karma.

i'm back in seattle after being in portland for a few days for christmas. my living room smells of mildew instead of baked goods like the home i just left does, dishes are scattered about the entire house after sitting there for who knows how long, and the groceries that i bought are now gone. i'm just so ready to move out and get my own place. it's funny, we all knew before we moved in that we didn't exactly keep a "tidy" house before. i'm not sure how it came to the point where we all completely let it go- not just the house, but almost a complete disrespect for the fact that each one of us lives 3 other people. everyone deals with things in their own way. shannon cleans every once and a while but lets everyone know that he's not happy about it, harrison does it most often out of either boredom or housewife instinct, joe may or may not clean when asked and other wise not at all as to not appease the rest of our passive aggressive suggestions that he should do it sometime before the lease ends, and i am either the one to clean up after when we have groups of people or after myself. any way you look at it, it doesn't leave anyone necessarily happy about the situation.

i'm just tired i guess. i'm a pretty easy-going person to live with i feel. sure i might not enjoy cooking or cleaning [at all] but i like to think i make up for it with my presence alone. kidding.

i like to spoil my friends, make sure thy have the time of their lives and laugh their asses off in the process. if someone needs something, i like them to know i can either be there or get it for them. call it 'needing to be needed' or whatever you want, but it just makes me happy doing it. would i appreciate someone reciprocating the favor? absolutely, but i don't expect it. i try to not expect anything lest i not be disappointed. however, i've decided i need to be [i would say a little, but i need to start with being so initially...] selfish.

for example, i want an apartment with hardwood floors, pretty appliances and matching dishes, a couple massive pieces of art to provide the majority or color, a sectional couch, a 47" flat screen tv, and ceiling-to-floor windows with curtains. and i want it all for myself. if i leave the lights on when i leave for the weekend, it's my fault that the electricity bill is higher than it should be. plain and simple. i'm not particularly keen on sharing responsibility with 3 other people. bills don't get paid on time because no one can manage their money unless the fairy godmother steps in and pays someone's share with no inclination of when/if she'll be paid back. i love them, like, LOVE them. i just need to live with someone on the same page as i am, aka myself.

it will be good for me, a true test of responsibility and work ethic. i'll be forced to live according to what i can and cannot afford for the very reason that i don't have anyone to split anything with. i crave the challenge. my goal is to have at least $5,000 saved up by the end of my lease. even that i hope to exceed. $10,000 would be ideal, and i know i can do it if i truly set my mind to it. no more tipping my bartenders 150% just because "i love them" and hope to someday have karma come back and help me in that arena. it never does. no more offering to treat friends to endless drinks just because i want them to be involved in the fun. it's time to be selfish and fend for myself, because i have yet to meet someone to return the favor. i will continue to give and give and give, and be there and be there and be there, but if what goes around truly comes around, i'll pace myself for the next lap.

the trees are finally naked, lining the icy streets as mere skeletons, providing an invisible shelter from the frigid seattle air. the rays of sunlight hit the pavement at 5 or so in an orange fury, anxious to sink beneath the surface of the sound. who knows if there's telling when we'll meet again. my skin longs for natural warmth the sun just cannot give me.

winter has brought her usual antics, imposing a sense of white noise i can't block out. it's time for movement despite the inclination to hibernate.

woods.

i love waking up to coffee. i just bought a coffee maker and seeing as i've been awake since 8:30, it's necessary. [i go to bed after 4am on a daily basis].

i've been in a funk lately, that i haven't been able to shake. for me, that is rare. i can't remember a time i felt depressed or something and someone wasn't able to make me laugh and therefore forget what was going on. this was just an intense fog that i wasn't even aware of for the most part, if it hadn't been for people asking me what was wrong with me or why i was in such a bad mood then i would have just thought of it as "meh, whatevs i'm fine."

if you haven't before, listen to bon iver. i was laying in bed, refusing to move and i had my headphones in. lil wayne wasn't really overwhelming me with the relaxing feeling i was going for, so i put on "woods" and just laid there, completely still. it's one of the most peaceful, soothing songs ever. there are only 2 lines to the whole song.

i'm up in the woods, i'm down on my mind.

i'm building a still, to slow down the time.

i'm excited to go home for thanksgiving. time will slow down considerably, i'll get to spend time with the fam and i can truly relax. i don't really have any friends in portland so i won't get cabin fever like i normally do. my desktop is currently a sepia photograph of the main drag in palm springs. sigh, nostalgic. i can't wait until i can save up enough to go on a vacation! palm springs probably wouldn't be my first choice, but i miss the sun and just the familiarity of being able to go somewhere when i need to get away.

oh, being able to escape. i can't wait.

glass mask.

have i ever told you i feel sorry for you?

you talk constantly of killing yourself and loving anyone who will have you more than the person you actually say 'i love you' to. i wish i knew why you were hurting enough to sacrifice your dignity. i really do. being depressed is one thing, but to combine that with such arrogance and this self-professed title of 'the shit', you might as well be hiding behind a glass door. and this glass door- is open.

aren't you exhausted from putting up this facade nonstop? you now hate yourself beyond your ability to bear it, yet you remain too proud to change anything whatsoever in your life. congratulations, you have made everyone in your life expendable sans the people who benefit your life. and more congratulations to you, this time for acknowledging that you failed.

i'm sorry, i really am. it just would have been nice if i hadn't been one of those people you deemed less than the people causing you to hate yourself. so thanks.

please flail your arms and legs outside the vehicle at all times.

life's funny, how it throws different opportunities your way at just the right moment and you still have no idea how to accept them. in the past week i've gotten 2 different design offers: one through a friend and the other via my resume getting passed around and landing in the right hands. it's hard to imagine living anywhere else when i'm financially secure here in seattle. all i hear about is how terrible the economy is everywhere and yet i feel so blessed to be "okay" in my situation here. i have something to get me by before i get my big girl job, while in the meantime i am given the opportinuties to pursue what it is i actually want to do for the rest of my life.

the rest of my life.

such a seeminly terrifying concept and yet i am perfectly content at the thought of committing to just that. sure i'll end up having to get glasses as a result of staring at a screen all day every day, but thinking about what i'll be staring at- my designs, my creations, my ideas, makes it worth it. knowing that i can create movement from seemingly flat images or shapes and make something so dynamic? priceless. the idea alone is just exciting to me.

i'm starting to rekindle that belief i had in myself earlier in the year, around the winter/spring of my senior year. i was so confident in myself as far as my career went. for a while i lost that sense of hope, but i'm starting to regain it, and quickly. ;D

sidenote: i really hope that my career involves alot of travelling. my dream has always been to go on business trips to awesome places where i can experience different cultures and get paid to do so. i can see what graphic design is like in italy, spain, australia, central america, greece, etc. almost makes up for losing the ability to see it with 20/20 vision. [cue glasses!] it seems almost like a genre in itself to do american graphic design. you look around you and see capitalism, structure, architecturally influenced shapes and figures juxtaposed with fluid lines reflecting the current trend that is urban outfitters. i can't even imagine designing for a small business in the mediterrainean, taking into consideration their pace of life, their involvement with the hustle and bustle of the business life, and how much they care about being corporate. see to me, that's just fascinating. maybe i can morph my focus into "international design marketing strategies" and be the art director of it all!!! umm, dream come true-- tied with nike, of course.

i'll let you know when i buy my first plane ticket and where the destination is.

gia.

i never considered myself to be the type to need alone time. ever. tonight at work i, for some reason got extremely emotional all at one time. and it was over the stupidest shit too. i was annoyed with someone and by venting it just escalated into almost bringing me to tears. my second housewarming party is currently going on, and i have absolutely no desire to partake in any of the activities. drinking, socializing, anything. i want to go to a coffee shop and stare at this screen for hours, doing design and delving into the unknown so i can somehow know it. i want to watch hours of tutorials and teach myself, little by little, the complete ins and outs of design and all of the programs that can be used to do it. it’s almost like i want to be an intern for the rest of my life. i am a firm believer in the fact that i will be a student for the rest of my life regardless of whether or not i‘m in school or not. i am constantly wanting to know more.

