Saturday, May 28, 2011

Backlight

I fell for you, and that's when I knew

The vision of your loveliness

I hope and I pray

That maybe someday

I'll be the vision of your happiness


This isn't how I wanted this to end, but I know this is the right thing. I'm so torn. And I could be talking about any one of quite a few things right now, but I think it applies to all of them. Tonight made me realize something, and it's that I shouldn't ever hastily assume I am done with something.


I thought I was done with the neck craning and coy laughing and flicking my eyes to and from you. Or the rise and fall in my chest. I had assumed I was all level-headed and hearted but I was quite wrong indeed... So wrong that I think I'm going to be sad tonight. No complaints either way, I'll just get a good sleep.


Wow, I am quite sad. I'm not too surprised. I don't think I should continue typing while this is bubbling up... I'll end up sounding frightfully melodramatic, and this is just a phase.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Bombarded

Everyone's growing up so fast
Use your big boy words, or you won't be heard
Noone pays any mind to the child of you in my memories.

Now you sport a rugged goatee
But I remember when you just loved to play frisbee
In that orange sweater of yours, in the park.
Do we lose the time for such frivolous games?
Or do our interests change?

I can't say I miss the insensitivity of a teenage boy, exploring his influence on girls
But you don't talk to me anymore and I wonder why
You weren't so careful with your words
And affection

Maybe it's better this way,
This time, this change
However I can't help but remember that day
I wore your friends sweater...
The jealousy in your voice was exhilarating when you said the words,
"Why is she wearing that? It's yours, right?"
And the sneer you gave the both of us.

I had no interest in his teen-boy musk,
but I found what I was looking for
When you e-mailed me later that day.

"I think I like you", it said.

2 Cups of Coffee

You can't have me.
And I don't say this in a defensive way or as though I'm drawing away in fear - I am noone's to have. I won't give myself to you to change, to break, to paint. I am naked in this world and I will not hide behind the clothes you tell me to wear.

I will not objectify myself.
You make me feel like I owe you something, like you deserve to touch me and look at me with those hungry eyes. You are disrespectful to me as a woman and as a person - you understand not what I am. I am not a toy or a vessel for you to unleash yourself. I will tame you with my stern words of the back of my hand should you step too near. I will not hesitate to defend what is mine and what is sacred.

I will not give myself to you.
Many a time my mind plays games and wants to take part of you in - but this leads me to redirect your pain into my heart. It is not my place to feel what is yours to feel, and it does not belong to me. It helps noone, what I do. Compassion is different than sympathy, and sympathy is only harmful when the emotions of others bleed into mine. I have barriers, and they are strengthening with each day.

I will not be quieted or stilled;
Now, more than ever, I choose to flourish and pad lightly through the streets of this world. There is so much to see, and so much waiting for me to touch it. I want to be one with these things. I want to travel, I want to write, I want to love.

I'm about to leave the nest.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Conan

I feel like I'm mourning a loss.
I can say that I suppose I am, but it is a healthy one, and before anyone jumps to any assumptions, I suppose I should explain.

I've been feeling quite heavily bombarded by my memories and energetic baggage. Particularly with the males that have been in my life - memories and precise details of our encounters will resurface and painful echoes will sound through my chest. It is in these moments that I realize I am not through with them. Though most of them are out of my life, or pay no mind to me, or even miss me terribly - I mourn them. That doesn't have to be a sad thing, however, for it is not my duty to carry them with me. These last few days, I've been reiterating my own boundaries as a person, and not primarily as an empath. Not to sound as though I don't care about people; I can be compassionate to the point of harming my own self, which, in the end, is not an adequate or appropriate practice for anyone. How can I continually help people if I am depleted?

There is a fine balance in cultivation and compassion. Now, I am (as always, it may seem) going through another period of transition. We did some practices at the workshop I went to that focused on clearing out energies of past lovers (even though 'lover' meant 'sexual partner', I still gained something from the experience) and it felt nice. The difficult part of where I am now, though, is that my energies are expanding and desiring and searching... Not for a counterpart, but for more clarity in myself.

