I'm giving up on love cos love's given up on me.

I used to believe I liked the rain because it made it easier to pretend I wasn't crying. I realize now that I like the rain because it makes it easier to pretend that I am crying.

You cover me in all this girly shit- hair, nails, clothes, shoes, purses, make-up, rings, necklaces that sparkle- and take me out of my element. You keep saying you're trying to give me a life, but really you're trying to give me your life. But I don't want your life. You can keep it. I don't wear tight clothes because I'm not comfortable with my body. You are, and that's ok, I'm not going to try to make you be more modest, but I need the same respect from you. I need you to realize that I'm not in any way attractive, and I'm not comfortable around people who are overly assertive, people who are loud, people who don't think before they speak, people who are impulsive, people who do stupid, idiotic, ridiculous things because they think they're being funny when really they're just being disrespectful, or in large groups, which I've come to realize I define as "more than two or three." I pretend to be, for your sake, because I love you, and want you to be happy, but I know you see it on me, because I'm so transparent. And just so you know, when you see me about to cry and ask me what's wrong and I don't answer you, it's not because I'm ignoring you. It's because I can't think of a single thing to say to express just how miserable i feel, and I know that if I tried I'd only start crying, and would ruin your night.

So here's how it goes: I've been me, and that didn't work out for me. I've been you, and that didn't work out for me. I've been everything I hate in this world, and that didn't work out for me. Nothing works. I don't want to do this anymore. I gave it everything I had, and everything I got was bad. There's no happy ending for me, at the end it's going to be you in your life, and me and my cat in mine.

I'm sort of okay with that. I trust him.

I give up.

Dear Sadie,

You were absolutely right.
Mango + Rice = Divine.
And the addition of the tuna cakes wasn't bad either.
I'm definitely making this again, and every time I do I'll think of you.
:)

<3 M

The world is emo.

Why is it that everyone in the world has become so depressed and burnt out all at the same time? Is there something in the air or something? Some chemical that's in the water that's counteracting everyone's antidepressants?

I like being there for people when they're down. Really, I do. And if you feel bad, come to me. I'll do my best to make you feel better. But when everyone's feeling shitty all at once, and all I ever hear is how fed up everyone is with their personal situation, and how tired people are, and how scared people are, and how disgusted people are, and how terrified people are, and how angry people are, and how sick people are, and how horrible life is, it gets really hard for me to stay cheery.

I mean, I've got my own stuff to deal with too, you know. But that doesn't mean it's all I ever tell anyone about. I go out of my way to not bring up my issues when I'm talking to people who are not involved in them, cos they don't need to be brought down, and I don't need them to feel bad. It's really not inviting when all you talk about is how miserable you are. It makes you seem just that- miserable.

So, I'm not saying don't have problems. I'm not saying not to talk to me about them. I'm especially not saying don't talk to me at all (don't push me away just cos you have issues; I really am just trying to help). I'm just saying that when I try to cheer you up, don't snap at me, and don't brood at me. Your problems are not my problems, I don't want to join you in feeling sorry for you, or for me, or anyone else. I just want to be supportive and loving, and help you to realize that you're not alone in the world, so maybe you'll see that it doesn't COMPLETELY suck balls.

Happy Fourth

So, two days ago my family adopted a tiny little puppy... He's Pomeranian and Chihuahua, and his name is Benny, and he weighs 2.9 lbs, and bounces when you call him, and is adorable and cuddly, and I love him so much. He's tiny and fuzzy and black, and he's really pudgy, so he's about the same width all the way down his body, so when you hold him under his chest he feels like he's gonna fall, and squirms and squirms... But when he wants to get picked up he comes up to you and bounces, or if you put your hand out he'll put his front paws onto it. He loves taking Jack's toys and shaking them, while growling so fiercely I think he's gonna hurt himself. He falls asleep about every three hours, and is so cute stretched out in his fluffy little bed (that's where he is now). Because he has such a thick coat, he gets hot really easily, and is always panting. Whenever I notice that, I take him to his water so he can drink, but he's almost always way tired, and drinks for about three seconds, and then conks out right there next to his water bowl.