i feel like my life is going nowhere. i know that this is the transitional period that almost every grad experiences after they seemingly lose all structure that school tends to offer with a set schedule of classes, homework, etc. i always told myself that i would be able to better manage my time with design once i actually went to work to do it. i still have yet to do that, so i guess until that happens this is how i’ll feel. whitney says to live my life while i’m still young, because it’s rapidly coming to an end. i can’t wait to grow older, in some strange fucked up way. not in an age sense, but rather schedule-wise. no longer worrying about my peers wanting only to party. i am out of school, therefore to me, the party season is over. let’s get responsible people, why do people avoid it for so long? maybe because they’ll have to deal with it for the rest of your life, but to me, why prolong the inevitable? you’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later, so the question is: do you want to be 30 and just learning how to grow up, or deal with it in your early 20’s and bypass the embarrassment of coming into your own a decade after everyone else did. this issue has haunted me for the past 2 years, waiting for myself to step up and take my own challenge. obviously not everyone is going to make the same decisions as i will, but it’s my fault for not doing them because they won’t. my finger just want to FLY across this keyboard, spewing out every thought that comes to mind. i can’t slow them down enough to differentiate whether or not they are self-deprecating or constructive criticism. i can’t differentiate between the two anymore, i’ve noticed. i do need girl time, as well as my alone time. my dream has come true: i live with gay boys and love each one of them more than i can ever express. i just need someone to listen to me rant and talk out my issues if i need them. that is my only complaint. i’d rather spend time with them than alone, and should i get the house to myself before our lease is up and we decide to go separate ways, fine. it makes no difference to me. i’ll be the same either way, and that’s a completely honest statement.

i feel like gia- in the metaphorical sense, of course, and minus the drugs. someone put on such a pedestal, under such pressure to perform and to succeed that i’m destined to crack. only in my case it’s purely self-inflicted.

**sidenote: anyone that reads my this blog on a regular basis, you must think i am a seriously depressed and fucked up individual. i am not, i just use this as an outlet to word vomit what i can’t verbally over-analyze to another depressed and also fucked up individual. ;D i kid, i kid.

moral of the story, i just need to get the ball rolling. i need to break the trend of not being able to say no to social situations because it will eventually get me in trouble.. again. soon i’ll be sane enough to be obsessed with life, rather than just to enjoy it, you know?

i got sunshine.

we drive. my feet on the dash with an arm out the window. the music drives the car down who knows what road, ‘cause our hair is in our eyes. without our vision, we are indeed the passengers. you ask me to tell you when we get there, although where, i’m not sure. but hey, we’re driving, so it has to be somewhere. it has to be somewhere.

please don’t let me look, and spoil the surprise. just let me feel movement without moving, let me anticipate what can’t be anticipated, and please, let me love what i know can’t love me back. although what, i’m not sure. but hey, we’re driving, so it has to be something. it has to be something.

and just because the wind is blowing, we cannot find air to breathe, for the laughter won’t come to and end. the sun floods our lungs and somehow that’s enough. with bare golden skin sprawled out each window, the music still drives us along. although how, i’m not sure. but hey, we’re driving, so it has to be somehow. it has to be somehow.

we are passengers, unaware of impact until we wake up, far away from the road. our bare skin covered in white plaster, the sunlight replaced with florescent white. i lay next to you, the music still playing faintly. although whose, i was not sure- at first. but hey. even now, we’re still driving, so it has to be someone’s. it has to be for someone’s.

what's my age again?

i love my job. i really do. i love being pulled in every different direction and actually being good at it. i love the stress and chaos of it all, it's an adrenaline rush to me. people have been talking about making me a server [i work at the triple door]. finally, some affirmation. don't get me wrong, i have no intentions of being a "lifer" in the restaurant biz, but to see how much money people make here, walking with hundreds and hundreds of dollars in a night just for interacting with people, giving them some buddha rolls and chicken pad thai and a martini while they watch a show.... i just thought of how i could have made this whole blog into some huge metaphorical blurb, personifying the lights and everything. obviously i decided against it. creative writing is fun, but i'm in the mood to be blunt.

i want to make a 5 year plan. i want to be a 22 year old with the maturity level and responsibility of someone who's 30. i've been told i seem more matura than someone who's 22. don't get me wrong, just because of my last blog about not focusing purely on making money and being successful doesn't mean i don't want to work for it. obviously i need some kind of cushion if i plan on doing anything remotely pro bono. ultimately it's an issue of a lack of faith for me. i am a control freak. there, i admit it. never have i put my trust entirely in God. now my parents, on the other hand, moved up from palm springs to portland without a job or having our house sold. i would have never in a million years been so bold. it terrifies me. whitney was trying to convince me to move to portland at i wouldn't because i didn't have anything lined up job-wise for when i moved. granted, my rent is way cheap up here, i know seattle and whatnot, but that's besides the point.

speaking of besides the point, back to my 5 year plan. let's just do this on the fly right now. i'll go by "rent" years, so from august to august. i'll even break it down to seasons. by winter i want to definitely have my laptop, if not by fall. by spring i'll have the adobe creative suites [and be 20 lbs lighter. jk], as well as $1000 saved up in a trust fund to just sit there, untouched and gain interest for when i'm old and fat and want to move to the editerranean. i'll add periodically so i can have cocktails when i lay my 60-year old ass out in a g-string. just kidding.

next summer i'll be deciding where to move. maybe africa, south america, australia? as nice as living alone would be, there's nothing like coming home to someone being there, or knowing that someone's coming home to talk to. i'm not a huge fan of being alone. minor setback i guess, but then you could always have people over? nah it's just be cheaper to split the rent and have a roommate. ok enough monologue. focus amy, focus. regardless of where i choose to move, i will be designing. no restaurant job- at least as a primary source of income. who couldn't use more money for that trust fund? i will definitely be moving out of seattle, i decided. i want to live internationally, so i will do it. get a work visa, eventually dual citizenship and gain some cultural experience, learn a language- preferably italian or spanish.

year 3. i want to start a campaign or organization, whether it's the "outside the lines" idea or not. i want something to be my name attached to it, my baby. in the words of three6mafia: "no i can't live my life, working those 9 to 5's, no matter what they say, i'm doin' it my own way. cause time ain't on my side, they don't understand, forget what people say, i'm doin' it my own way." how non-conformist, three6. i want to be living in one of 2 extreme living conditions: the downtown area of a big city in a stainless steel/white apartment, or in the middle of some secluded foreign country living the same way as the people i'm interacting with. i do want to do the second at one point in my life, the length of time has not yet been determined. i'll keep you posted though.

year 4... and 5. not really too sure about that one. maybe mine is just a 3 year plan? years 4 and 5 can just be continued off of those first 3 and further evaluations and goal assessments to be based off of those experiences. i really am a very goal-oriented person. it's good to break it down to seasons though for me because that's a lot more tangible benefits-wise than on a yearly basis. fall is just around the corner. a laptop should be no problem, especially since i will be picking up a few odd jobs here and there, and with my tip checks SIGNIFICANTLY larger now that i'm down in the theatre as opposed to hosting. i can make it happen if i don't get sidetracked or screwed over.. again.

something about growing up is exciting to me. people say that 20's is the prime. i don't even feel like i look like an adult, dude. i wonder how long it takes to transition from college student to young professional looks-wise? i'm retarded, i do realize this. i don't know i just see so much appeal in being considered a responsible human being and doing something that actually benefits other people besides gracing them with my presence, friendship, blah blah blah. the college years is such a selfish time in life, and i guess everything preceding it too. it's just how you're wired because you've been given everything, had everything provided for you, and just have basic immature desires.. wanting to fit in, party hard to break down social inhibitions and wear the latest styles, etc. it's fun and all, don't get me wrong, i mean who doesn't want to blame their being too forward on the simple fact that you were drunk? it seems to erase all responsibility anyway. dude, seriously, what is so wrong with people that no one can accept responsibility for anything?? i can't stand it. [this is quickly turning into a rant]. seriously, please tell me the appeal of being perceived by everyone else in society as the demographic who is convinced that "real world" is the actual real world. companies have unfortunately had to stoop to that level to capture our .345 second attention span by slapping something shiny and superficial onto a billboard, and it's a multi-million dollar fad. it's an irreversible trend that's only spiraling downward into a black hole of social degradation.

