My Meditation

“I walk in stride with people much taller than me and partly it's the boots but mostly it's my chi. And I'm becoming transfixed with nature and my part in it, which I believe just signifies... I'm finally waking up.
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So I walk like I'm on a mission cuz that's the way I groove. I got more and more to do. I got less and less to prove. It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures ,cuz I have the kind of beauty that moves.
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and I am trying to evolve, I'm just trying to evolve” Ani Difranco

Sometimes it just feels like others capture the feeling a little better than I ever could.

Things have kind of been like a dream, well maybe more like a movie. But I’m feeling different…just rejuvenated I guess. It hasn’t been any one event, but maybe a series of choices. I don’t want to stick to any one’s prescribed life plan. I’m a free spirit, mock it, call it cliché, say whatever you’d like and go fuck your self. Unless of course…you’re in for the ride…in which case, buy yourself a ticket. I refuse to live my life for other people. That means letting go of the past. For the first time, really that I can remember, I’m not motivated by others. My dreams are mine and they aren’t wrapped up in anyone else’s.

My priorities aren’t to graduate on time, work as many hours as I can, or…to be in control.

I’m just going to go as many places as I can, soak up all the music my ears can take, dance as much as my body will allow, love as much as my heart can tolerate, and sit back and let the winds blow some amazing people into my life.

A Bad Case of Nostalgia

Missing someone in that bad sort of way.

Don’t act dumbfuzzled and yes, I know that wasn’t a complete sentence, but don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.

It’s that wrenching feeling in your heart; its cliché like something’s missing. It’s that empty feeling in your stomach. It’s the smile that almost comes to your face, if it weren’t for the tears whaling in your eyes.

It could be the picture that’s still tucked into my mirror, a song, or something as dumbed-down and pop culture as your name popping up in my mini feed. God, how I hate mini feed on Facebook.

::interjection:: [We are the culture of the paparazzi. We meddle and stalk our friends and foe alike. I don’t know you people, but I know who you’re dating, how much you love them, what you ate for breakfast and what homework you are doing. We are ridiculous. I am ridiculous. We all spill our guts on the World Wide Web, like this, but how many of us really have the guts to be honest in person? We do it because it’s a socially expectable release of our thoughts and emotions. Blog about it—anything, it will be out there, and we’ll never speak of it in person. This is what we do. So, here forth, I will continue the cycle… read and bask in the glory of my inner thoughts and feelings and I promise to return the favor.] ::over it::

Frankly, foolishly…there are those people in your life who you just assume will always be around. Their role, their capacity, may change, along with yours…but you just know they’ll always be around. Those people who late at night, when push led to shove and you’re face down on the ground…they’ll be there to pick you up, to listen to you, to calm, to comfort, however they can. My assumptions were wrong. I know you wouldn’t even answer the phone. Pass the blame along to “this is just how it has to be” and feel my heart sink.

Maybe it’s for the best that I haven’t called or written; what started out as a test of my own strength has gone too far and I wonder if I’ve done all the healing I can do on my own. If I reach out, will there be anything in return? It’s not your love I seek; in fact, I don’t know what I want at all, maybe just some understanding, an acknowledgment, but then, this is probably all so foolish.

Call me emo and I’ll punch you in the face.

I guess this has all come up to slap me in the face because it’s affecting the prospect of anything new. I’m on guard, I’m hurt and I’m fucking scared. So, I formally apologize to anyone who “likes” me...I’m damaged goods and the process of mending is slow, perhaps constant. And also, let me say this… I am not some easy fuck, some weekend fling, or some casual concubine to entertain you for a few months. I’ll be your best friend, I’ll rock your world, but nothing about me is simple or easy.

Cowgirl in the Sand

The things you choose not to do become their own reality?

Okay, I’m just being ostentatious. There is no such thing as reality or time? No, time is real because it’s a construct of reality and if time is real, then simply being real means reality. Fuck, I’ve messed it all up. Time is a human construct? So humans create reality. We all create our own reality. Does that mean two beings can not possibly share the same reality? It’s all about perspective. Are you confused? Because I am. Confused is my perspective.

To the point…

I’m starting this blog because none of you have any clue about what is going on with me and generally neither do I…so this will be good for us both. There are a handful of people that I miss like crazy, but never speak to…you know who you are. There are even more of you who I see all the time, but share nothing with. Sue me. I don’t know what’s going to come out or how much of it I’ll regret, but I don’t have much to loose. So, what the hell? If you don’t like it, don’t read it. If you give a shit, come around for a gander.

Tonight’s not the night for me to start spilling my guts, but this is your fair warning.

"Language, she said, was just our way to explain away the wonder and the glory of the world. To deconstruct. To dismiss. She said people can't deal with how beautiful the world really is. How it can't be explained and understood." –Chuck Palahniuk