beauty is a manmade crime

art, art, art, art, ART

i'm back in the world and i am loving it

finally, ideas, creative spark, energy, desire, meshing together with some real physical tangible outcome

i've got one piece nearly done, i hope it comes out as it looks in my head.

now it's a matter of putting passion together with ability; i've got to get the technical skills back, learn the shape of the human body again (how i miss your touch under my fingertips), learn to put what's in my head down onto paper, re-learn how colour can become the essence of feeling

i hope this lasts.

time to let go

i think the time may have come. i've been sitting in this room all day, either losing myself in a book or thinking very seriously about everything.

i don't know how to handle this anymore; i thought i did, i thought i could take anything that came my way, but i'm not sure i can any longer. the guilt that i feel every time my mom reiterates her trust in me, the rage at all the people who make exaggerated and despicably untrue statements based on tiny little grains of truth, and the gossip...i don't know what i'm supposed to be doing.

i think it might be time to sever ties. my muslim friends, i love you all more than you'll ever know, but this is something that just needs to be done, i think. it will be better for all of you--your parents won't be giving you trouble about me anymore, no more lying and sticking up for me. it'll be better for me too, someday--i'll be gone without a trace, the lack of my presence here will eventually mean they'll have nothing to talk about anymore.

i have one month, and then i'll be gone. i'm never coming back. by now, the thought of leaving also fills me with despair--my best friend and i, parted forever. i don't know what it's going to be like, but i've got to handle it somehow.

i really, really hate this.

burn in hell, assholes

you would think it would be bad enough having the threat of never being able to see your best friend again hanging over your head, wouldn't you? you would think that having to deal with all this fucking bullshit for two months, nonstop, a constant source of stress and depression and fucking anger would be enough, right? and when it happens AGAIN and your best friend's parents may have found out you've been seeing each other secretly, as if you're fucking SECRET LOVERS, and everything you've been trying to keep from crashing down around you is just falling apart again--isn't that fucking enough?

no, apparently it's not. apparently this is the part where my mother jumps in and decides to talk about how it's all affecting HER somehow and decides to completely disregard the fact that i don't want to fucking talk about any of it. i think about it, i can't get it out of my head, i have to deal with it every day, the LAST thing i want to do is TALK about it. and somehow that's a fucking crime.

i guess she decided i wasn't feeling bad enough or something. well, she got what she wanted. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck i need to LEAVE

phantoms

i want a romantic moment
a true romantic moment, no awkward strings attached
i want to be able to understand why things work the way they do
i want art to happen every time i step outside
i want to know what it takes to be that girl
i want to know what it is that i'm missing
i want to travel north america in my car; meet people and find life in every breath
i want to know how people find it so easy to be so awful to each other
i want to know if they consider the consequences when they make promises they don't intend to keep
i want the balance back, i don't want to tiptoe through life anymore.

when art replaces romance

we take pictures.

i'm gonna forget about him, and all of them.

nothing but trouble.

...

this is really unfair. i give up. i've done everything i thought i knew how to do for the past year and none of it is working out for me. in the end, there's always something or someone else. so i am just done.

what's the point, anyway.

if these walls could speak

it's sickening, and i've allowed it to happen. i've always told myself that this is something i could avoid, that i could turn my back on this feeling and just live. despite the regrets, the disappointments and heartbreaks in the world, i always thought it was possible to keep hope and strength in every action and every event of my life, because i've always felt the good times outweight the bad.

the fact is, cynicism beat down my door with ugly fists today.

high hopes flying from one corner of the universe to the next, then crash-landing with the weight of the world on their shoulders.

i hate feeling like this and i truly, truly hope it's not like this everytime. i miss unadulterated joy.

sometimes, i miss you

and i hope that sometimes, you miss me too. despite everything.

imagine all the people we meet in our lives, starting from when we legitimately were able to make connections with humans other than our family members. imagine everyone you met in pre-school, the kids you deemed your best friends because they ran as fast as you did, played with the same dinky toys, watched the same television shows. imagine the people you met the year after that and the year after that, and so on. imagine the people who connect. the ones who see life the same way you do, or as close to it as anyone can come--the people you spark with, who you may not have anything in common with, but you somehow fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

imagine all the people whose lives you've touched, and who have touched yours, too. those people that you could turn to at any time, talk to about anything.

