December 2007 - Posts

  • Holy ***


    Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind… What a fucking awesome movie. Why can’t more movies be that honest. Isn’t crazy? The fears, the secrets, the memories we’re all protecting is all stupid childhood bullshit that all of us, every single on us, have. And when we say them out loud, sure it’s pathetic, but that’s childhood, we hurt and we didn’t understand. And our feelings; the situation at hand. Is so much less dramatic when you just tell it like it is. There so many layers of lies… Every word is a lie. Words just can’t… even when you think your being honest… there’s layers and layers of self-defense. Its self preservation: parts of our brain shut off to protect us from the reality of the situation; that we are stupid, we are animals, and we have no idea what the *** we’re doing on this fucked up planet. That is so scary… we’re afraid of life as it is because we will learn that life as it is, is only how we see it… That’s right everything you and I believe is twisted and turned to fit our own unique neuro-anatomies. It’s not that we exist completely alien of each other in fact we’re all so very very alike because we all have this futile commonality: we’re all lying to ourselves, just with different automatic responses from different circumstances and different memories.

    The better you understand yourself, the better you will understand everyone else.

  • Without TV life is as boring as it was meant to be


    Anybody else marvel at the dexterity of their fingers? So cool. Ooo, and isn’t it interesting the different media journeys we all take, the different e-mails, the different adds that pop up and spark our interest. The different songs and books we discover. The different people we meet. The different lessons we learn… Weird huh?

    Anywho, Welcome to my 3-dimential world of Dr. Seuss level drama. All the people I think about and write about in my shameless female preoccupations- all have similar names that rhyme or sound the same. (I think the most relevant moral of my story is to find friends with cool names)

    The world is made up of triangles. Triangles among triangles, among triangles. You have no idea what I mean by this and it probably sounds crazy. But I don’t feel like explaining myself. I want to taunt my readers/ laptop with the idea that this revelation could in fact be genius. In these triangles everyone is a sinner, and everyone’s a saint. Guilt and innocence do not exist- ask each person to point to the antagonist and you will get a triangle. Life is big. Just look around you. Spend two minutes looking up at the sky and you feel so teeny tiny and insignificant. As a result the drama in your life feels even more insignificant.

    I’m sorry. But seeing as how facebook, my laptop, the sky, and books are my only friends right now, I feel so detached from the social world. It all seems so silly. But I know I won’t feel that way pretty soon. It feels very real when you’re in it. Wish me luck. I hope I can still laugh and love myself at the end of the day when there’s thick murky air lurking in every direction.


  • Calling a spade a spade, part II


                    Why do some boys treat girls like we want to castrate them? I assure you we don’t; we’re very interested in having that part of you guys work.

    As if monogamy was really such a horrible thing to want. As if it was our choice to actually want it. Sure it’s become symbolic, but literally it’s got to be a biological extinct.

    I hate politeness. When we don’t say what’s on our mind, life turns into a power game. Who can avoid confirming who’s fears, who can avoid falling into a stereotype, who can avoid appearing weak?  G-d, it’s so fucked up.

                    Guys are just pissed because girls have so much power over them. They don’t get it. If they don’t want what a girl wants, why do they still want her? *** you. It’s our biological advantage. As animals we need to have this great power of seduction. Suck it up and deal with it. The more sincere our communication, the more likely that neither one of us will feel victimized by power of the opposite sex.


  • My Dog is so cute

    My Dog is so cute

    Puppy puppy puppy. I love that furry mongrel. He’s such a little gremlin… G-d damn it. I tried to write a stupid space filler blog tonight and I ended up writing like three different letters and two different essays. Rrrrr….Does that ever happen to you? I was planning on writing like two sentences so I could work on this Leonardo De Vinci essay but once I started following one train of thought… I couldn’t freaking stop. O Jeez. See you guys later. I’ve been writing for hours. *Please see previous blog* I gots to go to sleep.


  • I am sooooooooooooooooooo board- and I’m guessing it shows.



    G-d, my new and friendless life here in the burbs is soooooooo boaring. It seems that all I’ve managed to do for entertainment is wreak havoc and cause drama in the lives of others with my tactless banter. How I’ve managed to push buttons and lose additional respect (I really thought that impossible) all from the comforts of my new living room half way across the country- I cannot say for certain. But I guess it displays some talent, no? I’m sorry; I know it’s not funny to cause mayhem. But my mind is just boggled that I would inadvertently have any serious effect when I’m hardly in a position of power. My life right now, is nothing short of drab.



    Don’t get me wrong. It’s absolutely beautiful here. My house in the hills is charming and tranquil. My view of a Buddhist monastery shrouded in nature is definitely a pleasant shade of Zen.  And the sky, Jesus Christ, I can’t remember the last time I could look up and see stars so distant they reveal the heavens in its natural dome. I love being with family. I love being with my dog. But I miss the people who love and support me and do not biologically or absent mindedly have to. Thank G-d for souls so kind and patient.



    I suppose I’ll take this opportunity to present my description of friendship at it has crossed my mind recently in evaluating my relationships at school. The truth is; you would be hard-pressed to find a favor that I would not do to lift a true friend’s spirits. With the exception, of course, of an act that violated my morals and/or one that would clearly have to be done at my own expense. I have needs too and as I mentioned before I have only my discretion to evaluate which are of more importance. Clearly I will have some bias, you can only guess in whose favor. But seeing as how I am not working on a cure for aids and that I am a fairly sensitive individual, I tend to be very generous with my time and endurance.



    And as my friend, I want nothing from you. I want no favor or explanation that you do not feel inclined to give out of love or loyalty to me. I want only to have a fair and trusting relationship with a fair and trustworthy person. I expect that you would want the same. So I will apologize and try to be of some assistance when I am not living up to your standards. But of course I must be assured that it is of some consequence when you are not living up to mine. I know in my confrontational manner I tend to make people uncomfortable so I do have patience for defensive reactions. Humor, anger, and even temporary meanness are all understandable in my mind. But disregard and sincere condescension are entirely different. Perhaps I have not been around enough tenacious self-important ass-holes to clearly differentiate; well, it seems I am in the right school for practice.



    *Quap-chhh* (simulated whip sound) Take that!!!


  • I’m sorry; I know that I am a little blunt for people’s tastes. But I am a big fan of calling a spade a spade.


    My sexuality is my G-d given weapon to use. And I am luckily expected to act insulted when it is attempted to be used against me. But truthfully I don’t feel insulted; I just refuse to let my one true power over the male species act as my Achilles heel. I do nothing, at this point; to physically demonstrate sexual recklessness and so when I am called a *** I defend myself adamantly. But silently, I laugh at any male’s pathetic attempt to overpower the biological advantage that I have over him.


