Adios blogspot

Blogging has been good for me. Fun for a time. But I'm ready to go back to my 3X5 inch notebook, in which I don't worry about proving the profoundness of my thoughts. I miss the raw outlet of embarrassing or elated or depressing thoughts. As and when they strike me. Grammatically incorrect and all.

Goodbye ol' blog. And know, there were secrets I kept from you. But none I kept from myself.

Tortilla chips and cheese dip

Why is the one, most prominent weakness being challenged like no other time in my life? All of a sudden, WHAM! All of these bustling hands and eager voices swarm around me. There's so much buzzing, I can't possibly communicate richly with any one source of the noise. I'm limited to expressions, each punctuated by time's scarcity. But trapped also by my lack of concern. Except for that one. That one. And the reciprocation I finally received, is trapped by too much concern on the other end. Catch-22. Irony. Climactic arrival. Sigh.

Special attention isn't special, when given to everyone. Not everyone deserves it. The level of attention is stacked over time. It builds. I have to take the time to assemble these little structures of trust. Protection is a must.

We love talking about ourselves, don't we? I really don't care that you got an A. Or that you were crowned royalty by strangers. Or that you have an astronomically high amount of facebook friends. And I don't expect you to care about me either. We are self-serving, dismal creatures that only live to satiate drives that can not be abated. Forget it all, and lets talk about something that will last.

Humility is not thinking less of yourself. It's thinking of yourself, less.

Bluebirds...

If happy little bluebirds fly...

Addie sang that song like I've never heard it before. Her voice was like the drop of sweetness extracted from a honeysuckle flower. I closed by eyes and reveled in the lyrics, while a quiet happiness washed over me.

I don't need a man's arms wrapped around me to feel comforted. I have that. And I'm so glad I could cry. I do, sometimes. This blanket of down feathers warms me and all my fears are erased. There was nothing there to fear in the first place.

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow,
Why, oh, why can't I?

Way up past the clouds and storm, there are blue skies. I promise. Isn't it amazing? They're always there. Well, I'm not coming down. I don't have to. I refuse to reside in rainstorms. (They're not good for my hair.)

I might keep it short and safe, for a while.

Recently, I got a rather drastic haircut. Five inches at least? Anyhow, I like the style and I might keep it this short for a while.

Just as I do with every other insignificant event in my life, I'm reading into this much deeper than necessary. But at least this time, I'm consciously making the decision instead of letting my thoughts aimlessly wander into a tangled knot of psychological mishaps.

[Preface: It has come to my attention that I use too many adjectives in my writing, which ends up withering and watering down the thrust I strive for. I actually have this problem in common with most of Adelphi's honors college. Yes, we like using big words and yes, we like shoving them in every available crevice within a sentence. This was the reason one of my professors assigned an essay to be written in the form of a business memo. Coincidentally, I got an A+ on the essay, and it was one of my geekiest, yet proudest moments. Lesson learned? With great straighforwardness, comes great success.]

My haircut is short and concise, yet not harsh to look at. It is possible to be like this verbally as well. You can be direct, but not insulting. Most times being blunt is harder for me, but easier for another to understand. So... And so.

I'll bite the bullet. I'll slice my word count in half (WAIT! Maybe just thirds) and say what I mean. But the notion doesn't stop here. I have to follow through.

[This is the start of something good, don't you agree? I haven't felt like this in so may moons, you know what I mean? And we can build through this destruction as we are standing on our feet. So since you want to be with me you have to follow through on every single word you say. And I all I really want is you, you to stick around, I'll see you everyday, but you have to follow through. -Gavin DeGraw, "Follow Through" ]

And, I'll do what I say.

I like this style. I might keep it short for a while.

***

Wrapped

I'll let time wash away the relevance
of emotion that could crumble me.
I'll keep the eclectic collection of feelings sealed away
in a steel safe.
I've reserved the key,
and the choice to use it.
But I walk from the past
toward the future
and find myself
now.

Chelsea: 1

After a wonderful day of sun, water, and boating, I'm sleepy and so content. I water-skied! After a few face plants, the rope pulled me up to a delicate balance. Showing off was not a choice for a person of my rudimentary skill level. But in my own mind at least, I was awesome (for at least ten seconds straight). Tubing was the best though. Trying to jump between both of the tubes while three other people desperately clung to the few handles, was the goal I aspired to. However, I usually designated myself as the instrumental "foundational member" of the dog pile, i.e. limbs spread and pasted onto every crevice/handle of that inner tube. While Sarah casually sat up on her knees, hair blowing in the breeze, I saw at least 4 synopsises of my life flash before my eyes. Her grace was that of a seasoned dolphin; mine resembled a beached whale. There was one crowning, victorious, diminutive moment. I was the last of four riders still clinging to the tube after a succession of jarring waves and leaping bodies. Chelsea: 1. Everyone else: ... Well the important thing is: Chelsea: 1.