let me know when this season of "reality" is over. thanks.

down to section 8.

i haven't spent a dime since wednesday. not exactly by choice- the financial shit of my life hit the economic fan. just when i thought i was on top of everything, too.. seriously, rent wasn't going to be even remotely a problem, my tip checks haven't even begun to reflect the work i've put in as an SA [server's assistant] downstairs in the theatre, and i will be going into overtime this week. but no, i have to go through hoops to avoid bullshit that could have been avoided without pressing that damn "click here to start free trial" button. of course you did, amy, of course you did. fool.

anyway, i'm crossing my fingers in hopes that i get tipped out even though i was training as an SA those sold out nights. if not i'm nothing short of fucked, to be quite frank. we just signed up for cable [which i have no desire for] with a dvr, internet, and a land line. i'm not looking forward to seeing the water bill, seeing as someone's doing laundry literally every day. i'm trying so hard to not stress out. i know i'll be fine, i know i will. i might have to post up on aurora for a week or 4- just kidding- but i'll make ends meet. this is just a set back.

like i first said, due to this experience, i have not spent one dime [from my debit card, mind you... i've found a dollar here or there and gone crazy on a coca-cola]. all the things i gravitate towards when i do have money are things i can't have now. if i'm starving about to start seizing because my stomach is eating itself, i can have rice because i am terrified of the dreaded overdraft fees. yes, i have a positive balance but who knows if something will sneak up on me. so i'm a little paranoid, alright? it was probably good for me. but yea, it really
puts into perspective how unnecessary certain things i've gotten used to as "necessities" actually are. for example, more often than not, when i get off of work and need to kill a half hour before my bus comes, i try and linger awkwardly at the bar so i'm either: a) not pacing around the lounge like an idiot, or b) sitting at the sketch bus stop amidst a swarm of homeless people screaming at the world. after the awkward phase passes [3 minutes], i take a breath of reality and sit down and order a drink. the employees take up an entire half of the bar usually so i'm not alone at least. but now what do i do to kill time without being awkward or spending anything? impossible, yet spending isn't an issue so i resort to being awkward. --p.s. if this was an actual conversation most of my friends would be really irritated with me at the fact i could have said most of this paragraph in one sentence. just an fyi.

money is a bitch, have it or not. it either creates a comfort blanket that make you whine when you catch a little draft, or it leaves you out in the cold to only lust for it. don't get me wrong, i don't think that due to my personal situation, i know anything about poverty. my sisters and mom went on mission trips to etheopia and have seen true poverty. i will make no complaints as far as that goes. it would almost be interesting to weigh out what exactly we do and don't need. we live so lavishly here in america, it almost pisses me off. oh, for things to be simple. it's almost something to be envious of them for. they have shelter, whatever food they work for and it doesn't come from a drive through, and each other. i've been looking into working internationally. doing what, who knows, but i want to do something like that... test my comfort levels and get a little reality check in the process. i've decided i'm going to go to etheopia and help the adoption agency.

my roommate whitney [she'll always be my roommate, despite whether or not we actually live together] fosters dogs when she can. giving how much she loves dogs, i can't imagine how it feels to give them back. gonig over there and interacting with those kids will break my heart, for sure. it's about time i got a little emotional, a little passionate about something besides money and success. one thing whit says to dispute my workaholicism is simply that life is too short. i am obsessed with children, therefore i should be working with children because i am actually beyond good with them. my sisters are too. i guess, come to think of it, my parents are too. must run in the fam cause my dad and i are the only ones left who need to go.

i created a campaign for my senior capstone class with creating a campaign for underpriveleged children. it would be an organization that teams up with big companies like american apparrel or nike, etc., and takes the art of children in situations such as those in africa, and prints them on t-shirts to raise awareness about children being able to express themselves via art. people who buy the shirts in turn support the orphanage the child came from. when the child turns 18, the profits --which have been in a trust fund gaining interst since they were X years old-- will go towards an education or some means of furthering their opportunities in life. i name it "outside the lines" but who knows if that will stick. i'll have to do some intense research because i know nothing about starting an organization or anything like that. maybe i'd recruit siobhan for that, she's the queen of fundraising and benefits, etc. anyway, that's my epiphany. i had every intention of making this blog simply about the complexity of money and how unnecessary certain comodities were. turns out i just figured out what i feel i'm called to do with my life. funny how God works like that. ;D

caution tape.

i'm just to go on about my new apartment. seriously though, to be able to feel home in the place which i am paying rent is beautiful. i have superb water pressure, walking distance to a bar, multiple grocery stores, coffee shops etc. the boys are great, i am totally the house mom though. not in a bad way, but i find myself.... brace yourselves - cleaning. i'm pretty sure it's just because it hasn't registered that it's my apartment yet, but still, it kind of weirds me out. as soon as everything is actually put away and organized i'm sure i won't be doing it as much, but in the meantime everything is just so cluttered i can't stand it. it's kind of a bittersweet feeling, realizing that after such a long run of clutter and being completely unorganized that you actually enjoy things being clean.

i'm hoping that this year proves to be one of truly growing up. besides the fact that i'm on my own and completely independent [no grandpa paying for my education or rent], i'm living with guys- gay ones at that- who i could not love more. i do miss whitney though :[ it's funny how one person not being there all of a sudden throws off your whole routine almost. for example, i've gotten used to coming home and running into her room and staying up 'til 4am just shooting the shit. it's going to be weird not having girl time [i realize this sounds disgustingly sentimental but just think about it]. not even girl time, becasue i usually enjoy hanging out with guys alot more than with girls. it's just not whitney, aka my life partner, i decided.

i hope i change, i really do. i am not one of those people who is opposed to change whatsoever. sure, it throws you off of your regular routine, but it's healthy i think. you get stuck in your ways when it goes on and on foreevvvveeerrrr without any sign of ceasing. it develops into a comfort zone that you can't break out of and before you know it you're 40 and have been working in a cubicle that you can barely fit a keyboard for your computer, all while hating every minute of it. i don't know what my comfort blanket is necessarily, but i'm sure i have my own things that i tend to refuse to stray from. i want to be more adventurous, yet at the saem time more successful. does that mean travel for work? i need to get a good job first...

who knows. maybe i just need a therapist.

gone fishing.

i move out in a couple days- 4 actually. i hate moving. although i could not be more happy to leave where i am right now, it means i have to accept loss.

last night i stayed up until about 7am trying to fall asleep [i ended up doing those scissor kick things in bed to the kevin rudolf/lil wayne song "let it rock" to entertain myself until i did- as if that was helping]. i went outside to watch the sunrise and listened to sufjan stevens as i stood in what would have otherwise been utter and complete silence. the city wasn't awake, the upstairs to our apartment was vacant.

if there's anything to say, if there's anything to do, if there's any other way, i'll do anything for you.

it's funny how friendships change over the years. some degrade into nothing, leaving you wonder what beyond the fact that you have fun with them keeps you going back, reincluding them into your life. there's those who started off as that random person who you bond with over something as simple as you both drink on a dry campus, hate the campus, and need a roommate, soon to develop into your network of people who you can text when you're bored and chances are, they're bored too. sure, why not live with her?

some friendships are simply effortless- they just... flow. i wouldn't even call it routine because it's just something you naturally gravitate to rather than mindlessly go through the motions in doing it. when comfort levels don't exist anymore and criticism is constant and constantly requested despite the strength or pride of the other person, THAT is fluidity. maybe i just got used to "swimming" for the past 3 years, and now that i'm getting out of the water i don't know if i like not being weightless anymore. maybe i'll like running on dry land for a little bit. it could be a new experience that could be exhilerating and completely random. i just wish i could combine the two worlds. maybe fishing, if you follow the metaphor?

what is there to answer if i'm the only one? morning comes in paradise, morning comes in light. still i must obey still i must invite. if there's anything to say, if there's anything to do, if there's any other way, i'll do anything for you.

