Stream of Consciousness

I have not written poetry since highschool, and now, all of a sudden (as of the end of 2008), I am finding the words again. Thank you to the Poetry Train and the writing blog community for helping me find my way again.

My poetry process is pretty stream of consciousness. I don't tend to spend a lot of time on my poems and usually write what comes to mind within minutes, but sometimes longer.

Like a breathe of fresh air
I have found my way again
Words flow like smooth velvet
On my skin
I do not pretend to be a poet
But I write in spite of it
In spite of you
I stay true to my creativity
Words inside of me
Sputter out
Drip drop, drip drop
Like a leaky faucet
Gushing for attention
Notice me
But do not fix what can't be undone
Tick tock, tick tock
Time moves onward
The ants march slowly forward
Trekking the barren wasteland
Their mighty size carries an amazing burden
Shared by all
Trip-hop, Hip-Hop
The music surrounds me
Slam poetry

December Views - 12

Stardust

Stardust
Starstuff
We are all just
Exploding into being
of the meaning
Earth
Universe
We are all one

Cataclysmic centrical comets
Careening past shelters
Chaos theory
Expanding
Demanding
Energy personified

Stardust
Starstuff
We are all just

One Single Impression for more Stardust poems

December Views - 11

Cats
My roommates have a cat. Actually, they have three. I do not like cats as much as dogs. I used to have a jack russell terrier. My friends would say that he was the perfect dog for me. Small, cute, energetic. Just like me, or so they thought. When I moved, I moved away from everything I knew. I probably won't see this dog again. I miss him. It makes me sad sometimes. It's hard to think he's not "mine" anymore. For what are possessions anyway? I don't feel bound to anything. And, I suppose it's just as well. I'd rather leave the memories behind than live in them. That to me is a sadder fate. Here's to hoping 2009 is a helluvalot better than 2008... I don't normally look forward to New Years. It's just a passing day, a passing hour, a passing time.. Nothing truly eventful. Nothing truly is very eventful when you think you've got your whole, dreadful life planned. Next year seems more exciting, more unknown, but perhaps, more equally terrifying. I welcome it.

I guess I didn't really talk about cats.

December Views - 10

View from my bedroom window:

I Believe...

I came across a friend's blog who is going through some similar life changing experiences as I am. She had a list of things she believed, and I thought it an interesting reflection that I should write about sometime. Sunday Scribbling's latest prompt on belief has given me an excuse to finally start it. I don't write lists, since I tend to want to elaborate into paragraphs. So aside from my reflection on religious beliefs, without further ado:

I believe in the law of attraction.
Yes, I believe that good thoughts and intentions will give you good actions and results just as much as bad thoughts will give you bad results. Positivity and negativity are self perpetuating. I have never read or seen The Secret, but I am interested in the message it conveys. Granted, I think some of the stories are far-fetched but the basic principle is something I can get behind. You have no control over anyone but yourself, so anything outside of yourself as relates to the law of attraction is beyond your control. That being said, I DO believe that sending thoughts or prayers out to the universe may give you "answers", although in places where you may not necessarily expect.

I believe that everyone has choices and free will
Everyone has control over their own actions and decisions. We are not puppets to some grand master plan. Yes, this means I don't believe in fate or destiny. They are nice thoughts, but not practical. If you can't take personal responsibility for your life, and choose to participate in life, then what is the point?

I believe that suffering is universal
We come into this world crying. Life is suffering. The Buddhist perspective teaches that there will always be suffering, but there is a way out of suffering. All things must come to pass, and so too, the impermanence of life. Sometimes, I think the meaning of life is to find happiness, or be happy. Who doesn't want that? But there is a balance, a yin and yang between suffering and happiness. One can't experience happiness without first experiencing suffering. All humans have experienced suffering at some point of their lives, and so we have suffering in common. We are really not so different from eachother if we can only consider that we are all human, and that we have all suffered, and that we all would like to be happy, or at least balanced and content. Because of this...

I believe that we are NOT alone, no matter how lonely one may feel.
I have come across several people who are going through similar things as I am; divorce, break-up, separation, whatever it is, it's HARD. People go through this. It's part of life, living, growing, being. I am not alone, and never will be, no matter how solitary or lonely I may feel. Whatever I've gone through, someone else has already gone through, or worse. People can relate to universal suffering. Because of this, I have been able to find meaning in my suffering and turn it around. I have been feeling a greater sense of compassion and strength for what I am going through. And, I am grateful.

I believe that love exists
I'm not sure if I believe in "the One", because I know that there are way too many people in the world that one can be compatible with. That being said, I DO believe that love exists, and that people can stay together for 50 years. It's a nice thought, a lifepartner, a confidante, a friend. Granted, I'm sure you have to be open to this kind of love with true trust and compassion in order to achieve something so great.. And i'm not sure that i've ever been there yet, but I am young, and I know that my time will come. I believe love does not discriminate, only people do. A love between two men or two women is no lesser of love between a man and woman. I have always been so afraid of commitment, for forever, yet yearned so much for it. I am learning how to come to terms with this, how to have no expectations so there is room for love to grow, how to trust, and how to take the leap of faith with an other..