The other day I couldn't get out of bed. It was a brief spell of depression, nothing to worry about, but I realized I didn't know how to be happy. I started asking myself, "What is the point? How do I do anything if I don't know what brings me joy?"
And a friend of mine answered, "You have to find out!"

So maybe that's what I'll search for. I'm trying not to write for the audience I know I have, because I don't want any of my opinions or experiences to be misconstrued or taken out of context... I am at a place right now where I feel strong. My expectations of the future have no control over me, and I am still doing some deep emotional work.

On top of all this, I am so grateful for all the love in my life. It's difficult, I find, to prune this plant. As much as it might be easier to let the plant grow wild and untamed, such growth cannot last. It is not sustainable. To trim here and there, and to tie it to a little stick, will cause the plant to grow healthy, and with a straight stem. My, I am so good at being vague... As the gardener in this metaphor of mine, I must accept the responsibility of cutting and clearing the parts that are out of control. As guilty as I may feel, I challenge myself to trust in my intuition. It has not misled me before. I know that I have the potential to be a graceful and loving groundskeeper, should I speak from my heart.

I wish love and light to anyone who reads this. Even in my darkest moments, I know there is light. This is the nature of duality and the paradox of life. It is sometimes from the muddiest ground that the most beautiful flowers blossom.

Ah, to be a petal on the wind.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Quasi-Chrystilline

"It's funny how the name can change, about the time you find you're sick of sayin' it."
-Eureka


Reality, whatever that world means to you, is unimaginible from inside these confines. I'm trying to speak of it in a way that will encompass it, envelope it. How is this possible? I find it difficult to swathe something in words as though I'm taking a step back to examine it. There is no space to step back into, while trying to describe infinity.

Everything and nothing matters. There is a hair tie to my left, and a phone to my right.
I am seemingly disconnected from them - they are not integral in my body and soul, and I do not require them to live out my divine trajectory on this plane.
Simultaneously, I am connected to them through potential.
I could easily reach to my left and interact with the hair tie - move my hand in a way that slides the object up, around my right wrist, so it is a part of what I choose to wear. If I were to select it, it could be a part of me, and I could use it to wind my hair up in a gathering on the back of my head. I would feel different. The tension on the roots of my hair would affect me physically.

I could reach to my right and grab the phone - punch the plastic buttons to access another person's words. Easily, I could connect with another soul in that way - verbally - through this tangible item.

So am I truly disconnected from them? One could argue that I am disconnected until I choose to integrate with them - I do not know for certain that this is the case. Is the potential a part of me, or is it a third party noun, entirely? I cannot say. I do not know.

Maybe I could argue, though, that this entire reality isn't made up of separate entities. That would mean that, if one dies off or ceases to exist, this reality is incomplete. Like a puzzle with a missing piece, this reality would be forever flawed.

Maybe it is only our bodies that cause us to label things, segregate things. If it were not for our cognitive processes, we would not decipher "hair tie" or "telephone". We would simply see shifting, fluid colours and shapes. We would not walk or talk or pick things up with our hands, but we, too, would exist as intangible. As solely spiritual, and not materialistic.

Though there are negative aspects to being such physical creatures, there is wisdom in us. Our bodies are vessels for tides of emotion and thought flow. We relate to each other with these bodies - they give us a solid home for all of our energies as we explore the world. It is a safe haven to protect our souls.

Monday, May 16, 2011

I'm a Wife in Watercolours

St. Vincent
Sondre Lerche
Johnny Stimson
Eddie Spaghetti
Davila 666
Boy & Bear
Architecture in Helsinki

NeoCitr-Ass

Just kidding, it's not that bad. Excuse my small injection of childishness.

My, I do have some issue relaxing, don't I? My brain constantly whirs, planning out the best and worst possible outcomes of a potential situation in which I might be in, possibly, some undetermined span of time. I try to keep the roots of my tree dug deep into the soil, I do, but the wind is strong and I am tempted by the shape shifters.