    This is the general rule of thumb. My emotional needs burn with the same vigor that your sexual needs do, though we all have varying degrees of both. Whether either one can truly be classified as a necessity is a horse of a different color. But for now we are assuming they are dominant enough that when left overlooked they will obstruct our quality of life. And so if we must be literal, the inter-sex dynamic, or at least the one that I expect, is nothing less than a fair trade- an equal partnership if you will: A stimulating and fulfilling balance between satisfying our very different brain and bodily needs.     


  • Please note: As humans we all have flaws. I’m just more up front about mine. Perhaps that is a flaw in itself? I’ll think about it.

    I know this post will come off rather passive. It is. But I do think they are words worth noting.


    I truthfully try to suppress my power-hunger or at least I try to channel it harmlessly.  I want to refrain from being a ruthless *** and I have no interest in causing any misery. I know that in life it is often very hard not to take things personally; I am very sensitive to this. But know that I only wish to be a good writer and to showcase the talent that I’m working hard to develop. If I can avoid doing this at the expense of others, I will. I know the previous post is rather tactless and I will revise it soon for my own reasons. But please, to anyone I have hurt or may hurt in my writing, take comfort in the fact that I do care deeply about human emotions. And while I may not have a problem confessing my own flaws, I can respect the prideful nature of this world. I can respect anyone that wants to remain under the cloak of human decency. It is only my subjective opinion that this term is just a fallacy and that we are all weak and selfish.


    Know that my opinion reveals nothing about the quality of any one person and only displays how I choose to perceive them. The light that I shed upon them has far more to do with my own emotional reactions, my own flaws, then who they are as people. I am imperfect (shocking, I know) and all I have to go on are the ways that I have felt and understood the world around me. I assign past emotions and interpretations to people who display some of my past behaviors. It is in my nature, for better or for worse, to think until I make conclusions or deem it impossible to do so. Perhaps this is how I get my power; by assigning self-invented explanations to nearly everything.


    It is possible that I am way off base just as it is possible that I am right on target. How accurate you judge my depiction is only a testament to my talent or lack thereof. I am aware that I can never really know how true my understanding, especially because I am often pessimistic about people’s true level of self-awareness. That is perhaps my own flaw. But please try to remember, whoever you are, that once you become a literary described representation of yourself, you are hardly more than a fictitious character. I am not apologizing for how I see or once saw a particular motive or situation. Nor should you apologize for how reading my interpretation makes you feel. Depending on who you are, I will listen to your reaction and evaluate whether your emotions are more important to me than my commitment to self-expression. It’s just, I have troubled myself long enough with other people’s judgments and I am quite ready to kick that habit.


    I refute any attempt at guilt, spite, or just plain denigration with stern apathy. Once in a while I excuse emotional responses if they have an equal amount of legitimacy. I do try to be an open person, even to criticisms I don’t like to hear but only if I believe them to be well-founded. I guess what I am trying to say, is that despite my efforts, I am still a self-centered person who will defend her own vulnerabilities at the expense of others. I do not believe this to be anything more or less than human and I do not expect anyone to be above this natural mechanism. I understand people will react emotionally to what I have to say, I just refuse to turn their accusations inward. Just as I say my perceptions only reveal my own qualities, so too do I hold this true for others.  


  • But I’m a Creep… (Revised-I kicked myself and took the original down)

    To whom it may concern,           


     I would just like to preface by explaining precisely why I chose to revise this particular blog. You may have picked up on the fact that it started out as a private letter which is why I did not care to edit rather intimate confessions. But upon its completion I became rather pleased with myself and my finished work. Has that ever happened to you? You get an assigned prompt and suddenly a light bulb goes off in your mind and you feel this adrenaline rush when riding your train of thought. And after you’re done you hold your pretty creation in your hands with sheer glee as you can hardly contain your excitement to turn it in for grading. Well, that’s how I felt. There was so much of me in this letter; so much raw, real and ugly emotion in all its helplessly varying stages.


    But this letter is an old assignment and old assignments often lose their past adoration. I have other works, and works in the making that I am equally and perhaps more proud of.  So seeing as how my zeal has past, I think it best to keep some of these opinions some-what hidden. As I don’t enjoy pointlessly insulting others and I certainly don’t like what doing so says about my character. For this particular piece of writing, I did make an exception and I’m sure that there will be other exceptions in the future. But until support and candor is cultivated within my community, I wish to coexist with my peers as peacefully and respectfully as possible.


    I hope to someday be an earnest and frank artist who finds pride in her precision and not in the appeal of her creative lies. As power is not my goal in life, authenticity is. So in the situation described below, I have no problem admitting that the level and open display of anguish is rather pathetic. I’ve forgiven my silly silly self in the name of my artistic voice. But it is not my intention and I think it unfair to spite those who got caught in the cross-fire of my decisions. Guilt and innocence are only judgments of which I find deceitful to matter-of-factly pass.  


    Though I sincerely don’t want to hurt anybody, I won’t say that I will never cross this boundary. At the end of the day, my work is my self-perpetuation and it is where my loyalty must currently and primarily lie.  Once again:            


     I can totally relate to feeling uprooted, I understand. It’s not easy to be far away from what you know and love, whatever that may be. It can definitely make one lose their mind. For whatever its worth, I want you to know I think your discomfort is justified.


    As for the whole boy thing, if it makes you feel any better, with all the “experience” that I have, I still don’t know what the *** I’m doing. I mean, it’s not really hard for me to talk to boys, unless I perceive them as having superior magnificence in some way. But even then I remind myself “Ok, Sam, they’re people too, they have childhood pains, they have dorky obsessions, and they’re self conscious…” It’s just when I like a boy, I get a lot more awkward. I think about what to say, I contemplate what to do, I don’t want to scare him away, but I don’t want to appear week… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think relationships are just one of those things… Seriously, everyone seems to suck at them. Or maybe I just like to believe that because it makes me feel better about myself. Regardless, I have come to this conclusion. “I am going to unswervingly stay true to who I am and how I feel and hopefully somebody [with a lot more mental stability] will have the patience to take that on.”


    I guess somewhere along the line I just got sick of fucking myself over looking for satisfaction only externally. I learned pleasure cannot come from only reaching out to others, and life-fulfilling satisfaction cannot come from only pleasure.  I don’t know if those life lessons pertain to your particular struggle but I’m trying to tell you that the grass isn’t any greener on this side. I hope that it helps to hear that.  