I believe that everything happens for a reason
It is cliche, but it's something I truly believe. We are put onto this earth to learn, and life may have a series of events that teach us lessons. Nothing is good or bad, it just is. The only thing that is "good" or "bad" is what the mind adds. For example, death is a sad, sometimes traumatic event, but it is neither good or bad, it just is. Death can help you come to terms with grief and maybe teach you about your own life, and how you would like to live it. Heartbreaks teach you strength and independence. No matter what happens in life, you can always learn from your experiences. Everything happens for a reason, and everything will all work out in the end.

December Views - 9

Eve

I won't really have stable internet connection until Saturday, when my internet and cable are installed. Yes folks, i've been pirating internet. But the connection is never reliable, and I stay after work a lot just to have internet time. I called the cable company for the first time in my life, like a real grown up. A real, live, grown-up!

I have been invited to three Christmas gatherings, one with a coworker, a friend, and another with my book club friend. I am considering taking up the offer with the latter. They don't want me to spend Christmas alone, and I am still trying to figure out if I do too. This sounds completely egotistical, but I am feeling lately that every decision I make is somehow that much more important right now. That much more meaningful to the pieces that fit and make out "my life", or some semblance to it. I feel like a drifter. I don't know when this will change, but I'm still trying to figure out my footing here. Right now, I don't really feel worthy of anyone's time for Christmas. Maybe I will just be alone.

I never claimed to be in Christmas spirit. Santa is plastic anyway. Fake. Hollow. But snowmen are nice.

SLUT (a pussy autobiography)

Boy: The floor would be great. A warm bed next to a beautiful woman would be awesome. lol. Hey, I can dream, right?
Girl: You can sleep with me.
Girl: Just no sex :P
Boy: lol. I wasn’t expecting any. I won’t flirt with you.
Girl: I might flirt with you. I dunno. I’m shy though..
Boy: Or you might think I’m ugly. I don’t know, I guess we’ll find out in two days.
Girl: Guess so. No expectations..
Boy: Well I am thinking this means I may get to snuggle with you and just the thought of that makes me smile so ima leave it at that. No expectations. :)

You are a slut, her conscience says. You toy with men and use them for your own pleasure. Seeing them fall for you makes you feel powerful. Men are so fucking weak to their desire, and you thrive on being that desire. You don’t respect them, you don’t even respect yourself. How could you when you go to bed with them in one night? How could you when you so willingly make out with no intention of a relationship? How could you when you flash your boobs on the internet for all to see. Slut, slut, slut! You won’t let love in. You dangle at the edges, waiting for your prey to fall into that web you spin. When men don’t show their desire, you feel weak to their presence and stagnate. You grow bored and destroy the one thing you thought you had: commitment. You opt out of your life with the one person you ever considered home, and you go on being the fucking slut that you always were. How does it feel now, bitch?

They were to meet at Starbucks that night, for the girl did not want to risk meeting someone she had known online at her house. Always meet in public, they advise; a fair warning. The boy was driving to Utah for Christmas and the girl lived on the way. They would hang out, watch a movie, and play the friends with benefits role, or so she had thought. She expected him around 6, and that he would text when he got there and she would come to meet him.

Years ago, she dreamt she was a little girl in a pretty red dress, with fine blonde curls and a porcelain doll appearance; sitting on the lap of an old gray haired man bouncing her up and down with his knees. She felt something hard underneath and pressing against her, aiming for her crotch and poking. “Grandpa’s going to make you feel good.” But it didn’t feel good. It felt sharp and shameful and somehow, without even knowing why, she felt she had to clean herself of the dirt.

Just thinking about this now, she didn’t even know why she had the dream. She suffered no sexual abuse as a child, so she thought, but who knows what’s hidden beneath the recesses of her mind. The dream was so vivid, she felt as if she had lived it. It was the Victorian Era, and she was almost certain it must be a past life. It was the only thing that made sense. But the girl did not believe in past lives.

It was 7:30pm when the boy finally texted her. Containing her excitement, she hoped he had found Starbucks ok.

I’m about to start drivin. I dunno how long it’ll take. Heard the roads are pretty bad. Its ok if I show up late?

Holding back her disappointment, she tried to be okay with the loose change of plans knowing that he wanted to get to Utah earlier than intended and not wanting to stop him. Already cozy in her room, and thinking of a late arrival, the girl no longer wanted to meet at Starbucks. He told her he’d call once he got into town and she would give him directions to her house.

You are a dumb bitch. Don’t let him meet you on his terms! Do you know how crazy it is to meet people online AT YOUR HOUSE? Don’t be such a spineless pushover, slut. Take the power back to your vagina. Don’t let him dick you around. If he’s going to mess with you, you need to dropkick his ass and put those kung fu skills to good use. Let’s see that ninja freestyle shit.