But I'm happy for another, less obvious reason. Throughout the weekend, I did it. I stuck to actions that supported what I say I want. Last night, I could've been like I had in the past. But when I woke up this morning I was happy that I hadn't succumbed to my cozy habits. Today, I stayed safely within boundaries I'd set for myself. I didn't even bend the fence, or glance on the other side. I have my own grass and it's perfectly green, thank you very much.

I feel myself getting stronger and more confident everyday. I can scream and laugh and smile without wondering if I will be liked. I'm glad I've found this, or rather, that it found me.

Perhaps

Like a breeze blowing my hair and tickling my face, I remember traces of us. Little vestiges he's left with me drift through my mind and brush against my nerves a bit. Not enough to make me itch or tear up, but enough to feel. I'm slammed with the memory of an embrace that wasn't itself profound, but still meant so much. How he looked at me, as if I was everything he wanted and more. How he sighed with such satisfaction, after enthusiastically snatching my hand in his. How he wanted so badly for everything to be perfect, "us" included. He wanted me: forever.

But forever had an end.

***

Perhaps, I'll find love again one day.

My most recent TellAllGram

This is the latest edition to my TellAllGram wrting spree. While working for www.TellAllGram.com as the "Teen Editor," I write letters to be used as templates for people who want to "Tell All" in one form or another. I have a lot of fun with these by finding ways to tell people off, while keeping the delivery light-hearted and able to receive.

***

Dear Manager of Dunkin’ Donuts,

You are conveniently located adjacent to the Metro stop and at the heart of the thriving metropolis of Wheaton, MD. Every morning, I pass Dunkin’ Donuts en route to the train station, and have stopped in several times to satiate my debilitating caffeine craving. When obtaining a small, iced, “latte lite” at any other location, my hankering is successfully combated. However, your shop never quite hits the mark of my simplistic order. In one situation, I was detained for at least 15 minutes after ordering a small coffee. Maybe your employees were merely trying to heighten my level of anticipation, and therefore amount of enjoyment upon the actual consumption of my mocha-flavored beverage. If this was their intended strategy, then hats off! I was about to faint from a dizzy spell of excitement (or maybe depravity of caffeine) after the lengthy wait. But when the climactic moment finally arrived, they handed me two foreign, frothy, large drinks. Sadly, I accepted the offer despite its wrongness. Alas! Their plan had gone awry in the final stages. Mounted excitement? Check. Heightened enjoyment? Not so much.

And so this sparks the necessity for a note of encouragement, a signal for the need of beneficial change, a TellAllGram. I honestly believe your shop has all of the necessary ingredients to be the best Dunkin’ Donuts of all time: friendly employees, an excellent amount of business, and recipes for delicious yet affordable drinks. I am only suggesting that you combine these materials so that they can work cohesively and to your advantage. Just as your most skillful employee swirls, juggles, steams, and stirs to create a delectable experience, management must learn to do the same with the entire restaurant. The line should move quicker. The drinks should have better quality. The orders should be unfailingly accurate. In summary, The Wheaton location is in need of some sweetener.

Thank you,
Caffeine-aholic

P.S. If business continues to operate like it has been, you will be receiving another letter from me. That one will complain that your slogan is false advertising, and will adamantly demand that it should be changed to, “America moseys along in Dunkin.’”

Need to organize the next week and a half in my head

Things to do today:
~BUY THANK YOU CARDS for people at my internship/ask Molly for a general recommendation letter.
~Go tanning.
~Work out (if possible).
~Write a (or a few) TellAllGrams.
~Stretch after class.

Things to do of Friday:
~Pedicure (and eyebrows?) with mom
~Maaaybe get my hair cut and (even less probability) colored.
~Work out.
~Tanning.
~Work @ 5
~Spend the night at mom's

Saturday:
~Breakfast with mom and Pam
~Work out.
~Tanning.
~Work @ 5

Sunday:
~Boating with Sarah!!!

Things to do before leaving for school:

~Clean and wash my car.
~Find all of the cords and things that I need to hook up my TV.
~Bring my portable DVD player, and the cord it needs to hook up to my TV.
~Bring DVDs!! (Mas importante).
~Download as much music as I can stuff onto my laptop so that I can upload it onto my Iphone when I get it on the 17th.
~Figure out how to take apart my metal shelf thing.
~Go to a grocery store and steal cardboard boxes.

Things I (or my mom :) ) should buy:
~Uniform type of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
~New "body spray" from bath and body works.
~New bare minerals make-up. YES it IS necessary.
~An organizer/ hanger thingy for my eclectic collection of shoes
~More hangers.
~A bucket type thing for my toiletries.
~Cleaning supplies. I admit this is a vague and broad term but I have not a clue as to what I should bring in regards to such a foreign household duty such as cleaning.

The Virgin's Monologue

The word is not french nor does it contain

four letters alone, just three make its name.

Yet all of my symptoms resulting from it

resemble reactions to fuck, damn, or shit.

Not at the action, my anger surmounts

but at the people who use it for pride to surround.