I know this feeling well - the "about to embark upon an adventure" thrill and fear. I feel this way about most parts of my life at the moment. It's hard, sometimes, to refrain from looking back, and I admit that I do steal a glimpse once in a while. I wonder if there's something wrong with the way my heart feels a tug at the memories I tried to forget.

ANGST

I cleaned the kitchen today. I was asked to, but I don't know if I was expected to do it. I wonder what it means. I wonder what it means that I put two tiny little braids in my hair and made an effort to dress myself in actual, presentable clothes (mind you they are all either men's and or second hand but fuck you it's a Zelda shirt). Something inside me is healthy. Something inside me is breathing and ready to wake up... After such a long incubation, there is only a thin film to break through. The timing, though, is important. I need to know I can fly.

It's exhilarating and frustrating at the same time, knowing that I am a bud, bursting to bloom, aching to flourish as the sun caresses my petals. It's such a sweet sensation when I've remained in the darkness for so long. Another rebirth is coming, I can feel it, and I pray I start to unfurl this very second.

I want to work. I want to make money and make people laugh. I want to write a book and write a play and write meaningful letters to leave on your porch as a nice, stalker-love-note.
I feel so much potential inside of me - I am struck by fear that this is projection, but I know that these possibilities are fluttering about my head in a crown of cosmic butterflies.

So. Much. Possibility.

I want to stay clear and clean so my inner intuitive and healer and warrior and all my different skins can breathe and speak to me when they need to. I want, I feel, I need, I hear.

Let's shine our shoes and get on with this wild ride.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Koala

It's funny, coming to the realization that I'm not over this. I thought I was, really.
But I had forgotten the voice and the inside jokes and the face.

Fucking seriously?

It's like something that was roughly patched on the left side of my ribcage was just blown wide open by a gust of icy wind. I'm not going to cry or anything, but fuck.
I am okay. I'm going to be even more okay but right now I still miss it.
I chalked the whole experience up to be something that wasn't too well-thought through and something that ended up hurting me... But it was no mistake.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Relentless Syllables

The words are shouting at me, they want to be let out!


I want to know your face, like the top of the trees know to stretch and touch the wind and sky.

I want to know the rumble of your voice as subtle vibrations in my bones

And I want to know the stimulus of your fingertips like the silt knows the current of a stream.



I have no idea who I'm writing to. I don't know if that really matters that much, though.

Wake Up Call

Waking up before noon isn't orthodox, while I'm unemployed. I have an interview on Saturday though, so maybe my unemployment won't last long. Maybe. If it goes well, which I hope it does. I think a video game store would be a bitchin' place to work - the perfect place for the little nerd in me to flourish and kick some ass.

Already my mind is racing ahead to maybe moving out (potentially also due to an emotionally-charged conversation I had with my mom yesterday) and getting a huge dog or whatever.
But they don't do so well in small apartments.

I don't know what I'll get up to today. I should probably eat, I'm getting cranky. I have plans at 7, but that might only take an hour or so... I don't even know, bro. We'll see where I go.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Answered

This is a repost of something I wrote a while ago. I think it's the "Mission Statement" I've been looking for. I was basically floating when I wrote this.


************************************************


I want to create you.
I want to mold you and mend you and focus on the intricate little threads that make up your multi-faceted and multi-functional beauty. I want to take pride and take part in the creation of your glory and the light it will shine on my brothers and sisters - I want to make you fun and free. I want you to be unstoppable and I want you to be happy and whole. I want to forget that I am your reason so that you may stand on your own and breathe your halo.

I want to love you.
I want to find you without looking for you, and I want to be knocked off my feet. I want to marvel at you and how you exploded from within my confining expectations. I want to blush at the things you say with and without your words. I want to feel the fire I've heard echoes of, bouncing off the walls of other peoples' lives. I want to think I'm ready and I want to realize I'm wrong when you're here. I hear you in my heart when I'm about to fall asleep, and I want you to hear the beacon I'm becoming for you. I want to celebrate with you. I want you to be my passion.