it's strange to imagine, isn't it, that when these people leave our lives, they change as much as we did in the intervening time. in our minds, they are frozen forever, like a photograph, in the state they were when we left them. for example, i'm sure my best friend from second grade (jillian serraro, light of my life) is some kind of adult with some sense of maturity now--maybe she's in college too, maybe she's in love, maybe she isn't. but in my mind, she will forever be the laughing small girl with bushy hair and a face that lit up the room.

i know it's inevitable to lose people and gain people on the way, but when i think about them collectively, it makes me sad to think of all those people i loved and lost in these years.

just as soon as my skin becomes rust

i saw wide-eyed children today. i saw them run as fast as their dear little legs could carry them, i heard their laughter pealing out with the same unrepentently joyous qualities that carry winds from one end of the earth to another. i was amazed.

and then i found myself almost wondering, for a moment, whether or not i'd change anything if i could go back to those carefree days, and start over. start with days where gaptoothed smiles and sunshine were the basis of my existence, and end at a better place than i am now.

and to my utter relief, i realised that if i had that opportunity, i wouldn't change a single thing. because despite the fact that my life isn't perfect, i am happy with who i've become, and i am happy on this path to becoming the person i will be in ten, twenty, fifty years.

i don't plan on changing a thing. life takes its own course, and that's the way it should be.

no blood no glory

back in nor-cal and taking it one slow, fucking endless day at a time. two more months, two more months...

freedom

i can't tell you how great it feels to get away, to be in LA. even if it's only for a few days, it's the breath of fresh air that i needed.

i have a date with a cute waiter. well, a possible date. on one hand i don't know if i want to be putting myself in that position again, and on the other hand...i'm only here for a couple more days, how much damage can he possibly do?

or i guess, how much damage can i allow him to do?

i think i'll go with him. i like him, he's cute and funny and his hair is spiky like a little kid. oh yeah, he's 27...but again, it's just a coffee date.

wheeeeeee

for fucks sake

i am a failure. i am going to end up living in a box. a cardboard box on the streets of new york.

i plan and organise and work hard, make sure i know what i want, i've had my goals set for years and the intensity of how much i want them only grows with me.

but in the end, it doesn't make a fucking difference. people don't want me because i don't have enough experience, and i don't have enough experience because people don't want me. it's a stupid impossible catch-22.

i wish someone would realise that i DO have potential and i CAN learn easily and i'm good at most things i set my mind to.

arrrrgh. well...i guess a box is better than nothing.

we shot the world

with every day that goes by, this desire gets stronger. it is buoyed up by desperation, and a sick sense of impossibility lies in its wake.

i want to just get up one day, erase all traces of my ever having lived here, and in san diego. leave a room as empty as the day i found it, leave this city where i don't belong. with me i would take clothing, my guitar, my camera, my savings, and this laptop. i want to get in my car and drive across the country (flying would be easier, but driving would be an adventure). i want to end up in new york. i want to change my name, change my hair, change my style and keep my soul. rent a couch in a strangers living room for $600/month. find a job, make money, find friends and love and adventure and seedy dive bars and dance all night.

i want a completely brand new life where i don't have to worry about what a bunch of religious fanatics are saying about me, about my friends. where i'm not sick with worry about what they're going to do next, how they're going to try and ruin my life again. where i don't constantly have to try to stay ahead of the game.

but i'm stuck. whether i'm here or in san diego, i cannot escape them. that thought terrifies me.

one day i'll have the courage to go to new york and create a new life for myself in which i will have no ties to anyone i know now, except maybe sarah. and until that day comes, i've got to find the strength to keep going, without buckling down.

selling knives

so there's this manual we follow for our knife demonstrations. it basically tells you what to say, how to present the product, etc, which is all fine, except for one thing.

