Interests:Music in all its forms (no rap or country though, thank you very much). Writing, drawing, dream interpretation, meditation, Eastern philosophy, bellydance, making stuff out of other stuff, and cooking. Although I like peace and quiet, I detest boring things and boring people. Expertise:Writing, doodling, avoiding the truth, obsessing, floating downstream, dreaming, hoping, wishing, obsessing, flying, supah piano genius(ha, right). Also might I note my prowess in hula hooping and bubble blowing. Occupation:Artist Industry:Art
There is something that really gets me about this picture. I think it is the AHHHHHH factor mostly, which I find very applicable in these days as of late. In every sense of the word.
No more posts, I am thinking, for quite awhile... maybe if at all. Who knows. Things change. I change. I swing and I let go and I hold on to nothing as fast as I can. Rules for the game may or may not be applicable any longer.
My weekend (and most of the last 2 weeks, really) can be summed up in the following image:
Blessings, though, really. Among all of it, blessings. Or maybe the insanity just throws them into sharper relief.
You know what I wish? I wish that one day, and one day soon, I could wake up and figure out exactly how much of this awful icky weirdness is just me not being able to love people properly. And the part that is leftover - what to do with that? Which one is worse? We might start there.
I am probably overdue for a long conversation with my mom. I am more overdue for a long conversation with some other people, but there of course is the issue. A long conversation with myself seems like it would also hold part of the answer, but that would require a bit more time as well as a getting rid of the nagging belief that it is myself that is the problem and that I need to do less talking to her in the first place. She's not the best of influences. She's the girl who sneaks out at all hours of the night and runs with scissors. She writes in a journal to a dead person, for heaven's sake.
But I ask you - if I'm not allowed to talk to me because I am a bad influence on myself, is that any place to be?
This is coming out a lot more not wonderful and transcendent than I was hoping. Many things have occurred and continue to occur that are amazing - miraculous, even, I am willing to say. At some point I will post the speech I gave on Saturday afternoon at an event that came very close to being a complete disaster but didn't and of course that is the point as it always is.
I'm trying to understand. I'm trying to know you and I'm trying to get you to know me. I'm trying to be patient. May I keep trying. May that trying manifest in something that will give me some kind of clue as to where to go next. May that clue include some kind of realization that things don't have to be this complicated.
May all living beings be happy. (awwww Deer Park...I miss you.)
An excerpt from the best journal entry I've written in recent times, which isn't saying much, but still.
4/9/08 - Wednesday
I'm going to be starting a new journal soon. For the first time in awhile I haven't had the agonizing yet rewarding task of having to pick out the perfect new one as I have with the last few. Instead, I've brought back to school with me the Hello Kitty one that I received so many faceless Christmasses or birthdays ago I can't even remember.
It's a different size than I'm used to, it's unabashedly cheery pastel colors and glitter not something I am particularly used to either - although, now that I think of it, one of my favorite journals I've ever written in, appearance and content-wise, had a good measure of both pastel colors and glitter.
On the front is Hello Kitty sitting next to - on equal footing with - her boyfriend, which is strange because Hello Kitty never seemed to need one of those before as she lived a very fulfilling life with her sister Mimi who likes to bake cookies and Pochacco and Spottie Dottie and Keroppi and so on. Besides the fact that she has no discernable mouth, her life seemed perfect in many ways, though maybe the orderly cuteness of her world got to be too much even for her every now and then.
But no - now, next to her, plain as day, is the boyfriend - unless my knowledge of the Hello Kitty pantheon fails me, his name is Dear Daniel. The boyfriend of Hello Kitty. Emblazoned above them, equally as clear as day, but not unambiguously, is the phrase Hello Love! In the obvious sense it is a greeting, a greeting of a person as much as it is a receiving of a whole cute pink box of unexpectedly messy feelings. But in another sense it's the greeting of a new state of being, a new mode of living in the previously ordered and at least somewhat understandable world.
It's such a big thing, such a seamless transition, that it's become a part of her very name. Hello Kitty, Hello Love. I wonder if she feels the same anxiety at the idea that love is becoming as much a part of her new identity as her name itself. I'd bet not.
Then again, she has no mouth, so the world may never know.