    Boys… man, they can really, really, make you feel good… But rrrrrrrr are they infuriating.


    As for the boy who was recently in my life, he was not the one from my RED essay. He was not a boyfriend either. We were friends in college. He’s on my floor and I had/still sort of have a crush on him. He was completely involved in his work, perhaps you know the type? A total head case; a tortured soul- I find that so incredibly sexy. I know it’s not uncommon for girls to seek power personalities- and that’s exactly what he was; your run-of-the-mill emotionally-unavailable white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant, male (with pretty blue eyes). I would say in terms of intellectual maturity he was way ahead of the rest of us, as for social maturity- I’d give him about eleven, maybe twelve years old. I found that endearing. So this is how the storey goes…


    We hung out a lot. Ok, I basically forced myself on top of him a lot. But he didn’t seem to mind all that often… We had some fun: Shared a few laughs, a few moments, a few arguments, and a few good conversations. I felt the occasional spark but that could have just been me. I’m turned on by tension, which occurred often as I happen to embody every over-emotional, undisciplined, irrational, abrasive characteristic he detests in girls. I toyed with telling him I liked him but I decided against it for several reasons.


    The first was that it took me a while to warm up to him. Like I said, his obvious judgment kind of turned me on but it also made me feel wildly insecure. And then, though it wasn’t that long ago, I still thought it was possible for a person to have it all figured out. I still toyed with the idea that everything I believed could be wrong. My emphasis on creative expression, compassion, sincerity, interpersonal connectedness, spirituality…- yeah I thought my “progressive” outlook on life could have possibly held no bases in reality.  And I thought that if I were to be proven wrong he would be the one to do it- the atheist, science-obsessed, brilliant, workaholic. So I guess I was scared that I actually was inferior… But I got over it pretty fast.


    As I listened to him speak I learned that his arguments were no more well-founded than my own. We were just on opposite sides of the spectrum. And the “correct” outlook probably lies somewhere between our two extremes; the ones of rigid pursuit of purpose and thoughtless pleasure over-indulgence. I never really let him know that I was considering his life-style and I seldom let him see me doubt my own. I remained cautiously true to my then state of mind because authenticity is still what’s most important to me. The hard part is discovering, defining and maintaining a healthy state of mind.


    But a while back I reached this point in my life where I refused to be accepted for anything more or less than who I believe myself to be. I know that the intellectual me- in all my quirks and meaningless obsessions- is worthy of affection. That doesn’t mean I think everyone should like me. But with time and patience, I know I can connect to most people. I think most people would connect to most people if we didn’t live behind such stifling social barriers. But that is neither here nor there. The point I’m getting at has to do with why I would not “make the first move” and tell this boy that I liked him (hehehe). And the second reason was as simple as this: I wanted him to do it. I wanted the validation that he was interested in me. I decided that, no matter how much I liked him, any type of relationship wouldn’t be worth it unless it was mutually desired.


    The third reason was because I didn’t want to scare him away. I said to myself “If this is going to happen, it’s going to happen right.” I didn’t want to suck his face when I had the liquid confidence. I wanted this to happen when we both felt comfortable; when I felt secure enough to be myself and when he had the confidence to hit on me. I thought I made his job pretty easy, if you only saw me, I was pretty fucking transparent.But like I said, I have no idea what the *** I’m doing. I caught myself at times when I would find him forward and I would pull back like a little girl. It was interesting how vulnerable I felt when I wasn’t taking control and how much courage I had to muster to take control with him. The challenge was exhilarating and sadly a very unnecessary distraction as I was not exactly mentally healthy at the time. My goals, my future… that stuff was hardly in the cards. I was doing very little to secure any type of role in greater society and I really had no intention of being a student.


    Looking back I can’t believe how hopeless I felt. But I think through all the self destruction of senior year, I forgot to value my potential as a person. I stopped believing I was worthy of a future and hard; intellectual, time-consuming, school-work hardly seemed to carry any relevance. I wanted to go back to New York, be a yoga teacher, and continue to starve myself. That part is really pathetic and I can write about my late eating disorder for hours, but I’ll spare you. The bottom line is that it was one of the many self-destructive coping mechanisms I fashioned and one I had a particularly hard time letting go of. It was very, very hard for me to check myself out of the eating disorder mentality as I got very, very high from having power over sustenance.


    I’m not so lost anymore. I believe in myself once again. I’m excited to do my school work, to test my potential, to learn, to broaden my horizons, to express myself intellectually, creatively, and all that jazz… but I really had to take some time off from school to treat my long-running existential crisis. As I realized I could no longer afford to conceal it behind habitual self-destruction. I was beginning to get there. I began to feel passionate about my artistic voice, I was beginning to crave calculus, and I started to find pride in some of my assignments. But it was too late in the game and I couldn’t bear the burden of under-achievement with the still self-esteem depreciated body I contained. When this book thing came along; the tour and the publicity. It took me back to a time when I believed that the power of my brain would deliver me to purpose. “Finding Myself in Utah,” ironically, became my life raft once again. RED was my excuse to ditch this ship wreck, and I milked it for everything it was worth. I think leaving was so good for me you have no idea.       


      “And this is the simple truth- that to live is to feel oneself lost- he who accepts it has already begun to find himself, to be on firm ground. Instinctively, as do the shipwrecked, he will look round for something to which to cling, and that tragic, ruthless glance, absolutely sincere, because it is a question of his salvation, will cause him to bring order into the chaos of his life. These are the only genuine ideas; the ideas of the shipwrecked.”-José Ortega y Gasset


    Before I officially made my decision to embark on new recovery, I was still trying unsuccessfully to get my *** together. I wanted to talk about it but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I just, I didn’t think he’d get it. Or I didn’t think he’d want to hear me go on and on about why I’m not mentally stable enough for college. That’s the kind of bullshit I know he can’t stand. G-d, thinking about it now- my seventeen and two thirds years old (As I am now two weeks from my 18th birthday) mentality feels light years away. But I was in funk- the semester had passed the half way mark and my hope for grade redemption was fading… I was irritable, depressed, and I had a slew of reasons to feel like an intellectual failure (This boy was generous enough to name a few in his ritual art school bashings. I was never offended by them though; I always found the fact that I was being mocked for not being a complete nerd so laughably ironic). I didn’t feel like I could talk to him about these feelings because I didn’t think he’d care. I feared his reaction would somehow lead me to the inconvenient truth- that I put this on myself. When I realized I was letting my interest in him distract me from the mess I had to clean up, I only further resented myself. This whole thing- every immature means I used to deny my responsibilities in life as I refused to know it- just further took a toll on my self-worth.


