bothersome things 001-3.

i decided to start a small segment in this blog that basically allows me to rant about the tiniest, most insignificant things that i otherwise would not be able to rant about without seeming like a buffoon.


001. euphemisms.
he "went to a better place," he "passed on,".. i would like euphemisms to "go to a better place." they are far beyond their "golden years" and honestly, anyone who can't handle the truth and has to settle for euphemisms instead is sorely missing out. the real world is a lot more entertaining.. not that sugar-coated glossy version.

002. missing a day on flickaday.
i always seem to notice right after midnight, too, that i've missed my chance to take my photo for the day. the worst part is, they send you daily email reminders to take your daily photo, and i delete them immediately and brush it off "until later". later in the day, i'll usually think about taking it too, and just forget about it as soon as i've thought about it. then 12:07am rolls around and i remember and get quite irritated.

003. my phone.
can i throw this thing off five bridges into five separate bodies of water yet? seriously, why didn't anyone warn me that two years after buying this phone i'd wish only the worst things upon it? it's been through a lot with me and while it still works, it makes me work in order to even use it. it takes me about five minutes to read a simple text message or dial a number, because of broken keys and broken screens. so, hey, if you get one from me, feel special that i went through all that work to contact you.

hommes.

he wakes up in the morning, or afternoon rather, engages in the longest-lasting stretch possible; after all, stretching is the most satisfying feeling in the morning. the back of his hand rubs over his forehead a moment before allowing his fingers to rummage through his locks of hair twisted this way and that from sleep. dark hair, probably. he pulls the headphone wires from around his neck and arms, removing himself from the ipod web (the ipod which actually belongs to her, as they swapped them for a week or so). he checks his phone, pleased to find one new text message from her (sent not long after he went to sleep, around four-thirty in the morning), words encrypted and seemingly simple, yet riddled with thick layers of meaning. a modest song lyric, or perhaps a haiku. he responds with one of his own before he sits up in bed, ready to begin the day. his eyes trail slowly over his record collection; which would he choose to wake up to? absently he picks one up, a gift from her coincidentally, places it on the victrola. he pulls the fabric of his clothing around him, grabs something to eat, practices a tune he has been working on for her, takes a break with a book, maybe then works on some other form of art, perhaps writing, perhaps painting, perhaps drawing, perhaps photographing.

later, it's time to see her. he goes to her place, they greet and exchange remarks, sassy and sweet, and he lounges on her couch, serenading her with her guitar while she prepares dinner. he pretends it tastes awful, yet clears the plate. they go for a walk at dusk, roll around in the grass together awhile, and he allows her to take his photograph. they have a tickle war for awhile until they cannot breathe, after which they lay there together, discussing everything imaginable, roadtrips, films, shows, books, play-fighting and constant challenging of one another, whatever. he lets her pick the leaves and grass out of his hair. when a break between topics comes, they walk back to her place hand-in-hand. they then brew some tea, and talk about more serious things, philosophies, politics, anything, and when it gets tiring, they go to her room and he lets her dress him however she chooses. eventually they lay on her bed together, limbs tangled, music playing yet, equally aware of how comfortable the other is. by then it is three hours after midnight, and they fall easily into slumber. each day brings something new and different for the two of them, which is of some consolation, in a sense. they may or may not see one another daily, but the conversation never dries up, nor does the interest.

does he really exist? i wonder if i will ever meet him. i mean, traits like these aren't that hard to come by, are they? oh, stop looking and it will come to you, right? the advice everyone has given you? i'm hardly looking; it's just the waiting that's difficult. of course, if it ever comes i likely won't want it anymore, now will i? or likely i would screw it up somehow. how's that for optimism? cheers!

on regret.

i can't believe i went the entire last week without posting here. i've been thinking a lot, i know that. joanna asked me what's been on my mind lately since it's quite obvious that i've spaced out a lot and got lost inside here [finger-to-temple] frequently. on reflection, i have no idea what has been on my mind. i suppose it could be summed up with analyzing my relationships and how i feel about the people and things and situations around me, and more closely, on regret.