I'm on an island alone in a sea

of swimmers and divers all laughing at me.

Taking the plunge for them was so small.

It was fun. It was free. No reason to stall.
I'm begging for patience, though not on my knees.
(I'll never emit desperate pleas.)

It's barbed wire boundary is one I can't cross.

Not now at least, but all hope is not lost.

I've been asking in earnst, this thing for a while,

has waiting for love gone too far out of style?

Heavy eyelids

The lightening storm blinks away the darkness. I can't remember when it rained tonight, but the iron table is soaking wet. The wine drenches my tongue and I savor the outlawed flavor, reveling in my under aged rebellion. Crickets must be proud of their chorus tonight. They out sing my music. And I slip into a comfortable state of mind.

No one sees me now. I'm unreachable. Every line of communication is controllable, and I've decided to put them to sleep. They shut their eyes at the appropriate time of night. I say that time is now.

I'm left in a wonderful pool of bliss. A lovely solitude. I'm inundated in the absence of words, and conversation, and interpretation, and miscommunication. All that's left is me. And what I say is right. My thoughts are not confined to responsibility or direction. This is satisfaction, this is freedom; the ability to venture without restriction. This is me.

***

Funny how the direct and simplistic labeling of an individual can be so relieving. I'm usually the one to assume the best intentions of an individual, while contrastingly guaranteeing the dismal nature of the larger group. Basically, when dealing one on one, I an a hopeless optimist. I am willing to give multiple chances, justify another's behavior based on my own misunderstanding, attribute shortcoming to the situation instead of the individual. But there comes a point when simplicity outweighs all other explanations.

I'm beginning to "call it ass I see it." If they're an ass, then so be it. Does it matter how many childhood memories, or unfair opportunities, or personality disorders they have? No. Not in the long run. Everyone has mountains to move. Whoop de friggin do. Get over it and prove yourself.

Chelsea. Get over it and prove yourself.

Walking on broken glass. Literally.

I have several weird things wrong with my body and it's getting really annoying. 1. There is a tiny speck of glass smashed beneath the skin of my foot and it's ridiculously impossible to find it with tweezers but splendidly easy to feel while walking. (It was lodged there roughly two days ago when a glass shattered in my hand, while working at the pub. Who knew polishing silverware would be so dangerous?) 2. I need to exercise. I know I'm not lazy, I'm just too busy working. Yet, I still feel lazy because I could get up at 6 and go running, but to hell with that. 3. My skin. 4. My hair is frizzy and in need of a *good* cut. 5. I need to stop biting my nails.

***

When you break up with someone (at least when I do) you go through half-depression, half-giddy layers of recovery. After crying, lots of ice cream, and self-criticism you reach the "wait a second" phase. You pause in the midst of consuming comfort food and think, wait a second, being single might just be a good thing. Then commences the flurry of flirtatious behavior that momentarily boosts your confidence and reestablishes the fact that you now have new choices, and the freedom to choose from them.

I think I'm past both of those extremes. I'm just about back to being normal. Back to realizing what I truly want, and acting more like the self I'm familiar with.

I'm sick of thinking about relationships. They are such a waste of time. Well, okay that's not true. But what IS true is that so much time is wasted on stupid crap within the relationship. I'm done. For a while at least. Yes. This is a good thought. A break from males. Loving it more every second.

My feet are cold.

I can't wait for Fall.
Chilly breezes.
Boots.
Wool stockings.
Sweater dresses.
Apples.
Rosy cheeks.
Chapstick.
School.
School.
Hot coffee.
Red, orange, and yellow leaves.
New York.

Texting

I hate texting. I might just go ahead and strike against it. Since it's a relatively new form of communication, the rules of etiquette are still being etched. The result is a forced gulp of impersonality and lackadaisical responses. Hours can go by without a response, and conversations can easily take days to fully develop if they progress at all. And then do you know the disappointment that accompanies single word texts?!

Ok fine. I'll admit I'm partially guilty. Which is why I ought to ban it from my life.
But eh. I don't feel like it.

And thus, the unavoidable, paradoxical dilemma.

Busy, very fun weekend

Thursday Night:
"The Ugly Truth" with Katie

Friday:
Drive up to NJ
See Amy's show

Saturday:
Drive to Adelphi
10am-2pm-Give tours
2:30- bridal shower

Sunday:
Bible class
Drive home

GTG.

Simple. Enough?

I'm a simple enough person. I like coffee during early mornings. I like summer thunderstorms. I try to do well in school.

I want to be in love. Not anything more or less. I don't have to open up about things to everyone. I don't have to account for strangers' feelings. I will put myself first, for my own protection. And then, because of love, I'll put myself second. But not until then.

Everyday there are mountains to move.

Moods to dismiss and tempers to soothe.

Declaring thought through pent up words

while salvaging poise, through the noise that's heard.

Everyday there are rivers to swim.

To cling to the thing called self worth, on a whim

is a trait among a natural few

dispersed all around and in and through.

Everyday there are lives to save.

But I can't protect all from knaves.