    This brings me to my last reason for not “making a move.” At a certain point I didn’t think I could handle a relationship with him and I didn’t think I could handle the rejection if he didn’t want one.  It was one of those, O-so-sucky, lose- lose situations. In fact, passing up the chance to revel in the RED fruits of my labor, to get 3 c’s and watch my self- esteem issues manifest themselves, was beginning to look like a very unwise decision. It was clear to me that I needed a little recovery time and going on this book tour seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. I needed to rebuild some self-respect, I needed to rediscover value in achieving, I needed to better prepare myself for the self- sustainment involved in being a college student. And the truth is. I’ve done a tremendous amount of work to find that. Yes, there is room for improvement. No, I am not perfect. But I have confidence, I believe in myself, I like myself, and I’m proud of myself. And that is what I need for now to march on like a soldier. Not to say the journey is over. I know now that all this self-acceptance stuff only exists in pursuit. Believe me, I’ve learned the hard way that to care about oneself, one must care for themselves and remind themselves encouragingly each day as to why. It’s not easy, but I believe now that it is 100 percent worth it. Life’s too short, you know?


    But back to the original topic of this extremely tangential letter- the boy. Ahh, yes. I told him I was leaving and at first he seemed totally supportive. He really heard me out when I explained my logic. I knew it was in his nature to view my surrender as week or at least I had prepared myself for that reaction- but he was really sweet. Awwwwww. And just like that, my circumstances had gone from rather grim to really hopeful……Well I guess you can’t win’ em all.


    Sometime later in the week, days before I was scheduled to leave. One of our mutual friends expressed concern that I was leaving because of him. How the conversation went exactly, I have no fucking clue. All I know is that he, being the genius that he is, figured out that I had feelings for him- all by himself. And when he asked this mutual friend, she confirmed and expressed concern that he was the reason I was taking my little sabbatical. And being the genius that he is- he believed that to be true.


    It shouldn’t have surprised me. I already knew he didn’t think very highly of the rational of girls. But what still leaves me dumbfounded was that he reacted with anger. Upon retrospection (I’m such a fan of big words these days) I realized he was very mean to me that night. But don’t worry, I fought back. I got drunk and acted like a ***. I am very good at getting drunk and acting like a ***. So we had a fiery debate that night- what was is about again?- O yeah; affirmative action.  I guess at that point he knew that the action I was trying to promote was not limited to just the affirmative… Never the less the damage was done. The tension could not be resolved that night as I was still in the dark about its true origins.


    This storey is unnecessarily lengthy and I haven’t even gotten to the letters. But don’t worry- this is precisely where they come in. I found out why he was being a meany and I felt like ***. How the *** was I supposed to hold his attention long enough for me to explain all this to him? I couldn’t even hold his attention when he wasn’t mad at me. And how the *** was I supposed to feel comfortable doing so when I could hardly open up to him at all? It was so awkward. Not only did I have face up to the boy I liked, but I had to face up to the boy I liked who thought I was mentally deranged and obsessed with him. “O ***.” How am I going to charm my way out of this one?


    Alright, to be fair, I was too attached. I did think about him a lot, and I did value his opinion too much. I’m not sure that I’m so far from the level of mental-disturbia that he was passively accusing me of. But in my defense- I know I’m crazy and I’m pretty weary of it. After careful self-assessment, I determined that my attraction to him extended beyond my own lust for self-indulgence. But really, who knows?


    Anyway- time goes by- I’m still in the dark- it’s the day before I’m leaving and I’m hurt. I like him, I told him, and he won’t help ease the angst. I can’t exactly pin point why I was so hurt then because I don’t feel that way now. But I guess I took it all very personally- I started toying with ideas like “if only I was a c-cup, he would work this out with me.” I felt very weak and very vulnerable, so I did what I always do to make sense of situations; I wrote. I wrote hoping I could intellectually regain my dignity and strength.


    The letters I wrote were at best, somewhat reasonable. But the majority were provocative and distastefully condescending. Tell me, what was I thinking? I mean, it doesn’t surprise me that I wrote them. It surprises me that I had the intention of sending them thinking they would negate his belief that I was insane. I have very backwards logic, don’t you think? Thank g-d I had enough sense at the time to with-hold at least some of my self-expression and therefore maintain the little dignity I had left.


    I wrote this one letter that nearly left me in tears- that’s how pathetic I am. I don’t know. I know it’s stupid and completely ridiculous of me to believe I understand and truly care about a boy I’ve known for all of 3 months. But I analyze and empathize with people- always- I do it unconsciously sometimes. Part of it is a reflex; it’s how I protect myself from feeling inferior. I remind myself that everyone’s human and has unique and intricate character lies. But part of it is also real empathy I feel. I know how crazy and painful it can be sometimes to exist at all. I often want to alleviate that pain both out of compassion and because connecting on that deep human level seems to alleviate my own. But I can’t always do that for people- especially him as I have come to understand people like him.


    Though I do find those letters bizarrely eloquent and amusing, I have decided against leaving them up on my blog. I’m glad I made that decision. It’s not fair to him to overwhelm him with my very intimate inner-quarrels. And it’s not fair to me to publicly (or privately if I can help it) submit so much power to one person.


    I did see him when I went back to school for that week (he is after all on my floor). We shared one accidental and uncomfortable encounter and as much as I thought I was passed it all- I missed him again. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t hurt- I just missed hanging out with him. I wanted to try and reconcile but I knew better. As sweet and special as I know he is deep down, our pursuits and perceptions are just too different. I can’t single handedly try to make a friendship/ relationship/ camaraderie/ whatever; work. Especially with someone who has such different ideas of what those things entail. (That’s a sugar coated way of saying he mostly-likely doesn’t want one and if he did, I most- likely wouldn’t find it satisfactory) So what I did instead was realize that it could never-ever work and that it is more his loss than mine. Because the truth of the matter is that I may be a little crazier than most- but that part [thank G-d] is compensated by a relatively hot body and pretty keen insight. I’m a good person, for the most part, and I’m in pursuit of the whole glorious spectrum of life-fulfillment.  Someday someone with comparable desires will spare their precious time long enough to appreciate that.