I want to transform you.
I want to love you as you are, first and foremost, and then turn you into what you ache to be. I want to remake you, remodel you so you resemble the whispers and dreams that flit about your sly smile. I want to focus on each square inch of skin and cubed inch of flesh and listen to what it wants to be. I want to make those tiny dreams come true.

I want to blow your minds.
I want to burst out of my cocoon in such a colorful flurry of life that you guys won't know what's hit you. I want to make you smile. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you think and feel and ache for more of life, more of experience, more of potential. I want to wake you up like a bucket of cold water. I want you to do the same to me without even realizing it. I want to connect and never disappear, because that's why we're here. We're together in this and that's the whole point. I want to meet you. I want to know you.

Let's light this fire.

Chlorine

It's more difficult to sleep with the sounds of life above and around you. It's difficult not to get frustrated, too, but it is not my place to stifle the trajectories of their will. I'll just stfu and write a post that hardly makes sense to those outside my brain. What else have I ever been known to do?

I don't know why I feel melancholy today. It's only mild. I could chalk it up to a lack of direction or drive, because I know that these things are present in my life right now... I could chalk it up to the fact that I want and fear something with equal energies, which causes a bit of a black hole... There are quite a few things that could account for this sunken feeling that, once again, makes me feel vulnerable.

I have no qualms with being so. I think that there are far too many people who resist the human state of vulnerability due to a paralyzing fear of being hurt, but, chances are, if you don't open up and expose a little bit of yourself to others, how can you be sure you're actually making a true connection? My point is that maybe it's worth it.

And I wish I could program my thoughts. They tend to run rampant, often far away into the future, and instead of listening to my heart (which tends to lead me to the places my mind foretells and gets super stoked about), it's like I go comatose in the present and travel far into the future, dancing in illusion. I wrote a little note about this kind of daydreaming on my iPod touch on the way to work. This weekend was a good weekend for writing, and I kind of snicker at the fact that I get these bursts of inspiration at the most inconvenient times. I've grown pretty used to it now (grown expectant of the unexpected?), so that may be why a lot of people are confused about how mellow I can be most of the time, and why I'm sensitive to pattern.

In my few months off school, when I didn't have a job (or basically any commitments whatsoever), I feel like I just sort of morphed into this half-human, half-sprite form. I wasn't hardened by any outside experience, but I danced and played in my little world of books and music and thought. I surrounded myself with friends, yes, but I found myself in my own company quite a bit of the time. I didn't mind it. And perhaps I knew myself better, then... Or knew that self better, anyhow. I'm pretty different now, and I'm sort of afraid I'm going to fall into another void.

It's not so scary, really. I've endured some pretty rough experiences in my "down-time" which may surprise some people. It's not really that easy to not do anything. If I don't have a schedule, or someplace to be or someone to meet, I'm virtually forced to take a closer look at myself. When I'm always on the go with work or thinking about school, my mind is preoccupied with the present and the future, but very rarely the past. In my reclusive times, it was the past that snuck through and sat with me on my couch as I stared, in a meditative state, at the ceiling.

Some of my most painful memories came and sat on my chest, making tears prick in my eyes. When that happens, there's nothing I can do but process them. It feels kind of nice, actually, when I'm finished. I basically relive it until I realize, "Yeah, that was stupid. That was a really dumb choice I made, but it led me to a better place in the end, and I'll never be that same brand of naive again." And it doesn't even seem so bad. Put in perspective, a lot of the worst moments of my life weren't as scarring as I thought they were... Embarrassment was always the predominant emotion in them. Fear wasn't. Insecurity, mostly.

Life happened, too, though to most people I'm sure it seemed like I was attempting to avoid it. "Just messin' around," I'm sure they thought. I have never done more personal or spiritual work than that time I spent alone. And maybe that's what I need to do again, now. I don't want to make a decision just yet - it's been barely two days since my lifestyle has changed again, and I haven't yet gotten into the flow of it. My life just sort of presents me with these opportunities or shuts down others that wouldn't be too beneficial. I guess the hardest part is knowing what to do when it seems like nothing is happening. Or, only one thing is happening, and due to the other voids in my life, I fixate. I do think I'm getting better, but my heart wants something, and my head tries to do the rest of me a favour by coming up with these elite plans and visions of what it would be like if my wish were to manifest... As I said before, this just leads to an endless loop of "What ifs" and "I wants" and "Why can'ts". And it sucks. Because I'm missing the awesome that's in the present.