First my own, is fought most for.

Then, love as my sheild, I can fight for more.

I can fight for more, I will fight for yours.

Nothing

I have absolutely nothing to say. I thought I did, but in saying something I'd only be giving it more weight than it deserves.

F that.

Caught the giggles

I'm a very happy girl right now.

Why can't school start sooner!!!

I have bubbles in my tummy.

ahhhhhhh.

Teehee. hehehe.

Favorites

I'm settling this once and for all. I never know what to say to these most common yet insignificant questions. I am now deciding.

Favorite movies:
1. Moulin Rouge
2. Chicago
3. Rent
4. Pirates of the Caribbean (first one)
5. Rocky Horror Picture Show
6. Mama Mia
7. Fifty First Dates
8. Public Enemy
9. Titanic
0. Pretty Woman

Favorite Musicians:
1. Gavin DeGraw
2. Sara Bareilles
3. Maroon 5
4. Jack Johnson
5. The Fray
6. The Beatles
7. Big Band/Louis Armstrong/Ella Fitzgerald/Frank Sinatra
8. John Mayer
9. Jon Mclaughlin
0. James Blunt


There.

GD + CP = <3

ok. I REALLY want to go see Gavin DeGraw on August 27th. Jess! If you read this before I call you, here's the possible plan:

Plan A

10:00 a.m. - (Could leave earlier) Drive from Staten Island, 4.5 hours to the NY State Fair in Syracuse.

3:00-7:30 p.m. - Hang out at the fair. ($40 for concert tickets. Day pass included.)

7:30 p.m. - See Gavin. Leave when he's done and forget Kelly Clarkson.

8:30 p.m. - Start heading back to Jess's.

1:00 a.m. - Get back to Staten Island!

Plan B

Same as A, except includes arrangements for when Gavin proposes to me at the afterparty. These details are still a little hazy, so I'll be following the "FBSYP" (Fly By the Seat of Your Pants) strategy.

***

Then the next day, August 28th, I move in to my dorm room at 6 p.m.- 2B1, Earle Hall. yaaaay!! Though I'll miss 315 and my roomie :...(

Destined to float away

Balloons are hollow.

Bright, shiny, bobbing

and filled with vapidness.

Destined to float away.



Balloons are shallow.

Leave children crying

and staring up at emptiness

while ruining their day.

I miss singing love songs

I never knew this tiny thing would bother me so much. ugh. aggravating. I hate being ignored. But I'm determined to brush it off. To continue to be myself. To lather up in oil, like a duck, and let the crud bead up and roll off. That should be a saying. "Oh go bead up and roll off, would ya?!" I'm totally going to make it happen.

***

I'm glad I have bad memories. They work as a wall by preventing the good memories from melting me again. Because I think otherwise, I easily could. It's like withdrawl from a drug addiction. The second round of shivers has set in. But the fight is worth it. I'm moving on.

Surge

Reasons why this is a kick ass day so far:

1. I just got free starbursts because the vending machines were in the middle of being restocked. The nice restocker man just handed them over to me.
2. I have absolutely nothing to do (as usual) at my internship, though I'm not nearly bored. I made a list of constructive things to do- such as figuring out my current financial aid predicament. And the list is slowly but surely shrinking.
3. I just got paid yesterday. Like, a LOT.
4. Should be getting an IPhone immanently. And get this! It's being paid for with a check from my newest employer.
5. I have a new employer! I'm now the "Teen Editor" of http://www.tellallgram.com/. This position just fell into my lap. My uncle/long time family friend is starting this new business that is kind of like sending anonymous e-cards. My job is to write up little letters that will be used as templates for customers who want to send tellallgrams to businesses, individuals, or whomever. This came right on time, because I was just realizing that I have NO idea what I want to do as a career but that I really do like to write. So now I have a useful outlet for my pent up urge to merge entertaining thoughts with words I like. Plus, I'll learn so much from being a part of a budding business, in terms of how to start my own one day. Best part? I'll be paid $12 an hour. Okay, not the lottery but a damn good amount for someone my age. Oh, and my other job responsibility? To update "Tellallgram Man's" facebook page, through use of my new IPhone. I died.
6. Finally decided that Gavin DeGraw is without a doubt, no questions asked, my favorite musician. I just discovered that he has two new CDs out, that I do not own yet. I know, I'm a sucky fan. But I vow to memorize every lyric, just as I did with his first CD.
7. I decided operation: "Stay Away" has officially commenced. Hell if this girl is emotionally dependant.
8. I (well not really) made an impact on someone this weekend without knowing or meaning to. Just by being myself and participating in conversation I enjoyed, I encouraged someone else. ha. cool.
9. Six text messages just arrived at once. A few of which are from excellent sources. As in, I'm very happy right now. Like, this is awesome.
10. I'm in love with a man who loves me better.

Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements?