    Until then, I am content to stand as “that crazy *** who was once my friend” in his mind. The reason being, for the most part, because I have no other choice. I walk away with only mild bruising to my ego; as I think it will always sting a little that he could turn his back on me so easily. I refuse to pretend that I don’t still care. I refuse to pretend that I’m not grateful for the unique perspective that he shared with me. He inspired me to reevaluate my own cosmic significance in his sacrificial commitment to higher purpose. He’s a good person too. We all are, in some ways. And we all fall victim to the defense mechanisms we fashion. But for me, I refuse to walk through life in ignorance of my inner child. After all it was her infantile perceptions that defined significance for the first time.


    So as I accept responsibility to my society and self and move toward unearthing my potential.  I will not forget the little girl who urges me to play, to pick flowers, to pet kitties, to smile, to laugh, and to grow. She can’t help but feel an abundance of compassion, as she used to kiss every single one of her teddies goodnight hoping to foster equality in her imaginary community. She can’t help but believe that there is a G-d as she was once sure her own personal thoughts were provoked by him. And ever since she could remember she believed that she was special- she believed that her little girly self was capable and worthy of greatness. I trust her instincts. And I know now that she is the origin for which too look in pursuit of self perpetuation. Her wants are my emotional needs and she had zero tolerance for meanies.



  • I like poems, they're pretty

    I like writing in verse. I like the challenge of trying to make the truth pretty sounding. I’ve been working on this poem for a little while and I’m rather pleased with the result. You should see how it started. Really, it was a messy rant made up of fragmented sentences and unanswered questions. But now it’s a rhythmic presentation of ideas. Crazy how that happens. Anyways, I’ve got lots more to say and lots of notes to work with so It’ll be a while before my adoring public (Translation: My laptop) looses me. I’ve just skipped the last couple of days because I’ve been focusing on other projects. I finished designing my roomJ I’m so thrilled, it looks pretty fly… And overall I’ve been pretty giddy keeping myself occupied, contributing to society, trying to feel relevant. Yeah… it’s been real.




    Water sources dry


    An animal falls prey


    All that’s born must die


    As growth turns to decay


    Nature cycles without mercy; in perfunctory repose


    And the program in itself, does that also decompose?  


    That which self-sustains? Or that which self- destructs?


    The investigation each empirical scientist conducts.  


    Inadequate designs are purged without resolve  


    And cruel as it may sound, how else can we evolve? 


    Although evolution seems to be -


    A baseless strategy employed


    Why not leave matter unconstructed?


    As matter cannot be destroyed 


    I guess advancement is no option-


    Not even to existence


    Though Stillness may be safer


     Time does not regard resistance 


    And so it’s bound to happen


    Evolution in reverse


    Unless of course- we win this time


    Can humans break the curse?     


    And here the journey peaks, as we discover the solution


    That is- we must befriend the enemy, to adapt is evolution


    The circumstances are, in the model that’s presented


    Some details will ring true whereas others feel invented 


    While, in nature we are animals and there’s much to which we’re fated


    Upon earth’s crust lies majesty both learned and self-created 


    Worlds exist beyond the literal  


    Symbols in my mind and view


    So the meaning of existence


     Consists of what it means to you 


    As a beating heart is not an ocean


    A kiss is not a storm


    Poetry is not organic


    Love has no solid form


    Awe isn’t a reaction


    Life isn’t a result


    There’s mystery in being


    As well as meaning and occult


    And reason cannot satisfy


    Every yearning we contain


    When divinity lies secretly


    In our body and our brain


    We are special living animals


    Exactly why, I can’t explain


    But faith occurred to me when trying 

     And faith alleviates the pain
  • Poetic Justice: Part I

    Everyone’s a sinner and everyone’s a saint


    Every act is selfish


    Every verse is self-restraint  Behind flattery lies jealousy


    Beyond passion their lies pain


    Innocence is self- deception


    Every broken heart is vein  A yes is just a maybe


    A maybe’s just a no


    I’m in debt to a creator


    So what exactly do I owe?   

    The truth is just a portion, of a larger greater whole


    Morals are an option when salvation is the goal?           


    I know certainty’s a myth           


    But myths are based on truth


    If angst is just a fallacy


    So is patronizing youth   Reality is all we have


    But lies are all we’re fed           


    Oxygen alters everything            


    Blood isn’t even red  Ask and it is given


    Unless it’s really what you need


    Ask for a commodity


    And you’re asking out of greed  Be careful what you wish for


    As looks often deceive


    Fact reaches us through filters


    You decide what to believe


    Haha… new Poem. What do you think? I felt like rhyming this time- it’s been a while. I think I like writing in verse… Anyways, I was looking at some of my old writing and I found my old poems from when I just got sent away. Man, are they angry… I feel like posting some of my old stuff in a little Sam blog anthology called “Poetic Justice.”  I feel so darn clever. I titled this poem in particular “Poetic Justice” because it touches on that subject but getting sent away was also poetic justice in itself. I was all rebelling and running away from home and I ended up very, very far away from home. Get it?Anyway I had another thought I just wanted to write down. I was reminiscing about Israel and trying to describe exactly what it was about the people… And I decided. Israeli’s are known for being really forward. They don’t hold anything back. They don’t hide their prejudices, their intentions, their thoughts, their feelings… They don’t censor their jokes, their pick up lines, their anger… No subject is off limits. They skip the small talk and instead reflect on social standards, sex, politics, and religious beliefs… all upon introductions. It’s a very No- bullshit kind of atmosphere. And why?

    Because they are the grandchildren of Holocaust Survivors, the children of freedom fighters, friends to fallen soldiers and innocent bystanders, and today, still, they are each drafted to work very directly for their safety- right out of high school.

    It’s always there, that inner burden, they really know that life’s too short.



  • Somebody Fellat Me


    Hey, I don’t mean to get all Susan Johanson (“Talk Sex” anybody?) on you guys, but I’m really not a fan of the word “cunnilingus”. Even writing it makes me laugh because it’s so awkward and uncomfortable to say. Well, “fellatio” is symbolically awkward to say too. But physically, mouthing the word is kind of fun. Honestly, the word is sexy and powerful unlike the female term which sounds all choppy and weird. If guys can make one dollar for every seventy cents a girl makes, I demand we make the word “Fellatio” universal. I know I’m a perve. But I really didn’t want to get stuck writing “somebody cunniling me” for the heading. Although- it would have been kinda funny. Don’t mind me; I just saw “Super Bad” last night- let’s face it- vulgarity is a part of everyday culture. And guess what? This is my every day blog…


    Noise-canceling headphones anybody? O  -   my  -   G-d. They are sooooooooooooooo good. Listen to your favorite song with them; it’s like being in a fish-tank full of music. MMmmm Heaven. *Please see title*


    So that’s all I wanted to say. If you need a reason to live… invest in a pair of those headphones, man. I swear- listening made my whole body numb…


    I…Um… don’t know how much more life ranting I’m going to do, just to let you guys/ my shiny red laptop know. For the most part, I have the answers I need for now and my brain is dying for a little less of the self-assessment. I’m always reading, always writing, and always trying to stay in touch. But I’m trying to live outside my own head a bit more. My feeling is that I’ve become stable enough internally to take on some new projects. Like… Decorating my new room!! I’m going to paint a mural on one of the walls; some interpretation of Eden. Don’t worry I’ll be around.


