Lovely Day Of Change

Lovely day

In contrast to other days, today casts a different light. It settles on my mind in a blissful, hovering existence. It is almost as though I wish nothing else to come between this day and me. It’s almost as if I wish time could freeze so I could feel as full as I feel right now.

On other day’s I have felt as though life is blindly blundering on past me, taking no notice as it crushes me, one day at a time. I’ve been feeling like that Virginia Woolf quote, “with one’s hair flying back like the tail of a race-horse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard.”

But today was in so many ways, a change from the everyday. I am so grateful.

My only class was in the morning…an early class, so I explored Lone Mountain a bit and sat down to a quiet bowl of porridge before class. The class itself wasn’t much, but I was prepared at least, having flipped through pages and pages the night before in the eerily quiet atrium.

I came back to my room, drowsy. I slept until the sun rose just a little bit higher.

I read. Laying the over-sized book in front of me, I dragged my pillow onto the floor, setting my elbows upon it, and letting my feel rest on the chair behind me… my favorite study position.

Later my mother joined me in the city. She helped me find and lode up art supplies into the car from a Height street art store. We enjoyed an early picnic dinner in the late afternoon sun in front of a serene lake in golden gate park.

A man sat down at a nearby bench, simply to take out his violin and play music out in the fresh air. He played beautiful melodies, some Irish sounding, some classical. It was when I lazily lay there on the grass, listening to this man play in the park that I realized that we get what we make of things. He came there to play music…to simply follow his passion and enjoy the day. If we desire something different to be happening to us, we must follow our passions… do what makes us feel like ourselves. And then if we are open to it… things will begin to fall into place.

I took a walk around the lake with my mother, feeding the pidgins. I gleefully tossed pieces of bread to the hungry birds, excited like a little child, at how occasionally I could land a piece on one of their backs. It would bounce, and the birds couldn’t care less. But I was wonderfully entertained.

They birds came and went in a mass of feathers, darkening the sky with wings. They made the most delightful sound as they took off into the air, the powerful beat of wings, feathers on feathers, and a high, sweet little echo as they took flight.

I said goodbye to my mother, and went to meet some friends in Crossroads. We debated going out to get Thai, but when ended up with ice cream and billiard balls. We decided to play pool, chatting between shots and playing the piano.

Eventually as night fell we all went off to study in various locations. I took my place in the atrium, where no one talks, but you can hear the growling absence of speech. It’s almost as if the air hums with so many people in the large room.

And then I walked up the flight of stairs to my dorm, and enjoyed an extra long shower. Under the cascading water, I brushed my teeth, looking up at the tiny little holes that expelled the droplets. It is one of life’s greatest pleasures to be able to brush one’s teeth in the shower, especially with spearmint.

And this was my day. Simple, but with a glorious balance that made me feel like I don’t have to leave out parts of myself. I actually felt as though a day here could be beautiful, and not lonely at all. It’s only lonely when you forget to do things you love.

The Real Me

I wonder why it’s hard to be totally honest with ourselves. Why must we block things out? Why can’t we just do what we feel like? Why do we have to cover things up? Why is it so hard to tell people how we feel?

I think I’m just hiding in the background, doing things that aren’t being honest… just to keep from hurting. When I look out at your face, I couldn’t be more confused at the expression underneath. When I look at my face, I see something aching to come out. But it hurts too much to ask it to. It has no place to go. Everything is day by day. My words bubble and flow within me, but they don’t dare take form. Left on my own I dare not reach outward.

But my mind wanders to far away places, un-restrained by the present. My mind wanders far… to days where I felt that I could be with you and be with me. The real me.

Myself Agian

Home. What a place.

Warm, fresh, full of food and smiles, when I feel whole, where my garden grows…

I wonder if it really matters where you actually live… or does it just feel wonderful wherever you return to.

I came back on Thursday night, late after my last film class. As soon as I came home my mom and I watched the Painted Veil, which was really good:) Edward Norton was excellent. He was such a jerk in the movie, but then again his wife was terrible in the beginning so I don’t blame him.

