Reconciling the Gemini Twins

Turmoil Tuesdays

2011-08-30T22:52:00.000-07:00

Turmoil Tuesdays - C'est La Vie Edition

I've been thinking...a lot. I have been thinking about myself. I have been thinking about others. I've been thinking about interpersonal relations. I've even been thinking about food.

Those don't all seem connected...but they are. Oh, are they ever.

The funny thing is this: I have gone about things MY WAY. I don't think it's the way anyone expected. I don't think it's even what they wanted of me. But it is AMAZING.

I have detoxed myself. Mostly emotionally and mentally, but I am beginning to do so physically as well. I have never felt better. Consider for a moment that this comes out of the WORST six months of my life medically speaking. It was bad in other ways, but not the worst. My body was crying out for help and I wasn't listening. Now I am.

What was really funny was that fixing myself physically shifted my paradigm emotionally. That shift was the most amazing wake up call that I have ever had. I am more alert, more aware, happier, more energized, and I suddenly CARE MORE. It is great.

But, what really was so freeing for me was the true and final release of TOXIN. For me, almost all of that toxin was internal in a way that I am not sure I could ever externally verbalize. But I am releasing it all out into the void of nothing so that it belongs to no one.

Change comes with a responsibility to be more AWARE, more PROACTIVE, and more COGNIZANT. Now it's funny, because I am not sure most of you really get what I mean by those three terms...because I have only verbalized this idea with one person. I am so willing to be open about what is happening inside of me...but here is the KEY...you have to ask. I am not offering this information that allows me to become vulnerable to just anyone anymore. There needs to be reciprocation. The waiting is over. :)

Sorry if this is really rambling. I know I have a tendency to go on a bit. I am not even going to read back through to see if it is coherent...DEALWITHIT.

I took this photo of myself as a way to illustrate what I am seeing in myself these days. I am me. I like me. I am a good person. A selfie in a mirror seemed an appropriate metaphor.

(Technicalities: Apologies for dirty mirror and blurry photo, but I kinda like 'em.)

Thoughtful Thursdays: Happiness is health and a short memory!

2011-07-28T21:57:00.000-07:00

So, the dialog from my project is moving here, with some minor directions included.

I've been thinking, a lot. All of the things in my life have been happening at once, and I am beginning to sort through the crazyness of all of it. Seemingly every aspect of my life has gone insane all at once. What is most funny is that that is actually a FANTASTIC thing. It has allowed me the chance to care just a little bit less about the decisions that I am making. Regardless of what still needs to be done, I care a little bit less about what fat I am trimming.

I have been proven right, wrong, stupid, and smart so many times over and over again in the recent past.

What is suddenly most important is ME. My health is coming to the forefront as a concern for me. My physical health, my mental health, everything. So, I am formatting a plan with the intent upon resetting my body, my mind, my life, and my outlook. But my changes are my own and they are incredibly personal, and no one need know that entirety of it all. Suffice it to say, I am doing what I want, what I need. Things will be changing, but not in the predictable ways.

Hold on to your hats ladies and gents and keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times.

To return is not enough, one must return with purpose

2011-03-22T15:10:00.000-07:00

We give many words to goals.

We call them resolutions, which is to say that we are resolved to do a thing. We call them wishes for ourselves, which invalidates their strength. We call them desires, which stengthens their intention, but weakens their execution. We call them destinations, which takes the importance from the journey. And, of course, we call them goals, which seems to me to take the resposibility from the individual.

Even so, when there isn't a word for a concept, does not the concept still exist? And if a concept exists should not we, as individuals, give importance to such a thing?

If we desire something to change, what makes it so difficult to change? It should be enough to want to change something and, presuming it is within our power, to simply change it. But these things are not so simple.

It would be brilliant to be as beautifully detached from the absurdity of life as Camus' character Mersault. But such things do not truly exist. So, the painful longing of a friend now gone from a world still lingers. I do not wish so much for the sadness to leave, but rather for my own reactions to change, as I am not coping well.

I do not pretend to understand these questions nor the purpose of any man or woman. I understand a little, and that is enough. I suppose one could say that I am a woman in search of a word. And by word, I mean I am still searching to give meaning to my own life.

Engagé!

Thursday Rant Thursday

2010-03-11T16:23:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of things that are wrong with this world, and I take issue with many of them. Today, however, I will limit myself to just one little snippet of my grievances.

