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Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Self Realization

As lucky human beings, we are given the lovely gift of self-realization. We are all aware (after a certain age) that we will, (inevitably) die and maybe... die forever.I cling to hope and logic in thinking, there must be something more... or if there isn't... then damn that was just a serious waste of time.

One of the questions I've struggled with forever, one that loops through my brain and confuses everything... is "WHY do we care?" Why do things "matter"? If our bodies are just doomed to fail us one day, and the brain just simply....shuts off, then why does every stupid or amazing little thing along the way seem like such a disaster or miracle? Why do I cry when I'm sad, or laugh when something's funny? Why do I feel angry, why do I get jealous?

Some days when confronted with these questions, I can manage to pump myself full of positive energy and dismiss them by convincing myself that there is just simply no answer.... but always those little fuckers come creeping back.

Have you ever lied about something trivial, then immediately wondered... "Why did I just say that?" Or done something completely out of character - for no reason at all? What prompts us all to feel, say, think or do anything? Even scarier... why do we love? Is it all just a game against human nature and the need to pro-create, or does true love really exist? How do you find it then... and how would you even know how to recognize it if you did?

I hate all these questions. I hate the human gift of self realization so much that I love it... and even now, seeking clarification from writing it all down I realize....nothing's changed.

I still have no answers.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Idealism

The idea of a perfect world. Complete harmony and peace, with no violence, no war, no disease, no poverty no corruption. It sounds like it would be all happiness sunshine and fairy dust, but if we take a step back and look at this so called perfect world again, the saddest realization in life could possibly be, that it would never work.

After our basic instinct to survive is put at ease, and we no longer have to fight for food or territory, the next step in human nature is to try and get the most, using the least amount of energy. I believe we evolved this way, perhaps from monkeys, perhaps from aliens... definitley not from god.... so eventually, our kind could flourish, and create the oh so amazing world we know today.

All of us, whether we like to admit it or not, are inherently lazy and greedy. Some people have the ability to fight against their true nature and maybe one day even change it, most people tho, are in deep denial and even though they may refuse to admit it for their entire lives, live everyday wanting more. Wanting to have as much as possible., but there really is no limit, no highest, no best at anything.

This idea of perfection, of idealism is great in theory but when really applied, makes no sense at all. For humans, this idea of having everything you’ve ever wanted. Of a perfect world… it doesn’t exist, and can never exist. There will always be that part of who we are, screaming from inside that there’s more we want.. We can try to ignore it, but in the end what happens more often, is we convince ourselves that its not something we simply want, but something we need.

The greedy convince themselves its motivation, inspiration or a "standard of living".. and not simply greed that compels them to want more shiny toys.

We need that fancy car, we need the mansion, we need the wife or husband, we need more love, we need drugs, we need more friendship, we need better friendship, we need a better wife or husband, we need a fancier car.

The next time you see those people with the fancy clothes and cars and houses, and you think to yourself “wow, they must have everything they’ve ever wanted.” Realize that for the greedy and lazy people of the world, it doesn’t exist. And the people that waste, the people that live their lives excessively and never even think about helping anyone else… those are the people with nothing.

Write What You Can't Say

A single moment of self-clarification... a few seconds where you look around slowly and realize, to your great delight and satisfaction... that you are truly happy. It wont last long. the real world will set in again soon and no matter how much you hope that feeling will last forever...

It leaves. Replaced by some negative emotion that consumes and destroys it in an instant.

Why is it that we all have the ability to go from love to hate SO easily and SO quickly...
but from hate to love... it takes endless amounts of time and effort?? Is it in fact, easier to hate someone then it is to love someone? Will we, as humans in general, always be so quick to judge and criticize those around us?

These questions I can't answer, but somehow after writing them down, I get a strange glimpse of appreciation in knowing that I don't know... and perhaps even... can't know. That is truly the best aspect of a writer. I don't mean as a chosen profession, but writer as in... one who writes.

I have a diary. It's not sparkly or pink and I don't wear the key to it's padlock around my neck - but I have a diary. Even better then the book itself, is the tradition behind it. I've faithfully been writing these journals since I was 15 years old. Some, I lost over the years, some I got halfway through then decided, for no reason at all, to start a new one.