when a person has wronged me, hurt me, then turned away and tossed me aside coldly, i wonder, do i regret meeting them? do i regret ever sharing any experiences with them, both good and bad? the immediate response is, "i wish i never met him. he broke my heart and dragged the ache--and me--along for awhile." (or many other contextual variations). however, this seems much too brash a statement. certainly i couldn't just wish an entire person with loads of experiences and conversations and thoughts and changes from my past. changes. each person you meet changes you somehow. my father used to always tell me to think of hard situations as 'character building.' how i loathed when he would say that! i see the truth in it, now, though. i could not simply wish i had never met a person, no matter how badly the person hurt me. the hurt he/she caused, each time, taught me something new about myself, or better, helped me grow comfortable with myself. each experience is a learning experience, be it a bad outfit teaching you through humiliation never to wear it again, or romantic feelings for a person then heartbreak, teaching you not to give yourself up so easily. some things are easier than others to bounce back from, but when you realize all that is to be learned from these situations, it gets a little easier. you cannot make the pain go away, but you can at least embrace it and make it not in vain.

in sum, i think that living a life of regret is unnecessary and even a little naive. certainly everyone feels regret now and then, but i think if we can learn not to do so, or accustom ourselves with learning from it, we'd be much better off. here is a quote from the science of sleep for you to think about. it may seem off topic but it most certainly is not; even if you cannot bridge a connection, at least appreciate it for what it is: "nobody knows what goes on between us, but everybody has an opinion on it."

fleeting.

When you meet someone new and they somehow have the ability to get underneath your skin (positively) and manage to change your outlook on life, or give you a new perspective on something, it can be both a bane or a boon. When a person can make you want to change yourself, or better yourself, just by their very presence or by looking through their eyes, it can be a really spectacular thing. Even if this person is not a permanent part of your life, whether they are only around you for a month and suddenly disappear, or whether they are around you gradually for years and only after so long do you finally realize them. Whether they try to change or affect you or not. I would never complain about this because I'm always looking for new perspectives on life and everything it entails, and I am ever-changing. However, when I think about it, truly, I am saddened. I realize, there are millions and millions and more people out there. Many of them are deeper than anyone I will ever know, and could offer so many more perspectives than those I already have within reach; many of them are capable of so many more things than they realize, and I will never know them and show them this. There are so many people out there, and the fact that I will only meet a handful of these people who will potentially change my life, the fact that I will meet some of the most brilliant people and never realize it, the fact that there is a possibility my potential will never be reached, all really disturb me.

Even further, not being able to decide between instability and stability really drives me insane. I cannot decide whether I prefer routine or spontaneity. The thought of waking up the same time every morning and doing the same thing everyday alarms me, but comforts me at the same time; the comfort that things will always be the same when I wake up the next morning, the event horizon is predictable. It's comforting, yet disgusting. But then again, I love the idea of never knowing what the day could bring, but that also terrifies me. I can't even decide what I want in this most general sense; what am I going to do with my entire life?

pa rum pa pum pum.

little boy, let's go
to a magic circus show.
mister magician,
you are quite cruel. now,
show us another trick while
you still have our eyes.

two haikus in one!

anyhow. heloise and abelard were seriously screwed up.
i want someone to look at my photo and think about how much they miss me. i do not like missing people; isn't that sort of a sign of weakness? maybe not. maybe i'm overanalyzing like always. i think i'm ready to be done with this. "this" refers to about twenty various things.

flecks.

sometimes i wish i wouldn't give people so many chances.

i was going to go into depth and detail my dream boy, but then i realized... i really do not want to get into that. it's far too complicated. i do not want any assumptions to be made, but i just want to put it out there that i am seeing trends and it really creeps me out sometimes. hobbies and interests and styles and attitudes and habits and idiosyncrasies and talents. it makes me wonder if whenever i meet a boy and start to like him, i have a sixth sense that tells me he is just like any boy i have liked previously. then i find out that he really is, and it amazes me, and creeps me out at the same time, and makes it that much worse. or better. i can't really tell. maybe one day i will put that on here. i don't really like talking about this, though.

