We never are what we intend, or invent.

I suppose I would say that I am greatly changed.
Let's start off with the fact that I write this for me, but obviously also for everyone that will never take the time to read it (thank god, because most of my rants are ridiculous). But publishing something on the internet somehow gives me the sense that it is beyond me. That I have shared it, even if no one ever sets eyes on it. It becomes something different and freeing as opposed to the introverted cyclical mess that presents itself in a book that stays on my nightstand and is never opened.
So change. I began to think of how different I feel in general, and how far yet I have to go, and the feelings just escalate into comfort.
Why comfort? Well, I suppose it is because it reminds me that I don't really know anything except what is happening RIGHT NOW. And I never know what will be and it makes me feel like I'm not in control of the future.

Yes, that is comforting. Ok, wait. Let me explain.

I makes me feel like I'm not in control of the future, only because "the future" is ALWAYS so far off. It never ACTUALLY happens. Because EVERYTHING is in the present. So essentially, I shouldn't have to worry about it. And really, really, REALLY, should anybody worry about anything at all? Ok, this is sounding either really spiritual or really immature.

Immaturity. Sometimes I think that people view young individuals as unwise, impulsive, and prone to mistakes. Anything we do, whether thought out or not becomes a consequence of our age. If we can think for ourselves and relate with ideas that go against society and the culture bred into it, then we are only young and foolish. We are told that we will learn better. Or should grow up. But you know what? There isn't a growing up. There is a going on. Everything just continues. There is no point where we stop and say, "now I am grown and the growing and learning can stop now because I have what I need to continue living and will need nothing more."
The truth of the matter is that we are changing.
Constantly changing.
Changing our ideas and interests and motives and loves and plans. Why should we stay set on one thing?
What the fuck is the point of that?
If you want something, you make it happen until you don't want it anymore, or have further interest in something else. And there is so much out there, so I EXPECT to change.

Constantly.

One day I want to go to Mexico, the next I want to re-learn the piano. One day I want to kill my ex-boyfriend and the next I miss him. Is that wrong? I'm not saying not to think things through.
And I'm not saying that I KNOW everything either.

But I don't want someone to tell me how to act because I haven't been there (in the possible situation at hand), and maybe I'd like to. Another person doesn't know how I'll feel being in that situation. And every experience is meaningful, no matter how devastating or beautiful. And if they don't like it, then they have the choice of doing what they want with those feelings.

No one is my responsibility.


And when I have kids, they will be my responsibility because I want them to be. Culture fucks it all up. Culture makes us feel guilty. It makes us want certain things and despise others. It makes us feel required to say "Bless you" when someone in the vicinity sneezes.

And again and again I come back to the idea of right and wrong. Which there is NONE of without culture. Culture drives us and I'm a bit afraid of it. I'm a bit afraid of myself, and of everything to tell the truth. Which is the issue. I cannot stop the fear because I'm reliant on culture's standards to tell me whether what I'm doing is sufficient. Am I a good person or a bad one? Is my life wasted or not? And I'm starting to think that NO ONE should answer those questions for anyone's standards but there own. And if I'm doing what I want, I'm not wasting anything. Although being human gets in the way of a lot of ideals, I can still look back and remember that I once knew "better" perhaps. I hope I never grow out or up or whatever the fuck they want me to do.

I want to keep fumbling along forever, because I certainly don't know anything and no one does.
I want to measure myself by MYSELF.
By my OWN standards, which of course cannot escape culture but can at least be conscious of it's rein and attempt to be aware of its persuasion in my decisions.

So this is where I'm changing. The old fears still reside, and the instincts tend to take over, and guilt or pride or shame or embarrassment or discomfort weasel their way into the manner in which I choose to continue stepping into each present moment.

And if I were the same girl I would want to say that I HOPED one day to stop thinking so much and just start doing what I need to do to be me. But the newer-ish me remembers that the word "hope" is just another way to worry about the future and try to direct it. So I guess I don't really want to "hope" anything.

I just want to BE, because it is certain that I will cease BEing at any given moment.

And "I'm the one that has to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life, the way I want to."

I don't even know where I am, so don't go looking for me.

Mapache:

Prophet:

LA sketches 1:

2:

3:

Woman Jesus with a Spirit Eye:

Ignorance

For La Luz project in Comm. Studio.

I feel disheartened by the effects technology has had on our society. We are entangling ourselves in reliance on immediate information. We have access to everything, but because of this we learn virtually nothing. Due to the ease obtaining information from the internet I feel we have lost our ability to legitimately learn and problem solve in the real world. For example, GPS omits the necessity of tackling all problems and acquiring new skills involved with simply navigating ourselves in the world. No need to communicate, use memory, read or understand. Simply do what the talking voice tells you. This piece is about technology encouraging ignorance in society. There is so much out there to experience, and we're looking at it all through a window instead of aspiring to truly participate in our own lives.

"Technology is bad for civilization. We are living in a manner that is unnatural. We are latently enslaved by our own ingenuity, and we have unknowingly constructed a simulated world. The benefits of technology are easy to point out (medicine, transportation, the ability to send text messages during Michael Jackson's funeral), but they do not compensate for the overall loss of humanity that is its inevitable consequence. As a species, we have never been less human than we are right now."