But today, on the 4th of July (Independence day for Americans), my parents decided I should stay home and babysit little Benito while they go out on a motorcycle ride. Nina's at a friend's house in Morgan Hill to watch fireworks, and Steph's who-knows-where doing who-knows-what...

I don't mind watching the pets, I appreciate having the time with them, esp since I live way far away from them. I just wish I could have been asked, instead of expected. I mean, I do have a life outside of my family. C wanted to go out to dinner tonight. It's the Fourth of Fucking July. I could've gone out to party. I could've gone to see fireworks. I could've gone and met a bunch of cool new people. Not that I wanted to do any of those things, but I'd like to have the freedom to choose...


So, family: Where's MY Independence?


Also, there's firecrackers going off right now, and I can't believe it, but he's sleeping through them.

Love is... altruistic

It's funny how we put ourselves in the most trying of positions for the benefit of others, even if what we're doing is extremely detrimental to our own physical, mental, emotional health, welfare, whatever. It seems this concept of "love" requires of us complete and total devotion to the safety and comfort of some other person without even concerning ourselves with whether we've addressed our own needs first or at all, or whether this other person is in turn willing to be concerned with our needs. This "love," this beauty that is so coveted, so often written about, is so easily the cause of so much pain.

At first, the feeling itself is liberating. To know and feel and admit to yourself that there is some person in your life for whom you wouldn't hesitate to perform even the most astonishing actions, no regrets, produces such a powerful wave of calming, intense, giddy pleasure that it seems you'll never come down.

Then, when you realize seconds later that it is only you who feels this strongly, and that the object of your affection does not return the gesture, you're overcome by a panic that is pained, and sick, and the overwhelming tone of life seems so destructive, so incredibly wrong that the only thought capable of entering your mind is how much you want it to stop. But of course, it never does. And eventually you realize that you don't mind that they don't want to protect you in return, even if they said they would. It makes them happy that you are so devoted, so it means nothing at all that they don't reciprocate- they're happy, so you're happy.

But it's not enough. As much as anyone can ever feel that the other person being happy is enough for them to be happy, it simply isn't. It can't ever be. In order to have a healthy relationship, both parties must be supported. Both must feel equally empowered. Because you have to have all your other needs- food, safety, shelter, self-esteem- before you can have love.

If love is being entirely altruistic, and being entirely altruistic causes a downfall, then demonstratively love causes downfall...

So then, love is not a good thing...

Perfection

The fierce commotion is forgotten in a swirl of nostalgia as tinker bell colors the world sepia. The new music video of Leavin' playing on high, with the cartoons on mute simply for the movement and flashing light. The moon is bleeding, but we can't see her anyway, so it's ok for us. A sideways comment, a tilted head, and the titillation is never-ending. Two finger typing from the sides of the keys, instant words appear three feet away. Every comment followed by a grin.

Life works.

Life's being a downer. I miss my kitty.

Boomer.

So a little while ago my car stalled, and wouldn't start back up... C**** and I were stuck at the bottom of Western, on the side of Hwy 1. Her friend Boomer, who is a tow truck driver, saw us, and stopped to help. He looked around a bit, but we couldn't find what was wrong. My dad was on his way, and we had already called for another truck, so we thanked him and let him go...

Tonight I was moving my car from the west lot to the east lot so I could put stuff in it to take out of my apartment, and at the corner of McLaughlin and Heller, at the stop sign on the 30 degree incline, it decided to stall again. For a little ways before it had been acting weird, in fact, since about the 8/porter stop sign the clutch pedal had been giving me a lot of play... too much play... I was trying to putz along in 2nd, hoping I could get to somewhere I could pull off and find out what was wrong, but there was a bus in front of me, that of course had to stop, so I had to slow way down, and with my car in second, I'm surprised I made it past the stop sign by the core parking structure, but the second stop sign I had to completely stop at, and of course it died.