While driving home today I saw a bumper sticker on the car in front of me that read "CHANGE is what Germany was looking for in 1932."

Wait...WHAT?!

This person's bumper was also littered with a number of other highly conservative, ignorant stickers that don't even bear mentioning here. The picture painted by the aforementioned sticker is an ugly one. It speaks of misinformation and general stupidity. It speaks to a fear of new ideas and renovation to any old regime that exists. This is a problem.

Now, don't get me wrong, a good number of Germany's actions before and during the Second World War were beyond reproach. But to condemn them for looking for change in the first place is ridiculous. Germany was royally shafted after the First World War by countries who were afraid of a recreation of what had just happened. This is understandable, but the actions taken at Versailles after the First World War set the stage for everything that came in the Second World War. OF COURSE Germany wanted change. They had nothing. They were left to rebuild themselves from devastation with NOTHING.

Damn right they wanted change. Again, I am not condoning Hitler or his actions or his beliefs. But when it comes right down to it, what were they supposed to do? Roll over and take it?

Let's take a look at that statement again. "CHANGE is what Germany was looking for in 1932." Anyone who spouts that snippet of incendiary nonsense is clearly not opening a discourse on what was wrong about Germany's aims throughout the 30s nor are they saying anything at all. All they are doing is snapping up a block against change in general. This is ridiculous. This is pointless. And finally, this is proof of idiocy.

If all you can do is spout random, pointless, incendiary statements in the hope that it makes you sound intelligent...please, for the sake of those of us who actually can hold a discussion on any of these topics, keep your damn mouth shut. You've done nothing but prove to me how idiotic you are, and I haven't even met you.

/rant

32.365 - The Ultimate Triumph

2010-03-08T22:08:00.000-08:00

I've owned this ring for a long time, and I've worn it as long as I've had it. It reads "Le mo ghrása mise agus liomsa mo ghrá" which is Gaelic for "As I am my beloved's, so my beloved is also mine."

But the point of this photo is not the ring, rather it is a tool by which I achieve something else entirely. The book here is Triumph and Tragedy by Winston Churchill, the last of the series he wrote about the Second World War. Also, not the point of this photo.

The point is the symbolism of all of these things combined to create something much bigger. Both the ring and the book were given to me by people I have loved deeply. I love the ring for it's connection to my heritage and for the message it bears. I love this book for its argument, for it's prose and for the way it smells. It's an old book and I enjoyed reading it with an absolutism that has yet to be rivaled.

I love.

31.365 - Taren

2010-03-03T22:56:00.000-08:00

Oh hai Blogger! This is Taren. I work with her, and she's awesome. Aside from the crazy hair and goofy disposition (which never really turns off, thank goodness) she's fun and awesomely gorgeous (even if she doesn't know it).

I was just playing with lighting in the store before we took some other photos and this little gem popped out.

Taren, you are awesome. Don't stop being so.

kaythxbai.

30.365 - Spring Has Sprung!

2010-02-25T22:45:00.000-08:00

I took my friend Marcel some NyQuil today, as he is laid up sick at home and had not the energy to do it for himself. The blessing in disguise (aside from, of course, doing something nice for a friend) was finding these GORGEOUS trees on the street outside his house.

So, Spring has sprung, Fall has fell, Winter is here and it's colder than hell.

I'm so ready for Spring.

29.365 - Blossoms

2010-02-22T22:08:00.001-08:00

I think I really...like REALLY...can't wait for the warmer weather to get here. I don't mind winter on the whole, but I miss warmth a lot.

28.365 - LOVE

2010-02-18T14:41:00.000-08:00

Jess sent out a bunch of these postcards recently, and her only request was that each person who got one take a photo of themselves with their card. I've got a whole series of photos planned with the card, but I didn't have the energy/resources to do them all tonight, so this is the start.

Love is always a good card to pull out of your pocket when it seems like all else is failing you.

27.365 - Looking Up

2010-02-18T14:39:00.001-08:00

I'm not even going to pretend that I'm good at this 365 thing any more, and I'm not going to try and pretend that I'm going to get back to uploading one photo every day at any point. I would like to, and maybe I will. But, I want to finish out this 365 with 365 good photos. That may come one per day, or that my come every other day. We will see.

26.365 - Trek On!