How bad could it be? She did not live alone. Her roommates were around. What could really happen? Much to her chagrin, she had met boys online at her house several times before, while living with her parents and with their approval. Everything would be fine, she tried to convince herself. All the while, thinking about how dumb she was. The gut instincts were ringing like bells, calling out ATTENTION! ATTENTION! Somehow, this felt different than all those other times at her parents. She had better think about a place that would be open past midnight. She had better think about plan B, or maybe it was plan C, since the original plan was already abandoned.

Fuck.

Yes, she had wanted to fuck all the boys she had met online, but she only fucked one of them. Inhibition and shyness got the better of her, but she was still a slut. She could feel sex and desire oozing out of her skin. She could feel the thrill of power knowing that they wanted to fuck her too. Inhibition and shyness were non-existent with the unlucky fucker that ever graced her pussy. It was like some magical carpet ride, elevated to heights above the clouds, then swooping down for a crash landing. Hold on tight, ‘cause nothing lasts forever. Mama always said don’t touch anything or you’ll break it.

It was 12:30am when she finally texted the boy to ask where he was. He had been aimlessly wandering around town for an hour, lost, instead of calling like he said he would. Annoyed by the massive miscommunications, and the rude inconvenience that he expected her to wait for him at unreasonable hours on a work night, she began to feel plan B or C, or even X Y Z were not worth her time. The movie was definitely out of the picture, Starbucks was long past gone, and Taco Bell probably wasn’t open. She agreed to meet him at the Target parking lot where she would lead the way to a 24-hour restaurant. By the time she was out the door, she realized, much to her relief, that the roommates had blocked her car in the driveway. Dumb as she was, she did not feel comfortable giving directions to her house. The boy took advantage of her offer to stay the night, and she was NOT about to have a stranger crash at her house without first hanging out. It was his own fault that he didn’t leave at a reasonable time and stick to the plan. The girl didn’t owe him anything, least of all her pussy. Not even that thrill of power could hold her appeal to him there. His true colors shined bright as an ugly beacon.

Disappointed, the boy said he would keep on driving, and hung up over the phone. Like a man, the boy began to blame her over a series of text. He had no idea where he was thanks to her or how to get back to the highway (the highway was around the corner). It was freezing in his car. He knew her for years. He got all excited for nothing. If he was in her shoes, he would offer shelter. Now he knew she wasn’t a real friend. Of course, the girl knew she wasn’t a real friend, and that she didn’t really KNOW him because they had never met. No shit she wasn’t a friend, and she felt no regret. He was looking more pathetic by the minute and she could not tolerate passive-aggressive bullshit. The girl no longer felt she wanted the power. She felt the power a true inconvenience and not REAL power at all. The girl began to understand that she did not want to be a slut, would not be a slut, or ever be a slut. Her own pussy felt repulsive, and she feared the power it would play if he ever had the guts to meet her properly. She feared the attraction he would have, drawn like a magnet, to fall for heights above the clouds then crash down to reality. There was no such thing as no expectation and as much as the girl wanted to believe it, she knew it was false. She did not want to disrespect her pussy, herself, or any boy. She did not want to meet him, fuck him, or mess around. She was not a slut after all.

December Views - 8

I am fortunate to live in an area full of every day beauty and gorgeous sunsets. I am only reconnecting with my love for photography after a long hiatus, and already finding that it is calming me. Photography gives me a meditative sense of beauty that I never quite appreciate in every day life when not behind the lens. Landscapes and nature are my favorite, as if you can't tell. But it is also in seeing the landscapes and nature in a mindful way that I am starting to feel more compassionate and connected to the world at large. Reading The Art of Happiness, with the Dalai Lama, also helps i'm sure. There is a healing, therapeutic process in photography, art and creativity in general. I used to say "I used to be an artist", but I am only now realizing that I have always been, and AM an artist, even when I neglect artistic endeavors. Art and creativity is always with me, even at rest. I just need the confidence to DO, and to continue perpetuating the artistic expression. Finding my place back into art has been a very welcoming and enjoyable experience. Why wouldn't it be? I am realizing all over again that this is who I am, and always will be.

December Views - 7

December Views - 6

December Views - 5

Snow
It has been snowing all week, and to tell you the truth, I am not a big fan. I was born in a tropical place, that's my excuse. But really, I have been living in a climate of seasonal snow for some time now, nearly most my life. Granted, the snow we get here is generally slushy mixed with rain, but it is still snow. It is still cold. I remember making snowmen and snow angels when I was 6. I remember snow fights and sledding down hills. Currently, I live in a snowboarding town. I live by the mountains, and I have not tried any sort of snow sport. Everyone is really into snowboarding, and it is not my culture. I hate it. I haven't tried it, but I can say I hate the culture so much as to be completely turned off. I am a bah-humbug. I am not celebrating Christmas this year. No family to go to, by choice. No presents to give. Nothing. I will spend my time alone.

December views has at least illuminated my love for photography and made winter snow that much more bearable. Through the eyes of the lens, I see beauty in what I generally see as a nuisance. Someday, I'd like to try snowshoeing but given my dislike for being out in the cold, would I really even enjoy? Maybe if I had my camera in my hands...