I tried to start it, and it lurched forward, but wouldn't even crank. Tried that a couple of times, all with the same result. I called my dad, and put on my flashers, and was jumping back and forth between the clutch pedal and the cable under the hood with a cop directing traffic around me, but no matter what I did, it just wasn't working. I eventually got it started by replacing the cable into the fixture that connects to the pedal (the one that pulls the cable so it disengages the gears), but after it started (with the cable on the other side of the firewall loosened as much as it would go, so as not to give it any slack whatsoever) the cable still found itself enough slack to remove itself from the pedal. Son of a Beezy.

Dad said it was probably loose at the transmission (on the other end of the cable), so the policewoman called a tow truck, and guess who showed up? Boomer! I told him what was going on, and he towed me to the east lot, front end first. He gave me a break on pricing, and didn't even charge me for the dolly he put under my back wheels so as not to scrape my pipes on the ground. Then at the east lot he lifted the front end, and we got underneath and saw the cable was pulled from the transmission. He said he thought he could fix it right there without even needing a new cable, so we opened the housing, but it turns out the cable was frayed, so there was nothing he could do.

He drove me back to Stevenson, though, and didn't charge me anything for the diagnostic banter. And he gave me a pen with the tow company's number on it, so next time I can just call him directly... Having all the locals be good friends of C****'s has come in handy, but I think this particular guy must be a guardian of mine or something...

AND I have to be moved out by four tomorrow, AND I have to be at work in Morgan Hill on thursday... so as of tomorrow, I'll be really low, with no apartment, no car, and no way to get to work...

but at least i'm done with finals, and therefore school until the 23rd...

I Won't Lead Because I Fear You Won't Follow

I walk behind you
so you won't notice me cry
as you walk away.

The War With My Body

First, let me say that while I'm on an adrenaline rush right now, I haven't been sleeping well at all lately, so there is no doubt that I will be exhausted by simply writing this (I do have half an energy shot, though, so I should be relatively ok for class). For whatever reason, my body has decided that it is now going to be impossible for m to get a full night's sleep, no matter where I am. At my apartment, at C****'s house, at my parents' house, I still seem to wake up very early in the morning, which, when I go to bed late at night means that the largest and most important of REM cycles is never reached. It's already affecting my behaviour, and my school performance, and causing headaches, and I'm sure I'll be going crazy soon. Last night, for example, I didn't get home until 2, so I probably passed out around 2:30. I don't remember the bulk of dreams from the main part of the night, but I awoke unprompted and for no reason at 7:02 this morning. I never set an alarm last night. There was no reason for this. I went back to sleep, but kept awaking, every twenty minutes or so thereafter! iIhad a series of strange dreams, but then, what dreams aren't strange? The last one, however, the one from which upon waking I chose to just get up, started out as an imitation of life dream, in which I was in a household with the people I am currently living with. We weren't living in our apartment, however, we were living in a loft apartment, somewhat like a combination of our real apartment, and Steph's house. Also, instead of Laura, our group contained a guy named "Drew." It seemed that we were still at UCSC, but the campus was much more sprawling, like that of CSUMB. At one point, Drew tried to walk out of my room with some of my shirts in his hand. As soon as he got to the hallway they disappeared, but it was obvious he was taking them. I asked him to return them, and he denied ever having them. We started screaming at each other about it, and it ended with him leaving, and me going into his room and tearing through his stuff looking for them. Then Chris turned into Eddie, and Eddie came in and told me he still had some of my clothes from when we were together that he had never gotten around to returning, and that I could wear those until I could get my stuff back from Drew. I followed him back to his room, and he gave me some stuff that I know for a fact he still has in real life. I was so thankful I kissed him on the cheek, and he got all bashful about it, even though I didn't mean anything by it. Then Erin offered to drive me to class, but instead of her Cherokee she was driving a Scion xb. I told her about the Drew thing, and she seemed upset by it. then I asked her if she would be late by driving me, and she said she was supposed to be in "Show Modeling," which I assumed was something like Show Choir, but didn't ask. Then I woke up, and it was 9:01, and I got up.