2010-01-24T22:25:00.000-08:00

On Friday Claire, Jess, Mike, Karen and I trekked up to Alum Rock (Rawk?) park to take photos. It was cold, but blessedly not rainy or muddy. It was full of sulfur water that is rumored to be safe to drink, but smells so absolutely disgusting that I can't imagine getting any closer to it, much less being forced to drink it as part of a elementary school field trip. All the same, we went, we smelled, and we photo-ed. It was awesome.

This is my pick for the 365 for several reasons.

First, I feel it sort of encapsulates the trip in some ways because when Claire mentioned that she wanted to go here, she attached a photo of one of these stone bridges in her message.

Secondly, it has stairs. You all have not yet been introduced to my obsession with staircases yet. I love staircases. When I took photo in college, I took hundreds upon hundreds of photos of staircases. I dragged my mother out for a staircase tour of San Francisco (which, incidentally, is a photo trip I would like to recreate, any takers?).

Third, I like it. And that is enough.

I have awesome friends. I think that they know this, but on the off chance that they do not...well, you guys rawk! :)

25.365 - Old Habits

2010-01-20T23:08:00.000-08:00

I am notoriously bad at sticking to things. Any of you who have been following my 365 may have noticed this. At the same time, I am a creature of habit. This makes reforming my habits very difficult. I become very emotionally attached to the ritual of doing certain things, and this is (primarily) what makes quitting smoking very difficult.

I enjoy smoking. As a ritual. It is comforting in a weird, turn-about sort of way. I know it is awful for me. I say (time and time again) that I am under no delusion that smoking is good for me. In fact, I often cite, it is a rare smoker that pretends that smoking is--in any way--good for them. I am no different. I know it is horrible. It is a nasty, disgusting habit. I do not want to be a smoker for the rest of my life. That said, I attempted to quit smoking in 2009. We can see how well that went. For the most part, I was good. But, as is the case with most things, it is the exception, and not the rule, that matters. The fact that I smoked at all was not good. It meant that I had not truly quit. As is evidenced by this photo, I am still not quite over that compulsion.

I find that physically, at least, quitting smoking is not difficult. Emotionally, however, was a whole different ball game. I enjoy smoking. It is a highly social activity that has brought many things to my life. At the end of the day, though, that is not enough of a reason to hold on to the habit. Earlier tonight, when I was hanging out at Barefoot Coffee Roasters, a good friend of mine, Melissa, confessed that she had quit. Her reasons were not purely altruistic in the end--it turns out that the expense was one of her chief concerns. So, now that I feel like I have a bit of camaraderie in this endeavor, I make another attempt and chucking this habit for good. I thought a photo was in order for the occasion.

For those of you who have been championing this decision, this is for you. For those on whom I have made this decision very difficult, I apologize. And for the rest of you I say this, "It really is never too late." Go out and do the things that you want to do. Do what you know is best. You will always have someone to support you in the decision.

----

All the commentary aside, I like this photo. It is not perfect, but I got what I wanted out of it. I had the perfect shot...before I realized that the card was not in the camera. So...this close second will have to do. :)

24.365 - Perspective

2010-01-19T23:15:00.000-08:00

I have just regaled you all with the fact that I am terrified of self portraits. In truth, I'm really quite afraid of the camera lens in general. I know what I see, and I'm not so sure I want the rest of the world to see it too. If I point the camera at myself, I'm looking through a lens, at myself, and then posting it out into the world for everyone to see. All of those things that I am so terrified of are alarmingly obvious to me. What if they are to everyone else? What then?

All the same, here we are. I have pretty eyes. I like them a lot.

23.365 - Urges

2010-01-19T21:59:00.000-08:00

This photo is from the 17th. It's two days late. I have no photo for yesterday. I'm really awful at this whole 365 thing, aren't I?

So...I've been completely terrible at this. And here's my attempt at explaining it.

First, I wanted to start branching out into self portraits. Only, there's a little hitch there. I'm TERRIFIED of self portraits. Absolutely terrified. Also, the whole self timer thing gets really old really quick. I REALLY ought to look into getting a remote shutter release.

Second, well...I've been lazy.

Third...there are no excuses. So, I'm back.

That said, I sometimes have an inexplicable urge to be upside down. Though I hadn't realized how difficult setting a self timer, running a few feet, and propping myself up into a bridge would be. You will notice that I didn't quite get the time to get my left hand back onto the floor back there. At least I was looking at the camera?

So...I meant to toss this into cs2 and edit it. But forgot. Then I uploaded it on accident...and by the time I realized what I had done, it had 10 views. Oops... Can't take it down now I guess. What's done is done.