Have you ever looked at an old photograph of yourself and wondered... "what was I thinking?" Well, keep a diary and you can answer that. Start today actually (if you haven't already) and just... write shit down. Not on a public blog, but in a notebook. Hide it somewhere smart, and write whatever the fuck you want. No limits. Don't even try to claim you "can't think of anything." Write what you're NOT thinking of then. Write about why you can't write, or don't want to.


You might be very surprised at just how much you didn't know about yourself.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Good Or Evil?

"A man and a child stand near a well. The child leans in too far and begins to fall but the man instinctively reaches out to catch him."

A Chinese philosopher once used that story to prove that we are all intrinsically good and... I'm tempted to agree with him. Surprisingly enough, I really do believe that there is a lot of good to be found in human nature. Individuals can be twisted by rage or jealousy or circumstance but that's just because of the corrupted world we live in.

Capable of doing evil things but not evil by our very natures.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Inner Fear Mongering

It’s 4 in the morning, and I wander onto my balcony… wistfully imagining the face of the man in the moon. I see him with dark kind eyes, full of ancient wisdom. A strong masculine chin and a stubborn expression. His lips curl in slight amusement as he stares down at us…laughing inside at our unwavering devotion to our irrelevant existence. I smile at this twisted thought, though I’m not quite sure why. It smells like… city. Nothing sensational or appealing. Just… crowded third word city. I can hear the distant screeches of a catfight and the occasional rooster who doesn’t seem to understand it’s not dawn yet. The wind chimes on my neighbor’s porch are tangled and clank together awkwardly. It’s a warm night but a breezy little chill finds it’s way to me and lingers there. I wrap my own arms around myself and wonder why they couldn’t be someone else’s. How did I get here? Can I really continue to convince myself I’m not lonely? The most exhilarating yet excruciating experiences in my life have been when I bet my bottom dollar. When I risked life and limb or jumped at the chance. When I grabbed the bull by the horns and flew by the seat of my pants. Those were the best times. And the worst times. Generally I enter into the unknown completely carefree and intentionally oblivious to everything I could possibly lose. For the last few weeks my inner fear-mongering self has been voiceless and dormant. I Haven’t been afraid to answer opportunities every knock, and embrace the seemingly irrelevant moments in everyday life. Moments that make me smile. Moments that may be a little piece of the magical puzzle… if I could just look hard enough to find where they fit. I stop to breathe the air, drink the water, taste the fruit and smell the flowers. Then one night at 4am, I wander onto my balcony and that damn man in the moon laughs at me. Fear creeps up into my skin and I can’t shake it away. A cigarette provides a welcome distraction from my trembling insecurities but I can’t stop the few tears that escape and slowly trickle down my cheek. I wipe them away, embarrassed by my weakness. I have a good life. A great life even, with a million and eight reasons to be happy. What happened to the girl who had all the answers? The girl who would never let the fire go out… even for a second. My fires not out, but the wood is crumbling fast. I’ll toss a few more logs on there one day soon, and the flames will shoot off sparks ten feet into the air… but until then, I’ll take whatever small comprehension I can from this writing, and even smaller comfort in the fact that other people probably can’t help but feel the same way sometimes.

Tennessee Williams once wrote; “When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.”

Be lonely with me. For whatever reason… but mostly, so I know that…. at least, the man in the moon has someone else to sneer at too.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

"get your fuckin shit together.. ism"

There is very little I love more in this life then a perfectly pressured and perfectly hot 30min shower which, believe me, is harder to come by in this country then you would think.

I get to be naked, warm, wet, completely absolved of all outside criticism and judgment (unless i suppose someone happens to be joining me in the shower, but that's an entirely different story) and more than anything, I get to feel... clean.

Not just physically, with the coconut shampoo and dove soap (damn how I LOVE dove soap) but I also have this tendency to make every shower into a cleansing religious experience.

I say religious because I want to place very little importance in what I believe could be considered an experience of faith. At least it makes more sense to me then sitting in a special room called a "church" for two boring hours listening to a special man called a "priest" interpret a special book called the "bible" in his own special way and dictate to the the special sheeple what, how, when, why, where and who they should believe in.

No no, church is not for me. I pray in the shower... to the god of... well... to my own god (he's all mine and im not sharing) and no, I'm not going to elaborate on this now because I'm supposed to be talking about showers, about ritual cleansing and absolution, about forgiving yourself, and starting over... so I can lead into what I really wanted to talk about in the first place, which is...GUILT.

