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there isn't too much serious discussion that ever goes on here. i think the one major post was about the time I talked about leaving school. ...it was a shit of a way to let people know about my departure, my fleeing, my calling it fucking quits, my dissatisfaction with everything happening to me; it was the only way i could break it to the masses (i couldn't bring myself to tell people straight up...rumors started that i had been eaten by the fat, monster-of-a-girl who lived on my dorm floor).
ok, back to the times that matter: so here we are, five years later, and my life is a touch more exciting and not as horrible. there have been good things. very good things that have made me smile nonstop, the real ones that you don't flash when you feel obligated to look like a sane citizen, and take pleasure in the notion that i'm alive right now. i didn't think it could happen to me, i don't even understand why i let something like two years ago fuck me over for such a thing, but there i was, struck with unnecessary emotions over....wait for it..a boy. is it so stupid that i thought one sweet-and-soft-talking, lying, awkward-handshaking artist from a few years ago was able damage me forever? i was quite sure he did so i avoided any such relations with people who i thought might look attractive and have penises. it was back to being quiet and guarded and lonely (this is ok, i'm a lonely person after all); existence was difficult in a solitary mental state. i came to miss the physical contact, the laughing at stupid things, the overall company of a boy (maybe even a homely one as long as we liked the same things..more on this later). the quest was arduous and unfruitful. how could anyone ever compare to a motherfucking artist who wore glasses and indulged in devious deeds that i could no longer live without...HOW?
eventually, my luck turned. patience is a virtue i never do without and i was well rewarded for a time. it's not often i will receive courting or revelations of admiration with delight. the majority of these advances are met with a coy smile declining such intentions. i mean, it's rare that this will happen to me. i can't even begin to imagine why anyone would find me remotely attractive: i'm generally short, rectangularly shaped, annoyingly silent, indecisive, unintentionally judgmental,wide-faced...the list goes on, but i don't want to demoralize myself any further...So it's always an uplifting sensation to have a reciprocation of liking from someone who doesn't turn out to be stalker or creepy 40-year-old geek who lives with his mom.
this brings me to the much eluded topic of...urgh...wuv. i can't stand thinking, talking, wondering...having anything to do with it. Love is such a powerful, definite word; the connotations apparent in it are so deep, it can't be flung around recklessly to express a vague liking of something--this is a feeling poets have been trying to encompass for ages, what artists have only dreamed of depicting, something young girls hope to fall into by the time they reach puberty.
in the course of relationships i've survived, the greatest adversary i've come to face is trust. At first it's easy to believe someone likes you, but as time progresses you pick out little characteristics that induce suspicion; by the end of dates or sex or walks in the park or sex or awkward car rides one can't help but wonder if he really cares...if he's already plotting a way to ensnare his next victim (consensually or not), if he thinks about you whilst on the loo because you certainly do. i mean, really, how can you tell if likes, let alone Loves, you?
of course there's the betty everett method to determine such a discrepancy. to be honest, it's never quite worked for me...and i'm still very much waiting for that one magical kiss where i wrap my arms around his neck, lift up left foot (and only the left), and there's a spectacle of fireworks going off around us (or it at least feels like it to me) and a i can see the whole thing enfolding as if a camera is encircling us to catch every angle of bliss.this has never happened.
i think this fantasy has to come to an end.
back to the point, if there is a point, if you've kept up with what i've put on here thus far and paid attention: my trust issues. Of course I've been lied to, damaged by selfish boys who want it all, and the tolerance for anyone who fucks me over wanes...at times i become consumed by paranoia. this is made all the worse as every boy/man/life-changing, magical entity has abandoned me, leaving without a trace or explanation, resulting in brooding, sobbing, and an overall mood of desolation on my part. there have been instances where i recall a fond or ridiculous memory and my eyes will well up (so much for being an emotionless mass of woman). all that flashes in my mind by then are thoughts of my insignificance and why i exist in world that would do fine, if not better, without me.
now i can't even remember what i was supposed to discuss, where i was going beyond a post regarding a special little guy who is leaving me for a better life...all i can say, since he's long gone and no longer thinking about a stupid, melodramatic girl, is i miss you. yes, i'm guilty of caring too much and possibly wishing of fulfilling my mad notion of becoming a single mother (it is a desire i often dream of....don't judge).
