dear self,

is she going to haunt you?
are you going to wince when you see both their names pop up next to each other as you type the letter 'M' into the facebook search bar?
you gonna keep wondering if he misses her?

does he miss her?

hnn...

is it art yet?

you know how i know art is real? because people can look at photos and think that it's unbalanced, or displeasing even with a pleasing subject. and cuz when you crop a photo, millimeter differences change your entire perspective on it.
it's not really quantifiable in any way that i know, but oh well. better than nothing, innit?

so someone once was all like, if you were suspected of being a robot and you were before a council to prove your humanness and you only had 30 seconds to do it, what would you say or do?
i think i'd do the robot dance so they'd see just how terrible i am at it, and would have no choice but to proclaim non-robot-ness.

how do we explain to others that we're a work in progress, anyway?
we're all on a path, and every time people see us, they see a snapshot. nobody records the potential for goodness, etc. in the end i guess we just have to acknowledge our shortcomings and hope that we can complement the people in our lives. CAN I GET A WAT WAT IF ANYBODY ELSE INADVERTENTLY READ THAT IN J.D.'S VOICE FROM SCRUBS

the comet observatory

guitar!!!
so if you hang around artists and painters all day, chances are you'll pick up some paints one day just to see what all the hype is about.
in this case, if you plunk around guitars for most of a day, you start wanting to learn the waltzy theme to super mario galaxy!

also, i can't say this 100% but it might be time to declare that getting blackout level drunk is passe now.  the hangover is just not worth it..

also, trolling conservative christians is just too fun. cuz trufax Jesus loved everyone. the basis of christianity is grace, and forgiveness, and dying for sins, but it's really about being loved so much that these things all came in abundance. so fucking love other people, you assholes, and stop being a bitch about your kid who wants to date an atheist, or who wants to be an atheist, or adam marrying steve, or cindy with the abortion, or somebody who wants to love god AND live life on earth to the fullest by having passions and dreams and passport stamps and piercings. instead of just letting god take over your life to the extent that you see the same people every day, go to the same bible study group every week, yada yada yada HOW BORING.
and i don't care what people say, board games are ALWAYS as fun (if not more) with some form of alcohol involved. if you don't believe in gay marriage, don't get one. gay people aren't going around preaching about how you cheated on your boyfriend, or falcon punched somebody's heart into the dirt with your ineptitude. what, like we're so fucking perfect?

the thing is, i don't want to stay either.
and i suppose that's the difference between letting go then and now.
this time it's more selfish, or something.

guitar fingerstyle. it's so coooooooooooooool

there are times when there are people in your life who are leaving, and you just have to let them go. and then there are other times when you have to fight real hard for it. i never really knew when to use which one. the phd kid chapter is coming to a close though, and that's fine. why hold on to things that don't want to be held?
when we embrace people, it's meant to be a hearth. not a cage..

truth be told, the entire time i've been here at tech i've felt so happy and so unlike myself.
there's something about being in the presence of people 24/7 that is simultaneously reassuring and superficial, like at no point have i ever said what i truly thought or behaved as i truly was.

but you know, i suppose we're nothing without our layers.

yeah, idk what i'm really going on about. fuck it, sleep time

jesus christ. this is stressing me out to no end.

but, i wanna be somebody who's worth a shit

re:the kiddo

jason is so fucking adorable.

 jason:  if only everyone only ever wanted pizza

 me:  sometimes, young grasshopper....sometimes, you will want french fries.

 jason:  and if you want french fries, you will want ketchup

 me:  and if you want ketchup, you'll ask for a cheeseburger to put it on

 jason:  and if you ask for a cheeseburger you're going to want a milkshake

 me:  and if you ask for a milkshake, you're going to want a cherry on top of it

 jason:  and if you want a cherry on top, you're going to need a ladder to reach the top

 me:  ...........................

 jason:  oh come on you knew it was coming

 me:  this went from the best thing ever

to 'brace yourself i'm going to smack you soon'

:E

and then

i'm gonna make you buy me a milkshake

 jason:  deal

 me:  haha

 jason:  as long as i get one too

 me:  yeah ok

i guess we can do that

 jason:  never under estimate the power of milkshakes

 me:  chik fil a vanilla milkshakes are the best

 jason:  i've only had chocolate and cookies and cream

 me:  strawberry's p good

we should get a vanilla shake

and a coke

and split the shake

and make floats

 jason:  this just became the best thing ever again

:E

wanna paint with me?

so i have all these paints and brushes, right
and i'm gonna buy canvas and call my friends over
and together with another person we're gonna make art
a study in collaborative creativity and abstract brushstrokes
and then i'm gonna hang it up one day in my future apartment/home.

and i wanna do this until i have tons of canvas, each one a different creation with different people.

 it could be pretty fuckin' awesome.

maybe what they say about being in love with love, is
true, but
the first kiss that mattered was less like
falling, per
se, and more like
tripping
i speak, of course, on falling off cliffs
and, tripping
into tidal waves
sudden and wondrous
and innocent like a flower

rawrawrawr

"you know, because i was actually interested in you a little when we first met, but then, there was so much sang and minhee and brandon stuff at the time i was just like, i don't wanna get caught up in the drama, and every time i thought about maybe dipping my toe in, there would be like five guys dragging me out."

HAHAHAHAHAA hearing this in a conversation today, made me laugh. i'm not proud, but it's kind of funny. also, your past catches up to you, and, well.

something interesting i read today (forgot where) about how we can't go back and have a new beginning, but we can start and have a different end.

anyway, i hope it doesn't rain tomorrow. there's a budding obsession with surfer blood despite how fucking hipster they sound, and sometimes you need sun for your music, also, i think my avocado plant is dying, but that's ok because i'll just start another one. i wasn't committed to this one yet, because i hadn't named it yet. (i like the name gunther.)

have also been playing an AMAZING music puzzle game called Musaic. check it out, frealz
http://www.kongregate.com/games/Badim/musaic-box

the slut condition

as told by some redditor:

most all sluts are nice girls as long as they meet two conditions.

1) They are slutty with me

2) they aren't my girlfriend.

rosemary focaccia

• remember all that fucking focaccia we ate in italy. that delicious sausage and tomato one we had on manarola after swimming. man. VIVA FOCACCIA
• 
  
• 1 (1/4 ounce) package active dry yeast
• 3/4 cup warm water
• 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 6 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
• coarse salt

Directions:

1. 1
   Dissolve the yeast in 1/2 cup of the warm water, and let sit 10 minutes until bubbly.
2. 2
   In a large bowl, combine the flour, Ts. of salt, yeast mixture and remaining water.
3. 3
   Mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon and then your hands.
4. 4
   Transfer to a floured work surface and knead by hand for a few minutes or until smooth.
5. 5
   Place in a well oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled, about 1 1/2 hours.
6. 6
   Punch down and place on an oiled baking sheet, forming into an oval or circle.
7. 7
   Dimple the top surface with your finger tips, and then drizzle with the oil and sprinkle with coarse salt and rosemary.
8. 8
   Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Bake about 20 minutes or until golden.
9. 9
   Serve warm or at room temperature.
10. 10
    Variations: Instead of the rosemary, you might add 2-3 tablespoons of fresh chopped sage to the dough with some Fresh Parmesan on top.
11. 11
    Other alternatives are sliced olives, thinly sliced zucchini or thinly sliced onions.
12. 12
    Such cheeses as grated Parmesan, Mozzarella, or Fontina are also good.

Read more: http://www.food.com/recipe/the-best-rosemary-focaccia-bread-63530#ixzz1jgcdMBfM

shallalalaalalala

mostly...mostly things are starting to settle down with.. everyone. whew

i was watching andy stanley's series today titled 'the new rules for love, sex and dating.' he talks about how we were meant to have relationships, and how we shouldn't be searching for the right person but becoming the right person. and how we ask ourselves, am i who the person i'm looking for, is looking for? he goes on to talk about what it really means to be patient and kind etc, and how relationship problems aren't really relationship-centric; they're individual person issues that have to cohabitate. anyway, really interesting stuff, even for non christians. that's what i like about andy, is that a lot of stuff he talks about is just clear and applicable and actually pretty damn wise.
http://www.northpoint.org/messages/the-new-rules-for-love-sex-and-dating

also i've been trying to do the photo a day thing, like 365x6 but this time actually finish it. here's to hoping.
www.nminus2.blogspot.com

thing is, sometimes you just have to be like,

i'm the shit. 

and most of the time, everything else follows suit.

the great CB

There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.
people so tired mutilated either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners.
it hasn't told us about the gutters or the suicides.
or the terror of one person aching in one place alone
untouched unspoken to
watering a plant.

— Charles Bukowski (Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems, 1974-1977)

in the end, though....

i'm so glad i got to say those things to him. that i made it in time.
even if he wasn't real.
it matters, you know.
always, it matters.
(saying what you need to say)

oi. my mom is more excited about this date than i am.

tl;dr

i had a dream last night that was so unnerving all i could think about when i woke up was writing it down. someone i didn't know in real life but loved dearly in my head died in my arms. and it wasn't really just that, it was the before and after that was the kicker. and all the ridiculous shit between that makes up your dreams. i'm mostly writing it down just to remember. because everyone knows you forget that shit in about 30 minutes.

actually, two people died, but one came back to life without me realizing it. strange, innit?

the first one was a roommate, and tbh he looked like your average hipster. tall, brown haired, black rimmed glasses. and we were close enough to be siblings, and maybe in the dream at some point we were, and for some reason i feel like his name was bill, but when i tried to remember later after he died, his name was irant. (wtf?) something with a bathroom. (??) and then the sudden knowledge that he was sick, and that everyone in the building (hundreds) was taking tickets to see him, and me rushing to go but dragging my feet, knowing he was upstairs in our apartment-within-a-museum-building with such little time.

and going and going, through white stairs that i thought led up but instead would plop me on the second hand of a giant clock statue, going around but never up. thinking about what to say, and holding out my ticket to be let up and being told that it wasn't valid by professor thomas, that lady IRL who pretty much got me into grad school. psychoanalysis time! jk. whereupon i burst into tears and she let me through.

i got up there after going down a series of steps and it was all a blur, and when i got there i said, i love you, i love you, we'll make coffee again soon, because that's what we did sometimes, in the quiet mess of our hardwood floored apartment, and then he was gone. it was so confusing and intangible, like a camera angle set purposely too close so as to be aesthetically uncomfortable to the viewer and to make you wish the director would zoom out so you could just see the big picture, and he was so tall in my arms, and then he was gone.

and i went back down the stairs that had changed into the winding castle things you see in a tower, suddenly sitting on a purple box that allowed me to fight bad guys. c'mon, it's a dream, it has to be weird sometimes. the purple box, for some reason, was him. i can't explain it, really.

but where everything before was adrenaline and desperation and dread, everything after was grief. it's hard to describe just how uninhibitedly we feel things in dreams. everything seems fuller, and bluer, and more overwhelming, and just more. everything more, because in the same way the environment subscribes only to the limits of our imagination, so too do the feelings subscribe only to the limits of our capacity to feel (which is to say, ignoring rationality and logic).

grief permeated everything. everything was changed; grief was in me, of me, and it was an unbearable thing that had to be endured. the lite brites didn't work. the crib's 'stay safe' was in the background. strangely enough, i was on the internet blogging about it. only the URL said properlylost.blogspot.com, and i have no idea whose that is.
oh wait, just checked it, nevermind, it's a poetry blog i sometimes go to.

but anyway. i could go on, about how tenuous the will to live became. only in dreams it's not weakness, it's... it's just the sheer magnitude of feeling. but any more descriptions about it just don't adequately convey it, they never will be able to. i woke up with a wet face, like i had been wrenched out of a life that wasn't mine. like i had been stolen unrightfully in the same way he seemed to have been.

in retrospect, i suppose it was appropriate. when we were together, i felt warm and everything was easy.
but anyway, i went back to sleep and had a dream about tubing on the chattahoochee that one time, and squirrels that were paid in nuts to let me use the shower. i think the nuts were simultaneously oysters or something...

fuck dreams. fuck everything about dreams.
they make you lose people you've never known.
and the loss is so real.

wat

so i was thinking about learning portuguese since it would be nice to understand what all those bossa nova people are saying, and also brazilians are pretty awesome.

and then i started thinking about places to go that speak it, and if i actually had a passing interest in visiting brazil.
that led me to wikitravel pages about the rio

which led me to this:
Rio de Janeiro is the main destination for lesbian and gay travellers from all over Brazil and the rest of the world. The city has been chosen as the best lesbian and gay international destination in 2009, and the sexiest gay place in the world in 2010 and 2011. Make sure to wash your body after any sexual relation (take a hot shower) and take lots of antibiotics since AIDS is quite common among gay people.


and all i can think is,

????????????????




edit: WE'VE FOUND THE CURE, GUYS. STOP RESEARCHING. IT'S JUST ANTIBIOTICS AND A HOT SHOWER

I AM GROWING AN AVOCADO PLANT
IF IT DOES NOT SPROUT, I WILL BE DEVASTATED TRY WITH THE OTHER 3 PITS I HAVE
I WILL START AN AVOCADO GREENHOUSE

I WANT TO GROW A LEMON TREE
AND KEEP IT IN A WEATHERED POT OUTSIDE MY HOUSE

TO BLOOM IN FRAGRANT MULTITUDES

soil

our purpose in life: to make things familiar. the art we create, the music we listen to, the people we love, the streets we walk on, the cafes we frequent. even the euphoria of continually experiencing new things.

and nothing is more jarring than seeing the unfulfilled potential of these.

swim good

that conversation?
that was both of us looking at each other knowing that what we're really saying is that this ends here and that we're going to leave it alone.
the 3 hour conversations will probably slow and die out, as will the texts and horribly bad puns.
is that really okay?

life is about becoming somebody who's worth a shit.
and that may mean being well read, or knowing how to jump start a car.
but mostly it means having your shit together enough to get things done.
people who can write up drafts and reach out to people and answer their emails within minutes of getting them.

especially that last one.

competency: fucking how does it work.

iiiiiiii can't do this thing with phd kid.

i'm beginning to wonder if it will ever just be easy.

but when you shoot yourself in the foot as many times as i do, how much blame to you have to give yourself?

one date this weekend, and one canceled date, and one hangout with a boy who wants it to be a date.

i swear, i swear, i swear after this i'm simplifying it all.

just feel free to punch me in the face if i don't manage it.

i'm very afraid to explore just how much of my crush on him (or on anyone, really) centers on lack of reciprocation.

how are we supposed to love people?

i thought myself really different when it came to mike. but what if it was just because he didn't like me anymore, that i was so willing to give? if things had continued, would i have been the one to run away?
we'll never know.. --well-- no. actually, i would have stayed in all those path permutations. i don't know why. i hope one day soon i'll like someone as much as i liked mike. that would be really, really nice, and i can't do this thing with phd kid.

on defriending

here's the thing, kiddos. there are people on facebook and twitter i may not care for. or worse, just be completely apathetic to.

but i'm never going to defriend them.

because in the IRL analogy, it's the equivalent of "i don't know you/you are a stranger/i've lost touch with you, but i'm not going to smile and ask how you've been."
if i knew you at one point, i'm not going to denounce your online presence. it may disappear or lounge about in squalor for the rest of internet eternity. but when or if i come across your mind one day (and maybe i will), and you want to write on my wall or see how i'm doing, you damn well can. you're not gonna click my name to find that i do not want to be friends anymore. you didn't do anything to deserve an actual severance of ties. sometimes shit just happens and friendships fade.

I WILL BE FRIENDS WITH ANYONE, IF THEY WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME.
and that applies to apathy too.


in conclusion,
jesus christ. if you don't care about someone on your friends list, just leave them there. like you've been leaving them there since the dawn of (facebook)time. DON'T BE A BITCH.

this has been a public service announcement. please continue on your way now.

you call that a pickup truck?

as much as i love king of leon's come around sundown album, i can't listen to it for very long because when i listen to it, i'm seized with this sort of wrenching loneliness.

i refuse to investigate why.

you get what you give.

this is absolutely, unswervingly true.

hertz

if people would speak to me in warm tones, quiet and intimate, low
and scratchy from sleep (or lack of),
then i'll just have to come to terms with my selfishness
and let you go on being exhausted for just a bit longer.

i'm sorry that i'm not sorry
that i keep you up on the phone when i shouldn't.
i was always bad at that.