                I guess I just want to let you know that I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that life is not under my control; that everything is the way it is. The best we can do is to organize a plan to reach some vague likeness of our goals. Everybody wings it, everybody does. I think some people choose certain routines or conform to certain standards (I don’t mean this condescendingly, if we defied all standards we’d be schizophrenics) to feel more stable… Some people prefer to believe they know exactly what they’re doing… but nobody does. Nobody knows exactly why we’re here or what we’re supposed to do. So I mean its cliché’, but all we have is our potential. We have no guarantees that working hard and trying our best in this societal construct will actually pay off. But we do have statistics, be grateful if you are on the favored side.


                Until then- it’s a crazy ride; ups and downs and upside downs. But I don’t know… You always have your friends, your family, a dog, a blog, faith in the unknown, and noise canceling headphones [Sam].


  • I’m feeling kinda high today, although I’m not actually- I swear.

    I feel like smiling and watching Super Bad. My usual rants about life will just have to wait.


  • I think I’m over him.


    I think I’m done. But that in itself is hard. I feel terribly lonely without my old project as I’ve lost all hope that he’ll change his mind. He got caught in the cross fire. I only wanted to find focus and escape reality. He became the target of my concentration and now that target has been shifted toward my own mental growth. I’m scared now that I’ve stumbled upon some Truth regarding existence. I’m scared because I know that I am fundamentally alone. My only sources of company are my goals, my work, a handful of true companions, and the only eternal; hope.  I don’t know. Am I the only one who feels that a lustful trustful relationship would make life so much more satisfying? It’s not that I desire to control another person or even to commit; although clearly that’s what a relationship entails. I’m just a certain kind of person, I just- “I love.” I want to care about somebody who cares about me. I want to make-out with someone and mean it. I want to be accepted; mind and body. They say that it won’t happen until I accept myself. Well, I’m working on it. I just have to let it be. For now I can not satisfy this void my instincts burn to fill. I’d rather be alone than settle for anything less then I desire; A boy who is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally available. I want someone who can respect my opinion and disagree. I want to look at someone and know that I am safe and be hugged and know that they don’t want to let go. I want someone who wants what’s best for me. I want to want what’s best for them. I have the chills. It’s a sad reality I have to face- alot of my age group is scared, brainwashed by their religion or culture or social group, they are apprehensive, they are judgmental, they want to *** around. Well, I don’t. I just want comfort. I want to lie down with someone and feel for that moment that everything’s ok. And I don’t know. I guess most people don’t want that comfort yet. Every boy I’ve ever been interested in has always stood out. They’ve always been special and they’ve more often than not, been older. They catch my attention through their unique way of being and the older ones seem to understand my search for a safe-haven. But always, I am in over my head, I’m always too young, too bubbly, too easy to please, too easy to hurt. I’m too easy to treat like a little girl and I’m too easy to control. After all, I find them because I understand them. And they hold me and tell me everything I want to hear. I can’t help but believe it. I want the security and I can’t resist the urge to believe that I can be a kid again. I still want to trust someone whole heartedly to take care of me. And I forget that I am my own person who has to stand on her own two feet. I soon become a malleable child and it’s my fault. So much of me is scared to take control of my own life.

    That’s why I’m sticking to my age-group. These guys can’t lie to me persuasively, the way I want to be lied to. They will look to me for answers; they will remind me that I can never return to the sheltered utopia of childhood. They won’t call me “kiddo”, or they might but I won’t let myself believe it. I’ll know they’re a kid too.


    P.s. So this blog is sort of more poetry than prose. I'm not sure if I'm going to write anymore about this specific guy. I don't know. I don't want to make myself seem all creepy and clingy. Although I don't really care. I also think that if he ever read this hypothetical blog, it might make him ultra- uncomfortable. Then again, his comfort really isn't my problem anymore. Mmm... Maybe I will write. I wrote some kick-ass letters. Plus he never gave me any closure, and I feel obliged to flaunt my creative expression. In my art I have already made the comitment to hold nothing sacred... But I don't know if I need to expose this particular situation to get closure. I feel like I might respect myself more if I let it fade from my thoughts quitely. Any opinions? 


  • So I forgot to mention I left school again.

    It was preplanned that I would only be there for a week- so I knew I was leaving the 8th. Where did I go? Well, I can’t disclose my exact whereabouts seeing as how I am a celebrity and all… :) But I can tell you my parents moved across the country the second I left for college. So I’m in my new home for the first time, far away from the place I grew up and lived for nearly 18 years. But that’s ok. I’m with my parents, my brother (though he just left to see his best friend who happens to attend the same college I do, *** you mark, you were supposed to teach me guitar) and last but not least, my little puppy monkey; Sparky. I haven’t seen Sparky in like 5 months. 5 months without my puppy!!! How did I survive? I must be magical…

    On a heavier note, (true to my nature) Why do teenagers hate their parents and honor their social group? Well I sort of know the answer. When you’re an adolescent you become aware that there is a whole world out there- and you somewhat resent your parents for not showing you. You think in a way that it’s their fault you were sheltered from life’s obstacles, it’s their fault you were a naïve little child. But it has much more to do with mental development. As you grow older you become more aware and more to do= more to freak out about. We rebel against our parents because we take this foreign anxiety and direct toward something specific. We transfer the uncontrollable into a plain where it can be controlled. But I am so glad that I’m over this phase. It takes a while to realize your social group cares little about your true needs as a human. Most are concerned with excelling in whatever field of life they determine is most important. To acquaintances you are rarely more than a pawn- a power personality to latch on to or a servant to be stepped on. I was the same way- I truly cared about few in my social group. I was more concerned with being the biggest baddest bad-ass on the planet. But underneath our selfish exteriors, we are all just children who want to be understood and accepted. Remember this and you will be intimidated by few, perhaps none.

