

I have a tendency to feel guilt. I often must stop what i am doing in life, sit down, or lie down, and deal with the education of my conscience on a level that allows me to function in every day life. In this method I also have to talk, to hash, to converse with the subject or the product or the object of my false guilt.

My other method is to just ignore all of it and do what i want.

So. What.

Something old, something new, something happy and something blue

Let's spend the whole day in bed.
Let's eat chocolate chip cookie dough even though we know the eggs have salmonella.
Let's run in the rain in a tank top and shorts.
Let's jump off a bridge.
Let's go to sleep in an unusual spot and walk a mile to breakfast.
Let's lie about our age to get free stuff.
Let's take a train all the way across the U.S.
Let's backpack Europe
Let's climb on buildings because there are no keep-off signs
Let's move to Italy
Let's break a whole set of dishes
Let's have a food fight in the kitchen
Let's never plan anything
Let's burn calenders
Let's save for a year then spend all of it to travel
Let's pet a tiger
Let's do something for no reason
Let's make a dream book
Let's move somewhere with 364 days of sun
Let's shoot cats
Let's dress up in our fancy clothes and do something that we shouldn't have.
Let's ruin our best clothes
Let's spend a week hiking a mountain in the wilderness and building forts.

Let's dream about all this and do nothing because we are too busy doing everything else in life that suddenly becomes more important.

Let's spend the rest of our life changing.

On texting

"I hate it."

"Well. That is a good opinion."

"I hate you."

"Less of an opinion and more of a fact?"

"Stop playing with syntax. If i needed a dictionary i would have used google."

"Black and white and technologically savvy. Hot."

"I'll show you hot."

"Sounds like what Bin Laden said when he spoke about nuclear power."

"Oh, what, so now i am a terrorist?"

"Honestly...?"

"Beat me."

"Google says a terrorist is someone who attacks others using terror or fright."

"12 year olds have better methods of flirting."

"Better than talking? Hmm. I think thats illegal."

"I hate you."

I DO believe in Faeries

Every once in a long while something happens that renews my faith. Every once in awhile i write something complete and straightforward. Every once in awhile i can draw more then a stick figure. I wake up and i realize that i cannot help but celebrate the future and tear my eyes from the screen, from the text, and realize that this future that we all seem to assume we are heading towards is actually one that i want. But at least for now i belong right here. And i am happy in this present because this is where my emotions are. This is where my maturity is.

They say we don't deserve to be happy. I believe we cannot be happy if we think about it like that. Happiness is a choice. Happiness is my choice. The future won't bring happiness. Not unless i can find happiness now. Oh to kiss the sun.

Spin me in the rain so I remember romance . . . or my tires come out of the mud

An artist usually starts with a face. The arch of an eyebrow or the flare of a nostril, the one look that depicts mood. I start with my face. The cast of an eye, the hidden lips, the raised cheeks, the one look that depicts my mood: curiosity.

I don't know what the future holds: widened eyes
I wish that I knew right now: creased eyebrows
But my stomach still tingles: bitten lip
And I want you around: half smile
But in all this I don't know what to do: dropped chin

Perhaps i can use music as my lifelong balm, the friend that never leaves, the relationship that never hurts, the one thing that never fails to make me smile and lie back peacefully. I would never be afraid to say what i feel to my favorite song. I can always take it off infinite repeat.

But the order of the spheres demands more of the homo sapien. Something like emotion and personality and release from constricting clefs. Despite my ability to move, my brain still doesnt translate the condons that carry instructions for growing clarity.

But about one thing i am certain; if i were faced with a cliff and given a parachute, i would leap. But right now there is no cliff, no clouds, no parachute, and no danger. So why do i second guess the hardest path? I like my straight road, my uncomplicated mess.

They say an artist should always start with a face. Closed mouth equals closed issue.

There was one night in my closet when i let go. Two paintings and four short stories later i found exactly what i was looking for on a commercial for Mastercard. Over-thinking things sends you into a blinding spiral of rhetoric where one can talk yourself into and out of anything. Under-thinking things can lead to broken hearts. But avoiding issues means you don't have to talk about it. The "oh-i-didn't-get-your-text-so-we-don't-have-to-be-awkward" approach works well for me.