It is possible that my lack of real sleep has contributed to the fragility of the rest of my body. The scrape on my knee has still not healed, or even fully scabbed and that wound was incurred almost two weeks ago now. Additionally, the joints in my hands have become extremely sensitive, and scream out if ever I use them too much, or don't move them for too long. The joint in my unscathed knee also seems to be complaining, as of yesterday. It seems the same specific parts of it become numb if it is in the wrong position, or stays still for too long. It hasn't been as bad today, though, so That may have come from the adjustment of the seat of my car yesterday (every adjustment changes the way that leg maneuvers the clutch). Hopefully that's all that was.

Dunno what's up with the sleep thing. Gonna try to crash for a good length of time this weekend, see if that helps...

On the Streets of Santa Cruz

Today I was hanging out on West Cliff, playing my guitar.

Some guy came up to me and asked if I could get him weed. His logic was "since you're playing the guitar at the beach..."
I wish people would stop making assumptions...

Then later, another guy came up to me and asked, in a very prophetic way,
"Are you living your life?"
I thought about that for a second...

Then he asked if I made bread in my vagina.

And that's when I went home.

war with head

head- hurts
light- hurts
moving eyes- hurts
moving body- hurts
Sneezing- hurts in right parietal and frontal lobes
breathing- hurts, tempered with blinking
sound- grating, and way too audible
longing to scream- overwhelming
clawing at head- not helping
mouth- dry
stomach- constricted and nauseous

Neno

I really think he's getting bigger every night. I swear last time i visited he was not as large as he is this time... Even the other day when he spent the morning in bed with me I kept saying, "man, you look big, Neno..." and then just now when i saw him i thought he was much bigger than even the other day. I mean, his head is bigger than my fist....
And I don't just mean the fuzz part.

His SKULL is bigger than my fist.

Now, that's a big cat...

Sometimes I think maybe he's not truly a fully domesticated cat. Maybe he's half lapcat half jaguar, and he's not growing out of proportion, he's just becoming the jungle cat he was always meant to be...

Volvo: Plenty of room for friends and tubas

I've always been bothered by people who flake on things with zero notice whatsoever. I don't mean calling five minutes after they were supposed to be somewhere. There's a special circle of hell already reserved for those people... No, I mean the people who will actually make plans, and then when it comes time to execute them, will just simply NOT, for whatever reason, and give no notice, and make no attempt at communication, as if they simply disappeared.

And then afterwards, when it is clearly too late to do anything about it, a voicemail is left as if that would help things. What is the mentality behind that? How can anyone think that NOT talking to the person you're supposed to meet up with could ever solve an altercation? If you really don't want to hang out, just say that. I'm okay with that... But to be blown off? That's really disrespectful, and that I have a problem with.

I kind of expect it sometimes, though. Usually from the people from whom it would hurt the most. I make myself expect it just in case it actually plays out that way. It's a defensive strategy. It's not because they're bad people, or any more prone to doing that... It just hurts more from them...

Because those are the people I'm supposed to be able to trust not to do that kind of thing. Theoretically, they care enough about me not to do that. So it always hurts more when they do it, because it seems that much more underhanded and disloyal...

I suppose I'm just being ridiculous, expecting this from them... None of them seem to have the same opinion about the way morals should be held as I do...

What do we want?

Fry's dog!

When do we want it?

Fry's dog!!!

Cadaver-Seeking Dog

haha, cadaver seeking-dog...