    You have to seek out the few special people who are really interested in caring and being cared about. The ones who truly do not give a *** about social status and see it all for what it really is- a shallow fallacy. In the real world, you become a hero by sticking to your tasks, by contributing to society, and by honoring your individuality. Not by conforming to a crowd; be they heroes or anti-heroes. Until you find those people, you have your family if you’re lucky. They are hopefully wonderful people who respect your opinions and love you unconditionally. They care about you enough to not let you live in your own bullshit, they challenge your beliefs, and they teach you all they know. Maybe your brother entertains you and tests your thinking, like mine does. Maybe your mother serves as a role model for competence, like mine does. And maybe your father pushes the envelope of intellectual curiosity. And your dog- maybe he wags his tail when you walk through the door and lies at your feet during slumber. Maybe your home is a safe haven you can escape to free from the insecurity of isolation. Mine is. And it strikes me as ironic that the very place I detested as a prison restricting me from my lawful freedoms, is now the only place I can turn to shield me from this over-complicated over-simplified abyss known as existence.

    G-d it’s good to be at child-like ease once again, even if it is only short-lived. Here I am accepted, here I am respected, I don’t fit in here but it doesn’t matter. I love it.

    Most people at my school are superbly functional- I miss the air of dysfunction that I grew up in. The second I walked into my grandma’s apartment after leaving school (the first time), I was greeted by my retarded brother sawing off scissor loops that were stuck securely to his fingers like stiff constricting rings. And only moments later I spotted a flowery night gown yelling in a distinct Jewish grandmother accent “How could you be so stupid?”

    Home sweet home.

    But still, that was nothing compared to the soothing dysfunction I am greeted with here. Of course, first by my tenacious brother.

    Mark: “Sam, why does Tigger smell so bad?

    Sam: (Thinks hard) I don’t know  ‘cuz… I have no idea.

    Mark: Because he’s always playing with pooh.

    Sam: (giggles) That’s funny.

    O but it’s not over…

    Mark: Ok, ok I got another one. What kind of bee produces milk?

    Sam: I don’t know a milk be.

    Mark: No. A boo-bee.

    Sam: (laughs) What are you, five?

    Ellen (Sam’s mother): I’d say about six.

    Mwa ha ha ha ha.

    Do you see what I mean? There are no boundaries in my family largely in part to my brother’s lack of social filter (due to his mental retardation).  Now that I have out-grown my immature discomfort; my juvenile denial of my parents’ human-experience, no topics are off limits. Not sex, not drugs, not bodily functions… And that is amazing. Knowing I can reveal the extent of my insanity and I will still be loved and respected. No matter how different I am, here there is no reason to be insecure. That is certainly not true for my social environments.

    I know everyone feels different to some extent; which is perfectly rational in the way that everyone’s experiences are in some way unique. But it appears that I have, for the most part, been wildly different from my social surroundings. And as a result I have often felt wildly insecure. In camp I started out as Isolated by shyness, and then I became outlandish and perverse. In public art school I felt isolated by my sheltered experience, and so I became a pathetic druggie bad-ass. In rehab, I didn’t give a ***. My priorities did not involve fitting in, they involved mostly getting    the *** out of rehab; an overwhelmingly imposing reality. So I worked, I worked my ass off, and discovered slowly but surely that it was ok to be the real me. On top of that, every resident was forced to show compassion, it was serious.  Talking behind a resident’s back was strictly prohibited, and we followed that statute simply because we never knew which of our peers would betray our trust in the name of staff’s approval. We played by the rules because we were afraid of getting caught, receiving punishment, and in turn having to stay an extra day, week, or month. O, the horror.  And though the “kindness and consideration” extended by my peers felt repulsively insincere, it still provided grounds for security. They were restrained from making my life miserable, they were forced to accept me, and so I had no social anxiety.  

    And then I ventured into real high school once again. Well it wasn’t really real. The school was centered on a progressive education; in other words, it was just another artsy-fartsy love your neighbor kind of environment. But luckily, no matter how hard the school tried, the students were still as superficial and judgmental as people tend to be in the real world.  And in a class of 36, that doesn’t leave many options. I was also going through a rough transition. I still longed to be accepted but was brainwashed with values counter intuitive to City-teenage life. The result: I tried to present my identity with the concreteness that the cool kids presented theirs. I over-exposed my opinions and my history because I felt the need to protect my identity, to explain to people why I could not be like them. I was hoping they would honor me for my past fearless attempts at sheer hard-coreness. I thought at the very least they would accept my otherness if they knew how I came to be this way. But they didn’t. And I say that this is lucky because I had to face reality sometime. I had to learn that in the real world, compassion and understanding are seldom shown.

    Accepting that Truth was painful, it still is, but it’s an important lesson to learn. It made me realize how lucky I really am to have this brain, this body, and this circumstance. It made me really value my individuality and find comfort in my own skin. Pretty soon life revealed itself to be my oyster, and what other people thought of my self-directed path was out of my control.

    “What other people think of me is none of my business.”- A favorite quote.

     And though I will always be curious and always try to read people- I know that their judgment is due only to their own ignorance. They need to look down at people in order to justify their worthiness as a human being, and that makes me feel sorry them. I’m sorry that their world and circumstances and identity do not permit them to be more open minded. But I understand that, for now they need to be that way in order to feel adequate.

    As for me, I still feel wildly different. I know I am hard to get for most people, and I know most rarely have the patience to try. In my college now, it seems that I grew up rather differently. I had more freedom to raise myself, to be myself, to make my own mistakes, to correct them on my own. Being a product of a dysfunctional family with a past burdened by tremendous loss, immigration, poverty, death, and mental disorders but blessed with intellect, love, money, freedom of expression, honesty, understanding, support, kindness, gratitude, and awe; seems to make me stand out among many who were driven by structure and societal standards. I am a result of Jewish school, hippie camp, then Jewish camp, then art school, followed by rehab, hippie school, and art school once again- I don’t really have your standard set of experiences. I don’t feel the standard pressure most do from their families. But it doesn’t matter. Today, I am pursuing self esteem. Nothing external can tell me whether I’m adequate or not. I was born, I live, and therefore I have a right to pursue my dreams, and channel my opinions toward a writing and art career. I don’t have to shout who I am at the top of my lungs anymore. I can remind myself where my perceptions lie silently in my work, or to the people who care.

