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Oct. 4th, 2005 @ 10:47 pm
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i hate myself.
and absolutely everything i am.
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Sep. 28th, 2005 @ 07:01 pm
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craziest feeling in the world.
i haven't listened to the postal service in forever.
but i am. i'm listening to 'sleeping in.'
it's taking me back to last winter in such a crazy vibrant way.
not sad. or a specific memory. it's just a feeling of winter in boston.
and it's freaking me out.current mood: creeped out current music: postalservice-sleepingin |
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Sep. 27th, 2005 @ 04:27 pm
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this is a bad sign, right?
yeah.
never get attached.
never get hurt.
hm. |
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Sep. 23rd, 2005 @ 06:54 am
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when there is conflict in my life, i seem to cope poorly through my
dreams. which, since my mind is restless and my heart pounding, have a
tendency to turn into nightmares. my mind sifts through every single
emotion i'm feeling so i don't have to cope with it during the day.
except that my mind is fucked and i end up with these dreams i can't
really remember but that shock me awake with my pulse racing. it's 6:30
in the morning. and the skyline is quiet and covered in pink clouds. my
fingers are shaking and my mind is racing to figure out what the hell
happened in my subconcious last night. i have the longest day ahead of
me and it's my fault. cause i'm emotionally brillant and apparently
can't function with people. the one thing i desperately need and
want...and i've fucked it. god forbid i can maintain anything well
before i let something screw it up and i am left with nightmares,
asthma attacks, and being awake at dawn.
maybe if i hadn't come back none of this would have happened and i
could function. don't i learn? at all? or even a little? this isn't for
me. and it really obviously isn't for us. my mind is racing. i hate
this. with a fucking passion. i'm so bored with feeling like this. it's
awful and it get so old and i don't even have something to look forward
to to get me through right now. i'm just terrified.
god the sunrise is amazing. holy fuck. but that doesn't really matter,
does it? not really. four hours of class. an hour or two of travel.
another couple hours of emotional disaster. and then who knows. i
needed this so bad. i was so fucking happy on thursday. beyond words
happy. i haven't had caffeine in weeks. and didn't need it in the
slightest. i still don't if i can just get back to right. i'd do
anything. i will do anything. i just wish none of this had never ever
fucking happened cause this isn't worth it for anything. i wish i could
fucking rewind to about two months ago, before there was any worry. any
fear. i wish. i wish. i wish.
i'm physically sick over this. i wish i could sleep so i would kill
some time and not have to think about it. maybe 2 hours of bad sleep is
better than any at all, maybe my brain will be so dead i can just be a
zombie through the day. FUCK. i would change absolutely everything
about this if i could...everything.
current mood: indescribable current music: sayanything-awalkthroughhell |
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Sep. 20th, 2005 @ 07:07 pm
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sometimes, i have this fear that i have no passion in life. or anything that i am good at. or anything that i would choose to devote my life to. and that even if art is that thing, i have a fear of being one of those pretentious fakes who puts van gogh up on their walls but knows nothing about the subject itself or even what else there is in the world besides the impressionists.
but the museum brings out a physical pang when i go in. and this chill. and then i am reassured that my potential declaration of art history is where i should be in life and when my lecturer talks about the bristles of michelangelo's brush stuck into the fresco of the sistine chapel it blows my mind.
i am scared of being the faker who likes art because it's unique and cool to like art. i doubt i am though. but who knows. i just know that being able to physically represent yourself in an abstract form is the one of the most concrete ways to be in touch with the human mind. modern art gets a bad reputation as "not being art", but seriously, anyone can paint a water lily on a canvas. can you take the feeling of fear and turn into something physcial and two dimensional? brillance. seriously.
monet and cezanne and van gogh are brillant, yea. and pioneers. but there's so much more. way, way, way more. maybe i can be a curator at the moma. first have to finish college. then explore australia. then maybe back to the states. maybe. |
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i should really learn to think super carefully about decisions. and i should also understand that with something like this, if it knocks me down, it's probably going to keep kicking me in face. i love screwing myself over cause it seems i've hand cuffed myself to the next three years. god, you know, i understand that my life doesn't suck or come close to sucking. but like honestly, sometimes i hate that i feel like my luck is changing. when clearly, it's not. at all. and i'm really fucking tired of putting faith in it.
maybe i need to finally fucking figure out that this is the way it goes. and this is what i'm bound to.
Sep. 8th, 2005 @ 11:50 pm
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so. being in the state of complete physical discontent requires a fix of drastic change.
copy the above hair-cut...or...keep it as is?
oh man, i suck.