cut past all metaphors and sufjan lyical bullshit: i am definitely the kind of person who likes to move around, switch things up every once and a while. i mean, i love being a drifter. it's almost against my personality to react like this, but i guess that says alot alot alot about our frienship that i even feel like this. despite all the walls i've put up for friendships and skepticism that went into it, i guess it's an exception? it is one of the only drama-free situations i have left. this is kind of big though, and it hasn't even hit me. it probably won't until we get to salem. it's not like the fluidity will stop, i know that. we'll always be friends [and roommates, regardless of whether or not we live together], texting obsessively and giving each other a play-by-play or the usual "TMI" little fun facts.

i'm just dreading accepting the fact that given how much i miss D303 already, not even having a piece of it in human form is going to suck. hard. i luh you dogg, and i miss you already.

daydreams.

i am unusually happy today. like, everything is making me smile. let me paint the situation for you: i am alone in the box office, talking on and off with a girl i met 2 nights ago about her relationship issues and how she needs to end it, listening to "heart" radio on pandora and totally ricking out to it [maybe that's it?], brainstorming logos for my friend's new business, olive only [organic potato ships made with olive oil], looking up fashion ideas for another friend's photoshoot that i'm doing her hair and make up for.

i don't know, maybe because i've been so miserable at work this past week with my life. i feel like a whale, like i'm working a dead end job with no light at the end of the tunnel [horrible metaphor but it was approriate for defining the emotion behind it], and like a magnet for other people's drama. i ordered this cleanse thing online because it was a free trial, and talked with a couple girls at work about how to cleanse everything.. i made a healthy food grocery list, did some sketches, and just keep rocking out to music. i want to make people laugh, i decided- or reconfirmed, rather.i love it, it is so fulfilling for me. who knows, i doubt i'm going to be the next stand up comedian but through one-liners, my art, my writing, my life in general. and being miserable = not being able to make people laugh because i can't myself. i feel productive at this very moment, for some reason. like if i were to sit down and start a project, i could stay for at least 12 hours and work on things before finishing.

it seems like it's been forever since i feel like i've legitimately accomplished something. my friend kate is an aspiring rapper, and she's good too. i wrote her a few lines because i was bored at the front desk last night, and she was obsessed. she's heading over right now to brainstorm different ideas with me. i like having a full schedule. i'm tired of going out/having enough TIME to go out. it's not that i don't like it, it's that i feel like i could be doing so much more with my time that it's more of a guilt issue than anything else. plus i should be saving more...

this is how i envision my career life: hanging out in my studio or somewhere that i feel particularly creative, and just research and sketch until i come up with something i enjoy, watch/listen/read tutorials if i want to learn something new, shoot images and emails back and forth to either clients or a friend [probably michaela] whose judgment i trust and just ACCOMPLISH things. do what i love doing and fucking rock at doing it. i wouldn't mind doing some writing either..

i'd love my own studio, or some form of co op with a friend so we could work together or at least not be just alone. although i might enjoy that.. i'm thoroughly enjoying myself right now. there's a time where you don't want anyone else's voive in your heaad, and there's a time when you can't stand the sound of your own bec ause you've deemed it retarded for the day. so true.

i need to work more morning box office shifts. i forgot how amazing they could be. let the cleanse begin!

acid rain.

i hear the sound of pouring rain, the unsettled leaves plastered to the ground.
forever is being washed away, and i'll drink to that.
welcome to paradise, my love, perhaps we'll get it next time 'round.
with water dripping off my skin, i close my eyes to breathe.
today i leave you for another, your eyes now heavy and blind.
the door is rusting shut, but this is not the sound of new rain.
stacks of old cables hold you back yet again, your love no longer mine.
i won't look back, i promise, for i will not be paralyzed like you.
reveling in your pride, you can smile upon the binds cutting your wrists.
they're the only thing you have left, besides the scars they'll leave.
i walk alongside the water as it streams down the pavement, clenching my fists,
wanting nothing more than to free you from yourself- perhaps another day.

good times gonna come.

i wonder if, with some people, you only miss them because you miss the times you had with them- how things used to be. there are certain friends that i would give anything to spend more time with if our schedules worked out, but every time i do, the same things happen and i never have fun. every time i know i'm hanging out with them i get really excited and the events are really built up and everything, but it will never be how it was. it's kind of hard to wrap my head around, but undeniably true.

why do friendships have to dwindle into something that becomes stressful, like maintenance, all for the sake of saving it? things change, i know. i guess i have at least 2 friendships that have remained constant over an extended period of time; the dynamic is the same, we still get along, and we can go forever without talking to each other and have things be exactly the same when we talk or hang out again.

maybe it's a cleanse? i don't know. unfortunate and sad things end up the way they do, but that's when those few people who don't change [in a bad way] remind you that they mean the world to you.

count your blessings.

i'm beyond excited to move, get out of my shithole of an apartment that's infested with spiders and constantly invaded by ants. sick. don't get me wrong, moving out is going to be a bittersweet experience, for sure. but i'm hoping that i will be more focused on my goals, etc. i think i'm going to get a laptop this weekend when i go to oregon with whit. my parents are putting $500 towards it so it won't be a problem, and michaela's letting me have her copy of the suites [well, letting my copy them] for FREE.


it's hard for me to realize how blessed i am sometimes. well, more so easy to forget than hard to realize. but seriously, i remember in high school i used to bitch and complain how strict my parents were, which yes was suffocating and drove me absolutely crazy-insane, and i rebelled enough for my entire family tree combined. yes, my family is that conservative, but i think it took being raised at one extreme for me to find me. i didn't rebel hardcore or completely fuck my life up, i just arrived at different conclusions than everyone expected. i was reading my mom's blog, a woman who is so well-grounded and ultimately one of the most hilarious people you'll ever meet, and it's interesting to hear about the things going on when we hardly ever talk unless something needs to be talked about. i need to work on my temper. my fuse has gotten shorter and shorter, and i truly sympathize for anyone happen to be holding a conversation [aka, the ticking time bomb that is me] when the fuse runs out.


i just need to not take things for granted. i seem to do that more often than not, and then freak out when my equilibrium is thrown off, even slightly. i am addicted to chaos it seems, which naturally contradicts my obsessive goal-oriented tendencies. way to be unconventional amy, way to be. i never would have predicted that i would be saying this now, but i am so so grateful to have grown up in a "frugal" lifestyle. we ordered from the dollar menu when we went out to eat, once a month or so. we had hand-me-downs, and not only within the family but from our babysitters. it has seriously made me so aware of other people's financial situations, and just more sensitive to other people in general and being able to read their comfort levels. then i can swoop in, interject, and make their day. ;D


back to my blessings, besides the fact that i don't have a career job at the moment, i can't really complain except that i'm not independently wealthy... i kid, i kid. but seriously, i just got approved for a new apartment with a rad view of the sound, i get to go home for the 4th and spend some much needed time with the fam and whitney- probably half and half. i'm going to get a laptop while i'm down there, tax free of course, and getting the adobe creative suites for free! i need something to save up for next... i always need goals otherwise i'll blow my money on food and drinks. i do that anyway, but that's besides the point.


i've decided i'm going to decorate my bedroom, once we move in, with typography. i know, how much more of a nerd can i possibly be. i'm going to depend on my knack to get furniture for free to furnish the entire apartment, and i want to buy more things that i'll keep with me as i move: kitchen stuff, sweet pieces of art that i've made or am just obsessed with, lots of nike, random furniture, odds and ends that are "really me", you know the drill. anyway, i genuinely hope that i don't completely drop every friendship that i developed in college, that at least 5 weren't convenience friendships. my mom is still best friends with her best friends from college, i call them my aunts. they were both there when i was born. that is something i can only hope and pray for.

somewhere, over the rainbow.

it's funny what 3am conversations can bring out, make you think about. after a free jolly rancher shot and a couple vodka sodas, amanda, aj, and i made our way over to beth's for coffee and a cinnamon roll. she tells me she's going to write a book on christian hatred, wondering where tolerance has gone.

brilliant.

i graduated this past sunday, june 14th, and there were protesters outside from westboro baptist church claiming that God hates gay people, and that we're all going to hell for being methodist. i personally am not, but let's be real here, it's not like they would take that into consideration before making these claims.