From day one we are taught that it's GOOD to feel BAD about ourselves. this idea of sin and penance and seeking forgiveness from the church, your peers or your parents... is actually what I believe cripples society.

The bottom line is, unless you're a serious psychopath, every grown human KNOWS when they are doing something right or when they are doing something wrong.. BEFORE they do it. So guilt is not a reminder of wrong action, it's a cop-out. It's like saying, okay.. I fucked up.. but gee I feel bad... so now because of that guillt, I deserve to be forgiven right? I deserve to feel good about feeling bad.

No. Fuck no. That's not how life works, but sadly, is the reality of this very morally backwards world we live in today.

So my showers everyday are a way of letting me forgive myself and not seeking it from anyone else. One of the greatest life lessons I've learned so far, is that if you can forgive yourself for all the stupid things you've done in your life (and lets face it, there's probably a fuck-load) you can forgive others without trying to make them feel guilty first.

When push comes to shove (hot damn I'm just full of cliche's today) I've learned the most from the experiences where I didn't exactly do the "right" thing.

There are no mistakes in life because we all live only in this moment, in the NOW, and as soon as you begin to think "it should have been different" you're questioning the ways of the universe when you have no right to. It was here way before you existed, and will be here long after you're gone. The universe owes you nothing, so accept the so called "failures" as.. negative experiences. learn, grow, change adapt and move the fuck on.

Ya. I could be a preacher of my own new religion. I call it...

"get your fuckin shit together.. ism"

this is me.

Ice cream is my one true weakness, and anyone who loves the same books as me. I am witty, but not graceful. I am compassionate, but unorganized.

I don’t care about money; it is never my prime consideration. To me, being respected in some way or another for intellectual achievements brings much more happiness to my life.

I belong to everyone, yet to no one.

I am true to myself and as unpredictable as they come. My code of ethics and morals may be as weird as anything you’ve ever come across but I will always live up to it entirely.

I hate hating people. It’s too much effort and too pointless to spend so long striving towards nothing but negativity. If a situation I am in becomes intolerable my nature turns cold quickly. I can simply disappear overnight and never look back.

I don’t believe in using the words “I should have” – it implies that life didn’t turn out exactly the way it was supposed to. I am always changing and hard to keep up with. I can be confusing and simple at the same time, without even knowing how.

I don’t know what it is like to live for tomorrow. In my mind, it is always today.

I enjoy shocking people, and will dedicate myself to something insistently just because someone didn’t believe I could. I believe that nothing, if you work hard enough is ever out of reach, and the things in life that come easy- are never really worth anything in the end.

My quest for knowledge and understanding is what consumes my everyday life. I think too much and have a tendency to over-analyze and ramble.

I have an irrational fear of the dentist, and driving. I have irrational obsessions with lizards and bob marley. I love books, music and movies from every different genre. You cannot stereotype me.

I keep a notebook by my bed to record my dreams. They still make no sense.

I love the rain. I hate television commercials.

I try really hard not to care what other people think of me, but most times I fail horribly.

I know the way that I view myself and how the outside world views me are very different most of the time, but I’m okay with that. I am the creator of my own little world, and I would never want it any other way.

Monday, April 13, 2009

"Yes we are going to suffer, we will have difficult times, and we will experience many disappointments - but all this is transitory; it leaves no permanent mark. One day we will look back with pride and faith at the journey we have taken."

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Little Boxes

Death, destruction, drinking, drugs, distraction, devilmas, disturbia, depression, delusion.

My life is being haunted by words that begin with the letter D. I blame the darkside. And yeah... okay, one is a fictitious holiday, and one is a Rihanna song.... but that's beside the point. To quote someone way too cool for me. "I don't really have a point."

If you don't know or can't guess who said that, then go away (right now) - you don't deserve to be reading my blogs.

And YES, since this is MY blog I can kick you the fuck out. Metaphorically of course... since I'm pretty sure there is no way of me even knowing who reads this shit. I thought I was underground... all sneaky and undetected... but it seems people have started discovering my little corner of insanity. That's okay with me though, I enjoy rambling off loads of bullshit that I know people will later be trying to make some sense out of... and fail horribly.

So you wanna know whats up with me? You're oh so interested in my life... and have come to read my oh so interesting blog?