Winter Solstice

Snowflakes spin in silent space, shimmering
From here to there
Or the places in between
Winter solstice
The day is the shortest
Fleeting daylight of loves past
Chill and cold crevices crack my composure
Crystalline tears cross circular cheeks, crying

Night’s air is still and lonely, quiet
(To see my breath means I am still alive)
Winter solstice
The night is the longest
Fleeting darkness of sorrow present
Senses surface shining self-indulgence
Suffering surmises strength
I surrender to something singular, solid

Tomorrow comes another day
Time shifts by and seasons change
Warmth surrounds the burgeoning spring
Winter solstice
A passing thing
Fleeting occurrences of the spaces in between
Memory endures what might have been
Feelings flash ferocious flings
A fire inside that cannot sting

Late

Jane stared wide eyed at the Wal-Mart aisle wondering which pregnancy test she should get. Wondering which would give her the best result, or maybe, the worst. The result she did not want to face. Overwhelmed by choices, she sighed and picked three at random. Just in case, she thought. Third time’s the charm.

At 18, Jane was just starting her first term at ivy league university. The hook up culture was all around her, and Jane was no exception. The girl next door with a wild side, Jane loved her times with Cowboy Crooner, Italian Stallion, Rocky; she had a codename for all of them. Cowboy Crooner liked it rough, and Italian Stallion wouldn’t finish until she had an orgasm. Rocky loved to give, and she found all of her lovers had their own special qualities that made it enjoyable. But was it worth this chance? Drunken nights without a condom happened who knows when.

At her apartment now, Jane fumbled for the test strip and nervously unwrapped the packaging. She had skipped last month’s period and it was already mid-November. Stooping over, hands shaking, toilet seat cold and unforgiving, she drew the strip underneath her and began. Red pill or blue pill? Pink or blue. She would know soon. The wait was unbearable.

writing prompt via Sunday Scribblings

December Views - 4

December views - 3

I Knew Instantly

I knew instantly that my life would change when I saw her. We met at a book club: me, a curious bisexual and she, a tiny five foot pixie with a sparkle in her eyes. I had never been with a woman before, but I knew my giddiness and the way my heart skipped a beat would soon change that.

First, we hit it off at the art walk. It was as if the other girls in the group weren’t even there, as we walked side by side and asked each other a billion questions, eating our mio gelato ice cream on the cold winter’s day.

Then, I asked her if she was interested in applying for a position at my work, as we were hiring for an assistant and she was looking for a job. She thanked me profusely and seemed excited at the prospect. She asked me out for coffee before her interview. That didn’t work out so she asked me out for happy hour the next week. I gladly obliged.

We met at the library before happy hour. It seemed appropriate for two people in a book club, and it was right downtown where the restaurant we would go to was located. I saw her immersed in a book entitled Under the Black Flag, a non-fiction about pirate romances. As I approached, she handed me the book and asked me to join her other book club. Under the Black Flag was the book they were reading. I’d love to join, I told her. I’d love to try all kinds of new things and get back into old things as well.

Like what?
Like, figure drawing, and being with a girl. But I didn’t say that.
“Like drawing and painting again.”
What’s your favorite thing to draw?
I love drawing people, I said.
I still have to paint a naked woman sometime for a friend, on his request.

She was intrigued. We wandered through the aisles and I picked up another book. The Best Lesbian Erotica, 2006. Maybe this would inspire me, I explained. If I can envision a woman, I can draw one. After all, where could I ever find a willing model?

I checked out the books and tried to ignore the guy’s obvious grin on his face at the thought of two lesbians reading erotica. Boys will be boys. We both burst out laughing as we braved the cold winter air and started to walk to the sushi restaurant. It was the best sushi I ever had. We split the bill like two single ladies would. Like two friends.

Afterwards, I asked her over to my place. The bed was cozy and I began to thumb through the lesbian erotica as she found her place in Under the Black Flag and began to read on the floor. This was really turning me on. I covered myself up in a blanket and slowly ran my hand down to my pants. I thought she would be too immersed in her book to notice. My thumb swirled around my clit as I stuck three fingers into my cunt.

What are you doing? She asked, breaking my spell.
I heard you breathing heavy.

Apparently, I couldn’t keep quiet.

I have to admit, this is really turning me on, I said-caught-cheeks red the color of rouge.

Well let me have a look at it, she said, reaching over me to grab the book. She began to read a paragraph out loud.

Lucy placed her hands gently on Karen’s soft, supple breasts, twirling her fingers around Karen’s nipples. Responding to the arousal, Karen pressed her chest against Lucy’s as they embraced in a kiss. Fingers groping bare skin, bare butt, bare pussy. Fingers inside Lucy, Lucy kissing Karen’s neck, and chest, licking Karen’s nipples in sweet succession…

As she read, she drew closer to me.

Karen moaned as Lucy gently worked her way down her belly.

Her hand touched my arm and lightly graced the surface, sweeping side to side.