this is why people hate christians, because of these radically opinionated and terrible assholes who throw around the name, judging everyone they come into contact with while tainting christianity for everyone. this is the stigma that can't be shaken either.

i personally am not very religious. i have my beliefs, definitely, but i approach it very open-mindedly and in relation with society. there are certain things i have questioned that have changed my mindset since my sunday school days, and most of those things have lead me to simply leave it unanswered, because i just don't know how i feel about my faith, or what's left of it, if they were one way or another.

i would be absolutely horrified if i even knew someone as judgmental as the "christians" who decided to grace my graduation ceremony with their presence. who do you think you are? the thing that pisses me off the most is that that is not witnessing. some of my best friends are gay, and i LOVE them. i'm moving in with 3 gay guys, and feel absolutely no conviction about it. i don't understand why people are so scared of opening their minds and branching out to break the stigma. who are you to judge, to look down upon them as if all sin wasn't equal? i'm so, so tired of it. i shouldn't be ashamed to associate myself with the christian belief because of a stereotype that is actually more accurate than it's given credit for.

i remember growing up and hearing about early christians being persecuted and tortured for their beliefs. is this revenge or something? i hate how when people feel discriminated against and like the minority, they feel the need to rise not just to equality, but above. it's everyone: racism [except against white people- everyone's still getting back at them for some reason], feminism, sexual orientation, politics, etc. you see all these protests and everything providing nothing but discrimination against those who discriminated them first. now we have status quo. qualifications are no longer what are important, what matter, no see everything has to be proportionate- not equal, mind you, but proportionate. bullshit.

my cousin just denounced her faith in God completely. in turn, she makes fun of them, ridiculing everything that they stand for, believe in, everything. in a way, it can be understood, when they behave in such a way as those loving people from westboro baptist. but in a way isn't she just turning around and doing the same thing she's accusing christians of doing? maybe people are just bred to hate. we're brought up, especially now, with causes being shoved down our throats: going green, abortion, vaccinations, third world hunger, adoption, etc. don't get me wrong, it's not that i oppose any of them by any means, but people are just constantly pressured to be for something. standing up for what you believe is admirable, don't get me wrong, but you don't see me standing outside of adidas screaming that nike is better and i enjoy their soccer shorts more. why is that? because nobody cares. just like nobody cares if you think they're going to hell because they are wired differently.

i like to be an efficient person in pretty much everything i do. if i want change, i'll do it in an efficient manner. protesting never accomplishes anything other than a spectacle for people to roll their eyes at, a stronger distaste toward the subject, and traffic. who knows, maybe if everyone didn't have to be so strongly for these causes, the hatred would go down. open-minded and apathetic. the whole apathetic concept may raise a few hairs as far as a lack of commitment goes, but perhaps conflict would settle down. look at me, trying to accomplish world peace, one blog at a time.... revolutionary, really.

tolerance has fled, love has been limited, and christianity as it was intended to be seems rare. maybe beth's coffee and cinnamon rolls is the real answer here. see you there past 2am on any given night.

the metronome.

i have had the urge to play the piano a lot lately. it helps me think, process, analyze. it sets the tempo for your thoughts, almost leading them along as your thought process falls naturally into place. perhaps that's just me.

maybe that will end up being my niche once i start my career of some sort. instead of words, ideas will rhythmically fall into place in artistic form, as my marketing/design oriented mindset send ideas simply flying to the tempo of a piano. of course, they would be completely unconventional and rebellious to any design norms as far as aesthetic is concerned. maybe i'll become a writer for some design firm. i'll have to email wexley. maybe i can move my way through the whole firm by the end of the summer, at the rate i'm going.

it feels so strange not being busy other than working. no homework any more, no all-nighters that aren't self-induced spent in the solemn white walls of the art center, scrambling to finish projects the professor decides aren't worth actually looking at. i usually spent most of those nights listening to rap/hip hop rather than piano music though, so perhaps that was my problem. action scripting probably would have been a breeze.... oh, hindsight.

pianos should really be in marching bands, i think. a baby grand planted half-field, the rest of the band circling around it, as the pianist comes in at just the right time with pounding accents and some relief from the brass section. i would enjoy that much more than your conventional college band at half time of a big game. switch things up a little bit i guess. then again, i'm all about the unconventional. i'd probably need an unconventional metronome then, to stay consistent.

who knows. who knows that i'm even talking about or if it's making any sense at all. i'm just rambling.

i'll take it.

summer jams.

graduation could not come any sooner. here i am, yet again, in the art center listening to bloc party, ratatat, cat power, roisin murphy... all those bomb artists i pump when i wanna relax or am just not feeling like visualizing myself in some motivational sports video. here's a little update for all none of you that read this: i had a job. i had it and it was stripped away from me without me even knowing it. it was with seattle magazine doing design and production. they said they wanted me, they said i started on tuesday [this last tuesday], and when i waited for the call, email, anything, it never came. turns out they went with someone with more availablity... after they said yes whilst knowing my availability.

seriously guys. seriously.

it was one of those ground-breaking moments though, where i realized how much stress and emphasis i put on my career. when i found out i didn't get it after all, it felt like i was being broken up with. the only time i've ever been broken up with was my sophomore year in high school and it was in a note, but it was my first boyfriend so it stung pretty badly, duh. it was the same thought process though, where you center your entire world around your significant other and are subconsciously more than willing to drop anyone and everyone for the love of your life. i had developed that mindset over the course of the weekend. scary. i can't imagine what things are going to be like when i get an actual job. could you imagine if i ever got married? i'd be bridezilla for sure... good thing i'm not. and i wouldn't be bridezilla, so don't worry about it.

thinking about it though, it was too good to be true. i called the temp agency that i had applied to last summer [aahh, cue cold war kids 'hospital beds'] and asked if they happened to have any entry level jobs at the moment, that i was still receiving their emails but didn't have 3 years of professional experience under my belt. i left the message with the secretary and went back to eating wild ginger food in the box office.

she called me back about 5 minutes later and said they did have something, asked if my resume was current and if i had a portfolio i could send them. i had made one the night before [score] so i gave her the link and crossed my fingers the rest of my shift. i woke up around 10am the next morning with 3 missed calls, a voicemail and an email from her, begging me to call her back, that she had some excellent news. as i was about to, i saw she was calling again. she excitedly explained that they wanted to hire me, blah blah blah. i freak out, etc. etc.

the only thing that's racing through my head is "i am beating the system, defying all odds, and totally badass right now" mixing ever-so-slightly with a little "how the hell am i going to add something else on top of finishing my senior show, working at 3D, doing my internship, and school?" but the former was definitely more prevalent...

i'm trying to tell myself now that time in between is good, that i need to focus on the work that i have now so i can save up for a laptop and everything so i CAN work. i don' even want to think about all of the things i have to pay for in the near future: rent, deposit, laptop, the creative suites, etc..

it's gonna be a crazy summer. bring it.

my quarter-life crisis.

i've recently discovered that despite the fact that i have always had a plan- some sort of plan at least, that i have absolutely no idea if i want to do design anymore. school is nothing like the professional world [and i knew that] but before, it was something that motivated me. now all i can really do is wonder if this is what i'm supposed to be doing. as busy as i feel life is sometimes, i feel completely lazy, as if i'd get eaten alive in the real world. i don't see eye to eye with so many people- too many people, that it scares me.

usually this is the point where people are reassured that they made the appropriate career choice, right? i'm not looking forward to my senior show, not looking forward to final projects with worthless professors who don't know the programs they are teaching despite the fact i'm paying 30 grand a year to be taught them. if anything this should just be reassureance that i can get a job because i actually do know them. i need a therapist, maybe an anger management session or 7.

my work ethic isn't as strong as i thought it was, which is a terrifying thought in itself. i'm not as exhausted as i should be, and my bank account doesn't reflect the hours i put in per week. to sacrifice time i could be spending working on design. where has it gotten me? nowhere. who knows if i need affirmation, a hug, or just to graduate already. at this point i could care less. i'm just over everything. who knows where i'll move- at this point it's looking like i'm staying in seattle, as torn as i am. maybe praying about it will help, it's been ages since i've done that.