-Chuck Klosterman

May 18th 2009 12:22AM "You say you know, you know, you know, but I know that you don't, you don't you don't"

I returned home from an amazing concert at the Troubadour an hour ago. I'm beat and want to go home manana but I don't want to forget the details of the night. Not necessarily a play by play... but the feeling in general. Like how when he stepped on the stage to play his first song it was so beautiful that I got goosebumps and tears welled up in my eyes. A smile spread involuntarily across my face and I could barely even sing along.

When the Goddamn Band got on stage with him it was like this breathtaking sound. The other guitarists' sounds were echoing and I would feel the drums in my chest and throat. Every time Kevin took a breath and uttered a sound into the microphone my eyes rolled back in my skull with pleasure.

He closed his eyes so often.

His body wasn't grounded by his mind; it was acting on its own accord, following the music. He swayed and his head moved in circles around the microphone. He backed away and shouted perfectly reeling back on the device. His wolf's mouth stretched open to one side and his neck craned, face red, sweat dripping, flying into the blue, green and pink lights. And when the song would come to the climax I lost most control of my body and it swayed and my neck herded my head from side to side. I sang to the ceiling. I sang to Kevin. He flew backwards with such awkward elegance. He beat his guitar to death, he trampled around from side to side, swung it in the air, stamped his foot and heaved his body up and down as if it were limp from the waist up.

I don't think I've seen something so pure in a long time.

His shirt; blue long sleeve collared button up, was soaked and only the bottom button managed to stay dry. I'll remember his small bright eyes that looked toward the ceiling, toward the back of the room, towards nobody at all. He was everything I hoped for. His voice was perfect. It was beautiful. I am so in awe. I cannot fully explain the impact of this night.

Reckless

I don't like being lied to.

I don't like being deceived.

I don't like when something feels fake.

I don't like being judged.

I don't like being rejected.

I don't like being with people.

I don't like being alone.

I don't like not seeing.

I don't like looking.

I don't like noise.

I don't like silence.

I don't like metaphors.

I don't like literality.

I don't like society.

I don't like that one feeling. You know. The one where it feels bad.

Everything is conditional. Feelings are fleeting. Emotion is as useless as it is useful.

I don't like confrontation but I love to argue.

I don't like feeling stupid, but I love learning something I don't know.

I don't care what people think.

But I do.

Situational. Conditional. Dependent on, contingent on, determined by.

Control.

Control.

Control.

Or lack thereof.

Sometimes I'm nice because I have to be.

Most of the time I'm nice because I want to be.

Sometimes I'm not nice only because I'm telling the truth.

I tell the truth almost all of the time.

If I can consider leaving things out a form of lying, then yes, I lie.

I lie because I have to be nice.

I lie because I want to be nice.

And by lying I mean leaving things out.

I'm repeating myself.

I feel warm.

I always feel warm.

I need to take a walk. Alone. In the dark. Without shoes. That doesn't sound dangerous, does it?

Ok good, for a moment there I thought I was being reckless.

De earlier De letter De sooner De better, De later De letter De madder I getter...

So we are doing this project in Comm. Studio that deals with hand written letters. Find a letter, and illustrate it. I found some fantastic ones... although I only ended up being able to use one. I picked my Dad's letter to my mom. Aren't they beautiful? The handwriting and the paper. It makes me sad that people don't hand write letters anymore. It has inspired me to do so. :)

This one is a letter I wrote to my mom after I lied about something and said Derek did it. She told me to think about what I'd done, and it resulted in this:

This is the CUTEST letter I've ever seen. My mom has a whole box of these. Apparently my Dad was in college and my Mom was still in high school. They wrote to each other (since there weren't cell phones, haha):

These are especially fantastic for me because this is an old friend. My very first friend Mark Mellen. He moved to Washington when we were pretty young, and amazingly we kept writing each other letters for years. They are so cute and I still have all of them. This one is by far my favorite.

Men Die Under the Mountain Just Lookin for Gold, Some Die Lookin For a Hand to Hold.

I am aware of the fact that this is a complete waste of time.  That it is of interest to no one (almost including myself, if that makes sense) and that I should certainly be working on homework.  I am also aware that it is hot in this room.  Much hotter than necessary, however I suppose it is always hot where I choose to reside.  Or else, my body temperature is completely off the charts (I suspect that I am prematurely going through menopause).  Anyway, I had to make it clear my feelings at the time because I have no one to tell  (perhaps because I chose not to tell people things unnecessary of telling unless I find it hilarious or relevant).  Right now, I am completely in love/hate with school.  Ringing my own neck with projects and yet excited for the outcome.  And all this time I love being busy, but hate that my inner monologue is rapidly disappearing.  I had slightly overdeveloped my self awareness during the idleness of summer, and now that I lack the time to sit, think, and draw (out of leisure) I certainly miss it.  I don't have time to think for no reason, and no matter whether that is a good or bad thing, I miss it.  I thrive off of being alone but feel as if my work is interfering with my alone time (on the account of non-peaceful thoughts that accompany me while I work).  Now, I understand that One needs work, preoccupation, thought with a specific purpose.  I think the only idea I am trying to communicate here is that I haven't looked at the planes as I did a couple months ago with awe of their gracefulness.  I have no purposeless thoughts at all.  However, I suppose this is it.  This is my small chance to unleash those once again, and here I go with it, running as I always do.  I guess I found the time after all.  Anyway, listen.