22.365 - Vanity

2010-01-12T20:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the real joy in doing a project like this (or, in truth, just having a blog) is the chance I am given to allow myself to be completely self-indulgent and flaunt it to the world. I had a shitty weekend, and I'm exhausted. Between being busy with family and friends and all of the work that entails by body went and decided it was going to get sick. By sick, of course, I don't mean just a cough or a sore throat. I mean full blown, laid up in bed, fever kind of sick. I was miserable. And still am. The really shitty thing about being sick like that is that I miss out on everything and whine and cry like a little baby.

So, now that I'm back to the world at large, here we go again. I debated attempting self portraits, but I'm not sure I'm brave enough for that yet. So, attempt number one. I ended today in great need of a hug. Luckily, I have a live-in-hugger. It's quite convenient you see. Any time I want a hug I can turn to Sean and say, "Hey, you! Hug me!" So, that's where I'm at today. Figured I'd toss in a bit of skin while I was at it. He's got pretty skin. :)

21.365 - Patti Smith

2010-01-07T23:25:00.001-08:00

My Grandmother is quite the woman. She was delighted recently to have been called "fabulous". She truly is. I generally describe her as a "hoot", because...well...she IS. She's always so happy and likes to spread that joy with everyone around her. She tells stories as though everyone else in the world partakes of them like water. She loves coffee and the color red. She's also got a rather amusing obsession with cats and religions.

I love my Grandmother. She gives in the expectation that others will take and makes it nearly impossible to say no.

My Grandmother is sick. It makes me so sad to watch age take over her life one day at a time. She will be 85 this August. She was left outside the Salvation Army when she was just a baby and adopted by her aunt not long thereafter. She's lived quite the life and has stories to tell to anyone and everyone. It's difficult for anyone to dislike her. I love my Grandmother.

20.365 - Sean Jumps

2009-12-31T00:57:00.001-08:00

I tend to avoid posting photos of Sean, even though I take so many of them. The reason is not because I think he's not photogenic, or that the photos are bad, but rather I feel like what I capture with the camera just isn't the Sean that I see. It just doesn't seems like the Sean that I know and love. It makes me a little bit sad, and maybe I'm looking for too much in the photos, but it is just a block I have.

Earlier this evening, Sean wanted a "Spiderman" photo of himself. I believe Claire managed to get the shot Sean was looking for. I, on the other hand, took a slightly different vantage and came out with this little gem. It's so delightfully Sean. He's almost out of the frame by the time I got this shot, which speaks to me of his eagerness to always be on to the next thing. Honestly, that boy never stops moving. I love his shadow on the wall, and I adore that you can follow his line of movement.

I adore this shot in so many ways.

19.365 - Goddess of Chaos and Discord

2009-12-28T22:24:00.001-08:00

My cat, Eris, is four and half years old and she's as cantankerous as the day I brought her home. I named her Eris after the Greek Goddess of Strife. I realized a little belatedly that I was tempting fate a bit too well with that name. Eris is an adorable little girl, but she grew into her name as time went along. As I was feeling a little less than motivated today I decided to take photos of my adorable little girl. She didn't like that very much. She was all but uncooperative. Seeing as she's been more than annoying most of the time in recent days I thought it was a bit rich of her to snub her nose at me. So, I did what any good mother would do...I bribed her with food. My rweard for that was to earn her all to sharp claw in my fingers. I love my cat.

18.365 - Ramen

2009-12-27T19:41:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like the holiday season to up and crush any dreams I might have had for my 365. So, I plow along as though nothing ever happened. My holidays were good, thanks kindly for asking. I spent some time with the family and a scattering of hours with my friends and enjoyed it all immensely. There was the allotted amount of drama that always happens. All things considered, it was a good year.

Sean and I, thus exhausted from the holiday weekend, did what we do best in response to exhaustion and stress. We went out for Japanese food. Tonight's main course took the form of Kahoo Ramen's Shoyu Ramen. It was, as it ought to have been and always is...amazing. There's something about a bowl of ramen that always does the trick at the end of a long couple of days.

17.365 - Best Friends

2009-12-21T23:32:00.001-08:00

Sometimes all one needs is a good coffee date with some old friends and all seems to right itself with the world.