getting a rockstar job offer somewhere awesome where i know absolutely no one and i can just lay out with my laptop and brainstorm over skype with someone who i don't want to punch in the face, like michaela. i've been reading the designer's guild to gain some kind of insight on what my rights are and everything as a designer [assuming i won't drop out of my 20-something days of school i have left] that i should know once i get out.

maybe i should direct everythig into typography. i love typography. i could develop my own fonts, be the next david carson or stefan sagmeister as far as being a fanatic goes. i don't like anyone else's rules anyway. it's not like i feel the pressure of people's expectations on me, i've never really been one to meet them anyway, or at least see them fitting me as a person. who knows. i sure as hell don't. maybe things will just fall into place. they usually do. i'm just not used to these crises at this magnitude. seems trivial, but for someone who has atleast engrained in her mind that she has her shit together, has goals, plans, this isn't working.

bliss.

besides my childhood, there are not very many points in my life where i would go back and actually relive over again. there are times that are enjoyable and times that are pure ecstasy. as busy as i am right now, it's more of a realistic type of busy- the kind that i'll actually face in reality. nothing like the 'busy' that i knew in 2008. that was the kind of busy where i went o bed around 2am every night, only to wake up at 4 to work out for 2 hours. after a full day of classes i'd go to my second workout and then do homework until midnight with meals at 7eleven smashed somewhere in there. my body knew nothing of rest or relaxation. i felt like i was on crack for months at a time, only i never got to pass out for 5 days straight.

my apartment was bliss, although i was never there. if i had the chance to go home, i would. my roommates were 2 of my best friends- we respected each other, although you could never tell by how we talked to each other. we were invincible. for the majority of our lease, our apartment was surrounded by scaffolding and what appeared to be a giant condom of fireproof tarping. we would sit outside on the scaffolding laughing, drinking, photoshooting and talking about life. some of the deepest conversations i've ever had were on our porch staring through a whole i had knifed out so we could see the outside world- although they couldn't see us. and contrary to my appreciation of being the center of attention, i simply revelled in the fact that i was untouchable by any one who stood three stories down -although we peered through that whole several times to drunkenly call people waiting for the bus up to hang out with us.

the 3 of us, in D303. we went through similar situations at the same time, and ultimately grew so pissed off we trashed our entire apartment. we ripped papers off the walls and off of our coffee table, and destroyed the coffee table itself while we were at it. if anything covered a surface, we violently hurled it onto the floor. our entire living room was overturned when we stepped back and ordered take-out. so liberating, no boundaries and no worries. literally, we had no worries. a stray cigarette started a fire in the bushes below after we all passed out so we poured water off the balcony 6 hours later, someone sprayed tahitian breeze body wash all over our white couch so we doused it in bleach in our drunken state, they apartment manager sent a maintenance man who was challenged to the point no one could understand him, the fire alarm would go off every time we boiled water without fail, most of our furniture was found in the dumpster, walls covered in newspaper, meals consisted of bagels and cream cheese and mac and cheese- one pot each- which was still fought over, and the rest of the time we were blacked out.

i am convinced i will never have another experience like that. how can i? let me know if there is an apartment complex with a D303 and i'm there. if we're friends on facebook, look at my 'get stuck on my elevator' album. it's gold.

one stroke. one sound.

we get down to the shell house at the ripe ol' time of 5:45am to be safe. someone shows up at 6:01, they're doing 150 ballistics after practice. show up at 6:10, they got 200 and get thrown in the canal. no shows? eh, they just do the whole shpeel then next day, and tack on an extra 50 ballistics just for shits and giggles.. oh, ha, ballistics are the ever-lovely calf burning, ass-toning jumping drills where an oar is propped up against the back of a couch and the person must jump over the halfway mark, over and back equaling one completed. a long 150 for a miserable one minute late.

we grab hold of the boat at the coxwain's "all hands on", and walk it down in the pitch black to the dock, where we set it in the water, sit down and tie in. we push off the dock and do warm ups. it's utter silence other than the sound of the boat skimming across the water, our oarlocks clunking simultaneously as we feather and square our blades. feather. square. feather. square. its like a pulse.

the boat glides under the fremont bridge, the silence interrupted by the cars running over the grated surface. in about 25 strokes, if we look up, the aurora bridge looms far overhead. by this time the sky is a light purple. the cox calls out a power ten, and the speed doubles as we power up.

as we pass gasworks park, couples can be seen huddled under blankets holding coffee in a feeble attempt to keep warm. a corner of my mouth turns upward as i glance down at my bare arms, and i focus once again on the rhythm. feather. square. feather. square.

and then something glorious happens. just as the sky begins to turn an orange-pink, the clouds breaking apart, i feel rain begin to hit my face. i look down again at my arms as they become speckled with waterdrops, leading my gaze to the water surrounding me. little circles that rippled outward covered the entire surface for as far as i could see. our hair matted to the sides of our faces, we turned the boat around, as the most breathtaking sunrise welcomed the sight of faces rather than backs. "way enough" the cox said, and we stopped rowing and let our blades skid across the water, staring at the closest thing to the Aurora Borealis that Seattle would ever see.



and people wonder why i do crew.

wonderwall.

it comes every once and a while, something that convinces you to let your guard down. it coaxes you with charm or even its own flaws, setting your nerves at ease.

something that makes you feel.

your whole life, experience has led you to believe the only way to survive as one of the fittest was to block what seemed too unbearable to be felt. once you've felt it, why let yourself feel it again? live and learn. lose and move on.

pride normally is the driving force to continue on- unless it is torn by the matter, that is. then stubbornness take over. you become so headstrong toward figuring out what about that matter was able to penetrate everything you've built up to prevent saving you from yourself.

maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me.

happy hour.

we sit behind a pane of glass that is far from bulletproof, as we observe social expectations go from a steady drip to a torrential downpour through the cracks of the only foundation we have left, and we laugh.

the water level rises against the glass, as we finish the empty calories in our own. high society has trained us to suck it in when he walks through the door, smoke a cigarette to curb hunger, and care about the preservation of the environment despite the fact that our own is contained in a glass box that slowly but surely drowning.

nothing fails in the world of individualism. keep no ties, for they will soon be washed away. it's a beautiful life, really. boundaries are endless until you are pressed up against that damned pane of glass in your cocktail dress, holding your empty drink and smoldering cigarette filter. the music plays in the background as you regain your balance, smiling as you smooth out your dress and suck it in yet again, hoping he didn't see.

only a few more inches now. we glance briefly and then catch ourselves. we laugh.

i'll have one more drink, please.

clueless.

i have no idea what i want to do after graduation. i'm between so many different things i can't decide which one to deal with first. my money-driven mindset tells me not to flinch if i don't have a job lined up somewhere else. i have a job here, i have a base to fall back on if something else doesn't work out. if i move to portland or somewhere else, i have no idea what to expect- which, in a way it could be exciting, moving to a city i feel i should be familiar with but struggle to find pleasure in. i would figure out a way to adapt, a way to succeed and be happy, i'm sure. it would be economicall smarter to live there due to lack of sales tax, cheaper rent and just cheaper everything...

part of me- no, most of me wants to move somewhere where i know absolutely no one and start over, where nothing is familiar. all or nothing. someplace sunny and upbeat, and in need of good design. i want to be able to be within driving distance of a palm tree or reasonably-warm ocean water. it's not that i'd be perfectly content alone, i couldn't imagine living with anyone besides my roommate, or being even close to as compatible with. i just don't know if it's worth living somewhere i wouldn't want. i feel like now is my chance to go wherever i want. i came to seattle partially for someone else, i don't want that to be the only reason i'd move to portland. my plan is to basically whore myself out to different design agencies as well as freelance clients, and go from there. i have nothing else to go off of.

rain clouds.

on an infinitely seamless trail of uneven ground and worn soles, the wind weaves through my hair as it whispers stories yet to be told. my feet continue in motion, although without destination in mind as the clouds fold over themselves in front of me. i breathe in time with each step, each mile, each day. it's the window in front of me that i can never actually walk through, the glass just moves with me.

they say a city lies somewhere beneath, holding its legends, its memories, and history close. they say the shadows still dance along the earth, even thought the music is gone- as if they didn't need anything to cast them except for the clouds when the rain refuses to fall. but the music never died- i can hear it. the beat that paces each step, the pulse to each breath and the melody the wind still whistles. it fades softly as most memories do, buried once again in the ruins.