basically, i just want someone to hold my hand. or just, me, in general. cuddling would be nice. or genuine flattery. even if just from a friend.

anyhow. my friend today said 'it's such an ugly day out,' and it got me thinking. who decides what is ugly weather and what is not? i know plenty of people who would have said today was a lovely day out, to the contrary. it made me wonder, what is the deciding factor on whether a day is nice or not? is it the fact that the weather may possibly make one feel slightly uncomfortable? is it the discomfort that drives one to say it is an ugly day, or is it the fact that something else has made one feel anything at all, and added to possibly an infinite number of other things already on one's mind or already irritating one's skin or cheeks? some people would then take this and say, "i have closed off all of my feelings and emotions, but look, this weather makes me feel something again, thus being i like this weather." or some could say, "i have closed off all of my feelings and emotions, but look, this weather makes me feel something again, thus being i hate this weather." or some could possibly just think, "oh, i left my coat at home and it is chilly. i hate this weather. i hate goosebumps." or some could just think, "it is normal not to like this weather, thus being i do not like this weather."

norms are so intriguing. it is normal to talk about weather, for small talk. i must be normal, then. in my sophomore year in high school, in my biology class, we had taken a survey/test to see what side of the brain we were on, left or right, artistic or analytic. i was the only person in the class who was perfectly symmetrical. even on both sides. half and half. right down the middle. my biology teacher called me mediocre. that was the worst thing i had ever been called. never mind the nine or ten years of teasing for other reasons, namely my physical appearance. mediocre. of course, he took it back right away and claimed it was a joke. but really? mediocre? painful. i guess maybe i am. after all, i'm talking about boys and the weather.

unusual bukowski.

i love charles bukowski's work, poetry in particular, but i think my two favorite poems by him are not of his typical themes. two excerpts:

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.
-- "oh yes"

&

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
-- "bluebird"

love it love it.

mouse.

many messages to many different people in many incorrect orders.
are you done yet? you can't do this to me. why me? you make science of sleep sound all too familiar. you should probably make up your mind. are you done yet? thanks for the bio. that's not funny. no, no, no, and no again. well, maybe. okay, sure. no more games, thank you. sorry, i hope that didn't humiliate you, i'm just trying not to get hurt again. maybe, though. you kind of humiliated me first. okay, i obviously changed my mind, but it's only because i want to be in control. i can do it when it's my decision, not yours. hey are you interested because i am interested. you can stop anytime now. you impress me. i am unimpressed. thank you for everything. where are you? where am i to you? what is this? you're comfortable. you are changing in a good way. you are changing in a bad way. you are staying exactly the same. i miss you, i miss you, i need you here. why are you making me work backwards? this is a feeble attempt to keep you in my life. i'm just not sure how much i care anymore. i am found poetry.

in other news. these songs are really important to me right now:

• "shadows" by yo la tengo
• "dreams never end" by new order
• "atmosphere" by joy division
• "nantes" by beirut
• "city of electric light" by chad vangaalen
• "gobbledigook" by sigur ros
• "let's play guitar in a five guitar band" by minus the bear
• "we never change" by coldplay
• "agoraphobia" by deerhunter
• "leif erikson" by interpol
• "rabbit in your headlights" by unkle

i don't know why i just said any of that. it's all of it gobbledygook, mere pitter patter. utterly the most useless entry i have on here thus far. we're reading heidegger in existentialism tomorrow. expect mindblowing findings if i like any of it.

eternal return.

