And Last Night I Thought Of You

I can still see your smile when I close my eyes. Where have you gone, why did I send you off?

If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything

We love not the form. Not the face, or the curve of a nose. But the silence, and our even breath. Weight on my breast, and love does not slip through the fingers of those interlaced.

— Cadillac

Post Mardi Gras

I do not owe anyone an apology, aside from my own friends, the people I actually care about. The sexual double standard has come into play here, and how dare a loser, low-ife of a frat boy scream at me publicly and call me a slut. I can’t stand the way I’m held to a higher standard, that it is me who is punished for my actions, and not the second party involved. And for what I did, I’m removed from the house, banished, and never allowed back. Bull shit. Maybe I should stop drinking for a while. College makes it hard to keep my cool.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

— Haruki Murakami 

(Source: tsukeru)

Can only the housed afford to atheist or agnostic? The homeless seem to need god.

— The Game, exclusively by ME

Gallagher Library, School of Law

Mmm, the library. Silence provokes thought, coffee makes me have to pee, and the toilet is cold on my ass. The toilet paper is terrible, too. 

Details aside, I’m thinking, I don’t know much about myself anymore. All that I was sure of is under constant construction, renovation…I am perpetually changing. How is it that this change is subtle, gradual, yet it appears all at once as if I have not seen or heard from myself in ages? Time is a terrible thing, when it comes to acknowledgement and understanding of one’s own consciousness. Time is a terrible thing in all, because it is time that has decided that we live a life, and are not simply alive. Time is terrible, also because it rushes us. We think that there is never enough time, that we will run out, that we will not accomplish all that we want to in the next minute, hour, day, year…lifetime. See what I mean? It is the concept of time that is the opposite of divine. What is infinite, eternal, and never-ending…well. Ask the grandfather clock. I’d assume he’d say such things are fleeting, because if we live as a ticking clock, midnight has to strike eventually. On all things. Right?

Red Heads Make Me Angry

Red heads DO make me angry. They often have this flair on their personality, an extra spice, kick, bite…something. And I know that it is specific to gingers, not necessarily that no one else can ever have it, but that all gingers most definitely do. Whether or not they use it to their advantage is an issue of their own, but nonetheless every one I know has some sort of fire in their belly, and a small sense of sarcasm. Again, with the sarcasm, it is their choice to develop it or not. But I used to hate gingers, odd that I found one attractive (because I NEVER thought that was going to happen). Odd balls. Wonderfully odd balls. 

Love is always lessons learned

— The Game, exclusively by ME

A Lesson on Maturity

“Maturity is the ability to control anger and settle differences without violence or destruction. Maturity is patience, the willingness to pass up immediate pleasure in favor of long-term gain.

Maturity is perseverance, the ability to sweat out a project, or a situation in spite of opposition and discouraging setbacks.

Maturity is unselfishness – responding to the needs of others, often at the expense of one’s own desires of wishes.

Maturity is the capacity to face unpleasantness and frustration, discomfort and defeat, without complaint or collapse.

Maturity is humility.  It is being big enough to say, “I am wrong.”  And , when right, the mature person need not say, “I told you so.”

Maturity is the ability to make a decision and stand by it.  The immature spend their lives exploring endless possibilities, then do nothing.

Maturity means dependability, keeping one’s word, coming through in a crisis.  The immature are masters of the alibi – confused and disorganized.  Their lives are broken promises former friends, unfinished business and good intentions which never materialize.

“Maturity is the art of living in peace with that which we cannot change.”

Reverend Lovell Jones

*This is not my own piece of writing, I simply wanted to post the entry, without attaching a URL*

And I think to myself…

Any regrets? Of course. Any friendships left behind? Several. Any words you should have left unsaid? Damn straight there are.

The truth is, I believe that we are composed more of our failures and faults than our successes. I believe this because we learn from our failures, our “I-fell-flat-on-my-face” moments, attempts at the life and the world around us. When we succeed, we simply admire ourselves, “Damn, I’m good, great, fantastic even” and why the hell not? At what moment would any person take the feeling of ecstasy and reflect upon themselves? 

The moments at the bottom, the very bottom, are when we look inwards, and think about what we have done, and who we are. It is in the worst that we finally throw ourselves into the world we created, our world, our reality, and look at the candy trees and gummy-bear bushes, and finally ask ourselves what we want from ourselves. 

Metacognition is the key to understanding the world, because it is understanding that you think, that everyone thinks, and the acceptance that there is so much to know and that you will never know it all. 

The bottom isn’t necessarily where you want to be, but honey, it sure as hell is where you need to be sometimes. But once you hit the ground, start running. Don’t stop, get up, breath, move forward. It is the decision to better yourself that will better the situation. 

But god damn, hasn’t this all been said before?

Wednesday, A victory

Alone in the Chemistry building. I’ve decided to dance erratically, shake my behind, smile, laugh, giggle, and not give a fuck. I’m beautiful, I’m whoever the hell I want to be. If someone catches me in the act, I won’t be ashamed. I think I’ve stepped onto the other side, one toe at a time of course. But I’ve found it. This realm of not caring but seeing, feeling, hearing, and being. 

I dare the world to come at. Come at me fast, hard, and without mercy. I’ll smile in the face of defeat, and I laugh in the face of those who think they can break me. Just watch me mutha fuckers. Watch me dance. 

Tuesday, Astronomy

You’re dwelling on, and over thinking it. There is no need to waste thoughts on an incident now past and beyond both of us. And if anyone isn’t to let it go, shouldn’t that be me? And what are these jokes you keep making about my love life? At one point did I become less a friend and more an object? I’m trying to be an adult about this, I’m trying to be mature and ignore petty comments and foolish remarks. Most importantly, I’m moving forward, leaving the whole thing behind me…and there you are. Standing over the grave of a love that was never meant to be, that never happened, that never even took flight. And you’re laughing. Let it be clear that you are NOT getting a valentine card from me. Or at least not one that warms your heart. Sarcastic, egocentric, ginger FUCK. 

Dodge, Dip, Dive, Duck and

Whaaaat the fuck have I been thinking. I’m lost on fantasy island. Could we run away together? You’ll play jazz music and educate me on grammar. We’ll eat noodles every night for dinner, and swim in crisp, blue waters. Far away, I feel for you. Lovely, lovely day dreams. I wake up, fuck what I have been thinking. Real world coming at you. Smile. 

Titles mean nothing when you don’t know what you’re saying

I’ve been really, really trying to think through the last four years of my life. Recently, in one of many in a very long and annoying string of events, the boy arrived for just another sexual romp and as he left I decided it would be our last. I reached my conclusion after his failure to perform, which spiked my awareness of what I thought, how I felt, and the contradiction between the two. I want to be clear that at many times in the last four years I have felt this boy was the love of my life, thought he was the one, and was foolish enough to believe myself. However, although I thought he was the one, my heart was resistant, and therefore never gave way to build real trust or even create the opportunity to really feel for him. Lying naked beside a figure I knew oh-so-well, I noticed I no longer felt the heat in my finger tips when I touched his skin. The lust I had felt for so long had dwindled, and I was left with reality

I did not know my heart so well at seventeen. 

It hurts still, to see him. But we outgrew one another, even if he doesn’t know that yet. The boy no longer needs me, he no longer is the boy.