I finally understand Adele's song. If I keep chasing pavements, I'll keep smacking my head on the cement. All that does is lead me nowhere, backwards even. So, should I give up? and fly around in circles as my head drops? Because perhaps that will lead me somewhere eventually, but "giving up" has such a negative connotation. We always want to hold on to every possible ounce of hope. But sometimes, that's just unwise. Giving up could mean showing admirable courage.

It's an endless, ruthless circle. I can't do this all over again. The EXACT same thing. I know myself. I can't keep attempting to bend the rules. I am just unable to do it. Though, sometimes I wish I could.

Released airway

Breath in.



Ever so often I come to an intersection. I hold my breath, introspectively observing my reaction. I'm looking from a bystander's position, wringing my fingers and only concerned with finding out what my uncontrollable, instinctive reaction will inevitably be. And even less often are the times when I'm able to breath out with giddy excitement. My reaction to this stimuli was impulsive detachment. I admitted to the existence of a previous connection, but candidly accepted its end. Which then brought on happiness and the deepest, most satisfying sigh I've had in a long time. See what happens when you follow your heart?



I did. I stayed in the struggle long enough to qualify the action as justified determination. But somewhere along the way, perserverance morphed into weakness, into a hopeless contraption that sandwiched me between hurt for myself and the hurt of another. Strength, I realized, could now only be demonstrated by a decision that broke both. Temporarily.



Until a wonderous exhale today exhumed my happiness. The beauty is that I don't regret anything. Contrarily, I am astoundingly thankful for every single experience we shared. Though an individual might not remain in my life for a lifetime, their impact effects me as does a pebble tossed in a pond, rippling an otherwise untextured surface.



Breath out.

Jarlsberg

polite "no thanks yous" serve no purpose here

Jarlsberg cheese only goes with green tea and white bread

moose shadows linger on the walls

as do selected photographs

unobstructed sun shines through skylights and sliding glass doors

rigidity is invisible

and present

dependenceisinescapable

though discouraged

everyone is so nice.

Internal dialogues

I swear, the internal dialogues that go on inside my head are freaking hysterical sometimes. They lead to these inexplicable little outbursts of giggling, that are sometimes mistaken as impolite expressions of ridicule towards the nearest person. Perhaps I should resist the temptation to sink into my own imaginary world, because my reactions are often misunderstood as offensive. "What are you laughing at?" is probably up there, on the list of most frequent questions posed to me. Not you. Trust me.

For example, on my way back from the bathroom in the Humphrey building of the Department of Health and Human services, I saw this janitor guy speeding along on a machine that functioned something like a scooter/mover of heavy items. Sort of like those scooters mall cops cruise around on. All of a sudden, I picture myself on this wonderful engine, posed in first arabesque, hair blowing in the wind, pointed feet in patent-leather heels, grinning as I swiftly speed by a doorway which leads to a dark sea of desks and computers. Stick it to "the man" I say.

Another example. Upon considering a way to simplify and expedite the dating process, I mused about disclosing all of my deal breakers in the first five minutes. "..." No wonder I'm disagreed with so often. I certainly find myself in a minority. Even though I'm white. Yet and still, I'm far from dismayed.

***

The smallest things to other people seem to unravel my nerves. Like, lack of a vocabulary. I'm not trying to seem pompous or above anyone, but I use a variety of words to talk. And when I spend time trying to think of exactly the right word to successfully describe what it is I'm trying to articulate, only to be misunderstood, it irks me. Spelling too. Can someone please learn the difference between "your" and "you're"?!

"genuwine." OMG. Really?

I suppose this just shows me what worth words actually carry. Especially the definition and use of them. They express colors, smells, sounds, ideas, emotions, experiences, memories, dreams, aspects. A good author takes time to handpick each word for a specific purpose. All of them enhance the book, and none of them are superfluous. Just like beans on bean night.

***

Medley of Memories

The disparity between

"He will do it," and

"He has done it,"

is time.

Time does not exist.

But action does.

You do not exist.

But he does.

Get out of the way.

And then,

"He has done it."

***

Medley of Memories

Beneath the silent, stellar stars

I gazed up from behind steel bars

Trapped in the cage that I created

Released by the key that you baited

My first kiss, your love was new

Before and since, you've been so true

My eyes have brimmed with blue-green tears

and your countenance erased those woeful years

I've clambered through thick, sticky vines

tangled my arms, cursed, and whined

You chuckled and tugged on just one thread

and the jungle fell beneath us, dead

I throw my arms around your shoulders

Forget all else and become much bolder

Solid trust provides me a song

and you love me back, which makes me strong

Gentle advice you whisper near

Proves you're wise and defeats all fear

My knees are weak, my forehead's sweaty

my stomach flutters, but my eyes are steady.

Bending over backwards

For some reason lately I've really wanted to learn how to do a back walkover. Looks fun and cleanly continuous. Almost like vertical rolling. and tremendously symbolic.

I would have ridiculously intricate inside jokes with... myself.

Enamored to know him

There is so much I don't know.

But I do know this: what family I belong to.