The heaviest weight.-- What if one day or one night a demon slinked after you into your loneliest loneliness and said to you: "This life, as you live it now and as you have lived it, you will have to live once more and countless times more. And there will be nothing new about it, but every pain and every pleasure, and every thought and sigh, and everything unspeakably small and great in your life must come back to you, and all in the same series and sequence--and likewise this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and likewise this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over again and again-- and you with it, you mote of dust!"
Wouldn't you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and damn the demon who spoke this way? Or have you ever experienced a prodigious moment in which you would answer him: "You are a god and I have never heard anything more godlike!" If that thought took control of you, it would change you as you are, and maybe shatter you. The question in each and every thing, "Do you will this once more and countless times more?" would lie as the heaviest weight upon your acts! Or how benevolent would you have to become toward yourself and toward life in order to long for nothing more ardently than this ultimate eternal sanction and seal?
-- §341, The Gay Science by Friedrich Nietzsche

it speaks for itself. this is how i want to live my life from now on, not with the heaviest weight as something of a burden, but something to ardently long for. i hope this excerpt inspired you as much as it inspired me.

freud says.

"Psychoanalysis has shown us that when the original object of a wishful impulse has been lost as a result of repression, it is frequently represented by an endless series of substitutive objects none of which, however, brings full satisfaction. This may explain the inconstancy in object-choice, the "craving for stimulation" which is so often a feature of the love of adults."
-- Sigmund Freud, On Debasement in the Sphere of Love

sounds like: life, replacement, waffles, forgotten, cravings, stuffed animals and pillows, cleaning to clear the mind, scrubbing, manuals, outlines, society, wiping, scratching, pumice, tickling oneself, rebound, vivitar, dark red, olympus xa, text messages, trying and trying and trying without avail, myspace profile songs, terrace seats, influence, numbness, and aim express.

if you can make sense of this i'll likely marry you.

"i want to see movies of my dreams"
-- "cars", built to spill.

bachelorette.

i would like to escape, and get away from here. i am already working on plans of doing so next week, a day trip with a friend where we will just let the road take us where it will, and even further ahead, the holidays with another friend, where we will disappear into the wild for a few days with campfires and waterfalls, guitars and paper. i am really looking forward to these things, among many others.

one of my favorite things is catching up with long lost friends. opening up completely to one another after so long, and realizing you are just alike, just as you both were when in diapers crawling around together, only now with problems and issues and ideas and thoughts and processes. what an excellent feeling.

it contrasts the ache i get in my stomach when i realize i have no idea what i am doing with myself. educationally, personally, physically, interactively, with myself and with others. i feel that my creative energy is welling up within and if i don't find a release for it soon i could burst. it's growing bigger and bigger and brighter within me and my potential is growing. i want another existential moment so i can realize myself further. i do not want to float by anymore. i want to seize myself. for some reason, i don't know that i can do that right here and now. i keep feeling as though i have to be elsewhere to do it, somewhere new and quite different.

i feel like a panther lately.

existentialism.

nietzsche's take is that the Real, the chaotic world behind the curtain, the nihilistic world behind everything once all norms are taken out, once everything is removed, is both the most beautiful and the most disgusting combined. nietzsche thinks that it is darkness and corruption done fantastically, almost magically. words cannot describe it.

i think.

beyond the
curtain.

ryan mcginley captures it.

what a fantastic photographer. a slightly distorted reality of bare skin and nature combined. to me, that is existentialism. take away the cultural norms, and there is nudity, true emotion, savage and holistic and beautiful. submerge yourself completely in "glosoli" by sigur ros and truly feel these photos.

why hatshepsut is.

this woman took charge. she ruled as a king, took the leadership herself, against public uprising. so many people hated her, stood in her way, tried to stop her from doing the things she thought egypt needed, and from her goals. regardless of these people constantly trying to bring her down, she did wonders for the country and society, keeping her head high through not only political but also personal strife. she accomplished precisely what she set out to accomplish, regardless of the infinite roadblocks along the way. after her assassination, the following leaders tried to erase her from history by destroying any instances of her picture, name, presence, statues, temples, everything. by doing so, they prevented her from entering the afterlife. yet, regardless of this destruction, her legacy, accomplishments, and story lived on, millenia after her death.

that's why.

heartache.