And then immediately I got sick. It’s all the stress I suppose. I slept forever and it felt so good. I can’t sleep here at school. I can’t sleep until everyone else heads off to bed too. If people are up they slam, bang, and giggle so that it’s rather hard to get some shuteye. 3 is usually when everyone quiets down. But that’s pretty damn late.

I can tell I’m just not ready to start working yet. I probably should have taken a year off and done cooking school or something. It just seems like I have no patience to write papers or do extensive reading. I can write like mad in my diary, but even my blog is rather empty given all that’s been going on. And all my posts are completely scattered.

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

I can see everyone changing. Even if they think they can predict what the outcome will be, or think it is minimal, it’s more than they think. It’s only been a week for some of us… and more for others. It’s like becoming a different person altogether. It’s the same as putting on different clothes… it changes you entirely, at least in an outward way. It just makes me wonder how much I’m changing too, or in what way. I don’t know if I like it. I like it when I evolve, tweaking bits to make me more pronounced, but I don’t like straight up change. That kind of change jerks too hard. It makes me wonder if this is truly what people were destined to become, or maybe they are getting farther away from themselves. I can tell when I change sometimes. I can see it when I come back home, or see old friends… I drift into focus. I laugh more… real laughing. My words become free again, and I don’t feel like I have to edit myself for the world. It feels so wonderful, but it makes me realize how I was before I focused myself. I was like a washed out picture, too grainy and unrealistic. That’s when I know I’ve been changing. I do have a mask. We all do, but I definitely have one. We have them because they are supposed to center us. They are our identity, but am I wearing the right one? And why can’t I just show my face? Few people have seen me like that…

And I hate this whole detachment thing! It’s like everyone has to cut off life up until this point. Like seeing old friends is bad, and rigorous pursuit of dorm life is the key to happiness. Bullshit. Why does their have to be such and intense separation? Why do you have to separate the beautiful comforts that keep you centered, like your friends, people you love, that favorite hideaway spot… why do you have to separate those things from the new and the unknown, which is also good… different, but exciting. And since when is the old second best?! I want to somehow connect them together and create something that has the best of both. I want to feel like myself again.

What is left?

Oh here’s a poem from a couple days ago.

Questioning in the dark
Alone is where I’m left
Without the sounds
It is all without
Only surrounded by doubt
My body cannot rest
There is noting left to tie me down
I am loose, drifting slowly away
Faster and faster with each new moment
But as days fold over one another
I forget who I am and where I came from
I start to look outside myself
And see nothing else
But my vision does not want to be corrupted
In this pale light, un-reachable by definition
New and daunting
Like the burden of carrying someone else’s life
Only it is mine that hangs in the balance
I am the one left here looking out
And yet I am joined by faithful friends
But our paths are sadly reaching separate ways
With the passing of time
I know nothing more
I am left jumbling in and out
Rejecting and caressing the newness
Everything lays on the surface
Every conversation and action
Afraid to be truthful
Connection remains to be found
Packed away with time
Or so all of us would hope
After all the genuine is delicate
Easily broken and so shown to precious few
And so I fear this sadness and this change
As I must dig through layers
All of which are empty, clashing with what is left of me

Bright

So I saw the hypnotist show last night. Everyone was saying how if you only go to one show, go to that one. They were right. I almost decided to skip it and do something else because studio 55 really tired me out the night before but I ended up going with JJ.

He reminded me of a car salesman. He talked really fast, hardly seeming to breathe. Every sentence was like a constant stream, without any pauses. He piled about 20 people onstage from the audience into chairs. He made them go into a “meditative state” and some of them actually fell over in back or off their chairs. It was at this point that people in the audience started to pay more attention.

It was the greatest thing when the hypnotist singled out this big football player type guy. He gave him a rubber float around his waist and a whistle. He told him that he was a life guard and that he was really angry because someone was peeing in. later on in the shoe he said his “key word,” water. The guy shoots up, super pissed off and stars screaming at everyone. This might not have been really amazing except that this was really out of character for this guy. Also, he seemed really embarrassed and confused when he was woken up, looking out onto all these faces.