I'm enthralled. I'm enamored. There is no other love like him, there will never be. He is my everything. He comes first and last and is every minute detail in between. Love is considering another before taking care of yourself. Love is trust and trust means exterpating every itching voice of doubt and ridicule that squirms, unwelcomed, in your mind. Confidence is being "with faith," and faithfulness is also an inescapable chapter. I might die a virgin, but I've made love.

and I'm nothing.

Knowing this is abundantly worth knowing.

I must be stubborn enough to disagree with you. Yet mature enough to discover with you. Because after all, there is so much I still don't know.

Whaaaa?

While routinely surfing the web during my "busy" work day, I stumbled upon some rather entertaining personal ads, on craigslist. Some were honest, some were funny, and others were unimaginably out there to me. Who knew people could be so dissatisfied with themselves, their lives, and their committed partners? It continues to amaze me how that we, are the ones that truly cause the majority of our own problems. If it weren't for our own humanistic errors, we'd be much happier. So the perplexing irony is this: happiness can be attained if first denying oneself. But then, who's left to be happy? hahahaahaha.

"Hello, I'm hoping to find a woman who is also married (but can be single) who is looking for a little passion in their life. To be clear, I am not looking for a one night stand nor am I looking for a woman who sleeps around. Rather, I am trying to establish a relationship outside my marriage that makes me feel alive again. I'm 5'9" 185, athletic built and handsome. If you're interest then please email me so we can get to know each other. If things work out online then perhaps (if we are both ready) we can meet in person. I prefer an older woman (the older the better) but I would welcome younger if they were mature enough. Please write me if interested and let's just see where it goes. If things work out, I would hope to keep the affair ongoing and very discreet. "

wow. I can't believe the absolute bluntness and audacity. Yet, I can... since I salvage no hope for mankind.

Poparazzi

After hours of droning TV, I meander outside. My eyes settle on the rope which composes the hammock, suspended between wood posts. I climb in and am cocooned by the net, wondering how such thin thread could securely uphold my body. The strings; narrow but strong. Inhaling serviced my senses and calmed my aggravation. The cool, sweet air belonged to summer and I welcomed the parallel relationship. The fireflies were bright spots in the dense darkness, and they playfully vanquished the void with their illustrious ends. Floating, with looming, black trees as their background, their blinking resembled wildly enthusiastic photographers. Flashing from every angle and with endless repetition, they seemed to capture my moment of solitude. Except, it's not solitude anymore, not with them there. This must be how celebrities feel. Inundated with opinions and judgements on their every move.

***

I am trapped; I can't administer my ruthless thoughts to another, when I should administer them first, to myself.

So. To both audiences:
Stop venting. Shut up. It's the same as complaining. Quit bitching. Because most likely, there's someone out there who deserves to say the same or worse about you. And they have. Where does that leave you? In the same position you put those in, who you are now talking about. Be the anti-catalyst!! Break the cycle.

The buck stops here.

***

It's 11:00. I don't care. I'm eating lunch.

Floating

I do not find it necessary to get black out drunk.

I'm a tad bit worried.

I hate tongue rings.

I don't know how to handle family.

Why is the other set of human beings, so complicated?

Got my first check from work. eh.

Someone might go to a place I never thought possible.

New understanding of the word, "disliked."

Balancing this act.

The trouble rumors cause, even when there aren't any.

New York City.

Iphone= want.

Nervousness. I don't want to break another one.

Dismissing it ALL.

the Word

Forget the cluttered, structured phrase that clouded up and spread the haze of

anger in your mind.

Reject the tearful, worried, woe; the stagnant stream that slowly flows and

drowns you in your mind.

Recall the recent victory. It was, and is, and is to be the only peaceful word you hear

(I've heard) in times of war

The war? It thrives. On bones. On hides. Its whirling hate surrounds the gate

delineating joy

The word? It thrives. Is calm. Is wise. Within no snags arise. And knows itself,

is victory.

Hey girls...

This is Bradley Cooper from "The Hangover."

:)

that's all.

I need a hobby.

Babble.

?
Fragile sweetness melts with fervent heat.
Silver armour totes the family name.
The tiny soldier peacefully combats craving.
Such a man, right now I'd love to meet.

***

Hershey's Kiss.

lol.

Ima dork.

Why haven't they invented telaporters yet?

I feel as if I tend to let friends slip away. I hate that. I don't want them to forget about me, and I want to hear about their lives! Distance is such an annoying obstacle. I read in a book once that you are much more likely to be better friends with your neighbor, than a friend across the country. So because of proximity and happenstance, many friendships form (and fade away). That sucks and is stupid.


I'm ready to go back to school. I shared a bathroom with a floor full of Long Island girls, and my 13 X 15 square foot room with a roommate. And yet, I'd easily trade my current spacious bedroom and clean bathroom to regain the accessibility of my closest friends. Because somehow, I've managed to feel more crowded here, than ever at school.