     And as for the people who judge. It’s ok, go ahead and judge. The way I see it I have the capacity to be open minded. I have room to let the possibilities in reality overwhelm me, drive me a little crazy. I don’t have to protect my ideals rigidly and condescendingly because I can always respond to anxiety by writing or drawing about it. Others may not have an outlet for their anxiety and so they will protect themselves from feeling it. I feel sorry for you but I also don’t. Whoever you are, you will believe that you are better because you are different from me. I’m a little jealous because only my accomplishments contain enough power to boost my ego. You are simply lucky that you can feel self-esteem more easily. I don’t take it personally, just don’t bother me.

    I do my thing and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, And you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.

    -          Gestalt Prayer

     p.s. I’m going to stop taking these sleep meds, they make me completely disoriented. And I still have to write about my new house, my boy problems, and my writing from wilderness; how Native American’s inspire me .


  • Tell me something, why is life so blah?

    I remember, back in middle school, when I didn’t do my homework, my mom would fix it with a note.

    To whom it may concern,

    Samantha was unable to complete her last two assignments due to a family emergency. Please allow her an extra day as she has yet to find time to review her school work.

    Best regards,

    Ellen ***

    Well, I’ve got a better excuse this time for not blogging. I just started a new sleeping meds and it makes me feel like ***. It’s supposed to the first couple of days which sucks balls. But I’ve been so fucking week, my throat’s all dry, my heads been killing me… I really couldn’t do a whole lot. So I saved my blogs for today because today the side effects are starting to wear as my body adjusts to its new chemicals. Yay!! So below is my “Why is life so Blah?” blog. Please enjoy. I’ll probably write like two or three today.


                    I’m not living in concrete fallacies anymore. Now that I’m older (almost eighteen) I realize how profoundly alone I am. I have to work and make my own choices. My parents might be responsible for my lack of preparation, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s on me- this is my life. If I give it my all, commit 100%, my chances of success are much better. Granted, I still need to balance work with personal needs to make sure I’m mentally stable. I think it will be ok. I know I’m a competent individual; It’s just a little scary especially with these new anxieties. But Its only natural that anxiety becomes more accessible as you get older. More to do = more to freak out about. Luckily my anxiety isn’t social anymore because I’m aware that life is bigger than human interaction. I have existential anxiety now, where inferiority complexes really belong. No human is all-knowing, no human is worth worshipping, but the mysterious fucking planet is. People can be understood but existence cannot. So I’m left looking up at the starry night sky, fully aware of how existentially insignificant I am.  But I have faith that there is more to life than natural being. I think there is an intellectual and spiritual purpose for our continuation, even if it is self-perpetuated. We all need to delude ourselves to some degree; humans can’t comprehend everything and still remain sane. I know that the world isn’t about me, but my world is. And I could be wrong about g-d, but no one has any proof. I feel a spiritual connection to life. I feel grateful for my creation. I feel like life is incredible and who can I thank for all this. Nature can’t explain why I am so conscious of me; nature can’t explain the depth of my soul. Everything is just too beautiful, too amazing to not have a mastermind behind it. G-d must be a boy. Dinosaurs? I mean really. What girl would think it was a good idea to have giant stupid lizards roam the planet.

                    Really, I can’t decide if I’m overly perceptive, if I see reality in many of its truths or if I’m just a fucking nut-case. I mean, I think I make perfect sense, but I’m sure schizophrenics think they make perfect sense too. The general consensus among my peers is that I’m a little bit extra out of my mind. But I think I need to be in order to find success in a creative field. I think I can assume I have the capacity to be more honest about life; I can afford to let the truth drive me a little crazy because I can always write about or draw it.

    Besides, what is mental health anyway? I’ve heard that it’s characterized by the stability of one’s illusions; that normal is when you gain self-esteem and believe whole heartedly in following the societal system. Normal is when you are more or less content to believe the word of higher authority to stay inside your own little box and not let your mind wonder to the actuality of the situation. To just be, trust, and follow… Well, I’m not normal. I can’t perceive life as a system laid out for me. I’m not content to follow cultural routine. I see life more like a shopping spree. It’s this store, this container, filled with all sorts of products and it’s a mad scramble to grab them off the shelf. One must fight for what they desire in life. Yes, there is a general order of things. But life is. It just exists, it’s this boring continuum of absolutely nothing.  I mean, it is strictly what you make it. And I’m wondering at this point in my life. What differentiates a hobby from a resume builder? Is this blog a whiney waste of time or a move toward a writing career? Genius editorial or crazy rant? Honest or shameless? Am I moving in the right direction at the very least?


    Someone give me feedback. Am I breaking down social barriers, am I exposing hidden truths. Or am I just revealing what a head case I actually am? My work, is it work? Or is it creative obsession? I have to think about these things, it’s not just school anymore. It’s not just eight hours out of my day and then homeward bound where I can watch TV and eat Mac and cheese.  I need to be productive. I should talk to someone. I should talk to Amy.

    Amy? Peter? How does one make it in their respective creative field? Is it a combination of exposure, networking, persistence, luck, individuality, a degree, talent, intelligence? Really, you promise? Because I’m scared; I don’t really have a day job to fall back on. I plan to move back to New York for grad school. Work as a yoga teacher and pursue an art and writing career until opportunity comes a’ knocking. Till then I’m going to study, learn, dissect the meaning of everything, understand, breathe, sleep, smile at strangers blankly concealing the ever spinning wheels of perceptions within.

    Seriously, sometimes I feel like running up to people and saying “Hello perfect stranger, underneath all the lies of our development we are actually the same.” What the *** are social barriers? They are intangible, where do they come from? I just want to like shake people and say “this isn’t real, this little world, everything is so massive and abstract.” There is no formula, no guarantees; the world is your grand mysterious fucking oyster.” Ahhhhh…. It’s so crazy. I’m either totally encompassed by this moment or I’m constantly reminded of how insignificant it is. If I try to delude myself, I go too far and dive into my narrow logic whole-heartedly. If I break down my illusions the flood gates of truth come pouring in and I get anxious. And I know the answer. There is plan, follow it but be mindful that nothing is inevitable. That this = Degree but from there… You just have to keep trying.

    I don’t have to work my ass off to get a degree, I don’t have to give 100%, but I want to. I like to bear my soul in my work and I would like some justification that hard work validates some higher purpose. I guess I’m just more anxious now because I’m working on my own. No concrete assignments. I’m just studying and analyzing life for my own mental health, for writing and art material, I’m studying this and that out of curiosity. It’s awesome I love it. But I just hope it’s a productive move toward my future, toward exposure, and not just the clinical obsession of a basket case. Either way, it’s got to be healthier then what I used to do to pass the time. ..


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