The whole show just got raunchier as time went on, which actually made me feel a whole lot better because if a catholic school can do stuff like that, maybe I’m not in such a bad place after all.

I felt better also because yesterday I saw some familiar faces at Japan town. It was pretty easy to all get there too. That really brightened up my day.

................

I remember how I went about entertaining myself at orientation. I sat in the front row, but became uncomfortable in the bleacher seats without a backrest, so I slit down to sit on the floor. As I looked out on the panel of professors that were sent to speak before us, my view was interrupted by a banister in front of me. I kept moving my gaze so that the bar would obscure the professor’s heads. I laughed internally for some time, imagining headless professors speaking to us, and taking sips of water.

It was a very long day that day :)

Just Crazy

I really want to try and have a positive outlook on all this change too. It really is stressful, but I am at least trying to look at the good stuff too. Like right now, it really is beautiful. I’m outside in the dark and there is this thick San Francisco fog drifting by. If I look up at night on a clear day I can see the clouds flowing by so fast in the sky. It looks almost like water, covered with foam that gets ushered along in the swift current. I also love the showers and how the water comes out of the ceiling. It just shoots straight down and covers you with endless steam and water. But that’s pretty much it. The social scene is NOT as wonderful as I had hoped. I thought everyone would be more open, but it seems like a collective of giggles and gossip. Not really my cup of tea. I’m a Taurus, so it takes me a while to get close to people, but when I do I love to be there with them. There are only 30 of us in the dorm, and I haven’t found anyone that I feel like getting close with. I went to dinner with a bunch of them, and it just wears me out. I just don’t feel that I’m like them. They are fine people but not for me. They all connect by complaining, by sharing annoyances they have with fellow students, and comparing their explanations about how lame the events are. I just don’t want to involve myself in that. It’s not me. I hope I can find people with similar dispositions in my classes, because I’m not finding it in my door unfortunately. Maybe I should have gone to a bigger school, not in a city. But then again, maybe I’m just crazy.

Bam

So, here I am in college. It’s not like I expected. It seems like the more people I meet, and the more names I learn, just makes me feel more and more lonely. I know, I know, it’s my first day, but it just doesn’t feel like me. I don’t feel like me. All these people don’t feel like me either. I just gaze around at the faces on campus, the way they smile, laugh, or look completely frightened. My eyes flit around them, while I wonder who I’m going to click with. Will it be the cheerful curly-haired girl on the third floor, the gothic artist chick in Hayes, or that tall, shy guy from fast-track? I mean, everyone’s friendly, but are they friends? Are they going to be? It’s just so overwhelming. No matter how many times someone tells me their name, I just don’t get it. It’s like I’m floating around in some world that isn’t mine. I have to rebuild everything. I have to find those people that make me feel like me. And that let me be me. It’s just so hard because everyone is frantic, thrashing out for anyone that will engage in conversation. No one is themselves either. We are all just trying to be calm and look like we know what we are doing. We are all trying to appear as comfortable as possible, even though in truth we are all in the same place. We have all just left our homes, our friends our families. I actually hate this. I mean, I understand this is the next stage in life, I get that. Everyone is just like me. We’re all doing the same thing, though it doesn’t make things any easier to know that. I still see my life changing, while being able to do nothing about it. It’s a rushing river of change, with little sticks floating by so fast that I don’t even have time to take anything in. I’m not in control of it. I’m weak compared to its current. I can’t reach in and expect to be able to slow it down any, because there it goes, rushing by even faster. I just keep getting this feeling, that all of this is permanent. That this room, this roommate, and this world is permanent. I know that it isn’t. I thought the same thing about high school. Freshman year I tried to look ahead four years to see how I would feel… it felt just as permanent. And it was permanent… just up until the point where I wanted it to stay that way. Where I was happy with my life, my friends, and the way things were. And then just at that point. Bam. Things change.

Gaaaah!

This Alcohol Edu thing is crap.

That is all...

