Just a random update. Everyone just walked into my room. As in the whole hallway. Tara, Naomi, Jason, Josh, Manda. Etc etc. Keen's been here for a while. Working on the various versions of the speculative fiction paper. Mine has affectionately been named "Apocalypse How?" And Keen is not shutting up with the fucking opera. And whatever else he's doing...being loud. So it's about 1am...ok now it's 1:30am. And Keen is tickling me and I'm looking at Johnny Depp and Keen's telling me not to orgasm over the pictures. I was NOT orgasming over the pictures. Apparently, I don't seem like the type to go all "goo-goo-oo-oo" (according to Keen) over pictures. HAHAHA.
Well, guess he's wrong. He just left. He was here forever. Working on those damn papers. SO, Apocalypse How???? We'll probably all get splattered against the stars by some random dust mote that decides to explode while touring the solar system or something. Whatever. Must go read A Clockwork Orange. Joy. Me malenki in the big rot. Veshch veshch veshch. And I know it makes no sense here...but that's the point of making fun of it.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
More Pondering
As I said before, I will not pursue the wind, for there is nothing in it for me. Although I spent the better part of my teenaged years attempting to grasp the meaning behind it, although I was, in all sense of being, Sibyl Freid when no one was looking, I actually do belive that there is nothing in the wind other than sheer romantic joy. Now, there's no fault in standing still in the middle of the road to only lap up the wind--sheer joy is not a cause for reprimand; if it were, I'd be guilty along with the rest of the human race.
The connection with this force is something I treasure, mostly because it allows me to feel the tangible link between myself and the rest of the world. maybe this is selfish of me; the fact that I am striving for a bit of significance in the universe, or at least the feeling of it. But this is the fundamental element of our nature that makes us human: find significance for ourselves, because it doesn't matter when measured against the cosmos--only for ourselves. So I've switched this narrative, haven't I? I'm speaking to someone else now. No matter, you'll understand, too, like you always do.
Human significance only matters to man, so I belive it futile to go on an on about how little we matter to the universe. We matter to ourselves, and that is all that counts. All one needs is a single other to attain significance, and sometimes that one other is himself. The latter does no suffice for me, though. I need to know that for at least one other, I make some kind of indelible mark upon the world.
Now I've lost my train of though, so I'll end this, but hopefully, you've gained something from this seemingly nonsequiter musing.
The connection with this force is something I treasure, mostly because it allows me to feel the tangible link between myself and the rest of the world. maybe this is selfish of me; the fact that I am striving for a bit of significance in the universe, or at least the feeling of it. But this is the fundamental element of our nature that makes us human: find significance for ourselves, because it doesn't matter when measured against the cosmos--only for ourselves. So I've switched this narrative, haven't I? I'm speaking to someone else now. No matter, you'll understand, too, like you always do.
Human significance only matters to man, so I belive it futile to go on an on about how little we matter to the universe. We matter to ourselves, and that is all that counts. All one needs is a single other to attain significance, and sometimes that one other is himself. The latter does no suffice for me, though. I need to know that for at least one other, I make some kind of indelible mark upon the world.
Now I've lost my train of though, so I'll end this, but hopefully, you've gained something from this seemingly nonsequiter musing.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Wondering If
I am a writer, and in the end, all writers return to their origins. Although, technically, my beginnings rest in New York City, circumstance has it that I became a Northern transplant to the deep South. I hated it with its antebellum mindset, its heat, the facade of charm over blunt rejection. But I love it, because I grew up there, and the South is both my Heaven and my Hell.
Without it, I would have never lost myself, never forgotten happiness, never known despair to the degree I have, and thus never transformed inot the person I've become. For with the loss of bloss, the ability to find it again is created, and with that, the ability to appreciate it more. I know what's precious. It's only people. Without them I would be nothing and I love them more than anything. Those few people I was lucky to find, so early, in the scheme of things.
Now I have to ask myself what exactly it is I'm doing. Beause I waited my whole life and I'm throwing it all away. Distance takes its toll, so which way will I go from here? It's not just for me, it's the happiness of my friends as well and I don't want to waste away anymore. I want to be filled, only filled, with my friends and their voices and their faces and their tangibility--because I waited for too long not to and there is nothing remotely the same here. Nothing as precious. Nothing as precious as the few of you.
I will not pursue the wind. I'll pursue only what I can grasp and make it more and more real until there is no more reason to dream. I will not pursue the wind.