***

Colors

Cascading waves of yellow

fall on waves of blue

aimless wisps of grey gloom drift

and frame you between the two

I gather bits of hope

purple specks I pluck from sand

and hold them while we walk

and cup them in your hand

wet, red lips you morph into

a defeated, final shape

the pounding heard, is not the shore

and is more than I can take

we leave as one, but each alone

(the grey obstructs the light)

the purple promise at end, is lost

though once was held so tight.

Watershed effect

Is there not someone out there that gives a care? There are few and far between that strive to be honest, straightforward, and direct. Know what they want. One person's lackadaisical attitude can be damaging to others.

Oppositely, the radiation of someone's strength and simplicity can be encouraging. In abiding by your own rules, you encourage others to challenge themselves too. Thank you. Not because you've done anything for me. But because you've been true to yourself you've reminded me to step it up a notch.

So excited. Just can't hide it.

I'm so excited for this weekend!! Old friends, class, and a graduation party. Can NOT wait. Even for the drive... usually I don't like doing 5 hours in the car, but since I'll have three human sources of entertainment surrounding me, I know even driving will be a blast.

Plus, I'm realizing more and more that a decision I made was indeed the right one. It's funny how when you follow what you know is right, everything else just falls into place.

I'm happy.

"Delayed gratitude is most rewarding."

And now I must go. I actually have work to do today.

Metro. Madness?

Metro this morning was a mess. Yesterday, the cars were sliced open like tin cans, leading to now fear-induced sardines packing in today. Bodies and darkness immensely surrounded me when the train paused between two stops. Amidst barks from the conductor to, "Stand clear of the closing doors, please," bodies huddled as close to, "the center of the car," as possible. The absence of space triggered claustrophobia, and a customer fainted at the distress of it all. Three water bottles were thrust her way, and yelps for use of the emergency button were proclaimed.



Within the two hours it took me to navigate through an unfamiliar route and arrive at my destination, I realized I wasn't upset, angry or worried. I realized that it was because I knew I had no control over the "situation" as the Metro managers/announcers so timidly titled the fatal crash. Also, I was calm because I knew my tardiness would be excused. After all, half of all the other government workers were struggling through the chaos with me. We'd be late today.



So why then... should I ever get upset or angry about anything? Whether it be out of or "in" my control? Really, nothing is ever "in my control." It was up to the Metro employees to delineate alternate routes and to solve the problem, not me. All I could do was follow their instructions and hope for the best. I will never posses the ability to neatly tie up life's loose ends; it's up to the man doing it all...

Surely this is a reason to forget temper tantrums.



However, this perspective does not allow me to lie on the couch and send my positive energy into the universe and hope for favorable returns. It does not allow me to resign all drive to be successful, optimistic, involved, and self-actualized. It doesn't give me permission to disassociate myself from my surroundings, and therefore allow the unwanted consequential events to pervade as a result of that disparity. It does not endow me with the right to disconnect from the words exiting my mouth, and the actions defining my character.



I can simply accept events that I didn't plan for. I can stay happy, but only after keeping a promise: that I've done everything I can to justly represent the family name, within my assigned realm of responsibility. I must constantly remind myself of that. I'm no better than anybody else. Meaning, I could easily be in their place.



Which is why I realize it is not my "place" to administer harsh chastisement. It's not even my place to think condemning of another. I shouldn't have to supervise my words, if my thoughts are in the right place. If I don't think something, then there's no worry I'll unintentionally slip and say it. But, when I am inspired to mention something constructive, it is my duty to speak my peace and then hold my peace. To be a witness and an experience-sharer. I want to do, what I hope and expect others to do for me. Express concern, perhaps an alternate route, and to then go on with being merry. No need for hostility. No need for the urge to bitch slap. Because that urge should be abruptly curtailed, before the thought becomes a word.

"There's no difference between venting, and complaining." Dr. Robert Harris.

So if A=B, and B=C, then your thoughts = your destiny.

***

On another note... I am completely excited/inspired about my health kick and exercise spree. I am liking the idea more and more of becoming the "got it together" version of me. This version includes the ability to meet deadlines, not procrastinate, exercise regularly, eat healthily, make my own money, make educated financial decisions, not have dumb anger eruptions, be on time, not cut corners, keep in contact with more people, and read more books. I mean, I know these things aren't on the life or death importance level, but I'm trying to do what I know I should do.

So, when I run my 3 miles in 30 (or hopefully less) minutes and do my 200 crunches, I'm proud. Yes because it's bikini season. Sure. But also because it's simply healthy. And I'm representing all that I want to portray.

***

I cut up pictures of in shape women jogging in their cute bikinis on the beach to hang on my

bedroom wall, as inspiration. (lol. Not a lesbian. Swear.)