terrified to find what should remain in the past, i walk on. no skeletons i haven't seen before to reunite with their lost shadows, no history that is doomed to repeat itself, no luring scent created for enticing, and no familiar tune. no, i will keep counting each mile with each tarnished breath. i have already inhaled you, i have done the dance, and i have buried you before.

stop.

the beat has changed, and i can exhale freely in time with the living.

which world am i on again?

i'm glad we've finally come to a meeting place- a mutual knowledge of where we both stand. completely emotionless, we go through the motions selfishly trying to get the most out of the otherwise meaningless encounter we have. you assure me you're satisfied, which means we're done here, and neither of us remember the rest.

i guess i've arrived at some new checkpoint. i've been "friends" with people before and not particularly been obsessed with them, but never to the point where i labeled them as good for serving one purpose that keeps them in my phone book. and that we're using each other for the same thing... it makes things less complicated- no expectations, no surprises, it's strictly functional.

i beat this level in my sleep. on to the next stage. i wonder if i'll wake up.

pump your breaks.

most people can remember a point in their lives where they left their childhood behind, no turning back. innocence was a recent memory and somehow unappealing because you're eager to explore what you had yet to be exposed to all those years. we're all in a hurry to grow up, to not be treated as a child and know everything there is to know about the world.

it happens all at once, so while you're leaving everything for everything, the transition is altogether exhilarating. in fact you don't really notice there was one until look back. ah, the power of self-reflection. you forget your childhood dreams as the expectations set in. your dreams are suddenly implausible, and you scramble to find society's highest regarded profession.

i didn't have time to dream. reality stuck them somewhere in the back of my mind.

i've always prided myself in having always been imaginative, creative, artistic, athletic, as well as the countless other things your parents simply marvel about. and somehow i'm afraid that my dreams were dictated by them. i can tell you right now i've always wanted to be gorgeous- a model actually. that's how the photoshoots began. i would have killed to be popular, and in high school it happened, sure enough. i wanted to be mia hamm, although i would have been thrilled with any professional athlete. to this day whenever i put headphones in and listen to music that can be remotely classified as "motivational", i picture myself in a sports movie, usually soccer. i've dreamt of being famous since i can remember. if modelling or professional sports didn't work out, i'd write my own autobiography. not so much for the money, but because i love the sound [not literally, i'm rather annoyed by it] of my own voice. things i've kept either hidden or only a select people know about me would finally be out on the open, and to the entire world at that. i'd rather have you know and judge me than for you to think i'm someone i'm not or to not understand why i am the way i am. most people who would read it wouldn't even know me, but after, they would. i would have loved to be a mermaid if i could have been anything in the world. they're beautiful [well, i would have been had i gotten my way], can breathe underwater, swim really fast, have long flowing hair... unfortunately i have just defined myself as a victim of fantasy.

i lived in one among the comforts of my imagination and backyard until my sophomore year of high school, a few months before i started driving. when my focus drifted to my social life, my imagination left me. no longer was it socially acceptable to "play make believe" anymore for hours with your younger siblings, although i could play for hours on end with mine. i was thrusted into the mature world where becoming popular- no, even acknowledged by a guy- became an obsession. my best friend moved back to australia and a new one would be my roommate in college. my relationship faded with my sisters more quickly than i could realize, and i stopped at nothing to get what, or who, i wanted. i taught myself not to feel anything i didn't want to, so my parents' anguish in my declining moral state was disregarded as a petty annoyance, my sisters, unnoticed, and guys who hooked up with me and then someone else, simply part of the game, and with a smile on my face the entire time. people come and go without a second glance, and i had no intention of pursuing one unsolicited.

i was the definition of a badass. my dream morphed from being famous to invincible. i know it's still in there somewhere, that little speck of vulnerability. i wouldn't be writing at all if there wasn't. now if someone could please take me back to my backyard and give me a soccer ball and jersey with the number 9 on it and some headphones, that'd be sweet, thanks.

thank you, king midas.

i've never been particularly skilled in the sleeping arena. my mind races as soon as my head hits the pillow, usually about when the reverberations of my actions will hit me and how pleasant that moment in life will be. who i will still be friends with after graduation and how i can count them on one hand, my obsession with diving into the career world head first and never looking back. you know, the fun stuff.

i want to read more. i'm on spring break right now and i'm on my second 700 page book by john grisham. law subjects and other legal matters have always intrigued me for some reason, and i read ridiculously fast, so it's worked out well thus far. working out is also something that has plummeted dramatically on my priority list. my greed and insatiable need to be busy keep working nearly full-time at number one, school at a close second, my brief social encounters at third and anything i can justify as a priority fills every spot above working out somehow. as someone who thrives on motivation through fear of failing, you'd think i'd get it together. people who have time to get it together aren't busy enough.

i'm beyond tired of the northwest. i finally got to leave the city of seattle for the first time in 3 months when my roommate whitney and i drove down to portland to fly down to hermosa beach to get away. i hate not having a car to hop into whenever i need space and just go. instead i sit cooped up in an apartment i loathe or in the stark white, windowless room that is the computer lab at the art center and just listen to music. my schedule this quarter will be busier than last quarter though, so i'll have plenty of time to continue my streak of bad sleeping and eating habits, avoid home, and simply make money.

"life isn't just about money."

tell that to someone who doesn't have it, or isn't generous, and you'll suddenly realize that you have no work ethic, have never had to worry about money because it's there, or simply have not begun to fathom the future of their independent financial status- if it will even be independent. i'm not really sure why that phrase just rubs me the wrong way, but it does. obviously money can't literally buy happiness: a car, plane, boat, mansion.. but if i'm in my 30's and someone in my family or whoever is completely broke, i will be able to help them out, and that will make me happy. my grandpa didn't pay 30 grand a year for me to not amount to anything because i simply don't believe in money. money is not unethical, it's a product of ethics actually. not the root of all evil, evil can grow from nothing and as a result of a lack of money. i'm going to be doing something i want to do, and in excess. enough of the partying like i'm a sophomore in high school, i'm getting more and more over it the more that i go to, and as i should be, in my opinion. 

save money, reach goals. it doesn't take a self-help book to figure it out. get more internships to gain experience and contacts, work your ass off so you can say you actually earned something in life.

don't get me wrong, i can be the laziest person ever- ask the people i suggest working out with. and say i got fat. i mean huge. but i was happy because i wasn't stressing over looking like a model or the people on the cover of cosmo. i ate what i wanted and damnit, i didn't need some anorexic introducing me to the endless flavor of celery sticks. well guess what, eventually the youthful metabolism shuts off completely and eventually the fact that i'm fat and happy really doesn't matter because guess what, i can't lift my arm to pick up my tri-daily milkshake. welcome back to the real world, where as you're 'happy', you're completely useless. because you lack the resources- besides your amiable demeanor and fuzzy warm heart- to effectively help someone close to you. why? because happiness doesn't usually cover a new car engine, a new washer and dryer, or unexpected debt. money does. and prayer, but i firmly believe that God helps those who help themselves. 

a long-winded and rather choppy metaphor, i know, but isn't everything on here?

empty swing in manitou park, pt. II.

i would give anything to go back to that day, two summers ago and sit on that very swing at manitou park. for i sat down with every intention of getting back up the same person- with my head held high and a smile across my face, no matter how it got there. i felt a tug on my shirt and turned to see a little girl, not more than three staring up at me the biggest eyes i'd ever seen.

my whole life, i have always gotten along beautifully with children. i've been able to play with them, discipline them, and especially love them. i first started babysitting when i was 12, watching kids as little as 3 and as old as 8. as i grew older, my so did my responsibilities. soon i was one of three people in charge of 150 kids for 8 hours a day. i was 15. when basketball season started my sophomore year in high school, one of my coaches brought her daughter, yasmeen, to practice every day who had just turned 2 years old. one day i asked her if she wanted to play basketball with me. by the time we had our first game, she told her mom that i was her best friend, and would ask me every day if she could 'come at my house', and every day, she did. when the basketball guys would come and get me in a headlock or the random even that i would date someone occured, she hated them. when they touched me she would scream that i was her best friend, and she could ask them if they could hold my hand or hug me. yasmeen would try and follow me out on the court when the game would start, and she came to every one. i almost trampled her several times on a fast break. she was 2 back then. we still talk on the phone to this day.

fast forward to august 2007.