Without it, I would have never lost myself, never forgotten happiness, never known despair to the degree I have, and thus never transformed inot the person I've become. For with the loss of bloss, the ability to find it again is created, and with that, the ability to appreciate it more. I know what's precious. It's only people. Without them I would be nothing and I love them more than anything. Those few people I was lucky to find, so early, in the scheme of things.
Now I have to ask myself what exactly it is I'm doing. Beause I waited my whole life and I'm throwing it all away. Distance takes its toll, so which way will I go from here? It's not just for me, it's the happiness of my friends as well and I don't want to waste away anymore. I want to be filled, only filled, with my friends and their voices and their faces and their tangibility--because I waited for too long not to and there is nothing remotely the same here. Nothing as precious. Nothing as precious as the few of you.
I will not pursue the wind. I'll pursue only what I can grasp and make it more and more real until there is no more reason to dream. I will not pursue the wind.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
More of an Update
Hi, for those of you who actually read this. I didn't really say what was going on last time, except that I was lonely. Part of that was due to the fact that I was alone in an Emergency Room unable to breathe for a few hours a few days before last entry. When I'm sick, I just like the comfort of someone I know really well to be there with me. Of course, I called Mark as soon as I got back. Then my parents in the morning...who sent the nebulizer finally (after the fact).
It took me about a week to fully recover. I did finally get my bank account working, so I was able to go to Provincetown and see Robert's awesome bloodworks show. It was nice hearing a southern accent and seeing people I know from home. Funny, I can't believe I miss the South.
A lot has happened in this week, though. I made new friends. Naomi and Jake. Both live on my hall. I was playing with Jake for a while...up until tonight, in fact, when we realized that the fact that I've never had music lessons ever makes it almost impossible for him to be able to play with me even though it sounds awesome with a bass backing me up. I think I should just give up music and stick to silent writing.
Whatever. We'll see. I'm not so lonely...since I started getting better. But I decided to call Anthony two days ago. So he came to visit me yesterday/today. It was nice, but we'll never be what we used to be. I can't, really, after everything he did. Even though he can feel, which means that he can possibly be human, it can never be the same again. And since Mark is exactly what he always could be now, I see what really matters completely. Like I told him, I can't put everything I am into a friend and not get anything back. It's detrimental and corrosive to me from the inside out.
But I have my best friend back and that's all that ever mattered, because I hold true to my wish: One Friend is just enough, nothing else. Just one.
And I have it. The world could die, but if my friend were there, none of it would be so terrible, because I wouldn't be alone. Because I am not alone.
It took me about a week to fully recover. I did finally get my bank account working, so I was able to go to Provincetown and see Robert's awesome bloodworks show. It was nice hearing a southern accent and seeing people I know from home. Funny, I can't believe I miss the South.
A lot has happened in this week, though. I made new friends. Naomi and Jake. Both live on my hall. I was playing with Jake for a while...up until tonight, in fact, when we realized that the fact that I've never had music lessons ever makes it almost impossible for him to be able to play with me even though it sounds awesome with a bass backing me up. I think I should just give up music and stick to silent writing.
Whatever. We'll see. I'm not so lonely...since I started getting better. But I decided to call Anthony two days ago. So he came to visit me yesterday/today. It was nice, but we'll never be what we used to be. I can't, really, after everything he did. Even though he can feel, which means that he can possibly be human, it can never be the same again. And since Mark is exactly what he always could be now, I see what really matters completely. Like I told him, I can't put everything I am into a friend and not get anything back. It's detrimental and corrosive to me from the inside out.
But I have my best friend back and that's all that ever mattered, because I hold true to my wish: One Friend is just enough, nothing else. Just one.
And I have it. The world could die, but if my friend were there, none of it would be so terrible, because I wouldn't be alone. Because I am not alone.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Back to the Beginning Again
There seems to be a pattern in my life. It goes like this:
A day of happiness
Years of loneliness
A day of happiness
Years of loneliness
But the day of happiness is only illusion amidst the loneliness and I know it. But for just one day, I let myself believe, in spite of everything, just to feel it again because I always forget, that perhaps I won't be lonely my entire life. There are crowds of laughing voices in hallways and on the streets and they smile at me and talk to me and like me. But they don't know me and I don't know them and I still haven't begun to find that immediate connection that lets me know that someone understands.
I'm not talking about sympathy or empathy, but experiencing along with. The kind of experience that takes it all back and puts the day of happiness back in the loneliness and makes the loneliness disappear. I found it once and now it's far away, and I don't know if their experience was loneliness or something else...or just me happening upon them in life.