The smell of her wet juices was strong now, kissing her hip bones. Karen brushed her hand against her own clit and Lucy stuck her finger in, exploring the warmth.

Her hand reached under my shirt and rubbed my belly.

Fingers dripping, Lucy drew her fingers towards Karen’s mouth. As Karen willingly licked them clean, Lucy began softly kissing Karen’s wet, trembling pussy.

Slowly rubbing upwards, her hand reached my breasts and rubbed my nipple underneath my bra. She was seducing me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the book from her and threw it to the ground. We spent the night together in warm, comfortable cuddles and orgasmic bliss, mimicking the erotic stories. I knew instantly that I had my model right before my eyes.

writing prompt via Sunday Scribblings

December Views - 2

Tree

December Views - 1

I have been surfing a lot of blogs lately and been inspired by the writing and photography community. Without being too pedantic, I feel as if I should explain. I am seeking solace in creative endeavors. Getting back into old hobbies such as photography and writing is a good step to nurturing my creative soul. Someday, I will venture into painting again... one step at a time. For now, I am thankful to get back into photography and inspired by the many artist bloggers out there! I hope that this medium can push me to do more art, as it is always great to share. I am starting to envision this blog as an eclectic mix of introspection, semi-fiction, fiction, poetry, photography and art! This excites me.

My first December View is just outside my place of residence. It has been snowing here. A lot. I live inside a snow globe.

before

and

after

Something Fun

I saw this commercial for the first time in the Philippines and it really made an impression on me. Later, I saw it on a tv show in one of those "top commercial" countdowns. I have to say that this is my favorite commercial, for good reason. :)

Change from the Mind

I was watching Brain Fitness on OPB, the only channel my roommates get on tv. It was an interesting scientific look at the brain and its ability to change over time by creating new connections between neurons. Scientists call this phenomenon brain plasticity. This process can be achieved by learning and repetition. For example, the muscle memory skill it takes to practice a complicated concerto on the violin, or learning a new language. Using this application can accomplish many things. You can retrain your physical capacity and regain muscle function with paralysis, keep your brain in good condition as we age by completing certain tasks and exercising, and even learn how to be happier, self-fulfilled individuals. Scientifically, we can achieve greater happiness and personal stability by simply retraining our brains! This is good news in terms of overcoming unwanted negative behaviors, self-depreciating thoughts, and other "bad" states of mind. Behaviors and patterns of thought are not fixed personality traits. Rather, they are things that we can change with a little repetition, discipline and persistence. This is, in essence, what the Dalai Lama teaches in the book The Art of Happiness. It is not an easy process, but it is achievable and attainable to everyone who works at it! It is a logical approach to becoming more well rounded individuals.

Lately, I have been thinking more about Buddhism and wanting to study the concepts that I had abandoned in the beginning of my college years. Buddhism was the one philosophy that stood out to me as being similar to the thoughts I was already thinking within myself, before even reading about it. In that way, Buddhism really spoke to me. My abandonment towards Eastern philosophy to learn more about myself came about from pure laziness, and perhaps, the unwillingness to learn and discover the self. I don't believe in reincarnation, like Buddhists, and the middle path way of life was "too hard" for me to accomplish that I just gave up completely. Like any philosophy or idea, it is perfectly legitimate to pick and choose what you agree with or don't agree with, and what you want to focus on or follow. To give up completely is the ultimate cop out of life. I felt its affects by going down the path of negativity.

While I still consider myself an atheist, I am starting to feel for the first time since highschool that my beliefs are incomplete, left unfinished. This is due to the standstill in my life to replace religion with spirituality or concepts on how to live. There is still more to question, and more to learn. Buddhism is a daily commitment towards mindfulness, compassion and passive action towards life and living. The concepts in Buddhism apply brain plasticity. When your life falls apart, it is not atypical to question your beliefs and find something that works for you. In my case, it probably won't hurt to delve into Eastern philosophy again. I exist, so how can I make the most of my existence? What is the meaning of life? How do I create meaning in my life? Learning new concepts will only help to solidify the self and tackle this new chapter in my life head on.

The Man of my Dreams

We were in the same room together. He was perfect. Tousled red hair, and green eyes. Did he really invite me over to his house, I thought? I sauntered over to the bedroom to grab a blanket, wearing only a tank top, underwear and no bra. Joining him in the living room, I sat on the couch next to him and curled myself up. He looked over his shoulder towards my direction and leaned towards me. I grabbed his hand and held it at my crotch. I didn't have to do anything else, he did the rest. He slowly began to rub my clit. I moaned in approval and pleasure, undulating my hips. The soft cloth of my underwear rubbed against me, turning me on even more. I gently took my underwear off, careful not to cease the moment. We were kissing now, as our lips and tongues formed a synchronized dance. Little pecks around my neck, his hand caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples. I lifted my arms up as he took my tank top off. My lips moved down to his chest, down to his belly, around his hip bone and thighs. I focused everywhere but his penis, teasing him. I could feel his hard penis tense, and waiting. Finally, I licked the tip of his shaft and worked my way up and down. He shuddered and I began to ride him. I woke up and felt the sensations tingling through my body and smiled. Today would be a good day.