Take a good look around, spend a little time deciphering the messages, and I think we'll get along just fine.

Welcome to the little corner of the internet where I write the rain.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Magical Lesbian Wonderland

I like men.

(Just to get that out of the way first) I'm heterosexual but every so often, I'll meet a woman that sparks my interest in a .... different kind of way.

I would never date a girl, or form any kind of lasting emotional relationship but when it comes to the physical aspect no one can deny that women are very sexually appealing, even to other women. With long hair, soft skin and curves in all the right places, the body of a woman truly IS a wonderland.

Some of you will insist that because of this (rare) physical attraction, I'm bisexual. Looking to the "sexual" root of the word, in a sense I could be... but I've never felt the desire to start a relationship with a woman and to be perfectly honest, the thought itself turns me off.

Woman are too fuckin complicated for me... and always have been.

I was "one of the boys" in highschool, addicted to final fantasy VII, poker, starcraft, super smash bros, beer, sex and... really insane bong tokes.

I worked in a restaurant as a cook instead of a server. I frequently flashed my room-mates for "first hit" of a joint, pipe or bong. I had casual meaningless sex and later bragged about it. I got on stage at a stripclub while drunk and on ecstasy - got fully naked with a friend and two strippers in the shower. And I'm sure I could continue relentlessly tossing little anecdotes your way but I digress...so..... (forgive me i'm high)..

Right, okay... I WAS talking about lesbians. Much more interesting, let's get back to that. I'm all about human rights and not sticking my opinions where they don't belong, so gay people, are just people to me. Interesting people actually, who don't fall into the trap of society pressure to be just like everyone else. They aren't afraid to fight for their identity. I've heard a male friend say once that they didn't mind gays until one had hit on him at a club. That to me makes NO sense at all. Tell him to fuck off if you have to (I've done it to assholes in clubs) but judging ALL gay people because ONE found you attractive and you didn't like it??

I'd sooner hate the ugly chick that always seems ready to go when your beer goggles are at full fade.

You know you've been there...

I've completely lost track of this entry... so.. my point is.

Girls are sexy. Boys are simple. Don't hate the homos.

Ya.. that's it.

Friday, April 10, 2009

I Have No Towel

I sit on the floor of the shower - something I first learned from a movie - something that will always make me feel better - and let the instant hot water rush over me, momentarily erasing all my fears, insecurities, doubts and problems.
I wish I had a bathtub.
I smell like wild cherry and apricot - the soapy residue from my shower gel - artificial fruit scents.
I hear the constant drone of the water as it rushes through the drain - and wonder why it is so loud.
I place a cloth over the drain, hoping to stifle the sound - it works.
Now I hear the bathroom fan instead.
I sit up - hugging my knees - wishing I could stay forever.
My fingers are already wrinkled.
I belong here, with the foggy plastic door, off-white tiles and rusty lock.
Why do they have a lock on a shower door anyways?
I lay down on my back and shut my eyes.
I listen to the steady rush of water, thinking of nothing else, feeling nothing else - and Im calm - for that moment.
The moment ends - I have to get out - Ive been in here for an hour.
So it's over.
Now I am only wet and shivering - and I have no towel.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

The Ice Cream and the Vegetables

I get moments in my life where I'm forced to make a choice between doing what I want, and doing what I know will please others. Sometimes, the "others" can provide a better outlook on my own life. They stand back, away from all emotions and rash actions, to see what might be best for me.

But no one knows my life better then me right? Sure I might be too involved in a situation to see perfectly clear - but emotions are what makes me human. If I ignore them, ignore that little voice (even if it is a devil on my shoulder) then I lose what makes me - and all of us, unique.... my humanity. I'm not afraid to make mistakes, only afraid of what those mistakes will mean to those closest to me.

When did my life become so complex?

As a child the answers and choices seem so easy

Ice-cream or vegetables?
Crayons or markers?
Television or homework?

And of course, sometimes I would choose ice-cream (okay - so ALL time) but I had my mom, or sister or friend there to reason with me. Because I can't have ice-cream all the time if I dont eat my vegetables right?

Wrong.

Sure I can - now.

No-ones stopping me, no ones whispering the consequences in my ear because now... im an adult. The choices and answers are for me to find out on my own. Scary thought. The strings are cut, and sometimes I feel completely unsupported... like Ive been falling ever since and no one is around to catch me.