It has become my opinion that modern law-enforcement animals are being abused. How could anyone think it fair to train any creature to sniff out dead bodies? I mean, think about that: that guy's job is to smell rotting flesh. When he smells it, it's a good thing, and when he doesn't smell it, something is wrong. That creates issues all in and of itself... That has to be something like the Ugandan boy getting a headache when he didn't see blood. You just know that dog's gonna be fucked up.

Missed Opportunities

Do we ever really realize what is going on around us? Can we ever truly understand the weight of a situation when we're in it?

I'm watching a History Channel documentary called "Beyond the Big Bang," and in one instant am shown an interview with this elderly scientist named Ralph Alfer, who gives a sound byte about a scientist named Hoyle. It isn't an astonishingly revealing sound clip, nor is it anything anyone else couldn't have said, but it obviously displays that the History Channel was able to get an interview with Ralph Alfer. 74 seconds later, a young scientist by the name of Brian Greene is discussing Hoyle, and explaining how Hoyle himself wasn't really a mathematician, and depended upon "this phenomenally talented graduate student of his, Ralph Alfer..."

Before seeing the post-production version of the documentary, was Greene even aware that the History Channel was in touch with Alfer? This is obviously a hero of Greene's. Were the two introduced? Did Greene ever have the chance to meet Alfer? If so, was he able to accurately express to Alfer the extent of his admiration for the man's work? Or was he left unaware of his proximity to this hero until after the History Channel had released Alfer from his conversational duties?

Where are you going?

What a question.

I wish I could tell you.

There is such a dilemma created by this question. Especially when there are conflicting destinations.

On the one hand, the destination is far away from home, and all the problems and current vexations. On the other, not so much movement, not so far from home, but with much better company than recent commonality. A choice to be pondered, especially if one is already committed to the latter- has been committed.

To choose the former would mean a good chance at happiness. There is very little there to negatively affect. The effects of the latter, while also therapeutic, are not so drastically felt. The draw to the latter, however, is that it was presented and committed to first, and to not choose it would be to betray those to whom the commitment was made. But to not choose the former would be to hinder the already damaged relationship with those involved.

It's a tricky decision to make, and I think what we choose says a lot about our personalities...

Save

I am so excited.

I found my Lazarus, and killed all my superfluous applications, and now my computer has a gig and a half of free space, leaving me plenty of room to create my project, and then some!

I'm so excited about being able to save again!!! I got so hyped about it that I went all the way downstairs to tell Jenna about it.

Me: I was working, and then added another picture, and then -click- Save!!!!
Jenna: ... ok...
Me: Ok. I'm gonna go back and work some more so I can SAVE AGAIN!!!

:D

media of the day:
http://www.hallikainen.org/windoze/winrg.swf

Go. Click. Explore... Write me a response of what you think of it, and then when you're done with the file, SAVE IT!!!

I Am Fortune's Fool

It's happening again...

I can feel it in my heart.
In the emergency reflex that contracts the tendons that pull the muscles and squeeze it like fruit to make it drip out distress-
dripdrip.
drip drip.

We have this repertoire, Fortuna and I.
Dawn's first gasping breath over the edge of the wheel brings the putrid, musky reminder of the toil to come.

It is truly only my recurring dream of clawing desperately at the wood,
being overtaken by the immense weight, and
(finding myself shackled by my wrists to the spoke below me)
diving head first into the ground that awakens me from my pacified, naive state,
and reminds me of the Pleiades,
those ungrateful hens.

Unable to speed or slow the passing of time, I watch, clairvoyant of what is to come.
Of course I struggle (for who wouldn't struggle), but what struggle has ever resulted in peaceful harmony?

I see the course, attempting to learn its steadfast route so I may derail it, change it, or pause--

to live another month at the crest would make the fall so much more bearable

-- it continues as normal, unheeding of my cries.

Protest does nothing but teach me to shout.
Struggling does nothing but teach me to fight.
Acceptance does nothing, but teach me to love.