Silent cubicles surround me

Bored. Bored bored bored. I am at my internship with absolutely no assignments, tasks or anything at all to do. Attempting to satiate at least a fraction of my "need-to-be-productive gene," I studied the menu of the Scottish pub I'll be working at for the rest of the summer. I'm down right séanmhar about being a hostess/server at the Royal Mile Pub. Comedians, garage bands, and other cheery, energetic folk come and perform on certain nights of every month. I think the tips will be sweet, as will be my resulting attitude. With 75 Scottish malts, and a whole list devoted solely to Scotch, I'm thinking the customers will be more than friendly. [Envision a kilt-wearing Scots/Irishman, serenading me with melodic bagpipes.] Hey, a girl can dream, especially while staring at thumb-tacked walls.

***

I was determined to work out this morning, but that would've meant scraping my eyelids open at 6:00 am, piling my shower, clothing and make-up necessities in my car, driving to a foreign branch of my gym, and persuading them to let me in despite the "one-branch only" limitations of my monthly pass. Whatever. I am resolute that I WILL, eventually, make extremely good use of that gym this summer. The other day, I could definitely feel a difference after a three mile run and weight lifting. If only I had more time, or a single job that just paid enough.

Time is short. It always has been. Ever since reaching an age of cognition, I've heard the world has been about to end. [No Day But Today!] But really, it's true. The time for wounded feelings, is over. The time for livid anger, is over. An aside: yesterday I was in a meeting that dicussed how the Department of Health and Human Services could conglomerate all of its fractured data storage systems into one, homogeneous, efficient route of information. One particular diagram displayed a birds eye view of the computer system and its core functions. Of course on a lower level of awareness, there are gritty components involved such as people, computers, time constraints, and bureaucrats that obscure the general operation, that the diagram so directly demonstrated. End: aside. Right now all I care about is seeing everything from a "thousand foot view." Thematic. Simplistic. Focused. Essential. And from way up here, one can't help but be happy.

***

Sonnet

Facebook dear, why are you blocked?

Inside these walls, they have me locked.

Big Bro, I know, he wants what's best.

But the yearn to chat, explodes my chest.

Facebook please come rescue me!

This damsel's tied to tracks, indeed.

I'm kidnapped now, I'm nowhere found.

Kiss me to wake from sleeping sound.

Enemy: boredom, solitude

would die with just one glimpse at you

Oh no. Not now! Minimize. X out!

The boss is on her roundabout.

Poseur

Yesterday, I heard a new line,
"a solar eclipse, your eyes remind."
Too bad I have no nerve to lie;
to evade and say, "How rude. I'm blind!"

"As You Like It"- Shakespeare

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

Ripe

I ran into a girl I knew from High School today, while boarding the metro on the way to my internship in D.C. She is Islamic, and she's piling on a heavy school load including an internship of her own (which explains our coincidental colliding) and several extracurricular activities in order to divert her path from an immediate, parental-ordained marriage. Law school is her desired route, and she's galloping toward it. Go girl. Do it up. I admire every individual who follows through with thick-layered ambitions. And can confidently say, I'm beginning to do the same.


***

Sliced up a scrumptious watermelon. Seedless too. My hands were drenched in sticky sweetness. Summer has been proclaimed.

Sigh

sweet humid air, tastes like honeysuckle dew. the sky's the shade of orange sherbert. (coincidentally, so are my nails). it's like i'm wearing ski goggles, the way the hue softens everything around me. I silently applaud an orchestra of aerial creatures. it's spring. mating season. can't go a second without a mate nearby.

Combine an interest in writing and a colorful life

About a week and a half ago, I found enough energy to peel back the covers of my wonderfully cozy bed, and jump-start the day with a jog. Although 9:30 felt like an excruciatingly early hour for summer, I was relieved when my nike clad feet pounded the pavement. The sidewalk maze of our apartment complex stretched though three parking lots and finally opened up after passing a poorly planned intersection. I headed toward the tree-bearing cul de sacs.



As I trudged past another suburbian home, I nearly giggled to death as a baby dear caught my attention. The Bambi was curled up in a freckled, tiny, two feet long ball, tucked beneath a shrub. What was he doing here? He let out a few bleats apparently calling for his mama. Should I call animal control? Should I knock on the lawn-owners front door? Nah, I kept jogging.



On the way back I had one of the most ironic encounters within the last year, at least. After circling the dead end and heading back on the opposite side of the street, I kept my eye on the house that hosted the Bambi. Then... no, it couldn't be. What were the chances? This too wierd. A Deer Park Water van pulling up to the same house? As the driver stepped out, he was startled by what he though was a baby crying, or bird chirping. I commented, "Isn't that crazy? A baby deer!" he agreed. I don't know what happened after that, but the twilight zone event stayed in my mind.



Deer: timid, calm, pretty (enough), humble, prolific. I ran through all of their associated characteristics.



Not until a week later, roughly now, did I realize the relevant significance: that deer was... the opposite of livid anger.



My destination in life is not wealth, control, fulfilling ambition, a perfect man, a yacht, the perfect tan, pure skin, a bangin' body, being royal (I could go on, this is fun). No, these things would be amazingly nice, but thoroughly empty. I want, what I really want, is to be guilty-conscience free. To successfully delineate right from wrong, and to confidently be myself. And then, to surround myself with others that share the same conviction.