So I continue falling... with the elusive hope that at least I might land on something soft. I've made a lot of wrong choices in my life... but I am who I am today because of my mistakes as much as my triumphs. I cling to the realization that even though I started out not knowing where I was going, I think I ended up where I needed to be.

I dont need everyone to like me, I just need a few to understand me.

In the end, its not really about the ice cream or the vegetables.. but the process I go through in making that decision. It's impossible to ALWAYS know what the answer is but all I can do is try and keep trying until one day - I stop falling and start climbing.

Maybe I stumble a few times along the way but those "others" are there to lend a hand when I really need it. To pry me away from the ice-cream (even tho I love it so much) and back towards being an independent adult. Its a long scary road with too many twists and turns but I'll get there... even if I have to go backwards sometimes...

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

A French Mistake

In an effort to inspire, shock or amaze you – I’ve decided to write here more frequently. My mind feels swirly and crowded – but lately whenever I try to express a thought or idea, I get distracted easily or lose track of what I was trying to say in the first place.

Writing in circles is no fun, so I’m cheating. A quick glance at a shitty quote of the day page gives me this tantalizing little tidbit.

“The world only goes round by misunderstanding.” Charles Baudelaire (1821 - 1867)

Living among the murderers, racists, terrorists and tyrants that surround us all, it’s hard for me to disagree with Mr. Baudelaire …

… that is until I re-read the quote a few times, smoked a roach and re-read it a few more times. It’s the use of the word “only” that flaws my previous agreement. Anyone can turn to their FOX infested idiot-box to see all their fears played out in full color. Anarchy encircles the system and corruption happens at every level. Money rules our existence. It’s a society structure I often imagine is doomed to fail one day.

In fact…. I HOPE fails one day.

Because… sure, misunderstanding makes our world go round, but so does understanding.

Am I giving us too much credit to think that we could change? Are there enough people out there like me who look around and realize… it doesn’t have to be like this? No-one has to torture, or rape or starve.

What kind of world is it when the people are brought up to feel indifference as though it’s expected?

Oh thank you pretty news reporter with the glow-bleached teeth and botox vacancy. Thanks for letting me know about the slaughter happening overseas… now don’t mind me as I flip to TMZ and laugh at celebrities without giving it a second thought.

I don’t watch the news. Ever. Some people say that makes me uninformed and ignorant. I tell them to go fuck themselves. Anyone can sit and stare at a television and then pretend to know what they’re talking about. It takes something different, something more real – to listen to stories, to learn and to just talk to people. You understand much more about the world. True knowledge – not facts flopped off some red lipstick. (I have an irrational annoyance with newscasters – as you might notice).

Life is chaotic, unexpected and sometimes even a little irrelevant – but it has a million silver linings. A million reasons to get up every morning, and a million reasons to disagree with a French man Ive never heard of and rearrange his quote to make one of my own.

“Perhaps misunderstanding makes the world, but understanding makes it go round.”

SIDE NOTE: The interwebs tell me that Charles was one of the greatest French poets of the 19th century, called 'the father of modern criticism,' who shocked his contemporaries with his visions of lust and decay.
So even though he’s wrong, I bet he was a pretty cool guy.

Batman

When I was younger, my older sister used to tell me i had to be bat-girl... or bat-woman, or whatever the fuck her name really was... but true to my rebellious nature I remained glued to batman himself. Fuck barbie dolls, that guy had a black cape, a sexy mystery (like tuxedo mask from sailor moon... damn, he was hot too) and rock hard, plastic abs. What more could a 13 yr old farm girl ask for?

Plus he had shiny toys that seemed impossibly cool.

Catwoman was a bitch, Poison Ivy sounds like an STD villain and Robin wore tights...

so Batman wins.

Write or Wrong

Do you ever feel like you have to write something meaningful every time you pick up a pen or stare at a blank Word document? I used to write for no one, and nothing in particular. Just words sometimes, or jumbled one-liner thoughts. Questions that I wanted answered. Questions I knew could never be answered but wrote down anyway. Poems that didn’t rhyme or follow any sort of pattern at all. Even words that weren’t really words.