Closed issue equals closed heart.

But I am so young. I am so alive. And so young. And i have time. The clock ticks slowly. The earth rotates onward but the days appear longer. Time is the issue. Lack of time is the issue. This conversation is the issue. I am the issue.

And the rain pours down. I like the rain. I really do. I tried the sun for 28 days. Then went 450 days without and i was fine. I am too tired or too lazy or too scared to move where the sun always shines.

I'd like to make myself believe that crap.

I desire the sun. The life within me swells. The birds fly up in a carpet. The orange of the light shines on those that choose to breath. I reach out and touch one canvas. My canvas.

tense body: nervous excitement
outstretched hands: willingness to spin
upturned face: trust
squinted eyes: from bright sunlight and a throaty laugh

Perhaps we can start with moving my canvas into the sun where at least I can see what i am painting.

open mouth: to catch the raindrops from this rainbow

Color is only possible in comparison

Wet and floppy, vapidly stroking along my legs, whispering sweet harmonies to my living song and leaving behind a drop of moisture, this is my entrance to my self. I walk for me, even in the company of so many. In this shiny world i am so free to touch everything that sparkles, to kiss everyting that makes me laugh, to love every pretty amusement. This leaved and grassy wood is a dusky haven in my universe, and it is alive. With every step together its shade softens, its bows enfold and its floor breaks open the scents of the spheres. My lips graze against the dream.

I may awaken from the mist. I may loose the baubles I collect from the fair. But i shall never forget the kind faces, the gentle gestures, the small surges of hope. I will never fail to recognize the love that this elicits.

But, even in this solitary peace, i cannot kill the wolf.

Momentum

Oh i am far too careful to let myself just fall.

The light shines close to my eyes. Its not golden or hazy, but white, bright, piercing, retina disease. I am sucked into its false glow. Happier outside its light but addicted to the mind numbing relief it gives. Here i am perfect. And the hands gently go from 1:22:24 to 3:45:34. And then the guilt overwhelms even the splitting migraine. Insomnia, please take me away.

Yet i roll over. The pillows turn slowly, speckled with their shedding wings, cold and distant yet scrunched into familiar patterns. Every bobby pin in my head presses its spine into my skin, tight and hard and hurtful. Like these words. The dreams i try to avoid. The walls i want to build. Every time i try stupid (k)nights call for my workers to halt. A queen bee is useless without her hive.

Compartments for storage. Free only the first month. My compliments go out to false advertising.

Bacchas has sweetened the drink tonight

And so the mask of intellect falls and the emotion intercedes between the spaces. The Olympian gods, exsisting in the dream world and blessing it with their eucharist approval, frolic next to the faeries, the wee folk, the Erlking and even the hobgoblin. For tonight the meadow is full of daisies.

Oh for the weaver of dreams. Oh for the catcher of the firefly. This has been a time of unlocking Art. Please respect mine own.

I love you like a freshman loves to change majors

A college relationship is like picking your major. It is practice decision, doomed for change. Like a major, a college relationship lasts anywhere from a day, to a semester, it is with varied difficulty you get accepted, it is an easily distractible decision due to the developing short attention span, and it sometimes appears to limit you in choices and options for your future.

These attributes usually inspire self-discovery leading to questions regarding your emotions and ideals; what do you want, what do you love, what are you looking for, are you prepared to commit your life to this? It requires you to know yourself in order to know what you are getting into. It requires a commitment you are unable, if not unwilling, to give. Change is thus impossible to avoid.

Despite this, the expectations of others rise around you. How many freshmen have you met that claim to be the first to pick a major and plan to stick with the schooling for four years and then fully pursue the career? You encourage them the best you can but secretly are waiting for them to break up outside the dorm. In the rain. Current statistics show that 50% of freshmen who declare a major will change it in their first year. What a waste of time and money.

You can find an allegory for life in many things that hardly relate.

On Elephants

There are sometimes things that need to be said. Yet they get stuck. The elephant in the room should be kept away from those likely to choke. Some prefer to ignore. Seeing as its all gray,it blends in if you paint the walls the same color. Shadows are easy to hide when you turn all the lights off.