16.365 - I <3 _______

2009-12-21T11:43:00.000-08:00

I've been feeling a little bit down lately. Not for any particular reason really, but it's just sort of been there. It's almost as though I'm sick. Only, I know I'm not. There's no sore throat, no cough, nothing. My sleep patterns have been okay at best, and it's sort of getting to me. I've been taking far too much personally, and it all adds up to something of a grumpy Siobhán. I found this bush vine thing in front of my car and photographed it. Only after it got onto my computer did I realize that it looked like a heart.

There is something about the end of the year and the holiday season that always has me going on an emotional roller coaster of ups and downs. So, as I've been down I'm working on moving righ back up. If I have any power to change the things in my own life I hope that by executive decision I can move right on back up. Between this and the Cafe Brule shot I took the other day, I'm feeling a bit better.

15.365 - Mila

2009-12-20T12:10:00.000-08:00

This is yesterdays photo. I was just too tired to upload it last night. So here it is today.

This is Mila, an adorable little 1 year old English Bulldog puppy. She weighed in around 45 pounds and was happy and peppy as any puppy I've ever met.

14.365 - Bay Area Rawk

2009-12-18T23:51:00.000-08:00

Curious Quail (aka Mike) played a free show at Red Rock Coffee in Mountain View tonight. I always enjoy his shows, and it's a bonus to get coffee while I'm at it. I took a million photos while I was there, and got some good shots...and some bad ones. In the end, I REALLY REALLY wanted to post a photo I took of Mike's feet...but I felt it was a little anti-climactic. And, since a good deal of you might not even know who this guy is...I feel like I ought to give you a shot of his face. And, you know, maybe some kind of indication that he's a real musician and all. Check him out. He's awesome. Curious Quail. :)

13.365 - We Could All Be Gods

2009-12-18T00:08:00.001-08:00

Alex is such an amazing guitarist and singer, and he's so fun to watch when he plays. I practically bounded from my scrabble game when he began playing and snapped a few quick photos of him. He was great and ignored me for the most part, which I hoped he would do.

12.365 - I <3 Yarn

2009-12-15T23:26:00.000-08:00

Knitting is one of my most obsessive hobbies. I fall in and out of it more easily than I do anything else. Yarn stores are a haven of compulsive shopping and I generally have to stop myself from picking up each and every skein of yarn I see. The green yarn you see there will eventually form a few Christmas presents for a few people. The brown and white skein is awaiting its transformation into a sweater dress for myself. And the pink yarn is one I've been coveting for a good long while and is currently being knitted into a cabled scarf and matching hat. :) I <3 yarn hardcore...you don't even know.

11.365 - Psycho Holiday Bash

2009-12-14T18:30:00.001-08:00

I'm using an image from last night for today's 365. I know it's a bit cheating, but I like it. Jordan (my boss) has told me that he "kind of knows how to play the piano". By which, of course, he meant that he plays...well.

10.365 - Rio

2009-12-13T16:41:00.001-08:00

Rio is a bird that hangs out at Barefoot quite a bit when his owner brings him around. He's quite beautiful, but seems to know what the camera wants and tries to avoid it at every turn. This was my best attempt.

9.365 - 26 points worth of FAIL

2009-12-13T16:39:00.001-08:00

I play Scrabble. A lot. Kind of obsessively to be honest. I love Scrabble, but sometimes Scrabble doesn't love me. This is not the worst collection of letters ever...but it was pretty bad. I ended up playing "Key" using my K and my Y only to draw the X and another L. It was not my day.

8.365 - Scrabble is Serious Business

2009-12-10T23:23:00.001-08:00

Day 8. I've decided to go with my gut. This is not exactly because I believe that it is right, but rather because it will give me such a difficult time if I don't. But, to be honest, my gut (like my mother) is pretty much always right. I never learned to listen to my mother, although I think I'm getting better. I'm trying to learn to listen to my gut. I didn't do much of consequence today. I went to lunch with Sean in downtown San Jose and made my way to Barefoot Coffee Roasters afterward in the hopes of writing and photo-ing. What actually happened was two games of scrabble and a whole lot of coffee. This is what usually happens. At some point Saleema called me and we made our way to Pasta Pomodoro for dinner to catch up. As I haven't seen her in what can only be described as way to freaking long, it was lovely to spend some time with her. Despite it being an altogether dreary day, I'm enjoying the rain. It would, I believe, be difficult to put me in a bad mood today as I'm prancing around feeling somewhat vindicated. At the moment, I'm sitting at Steve's house next to Lachlan listening to Sean and Mike play StarCraft. It's a good night.