we're basically supposed to follow the manual word for word. in my manager's words, we can't put our own spin on things--which is basically saying we can't put our own personality into what we're doing. we give life to the words these people have written down for us in these pages, and we get paid $17.70/hr for doing it.

i guess i shouldn't be complaining, that's fantastic pay, but i just think it's sad. think of all the corporations out there, mine obviously included, who are actually telling their representatives to hone down their personalities until they fit this cookie cutter mold.

and yeah i realise these are professionals who have designed the manuals, but...i dunno, maybe it's just me, but i feel like personality and unencumbered enthusiasm sells better than these deliberate paragraphs which we have to memorise word for word. no matter how talented you are as a sales rep, people can tell when you're quoting something right out of some book you read in your training class. you need a certain amount of personal touch to make it genuine, so why can't they give us room for that?

my boss is constantly saying, "don't try to reinvent the system". while it's true that the "system" works, has been working since 1941, reinvention can only lead to better things. there is no progress without attempts, failures, and eventual successes.

stupid billion-dollar corporations.

oh, beautiful boy...

...sitting next to me everyday in job training, you send my nubile young body on a rollercoaster ride. seriously, with your little mohawk and creepers peeking out from under your nice slacks, your fitted shirt clinging to your lean muscled body...what are you trying to do to me?!

oh, and your accent is also adorable.

i'm that kind of idiot girl who is prone to crushes...a lot. always have been, always will remain so. lucky for me they're never serious.

although in this case i'm pretty sure he is flirting back.

then again, i've always been bad at figuring these things out. guess we'll see!

for a mere moment

there i was, sitting in the car, thinking about religion again, how i feel that everything is superfluous as long as you make that effort to be a good person. and for a moment, for a mere moment, i had this terrifying thought--what if i'm wrong? what if there is something after we die, and we are going to be judged, and we're going one way or another whether we like it or not?

the thing is, it's not the thought of hell that scares me. it's the thought of eternal "life" after death, wherever it may be, in heaven or in hell or in someplace inbetween. eternity terrifies me. when i die, i want to die, body soul and spirit. eternal sleep.

not to mention the fact that if we live on for eternity after our earthly bodies die, our lives here, everything we work for and everything we worry about, money and love and work and school and passion and lust and music and books...everything is worthless and you get nothing out of this world because in the end you live forever in some place beyond where none of it matters.

i want this to matter, this is my life and it is going to matter to me until the day i die, and then there will be nothing left to me except peace. and that's all i need. there's no way to know until i get there, and there's no way i am going to change my life, so i will keep my hope&belief in the everlasting sleep and be happier for it.

a momentary fear. everything is something and in the end, peace is everything.

this heart's on fire

i will never forget the time we made a waterslide in the backyard, with a garbage can, a slide, a hose and a kiddie pool. i will never forget the first time i went to her house, disliking her and bringing a book because i didn't think she would be entertaining, not realising she would remain my best friend for ten years. i will never forget the first time i looked into his eyes, the first time he and i kissed [[our hands on each others cheeks; there was no such thing as close enough]]. i will never forget my first year of college, and i will never forget all the important things i learnt that had nothing to do with academics. i will never forget the times we laughed 'til our sides ached, tears streaming out of our eyes. i will never forget the nights we stayed up, he & i and she & i respectively, crying our eyes out because we thought we lost it all. i will never forget the times that i did lose it all, and i will never forget the journey to get it all back. i will never forget the way the sunlight painted our existence these summer days, bringing us a sense of joy. i will never forget the time he and i had a picnic at nighttime on our anniversary, sitting in front of a children's library and waxing nostalgic. i will never forget how it felt when we thought the world would stop for us, and how it felt when we realised it couldn't. i will never forget riding our bicycles to the library, in those days before we had fines that keep us from ever showing our faces there again. i will never forget the days of chocolate-smeared faces, gap-toothed grins and glasses. i will never forget these days of epiphany-filled coffee dates, cynicism and hope alike flaring beneath our lashes with every word we speak. i will never forget the nights we spent, dancing until our feet felt like they would fall off, and then dancing some more. i will never forget the day we felt infinite. i will never forget the day he completed my world, and i will never forget the day he shattered it. i will never forget all the amazing times we had together. i will never forget those first san diego sunsets that enchanted all of us, drew us into their spells. i will never forget my soulmates, my best friends in the world.