Once upon a time i wanted to hold your hand. Once upon a time i stood next to you and wanted to hold your hand. Once upon a time you held my hands in yours and said the four words that give me tingled skin:

we need to talk.

Concerning Change

It’s a war between the vanities. The concepts seem to mesh together and my moments of indecision are moments of torture. I never thought that shrugging resolution could be the worst feeling, the worst burden in this purgatory. And in this state of complete blindness of thought I find my own flaws. Perhaps they were hidden in this from creation, or perhaps I made my box of clay so that no insight from the outside could harm my perfect little picture of a plan. It’s the fight against my mantra that drains me. I say I do not know, that I cannot know, that it is pointless to search because what I don’t know cannot become known. The taste of this sickens my mouth albeit the incessant replay. My tires spin. And all I see is the head of the swine, the fear in my own mind that paralyzes me. I am apathetic and pathetic and synthetic.

Fact: I demand too much. I demand too much of God, my counselors, and, most significantly, I demand too much of myself. But, it all seems valid in my head. I lead myself slowly into a slimy, blaming frenzy till the mud has all been thrown and I am stuck in this muck I formed. That’s where I stand now. Skin-deep in yikes.
So I opt for escapism, the brilliant method of the common man. It’s so convenient to compartmentalize. At least, that’s what they say. I seem to be stuck in having that one issue that is predominate in my mind always at the forefront of my tear ducts. I am a typical girl with typical issues and typical desires and yet I liked to think I was ahead, that I had my life figured out, that I could make decisions based on some sort of superior insight I had unto the order of the world. Instead I play tug-of-war with the hashing circle of intellect. And it gets me into the muck again. I end up in a pile on the floor with the frustrated leaning over me and my own soul so hateful towards myself that I want to quit all of it and get married or die or have some closure on this side of life.

I am inert. I plan to be so vibrant and purposeful, but I end up in a static state of mind and body, soul and character. I live in a world pulsating with youth and life and love and all I see are the shadows my frame casts ahead of me. I believe I am moody. But only my family can see it. I try to confess elements of myself that contrast to a vivacious skin and I get the encouragement of the crowd, the love and support of those that admire me. But, when I am alone, or with those whose opinion have so much weight in my heart, I drop what now seems to be garish and immature in favor of listless hesitancy and fear. Interceding between this is my own self loathing. I am an undetected palsy when it comes to choices. Yet they surround me. And I feel like I cannot leave them alone. Un-choiced is not a state of existence but a series of incompetent attitudes and frown lines on a young brow.

I need to choose. I know this. Yet even this treatise goes in a circle. I recognize the war, the faults, the failed diversion, and the need for me to end these lies. Yet I cannot. At least that is what I display. That, in itself, unveils another fault. Oh for the peace of a broken mind and an empty cup.

What is it that haunts me? This question is its own book, the once and future war. I agree with the truths expressed by the sly to protect myself and to hide my ultimate cowardice. I don’t want to earn my living with a life that is lost. I do not want to swallow the culture bait but my appetite tempts me.

I cannot lie to the human race by walking even a mile in a false sense of duty or pride or sympathy. In the end, I desire oblivion but cannot have it.

Look past the present and seek the love that leads the blind.

I have no hiding spots and a bad memory

So why do i have passwords again? If someone wanted to steal all my money and my identity all they would have to do is steal my bulletin board. So instead of trying to hide who i am i have decided to put myself on this public, yet often rather private display. Most likely only stalkers will read this. Albeit the fact that this slightly bothers me, i enjoy some sort of self-published bliss that comes with having somewhere to post, something to write for.

Perhaps this will serve as a bitter soliloquy for my own thoughts. Or perhaps it will become a means where i may sit, perfectly euphoric, in the miraculous presence of Art. Either way it is a balm, a hobby, an adventure and an occupation for my mind.

Despite my love of the world, Art itself makes me distant. For i am left to ponder the lost things, comment about general indie trends, or just sit and watch the dust settle. This blog will reflect that. It will be the mood of the artist, it will incorporate reality and fiction, truth and lie, first person and third person. Be not confused. I long for the purity, please respect, but i am satisfied that mystery is the only path.