But now, as my passion for writing grows and develops into a realistic career option, I have turned into my own worst critic. I think up ideas and toss them away just as fast without even taking three seconds to write them down. I scratch out sentences that don’t fit and fix spelling errors. It feels like I’m writing in a tiny cage on an old-school typewriter and McKee is sitting there whipping me every time I fail to follow “the rules.” He holds up the keys to the giant lock and laughs in my face. McKee is a man who wrote a book on the guidelines and structure of screenwriting.

So maybe that’s just a creepy personal nightmare, but it really makes me wonder what’s happened to me. Am I so caught up in all the wrong vs right side of screenwriting, that I’m missing the whole point to it all?

The first story I ever wrote was when I was 12 years old. I think it was 20 pages long, maybe less. It was about a popular teenage girl with a single mother who has lost all her friends and decides to run away from home forever. While the teenage girl is lost in self pity and wanders, her mother searches endlessly. The girl ends up sitting on a bridge to smoke a cigarette and a trucker stops and offers her a ride. She accepts and is never seen again.

And that was the end. I don’t even have a copy of that story anywhere, but I remember it so clearly. Don’t ask how I became such a dark depressing little girl by only 12, (okay maybe I was 13) but at least it was real.

Expressing yourself on paper through words is one of the greatest art forms in history.No one told Picasso his paintings didn’t fit the “structure or guidelines” because the truth is, art doesn’t have any.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

So Bright & Full of Lies

Look up to the sky
To see inside her eyes
So bright, and full of lies.
She’s hiding.

Follow the tears
That never come
It’s all ending
So she’ll just run

her smiles fade
and laughter stops
so confused
from all this talk

Pretending for a while
That it’s all a silly game
And she’s still a child
Running wild

Temporary pretending
That life is perfect
And her feelings are buried
Beneath the surface

Desperate to wonder,
Worried about nothing
She falls in slow motion
As the worlds rushing
"Son los locos que inventaron el amor. - The song was right: it must have been the lunatics who invented love."

Monday, April 6, 2009

Humanity Strikes Out

Sometimes I wonder if there is anything in this distorted world that remains impervious to change. Is anything really absolute anymore? Is there still right and wrong? Good and bad? Truth and lies? Or is everything negotiable and left to interpretation. The media provides hoops for the politicians to jump through. The legal system is littered with loopholes, time delays and caters to the wealthy. The first world countries are filled with overweight indulgent idiots, the third worlds with starving street children. Injustice happens everywhere and too many people just accept it. Write it off as one of those things you just can’t change. Maybe those people are right, and maybe one person’s involvement and achievements will never be enough to make it all go away - but ignoring it, keeping yourself blissfully ignorant is just a coward’s way of misconstruing the facts to suit their own indifferent attitude. I’m not saying we all need to dedicate our entire existence to helping those less fortunate, Im just saying we have a responsibility to stay aware that there’s a problem. To realize there is evil happening somewhere all the time, and to never take for granted the incredibility of our own lives.

So to those people who disregard prejudice and discrimination… to those people so involved in their own pathetic excuse for a life to notice that others don’t have it so easy… I say this… You can bitch and moan all you want about the girl that shot you down last night, or the friend that still owes you 50$ - but I won’t listen. My give-a-shit meter doesn’t even register. It’s occupied with caring about things that matter. Not irrelevant details that you deem are important. Things that you’ll spend two weeks regretting and obsessing about - then the next week when something more dramatic happens… you’ll conveniently forget all about it. You are weak and spineless. Half the world is suffering and I hope you lose sleep over the fact that it’s because of you.

Marley Harmony

It’s Bob Marley day in Cebu and I find myself outside, in a parking lot – entranced by the various Philippino artists as they pay great tribute to his legendary songs. The atmosphere is a wild mix of reggae chill and rock attitude.

I weave through the crowd, aware on some level that there is so much happiness around me. I lose myself in the music for a while. At its simplest level, music doesn’t need lights, or sound equipment, it doesn’t even need an audience. Music needs nothing from us, expects nothing from us – and gives so much in return.

I’m loosing horribly to a fellow Canadian in a beer speed-drinking contest. There’s a few repeat attempt to try and gain some honor (I still lose) and now I'm drunk – but feeling a sense of unity, respect and acceptance that nothing will ever replace. The rasta surf adventurers and international film students I’m with make it all seem like home. I might be on the other side of the planet – but through the power of music – I feel no difference.