"c'you poosh me?"

how could i not? i stood up, and lifted her up and onto the baby swing next to me and began to gently push her back and forth. she squealed, hardly unable to breathe besides telling me to go higher and higher. she leaned forward as far as she could without tumbling forward, reaching for the ground racing beneath her. i walked around so i was standing in front of her so i could watch her. she looked exactly like yasmeen, and she acted a little like her too. some of the other kids wanted to be pushed, and when i would alternate, she would glare at them, only to look back at me and say "i fought you poosh me?" i smiled, continuing to push her.

i talked to her, asking her her name. it was kayvon. i asked her how old she was. she forcefully held up three fingers and yelled "free!", and as i began to look around, i began to wonder who she was with. i had thought it rather odd that she just randomly walked up to me in the first place, but that was almost an hour ago. i slowed her wing down and asked her where her mommy was. she smiled and asked me to go higher. "mommy's in hostipal. her foot broke."

"who are you here with baby girl?"

"auntie. and gamma."

"where are they?"

she looked around for a second, her eyes scanning the park. my heart was racing.
"oh no," she sighed dramatically heavily. "they left me again."

my heart still raced, but this time with fury. i told her to hold on as i walked 20 feet over to my aunt, telling her that this beautiful little girl everyone had noticed i was bonding with was actually left here, completely alone. i began to get frantic the more i told her, but i never took my eyes off of her, staring back at me in confusion the whole time.

my aunt walked over with me as did several other people who overheard me, clearly not okay, express serious concern. i walked up to her first, and kayvin just looked at me. then she noticed the other people walking up too, and when she swayed towards me, she reached out and grabbed my hand, clutching onto it for dear life it seemed. my heart was breaking.

i knelt down, trying to keep all the rage inside of me towards whoever left her at a park where there had been 2 shootings only months before, and not only that, but who hadn't noticed by now. "kayvon, honey, what's your auntie's name?" she tugged on my hand, reminding me she was still in a swing and, in case i forgot, that meant for me to push her. my aunt tried, then someone else. she squeezed my hand and pulled her swing closer to me and started to whine, reaching out with her other hand to be picked up. i took her into my arms and she buried her face in my shoulder, and sobbed.

people crowded around her as i begged for them to leave. she was now the 'lost girl' and everyone had to have their crack at her. as if i wasn't infuriated enough, trying to keep it together telling people nicely to please get the fuck away was torture. i walked off by myself, only allowing my aunt to come with me. she called the police as i tried to get any information out of her as i could. i held her against my chest for 2 hours, trying to be something she could depend on to be there, someone who just loved her. and i did.

the police finally came. he got out of his car, walked straight up to me and reached out for her. she screamed. i stepped back, "what are you doing? she's terrified and doesn't know you." i wanted to lunge at him. he paused, stared at me, probably thought i was crazy as my aunt interjected, telling him the story. he didn't stop looking at me for a while until finally it was just awkward to not make eye contact with my aunt since she was talking to him anyway. when she finished, he asked me what i knew. hesitantly, i gave him the information i had managed to get from kayvon, who surprisingly knew her aunt's full name.

another hour passed as he tried to get a hold of her aunt and grandma. he finally did. her mother had been in a car accident the night before, pushing kayvon in a stroller across tacoma avenue on her way to pik up heroin. the car had missed the stroller by a foot. custody was transferred to her grandma that night. her aunt and cousin had met the two of them at the park earlier that day, communication got messed up and both left assuming the other party had her. the officer asked her grandma if she had noticed she was gone, or even called her aunt to chekc on her. she hadn't.

the cop walked slowly over to me, cautiously as to not scare her, and pulled a dora the explorer sticker from his pocket and showed it to kayvon. she wiped her nose with her entire arm, reached out and took it. she handed it to me with a huge smile and pointed to her chest. i slowly peeled it off and stuck it on her little pink shirt. kayvon beamed at me proudly.

the cop touched her elbow and said it was time to go and she needed to go with him, that he was going to take her to grandma's house. i froze, staring in disbelief at him. he was going to take her right back to the crazy old hag who left her here in the first place. my eyes darted over to my aunt, insisting that she tell him off. she shook her head no in warning. i made kayvon look me in the eye and told her she needed to go with the sticker man and he was going to take her back to grandma's house.

"c'you come wif me?" i died a little bit.

"no baby, i have to stay here."

she stopped, looking at her sticker. "okay."

the cop reach out and took her, setting her down in the front seat and buckling her in. no car seat, nothing. this cop was an idiot. he pulled away and i could see her strain her neck up so she could watch as they drove away. i waved until i couldn't see her anymore. when they pulled out, i turned around silently, and began to walk away. my aunt caught up with me.
"mames, how you doin baby love?" her hand rested on my shoulder.

i collapsed to the ground, convulsing as i cried the hardest i can remember. she knelt down and held me clsoe to her, telling me how proud she was of me and that God put me here so she could find me, not just anyone. me. all i remember saying repeatedly was that i couldn't fathom how that happens, how someone could leave a CHILD. fuck with anyone dude, seriously, but kids? that's what gets me absolutely irate. they're completely helpless, especially at 3 years old? my heart completely broke that day, for the first time, and it hasn't broke since. that day, in manitou park, for a child.

what i would give to be able to break like that again.

eye of the storm.

icy wind beat against my thin sweatshirt that was two sizes too small. my legs, having long given up trying to fit inside, were tucked right up against my chest as i hugged them as tightly as i could. i buried my face in the crook of my arm, and sobbed.

i have not slept at all in 28 hours, and only 8 hours in the past 3 days. i don't know why i cried, or why i did so hard. day old mascara covers my sleeves, and the whites of my eyes look the same tint of blood red that they did the day i came home from surgery, and my chest feels as if it's going to cave in. the cashier from 7eleven recommended that i upgrade from a starbucks double shot to a 5 hour energy shot. i regretfully declined.

it's time for me to rest. to REALLY rest. i just don't know if i know how. so close to the edge,

'but good times gonna come. it's gonna be, a bright, beautiful day. good times gonna come.'

leather interior.

i'm not really sure why i sit for hours on end in this stark white room, staring blankly at a screen with whatever music playing in the background to help make the experience more enjoyable. i really just want to drive. i want an adrenaline rush even though it's been weeks since i've slept more than 6 hours in one night. i want to sit in the drivers' seat, press the accelerator as far down as i can with the windows down and the sunroof pulled back. i want my hair to blow in every possible direction so when i finally run out of gas it looks like i've gone to the beach daily without showering for weeks. over-sized sunglasses prevent my eyes from watering, as my heart continues to beat to the rhythm of the bass surging from the speakers. i want to just ride in silence- in a constant state of contradiction, with so much going on around me as i sit peacefully, uninterrupted and perfectly content in my state of horizontal free fall.

anticipation. i wish i knew to when anticipate; i simply expect.

i am contradiction defined. i want to work my life away, 70+ hours a week, without another peer pressure to touch me. i never want my friends to leave my side, or to not include me. i view my life from a 3rd person perspective , because then 1st person me never feels the emotional repercussions i would bring upon myself. they're somehow blocked out by logic before it even has a chance to hit me; yet i still manage to touch it. i can grasp it, but it doesn't get through. i just continue on in a free fall.

eventually the ground will come to a sudden end as i press the pedal down an extra centimeter, just for that last push. the wheels continue to accelerate even though there is nothing beneath them. you will tell me over and over again that they're not doing anything, to just take my foot off of the damn pedal. i will, as i continue forward and the car begins to fall downward, lifting me up off of the seat, my hands meeting the roof of the car, eyes closed. no anticipating the impact, simply expecting the free fall to end at some point. there are always forks in the road. mine simply don't connect my paths. i'm jolted back into grabbing the wheel. the car drives differently on each road, it's just a matter of adjusting each time.