remnants good for a lazy saturday
so. this is mostly a dedication, an explanation (pending it is read in all its entirety by my special little guy), a retching of words to let you and whoever winds up here know that you're nothing short of amazing, that you fucking saved me, that i'm suffering without you...that maybe i lost the best gotdang person i've met in a while and it will take me eons to find the next one.
despite these revelations and admirations about this person, there is lingering doubt in my mind that he will be good; i only suspect your engagement in purely sexual escapades or narcotic affairs. i am driven to madness. as much as i'd like to ignore these thoughts, they always creep in when least expected. just because fucking feels good and i'm not there doesn't diminish the fact that i know you're being a jerk. please don't go around fucking trash. i worry and i endure the sensations of stupidity exerting too much concern over your activities. at least know i do.
in truth, i have never thought of you as a moral person; the decisions you make, the actions you do are based on your own intentions: let them die. there are things i've wanted to say in your presence, but why take me seriously...i hope you care, i assume you do since the last time i saw you..
on the issue of my loyalty i only have to say this on my behalf:
(1) i don't lie to people i don't know very well
(2) why would i do something stupid?
ANYWAY! this has been dragging on forever and it's out in the public free to be ridiculed and snuffed at by everybody. so that's it. i'm going to write miserable novels in the corner whilst sobbing...and don't fucking tell me to man up or have some balls because it's not physically possible for me to be or do those things.
curse these feminine qualities.
hello. i don't remember the last time i talked about a movie in a sort of review style. i know it was something i used to do, especially when i started posting on the regular and when i was taking those film classes and such three or four years ago. maybe i haven't seen anything worth mentioning since then (most likely the case), but today i would like to bring attention to les emotifs anonymes.
i absolutely relished this film to the full extent, rarely something i will admit to for a film with content such as this. i'm not normally the one to enjoy dramas and romances and comedies too often...i suppose there's too much to think about and keep track of once the film gets going and my upbringing on senseless violence has attributed to this so i end up spacing out or becoming jaded with the trite and banal plot. or i end up super emotional (damn you eternal sunshine).
les emotifs anonymes was different from the usual fare because i felt as if it was a representation of how i go about things, perhaps more of how i used to, and what's happening in terms of "i'm shy and awkward and you're shy and awkward....it's kind of a bad match" incident as of late. all i could think was, "god, that's basically me. i'm really almost that level of shy...holy fuck." it was just...i don't know, i felt as if it summed up what was going with me.
the plot revolves around a française chocolate maker who is part of a self-help therapy group à la AA where she reveals her struggles with shyness and love. she becomes employed at a chocolate-making shop(..? is that what you call those sort of places?), becoming the object of affection for her boss, an equally shy and awkward man who has a great love for women, but is too afraid to approach them romantically. it was an enjoyable to watch them interact in train-wrecking fashion over the most normal of everyday activities.
and i was maybe swayed a bit because it was a french film. i do enjoy those in general. most times. when the mood strikes.
i could relate to the awkwardness immensely.
i really had a wonderful time viewing this; it was magical in a weird way...i don't know. maybe you have to be a quiet, shy, covert romantic to understand why this film is good. i highly recommend giving it a watch.
it was pleasant to see this in the backgroud throughout the film, too.
this is Pierre Niney. it's almost as bad as my last obsession with Gaspard Ménier.
recentemente. sento come una ragazza che non sa come vivere.
i miss the days of this thing where i would write on and on and on with no point. or there would be a point, i would like to imagine, embedded in all the nonsense spewed from my fingertips. there are some good ones, here is prime example. this is a great medium for saying things i can't readily bring myself to say in person; there's no confrontation or choking up on my part. i guess that also makes me very much a coward and failure in social situations that exert extreme emotional cues or lofty decisions i'm not sure how to express.
indeed.