Now, back to my gut. This photo is fuzzy as a result of a long shutter speed. But I love it so. I kept coming back to this photo despite the slight blurred effect it has. So, I decided to listen to that gut. It is soft and pretty and so intense. Katie's been stressed lately, and I feel like she might need a softer touch in light of everything. What you may not know is that she is (at the moment of the photo) seriously contemplating a scrabble play. Like I said...Scrabble is serious business!

7.365 - Oven Warming

2009-12-09T22:38:00.000-08:00

It's been cold lately, and our heater is mediocre at best. I would have lit a fire to warm everything up more quickly, but it was a spare the air night and I was thwarted. So, in an attempt to keep myself busy with comfort activities. Life is, as always, crazy and I feel the need for those comfort activities and foods. So, I made cookies tonight. I am quite proud of my chocolate chip cookies. But, there was no bread flour, so these will be okay at best. People seem to be in want of these comfort foods, so, my cookies are baking and the house is slowly warming up.

6.365 - Broken and Whole

2009-12-09T22:35:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I didn't get an image out yesterday, I offer up this rushed and sad-looking photo as my offering of apology. I don't like it. And I don't think I will like it more as time goes along. But, here it is.

5.365 - Looking Up

2009-12-07T18:49:00.001-08:00

So, in lieu of my photo of Paul, I post this. It seems a bit trite and overdone to me, but here it is all the same. The seasons they are a-changin' and everyone seems to be noticing. This may well be one of the last nice days we have before winter sets in for good. A big storm is rolling its way in to San Jose and is due to hit on Wednesday. There are rumors of snow on the ground in the Bay Area and the hills are covered in snow all around us. So, before the leaves are gone for good and the sky is obscured until April, here is my Autumn photo.

4.365 - Eris

2009-12-06T20:11:00.001-08:00

I love my cat. She's beautiful and adorable and inquisitive and highly neurotic. Usually she's just needy. But, I love her. She was named after the Goddess or chaos and discord. Now there's a phone that bears the same name. Despite this, she is truly one of a kind. I love my cat.

3.365 - Making Up for Lost Time

2009-12-05T17:18:00.001-08:00

Every relationship has its ups and downs. We all know this. There are days when a relationship flows with such ease and tranquility that it requires no effort whatsoever. Other days however, you wonder how it even stays together. And then, when it gets really bad, you find yourself angry because your significant other went to a new coffee shop without you. Or maybe that's just me. However, with that said, I move on to talk about day #3. If you know me at all, you will know that the act of doing coffee means a great deal to me as an individual. I pride myself on my tastes and my palate. I not only love coffee, coffee loves me. The ritual and act of DOING coffee is a big deal. When Sean and I met, we met over coffee. We then bonded over coffee. He is possibly the first person who can really fit into my ritual that is DOING coffee. So, come earlier this week and I find myself having a truly off day and I'm throwing an absolute fit because I didn't get to go to the new coffee shop with him. It makes sense, if you know me. So, to make up for that, Sean and I trekked out to Palo Alto today to try Philz Coffee. They do drip coffee by the cup. Which makes it expensive, but oh so delicious. The coffee is good and the service is better. I am pleased and mollified.

2.365 - Sunsets are Revealing Too

2009-12-04T17:23:00.001-08:00

It's day #2, and somehow, I'm already feeling a little bit overwhelmed by this project. I had a few things to do today that were weighing on my mind quite a bit, and decided not to bring the camera along. I found myself staring at the hamachi sashimi I had ordered for lunch wishing I had the camera. Alas, I did not, and so, I ate without documentation. Then, I went to coffee. My barista Paul did an awesome latte art of the letter 'S' for Siobhan, and again...I had no camera. So, I drank that without documentation. I returned home, feeling quite a bit sorry for myself and tried to find the motivation to go out and photograph something, ANYTHING. None came. So, sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself I did the only thing I knew how to do, and complained to anyone who would listen. In the middle of my complaining, low and behold, I looked out my window and saw that the sky had suddenly turned magenta! It had been something of a sad day in San Jose. Cloudy and hazy and smoggy and somewhat depressing. But all of that came together for a magenta sunset that lasted all of 5 minutes. I rushed outside to photograph it, and was aggravated to find that I could not get this damn tree branch out of my way. So, instead of scrapping the photo for something else, I worked with it. And it turned into this beautiful silhouette of its own accord. I love these colors. They make me happy.

1.365 - