arms, and lots of them

my lids are traditionally heavy at this time of day.

today i spent two hours with a beautiful young woman who is going to change the world someday; i have no doubt. she has that lovely, blue spark that i lost somewhere down the road, when i was busy searching for things like wrath and anger. i'm not trying to be morbid, or dark, or any of that. all in all, today has been wonderful. inspirational. all those words that sound cliché and terrible, but are altogether...true. thanks for spending time with me, thank you for your stories and laughter.

then there is you. i have heard about pain, read about pain, experienced it, sure. admittedly, i don't think i have experienced it to the extent that you have...nonetheless, i want you to know you're not alone. your world is not dark, it is full of people searching for love like you are, and if you let yourself be loved you will be fine. just fine. you may not believe in romanticism, you may not believe in me....maybe those two are connected—but either way, i know that there is a Love out there much greater than you could ever imagine. and if you let it, it will fill you until you are overflowing with strength and hope and beauty and...light. you are loved.

i haven't taken care of myself in a while, and i know that's dangerous and unhealthy and probably the cause of most of this week's frustration.........pardon me. i'm going to absorb the last few days of this break as a real break -- with relaxation and everything! so please allow me to balance my introversion with my love for you. thank you.

now...i need that nap.

harajuku

I cringe at the thought of posting twice in one day; it feels like I'm talking too much, but my brain is throbbing with thoughts that I need to dump somewhere. I just spent the last two hours at Barnes and Noble with my grandmother, perusing the fiction aisles, looking for a nice, colorful novel that would keep me busy on a peaceful Monday night. I couldn't remember the name of the author who wrote Fight Club, so I picked up The Shining, in fond memory of that one Friends episode (The One Where Monica and Richard Are Just Friends).

In light of my recent bout of nightmares, I've decided to focus on a different, somewhat more...indirect fear: that of little boys with creepy invisible friends who predict murder. I'm only on page 113, but am already in love with this book. I am in love with those neatly sliced rounds of ham in the freezer at The Overlook, "stacked like poker chips"; the snide thrill of the situation—imagine being trapped on a snowy mountain for three months in a hotel haunted by ghosts!; and Jack Torrance himself. There it is again! The mysterious, magnetic attraction to men who need professional help. Ha!

Did I use semicolons correctly in that last paragraph?

I won't be reading any further tonight—my head hurts, probably from dehydration, probably from reading in dim light, probably from some annoying connection with my heart (whose pain has resorted to a dull, squelching sort of palpitation)—but wish I could. I want someone to read to me by candlelight, preferably in a low British accent. If you're willing, let me know.

I need to be back in school...ah, the nerdiest of passions. I've been reading pointless articles about all the things I wish I were* learning, in hopes that I will return to school brimming with knowledge, but my efforts are proving fruitless; I've already forgotten most of what I've read.

I've been breezing through a variety of folk songs (mostly Bright Eyes), as well as grinding through a few gnarly electric guitar songs, and although the sadness and coldness of both genres can be appropriate for the season, I would like to play something happier. Any suggestions? (And no Taylor Swift, please.)

*I looked up the phrase "I wish I were" vs. "I wish I was". If bad grammar disturbs you as much as it does me, then you may be interested in this: one should use the phrase "were" in reference to something that is not so (for ex. "I wish I were in Italy"); on the other hand, one should use the phrase "was" in reference to a state of being that existed or could have existed (for ex. "If I was unkind, please forgive me.") Perhaps this is hindsight bias, but after reading that last paragraph, I realize the difference is obvious. Present tense vs. past tense. Oops. I feel foolish.
**This post is weird and formal.

finally, a good dream

You were smiling, and I was smiling, and everything was fine. I woke up knowing that it wasn't—and that it wouldn't be for awhile—but still, grateful for a much gentler awakening [than yesterday's].

I'm in a strange mood today. I'm drinking instant coffee (surprisingly good), playing sad folk songs (which makes me happy, actually), and wondering who actually reads this.

Burt's Bees Honey lip balm is disgusting.

Plans. I have many plans for this summer, which I am terrified of and excited for (but mostly terrified of). I'll be sacrificing a great deal of time and effort for something I might not even achieve, and I've decided it's worth it, because at least I'll know I had the "ganas" to try. The future is scarier, and more real, and approaching more quickly than it should be, but I couldn't be happier.

Hmph.

again

I woke up with a heavy heart. My lungs were tired, my eyes were swollen. I don't want to run away from these dreams anymore. I've never had nightmares like this. The aftershock, the pain—has never lasted me for more than ten minutes after waking. So why you?

See, falling asleep before 3am means tossing and turning, and waiting for my eyelids to feel as weak as the rest of me, and waiting for my heart to calm, and trying to forget what it was like to drive up your street and feel my stomach tie a thousand knots because I knew you weren't good for me and never would be.

Waking up before noon means a numbing clarity that I can't embrace or push away; you have become something that happened to me that I try too hard to forget. I always pause for too long in the early mornings and late afternoons, sitting in bed, welcoming trauma and restlessness with open arms and a tired tongue.

I've stopped trying to understand what went wrong, but my brain won't. I don't want to fall asleep anymore; it keeps getting harder and harder to wake up, especially when I want to.

all i want for christmas...

Remember? The sky was so warm tonight — I couldn't resist. That was almost three years ago, and I still don't have words. Merry Christmas.

stable

It's a wonderful life. Trying to sort through my jumble of thoughts to get a decent sentence out of this—

Ok, here.

I love my friends. Everyone I have met has changed me, even if just for the day, but my best friends remind me what it's like to be free. Here come the clichés, but I mean all of them:

- You've taught me to live in the moment (and sometimes that means embracing the past)

- You've made me laugh—I mean really laugh. One of my good friends was looking through my photos. She came across a random album of some photo shoot my friends and I had done some summer ago. She asked me why I don't smile like I had the picture. Hmm. I'm not less happy, or anything like that, but I think... I think that smile was just... free. You know?

- You've taught me to "love like you'll never get hurt."

I can't talk about the last point right now, because then I would leap into a series of jaded, bitter rants about heartache, like always—or sneak in a few good happy clichés about love that I guess you might have trouble believing until you experience it—but I'll just let you know that it's my favorite thing about you. Love.

Tonight I saw one of my best friends, that I hadn't seen in nearly half a year, and it was one of the greatest feelings in the world. Like hanging your head out the sunroof and singing Miley Cyrus (don't judge!), and hot chocolate, and dancing just because you can. I am blessed to have you in my life. Thank you.

I don't remember what it was like to fall asleep before 3am, but maybe I should give up on fixing my sleep schedule. I like this.

grey

It always feels weird, waking up at 2pm. Like you're missing something, like you're disconnected from everything. I've sat in bed since then, watching season one of Gossip Girl (I know, I know), and now it's dark. The whole world's thrown off.

I keep sleeping with the blinds open, in hopes that one of these days I'll wake up to the sunshine, at a normal time, like 8 or 9am, and i'll stop craving late nights with coffee, and stop reveling in insomniac tendencies, and just be normal. Yes.

I've been coasting, just happy and good and warm, but all this has made for a drought of creative juice. I have all these halves. Three half-songs. Four half-poems. My photos are dull; I don't know how to be artistic anymore. I need to crash into something, or something to crash into me — see here I would put some imagery, like about tides or something, but i can't! i just can't! i don't know how! — with such terrible force that I have to write about it. You know that feeling?

I overslept, so now most things are overdone. I will be frustrated with this post after reading it! Why did I try so hard to make my words make sense? I burned a grilled cheese sandwich today. I don't know. Blank brain, blank brain...

secret chords

My eyes hurt, and all this hot yoga nonsense has completely wiped me of any original thoughts or feelings. So what yogic practice says you're supposed to do is "observe, not react." Like if your boyfriend cheated on you, or something equally scandalous and heart-wrenching (in theory!) you would just perceive that you had been cheated on, and reject all that negative energy that you're just dying to feel. Eh.

I painted my nails black, again. At the risk of sounding superficial—well, screw it—I thought the color would make me look dangerous, like tar, or nightclubs, or black ice. Black ice. I think there is a car air freshener called Black Ice. I used to love that smell. Do I try too hard?

Writer's block makes my Top Five Worst Feelings List. It's only number five, actually. Number four might be guilt. Number three is probably rejection. Number two is missing someone. Number one is that frustrating, cringe-y, stomach-twisting URGH when someone amazing doesn't/can't/refuses to realize how much they are truly loved. Really.

I can't wait to use my calculator. It's been collecting dust for much too long; if I'm going to pay $130 for a calculator, I think I should be able to use it for more than three years. Ugh. Oh, and I'm taking math next quarter. Goodbye, GPA, goodbye!

Love always wins, don't ever forget it.

five days

Five days into winter break, and I already miss Santa Clara. I'm falling back into routines though, of dragging wet jeans through puddles and chasing warmth. I love that rosy, sweaty feeling of stepping into warm homes. I love being greeted by twinkling lights and hot cocoa. Winter is my favorite season.

I am always craving cold weather—hmm, not sure why I chose to go to school in California—because everything feels better when it's cold outside; like movies and coffee and music. I think teeth chattering is adorable, and that snow angels are overrated, and that I will find my way away from you sooner than I think.

I'm drinking more water, trying to be healthier, trying to run more — maybe it's all a lame attempt at forgetting things — but better than last winter, right?