Jul. 31st, 2005 @ 03:34 pm
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jack johnson through store head phones.
trampolines
and hazy nights.
Jul. 27th, 2005 @ 08:32 am
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i came very close to losing another shoe at avalon.
but my knight in shining armor fixed it in time before it got swept into the mosh.
he has yet to call and say he is home.
it's 1:24. when will he call?
i have a deep love/hate relationship with motorcycles.
my phone is vibrating.
Jun. 30th, 2005 @ 01:23 am
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that's tumtum. i kind of miss him.
Jun. 5th, 2005 @ 02:11 pm
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bill is drunk.
and we've had our first confrontation of the summer.
May. 23rd, 2005 @ 07:00 pm
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i think.
it is highly appropriate.
that the last thing to be watched on my tv at bu.
was david bowie and that AMAZING girl.
playing 'under pressure.'
May. 11th, 2005 @ 02:13 pm
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i miss manchester. and ursa. and natick. and jason.
but when i leave.
i will miss emma. and boston. and nights at bentley.
hum.
May. 8th, 2005 @ 10:31 pm
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i just unwrapped my first canvas in months.
and
it
is
gorgeous
i almost want to cry.
May. 3rd, 2005 @ 05:56 pm
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it's two am. and for some reason, all i can reflect on is trying to
reason why my brain seems to be an emotional, dysfunctional mess. but i
am coming up with nothing condusive. i am just aware of the quirks that
define me, but not nessecarily my seeming lack of emotional capacity or
acknowledgement. i am the youngest child and only girl. in my entire
extended family of first cousins i am the only left handed one. i am
not related to a single one of my aunts by blood. i was never alive
during the lives of my grandfathers. i have two half uncles on my
fathers side that are rumored to be men of poor character whom i have
never met. i am seemingly unable to develop and maintain lasting
friendships. i have unwarrented fears of thunder storms, the dentist,
home invasion, hitch hikers, and death. i worry constantly and at times
fear that i am wearing my heart out because it beats oddly. i lie to my
mother, yet tell her everything. i don't know the color of my eyes, but
it is a mix between my parents' blue and green. i am overly jealous.
especially of people with deep artistic and musical talent. i hate
mimicry. i have heard the saying "you cut off your nose to spite your
face" more times than i would ever like to recall. at age eighteen, i
am still unable to comprehend death and its affect on the living. i
believe strongly in nothing.
but for some reason, i enjoy giving off the air of deep conviction;
when really, most of what i say is an unformed opinion that means
nothing to me. my father is a deeply aggressive man and i am inclined
to believe any conviction i might have comes from him. i am covered in
scars and have stories for all of them. i am always discontent with the
person i am no matter how often i change. my heart and soul lies within
a few people whom i love and adore more than myself. on that note, i am
secretly vain and live in a world between deep insecurity and
narcissism. i am one of those obnoxious people who loathes the radio
and yet indulges in pop culture. i am conflicted between a parent who
lives for nothing but the outdoors and a parent who would love to do
anything but. i have no idea where my mild artistic talent comes from,
but i would prefer to be musically inclined instead. i hate my passion
for modern art because i feel i am another artistic poser with no
understanding of true meaning. i am an impulse buyer and can tell you
about hundreds of dollars i've wasted on things i never use. i was
raised by two older brothers and a handful of cousins who have taught
me more than anyone or anything. i constantly wonder where i will end
up in ten years and would pay millions to fast forward time. i wish my
writing was much more profound but i am limited to this capacity of
creativity. and this. this. this. horrible emotional insensitivity.
overly solitary and profoundly needy at the same time. how do i even
form relationships? how do i keep them? why don't i cry anymore? i
shake when i have caffine and my fingers look skeletal and fat. this
computer screen is blinding white. i have been told that my eyes are
not supposed to hurt when i go out into the sun. but they do. is that
wrong?
Apr. 27th, 2005 @ 02:18 am
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whoever said "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" can go suck a fuck.
people make me nuts.
Apr. 20th, 2005 @ 07:49 pm
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4:53 am?
of course it is.
holy mother...
and of course. facebook is down. cause i'm not bored or anything at 5 am...
i think i'll watch bring it on.
Apr. 19th, 2005 @ 04:53 am
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apparently i am emotionally unstable betwen the hours of two and three in the morning.
Apr. 6th, 2005 @ 02:55 am
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( stolen from jane. )
Apr. 4th, 2005 @ 06:32 pm
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pinacolada's journal