values

the things i value in myself are sometimes unclear. i go through a lot of self-defeating behavior that is often self-dustructive. it is time i actually pay homage to the qualities in myself that i value and acknowledge these qualities are actually there.

intelligence
being a natural pessimist, i often think i am not smart enough, intelligent enough or that someone is smarter than me. i play the comparison game a lot which does not do anything but cause more self-defeating behavior. i know now that i do not want to go down this path anymore. it served an identity of myself that i no longer want to identify with.

and i am intelligent. i value books and information and learning new things. i can think critically. i know how to analyze my surroundings, people, or myself. it is hard for me to admit my intelligence. i am humble to a fault. it is hard to accept others' compliments, but more likely, it is hard for me to accept my own. i am intelligent. i like to discuss ideas. i like it when people are attracted to my ideas. i value the attraction of mind, it beats the attraction of beauty any day.

humility
i try to be humble because i know that i am no better or worse than the next person. this keeps my ego down, but it also means that i have to be careful not to go the complete opposite and have little self esteem.

compassion and empathy
these go hand in hand. i have a lot of compassion for people that i care about. my heart goes out to them when something is wrong and i have a heightened sense of emotion. it often ends up hurting me in more ways because i have a hard time detaching to the feelings.

health
i value my good health. i value that i rarely get sick in a year and that my body is in fairly good physical condition. i value that i can run 6 miles. i value the way my body looks. i used to hate my body. i would find every little thing wrong with it and magnify that in the mirror. my body looked too boyish, i thought, and prepubescent. i would complain nearly every day about how i looked. it's not a good place to be, for yourself, OR for the people around you. now, i look in the mirror and instead of looking at the bad parts and ruling my thoughts on that, i sway my hips a little, turn a different angle, and smile. i am small, but i still got my curves. my body is beautiful and i should recognize that. feeding both mind and body good thoughts will only help to escalate positive behaviors that will help keep my body in good condition, rather than feeding the negative thoughts it takes to reach for comfort foods that would make one gain weight.

beauty
i am beautiful and it is all in the attitude, the confidence of believing in myself that real beauty can shine. when i don't believe positive things about myself, i become the worst version of myself. sometimes, all you have to do is believe... i am beautiful! i am attractive. i have been told i have the best smile. the softest skin. soft lips. nice legs... and butt. a cute tummy. perfect breasts. sexy hip bones. a long torso. cute nose. small hands. sometimes, it doesn't hurt to be reminded.

passion
i have a lot of passion in life. i don't want to give up. sometimes, it operates against me when i am like a deer in headlights, not knowing where to go or what to do next... but i have so many interests and hobbies bubbling at the surface. i have a lot of potential.

talent
what can i say? with lots of potential comes lots of talent. i can write. it is a fairly recent rediscovery of mine that i enjoy. i am not sure how 'well' i do it, but what matters it that i enjoy doing it. i can play music, mostly on the violin, but with enough practice, i could pick the guitar back up in no time. i have a good ear and a knack for figuring things out on my own. i can draw and paint. i don't give myself enough credit for this one. i often don't think i'm a very good artist at all! but that just means i haven't grown comfortable with my art, which could only mean i need to do more of it. abilities generally come easy to me. my learning curve with sports or athletics matches the high learning curve i have in other artistic abilities.

to remind myself of these traits may help me to find inner peace and strength to get through the self-defeating barriers. all i have to do is believe in these things for the best version of myself to start surfacing.

on the peripheral

over the past several months, i have met many new faces. i am finally starting to create a social network of my own; putting myself out there and not being too shy about it. even so, i still feel like i am on the peripheral. my friends have connected better with other friends, and i am the odd one out. always the solitary creature, i should be proud of this solace and introspection i create within myself. i do not have anyone that i am close with on a deeper level. not even my best friend. i feel i have gained so much by meeting new people, having friends, a social life, and new experiences, yet lost a big part of what i felt was whole and complete: a deeper connection. i am a lot happier with where i am at, don't get me wrong, but i still yearn for something missing. will it ever be enough? i am confused.

present

i want to begin writing but i feel stifled. yesterday, i heard some terrible news from my ex. the pit feeling in my stomach was there before i even clicked on the link he showed me. one of his former students passed away in a car accident. i can't imagine someone i know, let alone am close with, dieing so soon. we place so much value on human relationships and connection that it is hard and devastating when that is taken away. you have memories, at least, but sometimes, those are hard to grasp. i sent him an e-card i made with a quote from his favorite author. there wasn't much else i could think of doing. i offered to go to the funeral as a nice gesture, even though i knew he wouldn't oblige. sometimes, it's the thought that counts.

these are reminders of the fragility and impermanence of life and existance. live each day as if it were the last. live in the moment, and enjoy life. don't waste the one life you've got, and don't settle for something that's not right. i've learned that "home" can be a person, a comfort, a joy that you are loved. my ex has been home to me for years. now that i am without, i no longer feel i have a home. i feel so transient; a drifter just wondering where to go next. we place so much value on human relationships and connection that it is hard and devastating when that is taken away. i have my memories, at least.

my living situation is transient. i live with two roommates-a gay couple-in a house that is not mine. i keep my space bare and minimal as if i could be ready to travel at moments notice. my heart is calling and i know that is my next step. the details haven't materialized yet, but i know i need to take a journey... something life changing and life altering, bold, independent and amazing. everyone new that i have met and made a connection with all have travelled and seem to have the same sort of wanderlust. i feel like it is an omen telling me that i need to travel, just go, and DO it. we've only got one life to live.