I really do want to write a book. I've, of course, mentioned that I really want to write the next LotR books - the books that will have an enormous band of nerd followers. Keep in mind I use the word "nerd" not as an insult, but as a classification of a group of people who know how to let their minds explore. Star Wars was a hugely 'nerdy' film, but if you were to watch it with me, I could basically tell you from which religion a lot of the main quotes are from. It's a receivable parallel to spirituality that a lot of people have trouble interacting with because of the heavy stigma attached to it. It's strange to me, sometimes. Everything and nothing is strange to me. I feel like an alien.


Wow, I've written quite a bit more than I thought I would. I think I'd like someone to talk to, instead of exploding all of these feelings and whatnot into the internet. As an outlet, it's nice, but I want someone to share with. That's been one of my repeated daydreams or fantasies, if you will. Talks about the real and the honest and the simple, as well as talks of the surreal and the mysterious and the complicated. Then after that, I want to play some video games, make some food, and fall asleep.

It's such a tricky thing, vulnerability. As soon as I admit to myself that I'd like a companion, I am bombarded by fear and insecurity again. I used to not pay mind to social convention and rules about physical contact, I just let it flow. If someone needs comforting, give their shoulder a squeeze. If you want to communicate something without words, lean your head on their shoulder. Now it's as if I'm trying to calculate what would and wouldn't be acceptable - what would be intrusive or unwanted, and what would be well received. Is there any way to tell? I would have to sit down with every single person in my life and go over a computer-printed list of interactions with three boxes next to each. "Is hugging acceptable?" Then I'd have to check 'Yes', 'No', or 'Sometimes'.

Fuck 'No' and 'Sometimes', hugs are rad.

You see what I mean? Or, I could just chill the fuck out and let it flow. Intuition is a wonderful and powerful thing, if I'd just let it do it's thing instead of stifling it with my mind. Man, this is where all of this is coming from, isn't it? I think way too much. I'm so congested sometimes. I really think I might need a little while to tune back in. But how do I do that? And why am I already exhausted at the thought?

Because you're weary and caught up in the intellectual.

Yes, I know. But what do I do?

You just proved my point with the "I know". Why do you have to do anything?

My mother's voice is forever programmed into my spirit. I don't want to say head, because that doesn't even begin to cover the impact she's made on me.

Man, I really am a total hippie.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Shallow Sauna Breaths

I may not make sense - I am sleepy and feverish.

My life is once more commitment-less. So much moreso that it was the last time, too. I wonder what's being whipped up for me in Lady Fate's apothecary. I wonder what she wants to make me happen for myself.

I had a bit of a vision earlier, or perhaps it was a desire... I wanted to spend the evening online, talking with someone on MSN, as the day turned to night and then the night turned to day.
I've had a nap so I can stay up late - I've had it with the heating pad on myself, no less, so I'm the perfect temperature to be lightly roasting with rosy cheeks, wrapped in a blanket.
So... where are you?

I'm saving you the sleepiest smile.

Eureka!

I woke up happy today.
Not just placid brushing-my-teeth and humming content, but lipsyncing-to-Mother-Mother-in-the-bathroom-mirror stoked. I am a wildfire. I am a Siberian tiger. I am a beefy unicorn with platinum marshmallow boxing gloves.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Toll; Taken.

Eating regularly might be a good idea, but I got through the shift, I did.
Now I'm just indecisive and pout and weak. I have been doing some solid writing, though.
Granted, it's been solely on my iPod touch in times of extreme pain or inspiration.

I feel too weak to write, but I'm tempted to stay online.

Friday, May 6, 2011

I Forgot About Handfuls...

I got Eureka.
I love Eureka.

I also spent so much money today, but I'm feeling no regret... I worked for it myself, and I bought things that I resonate with and made me happy. Music, art, books, and natural face products and perfumes. Materialistic pampering? Gaining possessions in search of emotional comfort? One could say that, seeing as I haven't been feeling too top-drawer, but I don't think it's like eating when you're sad. Which is what I do sometimes. And now I'm talking casually about love with my best friend, so... I guess awesome days sort of evolve from shitty days. I'm thankful.

This is the cutest exchange, quoted from her relationship, as herself and her boyfriend were cuddling on the couch:

Krista: Let's stay like this forever! :D
Boyfriend: I think I will. :3

Happy face and ball face and everything. You can't help but sigh, y'know? I wonder why I'm on the computer. Ha. Yeah right. I'M SO LAYME

But seriously, I got this poster today;



OH GOSH THIS ALBUM IS SO GOOD I'M SALIVATING

A little advice for aspiring fires
You get put out if you don't get a little wild


^^ That's a link to the Grooveshark playlist. Oh man oh man.

Tiptoeing

Something else is asking me the question I so recently was posing. It's a bit strange, the reversal, but it's pretty routine at this point.

"Why are you so afraid of me? Is it because I make you feel?"

And I was lounging on my couch cradling my cat, thinking about all the things I don't know, and how many of them I keep trying to touch. It's like this whole foreign sector of life and experience is a sparkling inferno, daring me to reach into it and integrate with it. I want to. Every fibre of my being is pulling and pushing me towards it. My heart is made of it and wants to be reunited with the whole, and it murmurs to me like an old friend. I've known it before. I've caught glimpses of it in this life and had conversations and intimate dinner parties with it in past ones.

But such fear is being dredged up in me. And why? Because I want, now? Because I can foresee possibilities that I'm not sure I'm ready for? I feel so vulnerable and unprepared, wanting something so badly, not being able to get it off my mind, and simultaneously fearing it.

When I'm brought back to the "now", whenever that is, I am reminded that the inferno should be distant.
If that's so, then why do I feel it's heat on my back?

Monday, May 2, 2011

Lovely and Helpless

It's strange to read someone elses' writing and see an echo of my own. Keeping in mind I had no influence whatsoever on that person's life or material, I think (or, hope) it speaks to the future of something.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Reflexpectations

Sometimes, I underestimate people.

More than that, though, I get caught in my own silly little expectations for myself and then get wrapped up and lost in them.

I make plans with people, with a vague idea of how the night or day may go. I'm entirely aware of the fact that I cannot foresee or control the flow of the day, but more often than not, I find I mislead myself entirely.

Living in the moment is strange. It's quite beautiful, I think, and I've learned that in the few instances in which I've gotten a hold of some sort of understanding of why. I am one to be lead by my heart instead of logic or cognitive strategy, sure, and yet I am never exempt from surprise. One person can knock you over the head with an opinion so wise, that you feel entirely ashamed for being surprised that those words came out of their mouth.
"Why did that strike me?" I thought. "Have I been so blind to this potential?"

But I've learned now, and don't carry that shame with me any longer.

Along the same lines, but entirely different - waiting for some vague event to manifest in my timetable really has given me a lot to think about. Discerning between projection, vision and intent can be difficult... if it needs to be at all. Man, I think Yoda's my fuckin' spirit animal.

I feel happy today. Not earlier, on the surface. Perhaps on some deeper subconscious layer, I was. I feel like I should be panicking into the pages of my blank agenda, but I'm smiling at them. My empty hands will soon be filled, and at this time, I cannot tell you what with.
Perhaps a pen, a hammer, a paintbrush. The hand of another? A bunch of sand, or a stone from the shore... I don't know. And I don't have to know - if I knew where I was going to end up, how can I even begin to fathom how I'm going to get there?

Ah, the arbitrary and circular philosophical rants of an 18 year-old.
Paradoxical.
Confusing.
Nerdy, on occasion.





...Where on Earth do I find a second-hand skateboard?!