Just As Every Kiss Must End

Aug 1st, 2007

Just As Every Kiss Must End


It is no wonder
That I’m left here under
The lost Tear’s Moon
It’s all happening too soon

It is no mistake
That the earth quakes
And over the blackened hill
The moon rises still

I have a wish for you
But I’m afraid it won’t come true
It always ends like this
Why did I think I wouldn’t miss?

Tonight is just a night
Beautiful but not quite
What I would ask for
I’ve never been really sure

When I have it’s been just me
And I’ve lost you as far as I can see
I must be just a fool
I dive into a blown-glass pool

I hoped you’d prove me wrong
But in truth I knew all along
It is our tragedy that leads us here
To these fleeting moments that are so dear

I have a wish for you
But I’m afraid it won’t come true
It always ends like this
Why did I think I wouldn’t miss?

And still I gaze out
Beyond the fading, past all that doubt
To my truth where I should stay
Where I want more than I can say

But I really have no sorrow
For this night with no tomorrow
Because even your fleeting ways
Keep this longing world ablaze.

I have a wish for you
But I’m afraid it won’t come true
It always ends like this
It ends just like an adoring kiss

To Die Is A Curious Thing, Even For Squirrels

I’ve never actually witnessed death before, but it’s made shocking, and unwelcome appearances throughout my life.

Death is rarely ever greeted, accepted or appreciated. We celebrate birthdays but never deathdays. Maybe we do not hold as much importance in death as we should. Not that we must welcome it, eagerly giving up life, but maybe we should see it not as the atrocity that we most often do. It surly is a most curious thing.

I’m now sitting in my backyard, on the dusty, bottom step of the brick stairs leading to the raised earth toward the back of the yard. Outside, in the large oak trees above me, lives a family of squirrels. For years I saw them chase each other, rusting through the branches overhead. They would hop greedily onto the birdfeeders, shoveling seeds into mouths. I’ve always liked them, never minding one bit that they were not the birds that the feeders were originally set up for. They are always entertaining to watch.

But today, one of the elder red squirrels is dying. Maybe it sounds strange that anyone would care about a squirrel, but here I am out in the yard, keeping him company. He seemed to know his life was leaving him, as he came uncharacteristically close to the ground. For a while he held tightly on a low branch, which caught the attention of Lyra. She became excited, and then barked agitatedly when she could not reach the squirrel. That was what first made me realize that something was wrong. The squirrels usually enjoy teasing her, chatting in her face and flipping their tails menacingly. But today the squirrel did nothing. It only just lay there, taking shallow breaths, just out of reach. I put Lyra inside.

Three quarters of an hour later, he fell with a soft thud that barely caught my attention. He lay on the ground, each moment his breathing slowed. He would blink occasionally, looking up, or twitch an ear. It made me wonder what kind of things would catch his attention, even as death set in.


A while later, completely against what I would have expected, the squirrel looked up toward the far left. He stood up and bounded in that direction, where the young trees all seemed to bow next to the ivy-laden fence. Once there, he rested on one of the hill supporting, wooden barriers. His eyes began to close slightly now, and he held on tightly to the wood for balance. He crouched, covered in the swashes of sunlight that filtered from the trees. He seemed almost to nod off, gravity beckoning him, causing his body to sway slightly off the piece of wood, but at the last second he would catch himself and hold on tightly. Little by little however, his grip began to slacken.

It’s amazing to be in the midst of all this. As the little squirrel nodes off, more and more frequently, life goes on around him. My mother shuffles around inside the house. The birds fly down from the trees to peck at the dusty earth, the neighbors bang in and out of the house, Lyra’s breath turns to condensation on the glass as she waits curiously at the back door, and I lay lazily in the sun, taking in the scene.

I think I take it for granted, being alive. Just being able to lay here, looking up at the patchwork canopy of leaves. Being able to close my eyes, blanketing my vision with a deep red. Feeling the sun on my closed eyelids, and watching it dance across my face from beneath them. Falling asleep, then parting my lids just a little bit, so a gentle line of light plays beneath my lashes, hinting at the glorious scene above me. Then, opening my eyes again to the day, taking in the great mosaic of colors that flood my vision. The afternoon ever more intense after having it returned to me.