these days, however, i've been focusing all my efforts of these experiences in paper form where nary a person could ever dream of reading them and knowing what's causing my brain and emotional center (wherever it may be located as i'm not entirely sure i have a heart for those sort of things located anywhere in my body) to go haywire. I'm not used to being unstable as a girl. I've seen it happen to others and it scared the shit out of me. Never could i even fathom to think that something of that caliber could ever cause me the pains and stress that limit my functions, breaking me down into a stupid mess of female in the corner of a room.
i'm not ready for living. i don't need this thrust into girlhood. the expectations are high and unnecessary. does it matter that i'm well on my way to becoming a baby factory? that my purpose, if i even have one besides being president and ceo of a baby factory, will be realized through mediums other than myself? it's all a bit useless to think so...and what of it if i'll be gone soon?
there is pleasure derived from posting on friday the thirteenth. i have a history of doing it over the years on here. it is a day i look forward to.
i guess i mean to say..everything bad that i could never ask for happened yesterday, a preemptive strike on all the good things i had going for me were fucked to the extreme.
anyway. i have to say that in the end it turned out great. I discovered things that made me feel genuinely happy. Like, so motherfucking overjoyed--shit i never thought would be within my grasp.
endless tears and sobbing (oh fuck. i can't believe i admit to heinous emotional outbursts.) morphed into uncontrollable smiling and laughter. i swear shit like that has never happened to me in my life--from shit to salvation. it lifted my spirits so much...made me happy as i've ever been since i realized mr. skip nicholson was the greatest man i've ever met.
but enough about good things.
i have also been obsessed with listening to chuck berry's no particular place to go.
lovely!
so for my near-middle-of-the-week holiday, i journeyed to northern california to visit my first real college i went to after i graduated high school. i could hardly contain my excitement as evident in this picture:
when we finally arrived at the place (hours upon hours later), i was filled with a damning nostalgia of the shit that happened there. the santa cruz scent brought back my early hopefully memories of actually ever loving the place. anyway, here are some pictures.
this was my dorm! or part of/a building near my actual dorm. i couldn't believe i remembered how to walk there from the bookstore. i would've taken a picture closer, but that would have required me to walk further uphill. i'm not too into that.
here are a series of trees and such. i'd forgotten how nice it is to see so many trees, especially everyday when i went to school there for a while. and the air, it is too fresh. i started hacking up black slime as i purged my body with the mountainy atmosphere.
i know you can't really tell from this angle, but this picture was taken from in a mini clearing encircled by tress. i felt as if weird, possibly sexual, pagan rituals were held there. ceremonies held by witches? drug pow-wows?
and to prove my point i saw this not far from this tree-circle:
....
what the fuck is this? it's like a reliquary or something...a summoning stick or whatever..i don't know. it looks like crazy and maybe pagan.
back to more pictures! of the boardwalk and pier! but they're not totally amazing..but have a look anyway!
Whilst at santa cruz, i picked up this bum.
well, he looked like a bum, but Mr. Sharky McFly actually turned out to be the coolest shark i've met and i have no shame in admitting that i slept with him.
ok, that doesn't make me a whore because, you know, he bought me dinner first and i found out he's a dj from ibiza and an amateur freestyle rapper and a producer for atl hip-hop records and he went to uni at oxford. Absolutely impressive, how could i not take him with me? He's not going to be with me forever, though. Mr. S. McFly has to get back to work and he wants to kick it with one of my friends...i think they'l be roommates whenever Sharky stops over in l.a.
after the one day thing at the university, we headed over to Monterey. i had no intention of going there, but, much like a pregnant girl and a hanger equals an abortion, it was on the way so we figured what the hell, its inevitable.
i thought these were pretty flowers. there were some that had yellow ones, too.
kayakers to be.
sharky mcfly is a camera whore.
check out these dogs. they look like crawling, furry humans. afghan hounds? is that right?
lastly, here is a video of the drive along the coast. i don't know/can't explain the background noises, if any (i think it's the platters & incoherent talking). ignore them. IGNORE.
i would say this was a fun trip. the worst part was the long ass drive, despite the fact i quite like being cooped up in a vehicle for hours and staring out the window. and as much as it pains my brain to admit this, monterey is a nice looking place. i want to go the aquarium eventually.
we'll see if that happens. and if there are belugas.