if you attempt to google 'heartache', anything you will find will be strictly emotion-based. what about the physical sensation one gets when in such a state of mind? the way one's chest constricts and literally feels as though one's heart could actually be breaking any moment. the nausea. the feeling of heaviness all over, making it difficult to pull oneself from bed. there are chemicals in one's brain that are released when one feels terribly upset. these chemicals cause this sensation. heartbreak is not simply a metaphor. love is a chemical reaction. lust is a chemical reaction. attraction, desire, allure, loneliness. all chemical reactions. the worst part is, one cannot exactly control these chemical reactions. the lack of control frightens me, in this case.

i thought of the perfect combination of songs to describe the perfect feeling. music describes everything. i wish i could put words to a simple sound. sometimes, instruments speak far clearer than the lyrics themselves.

if you take the lyrics, "all i want is to be the very best for you" from interpol's "the specialist", add them to "come for me, cover me, come for me, comfort me" from deerhunter's "agoraphobia", with the guitar riff of sigur ros' "olsen olsen" particularly from 0:27 to 0:58. add in piano from "mer du japon" by air, and the concept behind placebo's "blind", "say yes" by elliott smith, and the rest of the presets' "anywhere" after 4:57 to the end. title it "take me somewhere nice", taking from a mogwai song, and you have the perfect sensation of what a relationship should be like. maybe with "combat baby" from metric in there, too.

instead, what do you have? listen to any her space holiday song from "the young machines", and you will know. not to be pessimistic or anything. i am just suffering from many chemical reactions at the moment.

all things go.

right now i have an intense desire to just get in the car, and go. i want a road trip, i want to go somewhere new, i want to get out. it isn't that i am suffocating in my location, or my friends, or people around me; it's that i'm suffocating in myself and in the present time. i want something new to look at. i want open road, post-rock soothing my soul, and the burdens of the now behind me. i want to explore los angeles on foot, not in the car. i want to step outside the safety box. i want to take a random exit on the freeway and wind up wherever. the more lost i become, the better. the more the adrenaline rushes, the better. even if just for a day. something new, with my friends, or by myself. as long as i control the music, i am content. i want to pack five cameras, a bag of film, the ipod, a notepad and pen, perfume that smells like candy, and a book of poems. everything else stays. let's go.

the reality versus the optimist.

considering i am always forward-thinking, i see it fitting to describe my future, in depth, the way i want it and the way it is going to be. i'm going to egypt either next summer, next winter break, or the summer after i graduate, depending on how well and fast i save money. i'm going to invest in a lovely lomography camera and it will be my pride and joy. that, and i will procure many other cameras, each with a different life and cause. after i graduate, i will find a nice flat in the center of los angeles, preferably somewhere near a semi-decent and tolerable job. i will take my lunch breaks on the beach or in a park with friends. i will find out where all the cute, tiny, unnoticed cafes are, and befriend the owners. i will make friends in unexpected places. i will catch up with old friends over dinner. i will have no obligations, but i will still manage my time wisely, and try to make the most out of working my way up in my job, whatever it may turn out to be, preferably something with a magazine, newspaper, or owning a cafe. i will overcome my fear of heights by constantly being in skyscrapers, and maybe grow an inch or two more. i will have all my cute new friends over for tea and poetry readings, all my cute new friends who i meet in unexpected places. i will document all of it. sure why waste my time with taking photos, what is the point, but i enjoy visuals, i enjoy looking back to the memory of it, and i will enjoy looking at photos of my new cute friends making kissy faces. i will have old friends over for pillow fights and tickle wars. maybe i will have a boyfriend, maybe i will not. i will spend my weekends testing different tea flavors, attending openings of art exhibits in small holes-in-the-walls in the city, dancing the evenings away by myself or in crowds, letting my walls down. i will do something with my life. i will learn from my mistakes, and i will not let my father down.

granted, there is the possibility that i will work in a cubicle all day, and get drunk to actually get to sleep every night, but i'd like to think that won't happen, and that maybe i'll actually be able to do something i want to do, for once. i would like to be extremely cultured and well-rounded, and that is how it is going to be.