A small fire lights up inside me and begins to burn. I feel warm and at peace. Then – it starts to rain.

I'm soaked before I even know what’s going on, and half the crowd is now huddled under tents – but even a storm can’t stop the fire that music created. The crowd remains. We dance and scream and sing so loud above the downpour drone.

The beat, the melody, the meaning of music is truly the most international harmony on the planet. The fire that started for me that Bob Marley day in Cebu… it will never die. It burns in a memory and a feeling I can’t even describe. Music is freedom. In a world full of chaos, it makes sense in a way that nothing else ever can.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Puppies

I like to re-read my journal entries, even from just the day before... and this one i found... I've even decided to type out for you to read today. I'm a bit of a depressing girl sometimes...(proven here) but this particular entry struck a cord somewhere, and I felt it needed to be here. So, here it is. Here we go.

"I can hear a puppy barking and whining sadly off in the distance and realize, I've never felt more like that puppy in my whole life. I'm lost, alone, young and afraid. I sit here trying to be positive, wondering why I cant think of one single thing that’s good in my life… and realize again, that I'm worse then that puppy. That he is blissfully ignorant not knowing how much better his life could be. That he is probably just hungry. But he sounds so miserable. I want to find him and sit down for a while. Just show him for at least one moment in his life what it’s like to be loved and fed – but I don’t go. I've been crying for the last hour – just like him. Where are all the people I care about? Are they thinking of me too? Maybe it all doesn’t matter as much as it seems. I'm alive. I'm laying a warm comfortable bed, I’m healthy and I'm here… So today, I’m a puppy, tomorrow I might be a bitch but I’ll still be just as lost and alone. Until the day comes where I’m shown a reason to be happy."

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Nonsensical Poetry no.1

Sometimes letting drama fly
Is known to ease the mind better
Then letting it climb high alive
Been running laps for too many ages
Saying “I’m ahead of my time”
Is just another statement.
You act like you know
But you've never held a soul when it breaks
Thunders and takes what was left in the wake
And i'm sick of it
So throw a fist up quick
Let your soul speak it's own language
Cause really there's only one life
Take it from me,
I’m wasting it chasing a day dream.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Plato Begins

I am 21 now and still feel so helplessly vulnerable. Paradigms shifted at every corner, and re-created again at every new beginning makes for an eternally confusing thought process. I can be feeling completely satisfied, then before I even know what’s happening, some unexpected miniscule detail alters my entire world. It’s a long windy maze with a million possible dead ends… and no foreseeable exit. Plato once wrote, “The beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression more readily taken.” When does this “beginning” end? I still don’t even know what my own desired impression is. Even thinking about it now, I cringe at the thought of imagining my life ten years down the road and will never understand why society dictates that it’s good to do so. Life is full of the unexpected and unknown. That’s what makes it so enticing. That’s what makes it worth living. Like any other, I set goals and daydream about the future, but having an image of an ideal future only limits you. It sets up expectations that are often unrealistic, and essentially… boring. I would hate it if in ten years I looked back and realized I was exactly where I expected I would be.
So when does this “beginning” end? When does the vulnerability creep away?
For me?
Never.

I’m always changing, always challenging my own thoughts and my own opinion of myself. It makes me hard to catch, and even harder to hold on to, but worth it in the end. So… cheers. To never accepting the minimum, or constraining the perfection of your life. And cheers again, to the beginning of forever.
"In fairy tales, the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life, the princesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs."

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Faceless And Nameless

He is a man, not a boy. He calls me beautiful instead of hot. He kisses my forehead. He calls me back when I hang up on him. He is kind to strangers. He opens doors for me and gives me his jacket when I’m cold. He follows his dreams. He let’s me chase mine. He cares about the world’s injustices. He makes me laugh. He talks with me. He listens. He forgives. He is great with kids. He is eccentric and playful and intelligent. He has a deep inner world.

He is not greedy or shallow or possessive. He doesn’t hold me back or toss me forward. He doesn’t take me for granted. He does not yell at me. He does not expect me to be perfect.

He keeps me safe. He trusts me. He is never afraid to speak his mind – and let’s me speak my own. He does not give up on me. He is the one who turns to his friends and says with a smile… “that's her.”

He’s in love with me…

He is a man, not a boy… but… so far… he doesn’t exist.

if you happen to be a billionaire...