memories are important.

dream particles

what are we living for nowadays? some people live for money and material success, others live for love and romance, still others live for eccentricities and the oddities of life. some live for books, escaping into the land of fantasy, while some live for music, allowing meaningful noise to absorb into every pore of their bodies. some live for a blend of all these things. some spend years trying to figure out what they're meant to live for. i think we think too much about the things that comprise us as people; we think too much about the intricacies of what makes us, us. it is true that we are intricate beings, we are made up of so many different feelings and emotions and thoughts and particles that come together to make a whole; but while pondering the why's and how's of it all, it feels like we are, to an extent, taking away from the experience. we are the sum of all our parts, now we should live and breathe free and enjoy it. this is what we are here for.

what did i believe in?

we came to several conclusions today; things that are actually very very obvious, things we knew in the backs of our minds, but we voiced them.

1) we realised the circularity of the boy-girl problem while we were sitting in a coffeeshop. it is as follows:

girls are psycho and constantly needing attention because boys are assholes who don't call girls back because girls are psycho and constantly needing attention because boys are assholes...and so on, and so forth.

yes, this is a generalisation, but we are in fact speaking generally. we realise there are exceptions. we also realise that we are exceptions, for the most part...so the question now, is, how can we get others to realise this?

in the end it all comes down to whether or not your significant dating other gives you the chance to prove yourself.

2) hell is suburbia, suburbia is hell. yes, we realise many people are content in suburbia, but we aren't. surburbia is where we come to die.

seriously, we feel so alive and full of vitality in other cities, regardless of how much activity is actually going on. life is full of possibilities; we're the kind of person who looks around and sees art on every streetcorner, in every alleyway. we take pictures and make music, we laugh and love and it all comes so easily to us...

...until we come here. here, we rot. we are useless here. music, creation, pure happiness, they go out the door, to be replaced with unhappiness, scrambling to fill our time with things that will get us through another day. waking up becomes a chore. it is stagnant and it is time to break free.

the "we" i refer to is my best friend and myself; we think alike. the princess and the butterfly.

oh, and he doesn't matter anymore, and that makes me very happy.

i found the reason

i went to the interview, it went perfectly, i got the job, i left and was ecstatic, i got a phone call 10 minutes later and i no longer had the job because i have to leave in the fall. i am crushed. i really, really wanted it.

i talked to my mother about it, and her advice? "pray to god next time before you go into an interview and you will get the job."

now, i'm not trying to be an asshole here, but i find that to be one of the more useless things i've ever heard her say. mostly because it's not true. praying to this god doesn't get you what you want. effort gets you what you want. it's time, and a coincidence that occurs between what you want and what someone else needs that gets you what you want. it's your motivational drive, the strength of your own desires. praying might give you confidence if you're so inclined, but the thought that it can give some people actual conviction is just staggering to me.

it's like putting an extra step, a gap of sorts, between yourself and the realisation of your goals.

i.e., you-->"the help of your god"-->realisation of goals

when i feel it ought to look more like

you-->realisation of goals.

this may all be inane babbling; you may be asking, so what if people pray a bit to god for help as long as they put forth some effort anyway? it makes no difference in the bigger picture, right?

this may be true; however, when examining the lives of religious people vs. non-religious people, i've found that their achievements/successes/failures generally fall within the same ballpark, so it seems as though this conviction is ill-founded. thus, and this might be incredibly offensive to some, it seems as though religion and praying and devoting yourself to god is this big "vanity" thing--it's used to boost your self-confidence, this faith makes you feel stronger, but ultimately, it doesn't change the outcome of your life, rendering it unnecessary.

i don't belittle people for their beliefs; if you believe in god, and you like to pray, then that's totally fine by me; the fact that you care enough to believe in something makes you better than most people out there. but i wish people wouldn't belittle me for my lack of belief in religion. i am what i am, and i believe in myself and in my ability to be a good person, and that's all i want for myself. i am content.