God, or something like it (How I became an atheist)

I grew up Catholic. Mom would take me to church every Sundays and I would obnoxiously sing the names on the plaques of the walls to the tune of whatever hymn was being played. Singing was the only good thing about church. I loved the organ and even the excessive vibrado was comforting, somehow.

First communion was torture. I still remember having to wear that little virginal white dress for confession. I was already behind schedule and I did not want to go. It was like pulling teeth. I'm pretty sure I lied in confession, with the priest on the other side. To me it was like taking a test, and I just wanted to pass. Or maybe I just wanted to drop out. I didn't believe in sin.

I didn't see the point of Sunday school. I didn't fit in, and I refused to learn. I remember reading about Noah's Ark. I didn't believe one bit of it. Maybe I felt that God didn't really care, since things were so horrible at home. Dad would spank me with his belt pretty regularly and there was a lot of yelling. Sometimes he'd pull hard on my hair or my ears to straighten me up. If parents are your first exposure to God, it didn't make a very good impression on me.

Mom would make me say a prayer every night as she stood over me to make sure I did them. I still remember this prayer. Dear Jesus. Make me a good girl, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Goodnight, Jesus. I love you, Jesus. Amen. I really wanted to believe I was a good girl, as I made the sign of the cross.

We stopped going to church when I was 10. I was relieved that they no longer forced me to go. I figured they gave up on trying to make me believe in such things. Even so, I felt it socially unacceptable not to believe in God, so I went to my friend's First Baptist Church. I got involved with youth groups and various Christian functions. I remember the concerts and sing songs; how different it was to Catholic hymns. This was also where my dad would have gone to church, if he went. Oh, he went sometimes.

By middle school, I was hanging out at the youth groups every weekend. There was a place for kids to play arcade games, basketball and all kinds of stuff. My clearest memory of this time was hanging out in the parking lot and trying to squish open a ketchup packet with our feet. Life was meaningless like that.

I went to Christian concerts and socials. I saw a Christian pianist play once. I bought his cassette and he signed it for me. My parents took me to see Billy Graham, but it was so packed, all I could see was his big head on a screen. It was such a bore.

When I was about 8, I got "possessed" by a homemade Ouija board. At that time, I was pretty in to how-to books, and I checked them out at the elementary school library every week. One book had an interesting project that involved paper, pen, scissors and a cup. I would write each letter of the alphabet and cut them up into squares. I would arrange these square letters in to one big square and I would use an upside down cup for the Ouija board cursor. I had never heard of an Ouija board at the time. But I played with my new invention every day. I would have my friend do it with me, and sometimes my mom, too. But mostly, I did it on my own.

My obsession worried my parents. I really thought it worked and the cup would move on its own. The Ouija board spirit was named Pam. I began talking to my hands and referring to it as the devil. That really freaked my parents out. That really got a reaction out of them. So I did it more. I began to have nightmares and wake up in sweats. I started to become delusional. Mom took me to the priest and asked if he could exorcise me right in front of the crowd after church let out. I was embarrassed and wanted to crawl away.

One night, mom and dad were packing quietly and then lead me to the car. It was different because mom sat with me in the back seat. She never sat in the back. No one would tell me where we were going. They drove me to a brick building, and took me in. It was a hospital for kids... A special hospital. They took me up the elevators, and into my own room and said goodbye. I was stuck there for weeks. I didn't know why I was there. My window overlooked the cement ground below and more brick building. It was depressing. They stuck needles in my arm. I had to drink piss colored medicine and refused it. I would scream and cry and writhe away. I was so difficult that they had to call my mom to come help me take this vile liquid. She helped calm me and I swallowed. The only respite was the craft room. I would cut and paste and draw as long as I could.

When I finally got out of there, they took me to another church. They thought this would help heal me. They were friendly and let me do crossword puzzles. They sent me their newsletters in the mail for a long time, so I could do more crosswords and games. It was the only thing I liked about the church, and just like that, they decided I was healed. The church saved me.

The church did not save me, and I did not go crazy. It is a difficult subject for me to talk about. I can't believe this even happened to me, it was so long ago. But it was a result of my parent's superstitions and overreactions. Dad called the elementary school library and asked for them to get rid of that how-to book. Needless to say, it was the last how-to book I ever read.

