some points to graph, some points to reach

Here are some short term goals for my spring break:

- read at least one book for me
- Finish Foucault's Discipline and Punish.
- take 10 pictures everyday
- language exploration
- see friends: Laura, Chelsea, Jared, Asia, Ickus, Aunt Felicia.
- Have a get together?
- work out everyday
- eat healthy
- drink lots of water
- maybe get a haircut?
- make jeremy a present
- come back to school full caught up
- " " with a plan for the summer and next (and final) academic year.






Jobs I would not mind:
- wedding planner
- flourist
- teacher (art or poetry)
-

bye poller

one day I will write my novel.


I won't begin at the begining. or at the end. or any where on a line.

I'll begin where I am, and go all the places I go. (and all the places I will go)


detatch. (fromthisgardenofthoughts)
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's what's on my plate:
- I moved my piano, broke one of the wheels and made a large gash in my hardwood floor. I need to fix it ( I want my deposit back, and my roomate probably does too)

- my bed has been broken for a year and a half. I need to fix it

- I would like a tea kettle
- I now have about 15 different types of tea.

- I need to sign up for belly dancing

- I need to write here more

- School is starting. I hate it. I'm thinking of fleeing in a different way (some people call it graduating)

- maybe I'll move east, help grace and write

- I think I'm sick. not like I have a cold. Like I have a disease. (but like I am a disease) I'm tired all of the time. Like I wake up from sleeping 9 hours and I'm tired


- To be perfectly honest with you (which I'm trying to do) I think I'm developing anxiety issues.
scratch that. my anxiety issues are getting worse.
(I'm becoming afraid of everything. While driving, I'm afraid that every green light is going to turn yellowred before I get the chance to stop. I'm afraid of everyone I love dying, everyday.everyone.everything. allthetime. )

I'm afraid I'm not doing enough to help people. how can I help people? How can I be a good thing?

how do I achieve goodness?

ladies and gentlemen, I'm tired and I want my time back.



_______________________________________________________________

run your lips across your fingers

i never wake up alone.





i'm not complaining, but in a way i am.
I just read something that someone posted somewhere, that they were happy that their lover had decided to put on some music for "this rainy monday morning"

we never listen to music in the morning. or in the evening.
we just let happen.

it's this sense of stagnation, of complacency that makes my ears burn.

my quick fix life-arson tendencies are starting to sound better and better
(and better and better)

I haven't listened to music in a month.





do you ever get the sense you're dying? like, you know what living is, and you're just not doing it?

I compare my life of workschoolworkeatsleep
no conversation, all nothing

to the first time in my life I lived on my own
so fucking scared that I had no time to feel stagnant, for all my panic and fighting to live, make myself ok on my own


I was living. and now I've come down to this. this this this this.


how do I get out? how do I stop my panic attacks of death to feel the panic attacks of life again?

What happened to being so brazen? In reaching towards brazen, I'm tempted towards self destruction now...

so wake up, and press yourself against whatever you find to beautiful and trembling with life.




Yesterday my friend came to see me. She's quitting the mentoring program we're in, she's having a lot of trouble. I wanted to hug her for telling me. For saying that she was ok with me knowing that she wasn't ok, and that somehow it helped her to talk to me.











who should I talk to? (when I can't even open my mouth)

silencio

how can I see the world if I can't even keep my head on straight?

my lover, almost everyday of our time together, has told me that I am beautiful, goddess like,

fucking exquisite.


so, this morning, I looked into the mirror and tried to see his seeing.



this morning, I looked in the mirror and saw how I could be beautiful

so I'm thinking

I should probably go back to seeing somebody. Like a doctor somebody.



like a psychiatrist.

lol





this coming from the girl who would adamently refuse her mother's suggestion to see somebody (I just needed her to know that it had to be on my terms) Medication is something that frightens me (which is not to say it's bad, it's just not something I want to do) and her persistance in shoving it down my throat makes me sad and slightly angered.



but I've been on it for years.



thanks mom.





maybe seeing someone would help me get a handle on my overwhelming desire to flee EVERYTHING.



e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.



It was the last one that pointed out, to my chagrin, that I have a fear of commitment.

It was the most odd moment when I realized she was right, despite trying to get closer to people my whole life I was afraid of commitment in certain aspects of my life.



For instance: I will never have a career.



I think my professor said once that the career is the enemy of life.

I liked that. Even thought he's sort of the department eccentric (which he wears proudly) I dig his zest. he's just this insane cat that spouts the most amazing one liners.



why can't I indulge the multiplicity that I am?

how is that not fucking beautiful? But I find his enthusiasm and his unabashed linking of rhetorical studies to life to be something I've always been looking for in academia. I need the life I live and the things I study to be connected.



This is why I think I should have gone to a technical school.





But anyways, he told us to never have a career, and I think this is something I've felt and believed in for a long time, but was never brave enough to embrace.



I'll make money somehow. Teaching, designing, I'll work my hands to the bone if I have to, serving dishes, cooking, cutting flowers, pulling espresso, smiling my customer loving smile (because, you know, if you do it right, customer service is amazing. I've made many friends working as a barista. *it only works if they acknowledge that you are just as human as they are*)



but I'll do whatever the fuck it takes to make enough to live.

so I can live

with much free time, so I can do what I love

and not feel trapped

reading and playing and creating and trying to make my little patch of the earth a better place.





I'm thinking that after I've graduated, I'll study graphic design. Maybe apply for grad school in education. Maybe just move to new york and be a waitress.

I see myself moving to new york. Or maybe I'll move into San Francisco.

work for some coffee shop in North Beach and pick up my tourist tips.

all this talk has me optimistic... for about 5 seconds.



you see what I mean?



maybe I'll stop constantly fantasizing about being somewhere else.



I've been playing my guitar a lot lately. I learned some new songs this week.

I should be happy, right?







right?

houses move (and houses speak)

I think I'm in love with the word escape and every concept that dangles from it's multiplicity of curves and unabashed lines, and this is the point when I realized that this morning. sitting on this bed,
the summer air that speaks of winter weather,

I've been escaping my whole life.




I'm experiencing this sensation that I experienced my first semester in berkeley where I'd start writing out a cohesive thought and then I'd just start writing the word nothing for every noun.


ways to defeat.


why am I so out of control?

Isimultaneously can't be alone for more than 24 hours without trying to climb up the walls and etching patterns on them as I ascend...
but I crave alone.

Fuck, let me talk about something more concrete.

Summer school is killing me. I think my professor is determined to make half the class fail. I was looking at the syllabus for the same class in the fall, and there is less work for the semester long class than there is for the summer class.

Where does this make work?
Why would you just assign a 10 page paper to your 6 week class and not your 3 month class.

fuck you prof.

(and as I write this, my brain, in it's true time sensative explosive manner, throws out "you've never actually listened to music. You're fake"
thanks brain)

but yeah, so I have a meeting for my group project in several hours, and I'm so done with the class that the only thing that's really encouraging me to go is the fact that 12 people's grade depends on this.

***
The weather today makes me miss the winter when everything was wonder and flurry and I was too caught up to stop writing


but it's summer now, despite the weather, and I've learned to shut my mouth again.
It's a pretty easy skill.

I'm really great with general. I hate specific.
specific means shit gets taking care of
and addressed
and brought to surface.
and lord knows that that is something I've never done.








so maybe I'm the one who's not worth it.