This fate is inevitable and I've known it for a very long time. Who can know a writer who lives more in her words and fantasies for the sake of the all who can never know her, for the prick of a finger and the drop of blood that shapes reality into what they all want it to be. They seek respite for a moment and find it in her work, then put it down, turn away, think about it or not and she goes on, finding another piece of dream for them and they never quite know the energy involved.
The way I work is generally like this now: I lay myself bare for everyone to see. If it scares them, they run away. If it intrigues them, they look a little more. If it haunts them, they never go away. But if they fall in love with it, they know that bare skin is still just the surface and doesn't even begin to tell the story; but oftentimes nakedness frightens people off without them even knowing it, or they get bored, because skin is only skin and it's all mostly the same. If I could give them all a knife capable of ripping it all away, I would. But the bearers of the blade that can cut through to me are scarce and maybe I've already found them all.
So for now, I must live, lonely again, like I know I should. I know I'll come home every night to an empty space. I know I'll cry because distance separates me from my friends. And I know cry again because there's distance now to separate me when there used to be all the space in the universe and nothing on the other side. Is it worse, I ask, to long for what you miss or to long for what you've never had? Both are the sustenance of desperation. Desperation is the destiny of the lonely--both in practice and in theory, because we never truly know what we're despairing for.
A day of happiness
Years of loneliness
A day of happiness
Years of loneliness
But the day of happiness is only illusion amidst the loneliness and I know it. But for just one day, I let myself believe, in spite of everything, just to feel it again because I always forget, that perhaps I won't be lonely my entire life. There are crowds of laughing voices in hallways and on the streets and they smile at me and talk to me and like me. But they don't know me and I don't know them and I still haven't begun to find that immediate connection that lets me know that someone understands.
I'm not talking about sympathy or empathy, but experiencing along with. The kind of experience that takes it all back and puts the day of happiness back in the loneliness and makes the loneliness disappear. I found it once and now it's far away, and I don't know if their experience was loneliness or something else...or just me happening upon them in life.
This fate is inevitable and I've known it for a very long time. Who can know a writer who lives more in her words and fantasies for the sake of the all who can never know her, for the prick of a finger and the drop of blood that shapes reality into what they all want it to be. They seek respite for a moment and find it in her work, then put it down, turn away, think about it or not and she goes on, finding another piece of dream for them and they never quite know the energy involved.
The way I work is generally like this now: I lay myself bare for everyone to see. If it scares them, they run away. If it intrigues them, they look a little more. If it haunts them, they never go away. But if they fall in love with it, they know that bare skin is still just the surface and doesn't even begin to tell the story; but oftentimes nakedness frightens people off without them even knowing it, or they get bored, because skin is only skin and it's all mostly the same. If I could give them all a knife capable of ripping it all away, I would. But the bearers of the blade that can cut through to me are scarce and maybe I've already found them all.
So for now, I must live, lonely again, like I know I should. I know I'll come home every night to an empty space. I know I'll cry because distance separates me from my friends. And I know cry again because there's distance now to separate me when there used to be all the space in the universe and nothing on the other side. Is it worse, I ask, to long for what you miss or to long for what you've never had? Both are the sustenance of desperation. Desperation is the destiny of the lonely--both in practice and in theory, because we never truly know what we're despairing for.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
More of the College Experience
Sorry I haven't written much in a while. Very busy. You know the routine. Anyhow, this week was pretty interesting. We had to sign the roommate contracts and I listed everything I don't like, so the situation has been quite a lot better. So good. No moving. At least for now.
On Wednesday, Aunt Linda and Uncle Sam randomly showed up. I knew they would be in Boston this past week, but I was on my way to my first day of work in the UC (University Center for those of you who don't know) and I get the phone call:
"Hey, Tali! We're sitting in our car right on the street here!" and that ended up being right outside my dorm.
I got someone to cover the first hour of my shift for me...she felt bad, I guess, because I was in a rather frazzled state. They took me out to lunch at this really awesome Vietnamese place called Dal-At or something like that.
Work ended up being just wonderful. Since I'm a Building Ops Manager, I get to haul furniture everywhere for hours and hours to set up various events. It's the kind of stuff invisible servants do. When you're the leisurely one, you miraculously find the room set up without a trace of other people. It's all just done by magic. Yeah...magic is my manual labor and dropping 50lb chairs on my foot. It still hurts.
It's not so bad, though. It was fun and I got my work out. Hahaha. I had the late shift on Thursday night from 10am to 3am. I had performed in the open mic night right before it and had my guitar with me for the whole night and just sand and played for literally 5 hours. My fingers turned black and were swollen for about 24 hours. But it was worth it.
Another thing I wanted to address in here is men. Since when have I been considered just a girl?? I'm so used to being "just one of the guys" I don't even know where to begin with all these guys. Suddenly, apparently, I'm an attractive "woman" or whatever. What the hell? And although I've known this forever, I've never really experienced it firsthand, but can guys just not keep their hands to themselves? At all? It's ridiculous.
"Don't tickle me." "Don't touch me now." "Don't do that." "Don't do this."
And they stop for about two seconds and look dejected and I roll my eyes at their stupid attempts to woo me with their supposed romantic pick-up lines they picked up from some theater or whatever--and then it begins again.
Oh well. I suppose I'm a bit amused by the whole situation and flings seem to be my way of doing things. Well, only twice in my life so far, but I'm getting sick of it, personally. Not physically, but the mind is much, much more powerful than the body and I'd rather be driven by that and overcome everything else.
Enough of that. I have to finish Frankenstein. It's a great book (again) and I love reading it critically for class. I've been lent many quite awesome books and Aldous Huxley is everywhere in my room now. The reading material abounds! Anyhow, I'm disgusted at the government as usual and how it refuses to help anyone in New Orleans or otherwise within its own borders.
And refuse help from other countries on top of it all! Damn the Bush Administration! I'm very happy I participated in the campaign for Pat Jehlen to oust those damned conservatives who don't give a damn about the people and only about their oh-so-precious money pockets. And guess what? She won. And even though it was for the State Senate, it's something. And Massachusetts rocks. It's actually funny, because every conservative I've encountered here has absolutely hated the current administration because it supports everything the supposed "platform" is against.
I'm done ranting now. Hope everyone is well. I'll write again soon.
On Wednesday, Aunt Linda and Uncle Sam randomly showed up. I knew they would be in Boston this past week, but I was on my way to my first day of work in the UC (University Center for those of you who don't know) and I get the phone call:
"Hey, Tali! We're sitting in our car right on the street here!" and that ended up being right outside my dorm.
I got someone to cover the first hour of my shift for me...she felt bad, I guess, because I was in a rather frazzled state. They took me out to lunch at this really awesome Vietnamese place called Dal-At or something like that.
Work ended up being just wonderful. Since I'm a Building Ops Manager, I get to haul furniture everywhere for hours and hours to set up various events. It's the kind of stuff invisible servants do. When you're the leisurely one, you miraculously find the room set up without a trace of other people. It's all just done by magic. Yeah...magic is my manual labor and dropping 50lb chairs on my foot. It still hurts.
It's not so bad, though. It was fun and I got my work out. Hahaha. I had the late shift on Thursday night from 10am to 3am. I had performed in the open mic night right before it and had my guitar with me for the whole night and just sand and played for literally 5 hours. My fingers turned black and were swollen for about 24 hours. But it was worth it.
Another thing I wanted to address in here is men. Since when have I been considered just a girl?? I'm so used to being "just one of the guys" I don't even know where to begin with all these guys. Suddenly, apparently, I'm an attractive "woman" or whatever. What the hell? And although I've known this forever, I've never really experienced it firsthand, but can guys just not keep their hands to themselves? At all? It's ridiculous.
"Don't tickle me." "Don't touch me now." "Don't do that." "Don't do this."
And they stop for about two seconds and look dejected and I roll my eyes at their stupid attempts to woo me with their supposed romantic pick-up lines they picked up from some theater or whatever--and then it begins again.
Oh well. I suppose I'm a bit amused by the whole situation and flings seem to be my way of doing things. Well, only twice in my life so far, but I'm getting sick of it, personally. Not physically, but the mind is much, much more powerful than the body and I'd rather be driven by that and overcome everything else.
Enough of that. I have to finish Frankenstein. It's a great book (again) and I love reading it critically for class. I've been lent many quite awesome books and Aldous Huxley is everywhere in my room now. The reading material abounds! Anyhow, I'm disgusted at the government as usual and how it refuses to help anyone in New Orleans or otherwise within its own borders.
And refuse help from other countries on top of it all! Damn the Bush Administration! I'm very happy I participated in the campaign for Pat Jehlen to oust those damned conservatives who don't give a damn about the people and only about their oh-so-precious money pockets. And guess what? She won. And even though it was for the State Senate, it's something. And Massachusetts rocks. It's actually funny, because every conservative I've encountered here has absolutely hated the current administration because it supports everything the supposed "platform" is against.
I'm done ranting now. Hope everyone is well. I'll write again soon.
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