By highschool, I knew all the youth group activity did not make me convinced anymore than I was already, which isn't saying much. I knew I was only fooling myself. What good is following God, loving Him, believing in Him, when I couldn't even love or believe in myself? I vowed that from that day on, I would try to love myself first. I've gotten sidetracked along the way, but I remain true to my word. God does nothing for me. Only I can help that.

Eastern philosophy really spoke to me. They were ideas I was already thinking about and coming to terms with on my own so that by the time I read about it, I was delighted to see that I wasn't the only one out there who thought in this way and that, in fact, there was a whole philosophy for how I think! By college, Buddhism was a passion, but I could never know enough, and finally, I decided that Buddhism and the middle path was "too hard" to follow and gave up. Spirituality did not exist for me in my life.

Religion is an important balancing factor for a lot of people. For atheists, I believe that something needs to replace religion in order to achieve the same kind of balance. Philosophical basis replaces religious faith and for me, I had never delved into the philosophical or thought about it enough to come to terms with a good concept of life, ethics and value. Today, it is time to pick up where I left off from college and "gave up". It is time to reexamine the philosophical. This work is never done.

Incomplete

One day I'll find relief
I'll be arrived
And I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends

One day I'll be at peace
I'll be enlightened
And I'll be married with children and maybe adopt

One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life urgent for a finish line
I have been missing the rapture this whole time, of being forever incomplete

One day my mind will retreat
And I'll know God
And I'll be constantly one with her night, dusk and day

One day I'll be secure
Like the women I see on their 30th anniversaries

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous
And torturous
...but never done

One day I will speak freely
I'll be less afraid and measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art

One day I will be faith filled
I'll be trusting and spacious, authentic and grounded and home

-Alanis Morissette
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The first time I read through these lyrics, I cried. It was last summer and my ex and I were already experiencing some tension. And as much as I know that enlightenment doesn't come when you're married, or security doesn't come on your 30th anniversary, it's still a pretty damn good thought.

I love Alanis.

"Why does it make you cry," he asked, genuinely curious. I couldn't explain it to him then and I can't explain it now... But it speaks volumes with how I feel, have felt, and always will feel.

Transience

I have such a transient state of mind. I'm neither here nor there. I'd like to move to a beautiful, cultural city like San Francisco, or Vancouver. I'd like to see New Zealand, Spain, India and South Africa. I'm very excited by adventure and travel, but don't experience enough to know much.

Today, I viewed a slideshow presentation of a local man and woman who had traveled 1,250 by canoe and hiking through Alaska. Bend people amaze me sometimes. I don't feel worthy living here. I'm too boring, too commonplace. Nothing out of the ordinary. No champion athlete, avid snowboarder, or adventurous rock climber. I'm not a wine bitch, either.

I don't think i'm adventurous enough to canoe 1,250 miles through Alaska. Water just ain't my thing. I don't really consider myself someone who would like to "rough it". But, I am interested in travel. Experiencing culture like the locals do, not like a tourist. I don't really know what i'd like, because I can't say I've tried it. Looking at the slideshow of all the amazing scenery and how happy they were to enjoy eachothers company made me overwhelmed with longing. I realize, I'm fucking lonely. Solitary. Like a panda. I want a travel partner. Someone who is adventurous enough to do things outside what's comfortable. Am I really that kind of person? Why not?

Interactions with people are difficult for me. I never feel like I belong to one group. Friends are necessary, but I can't say that I have close ones. When I'm with them, it is because they've got something planned, and I go along with it. I never do the planning or inviting. If I do invite, it usually doesn't work out. I feel like a chameleon, molding myself to different environments. I go along with what others have going, but do nothing for myself. It would only make sense to practice on my own. Do things on my own. Once I feel confident enough with that, I can invite others along and if they don't come, I go anyway, since that's my plan. This shouldn't be an issue, but it is. I feel like less of myself when I do what others do, and not anything that I would do. What DO I want to do?

If not travel, I want to delve into writing, exploring imaginary worlds through stories. I want to write a novel. It's a fairly new idea, but it's been swirling in my head and getting stronger. I have no clue what I would write about. All I know is: I want to write a novel. Me, a writer? Why not? Now is the time to try on different hats. November flew by and Nano is over, but I could still write, anytime, any month, any day.

I don't have to experience something to know it is not for me. Canoing 1,250 miles is a bit much, but traveling? Moving to another city? Writing a novel? Selling artwork? Getting a masters degree? The possibilities are endless, and my curiousity can get me far. I draw from the arts, not from extreme adventures. I am no less of a person for not being a wildlife adventurer. I have to remind myself that. There are many ways to experience life; backpacking, canoeing, and climbing mountains, are only one small piece of it.

I joined an art group, a book club, and in January, a movie makers club. I have no clue about making movies or if I'll even like it. But it can't hurt to try. If David Lynch can start out as an abstract painter, and then realize his true passion is film, then whose to say my calling could be waiting for me too? I need to get my feet wet, and my hands dirty. I just need to live life my own way.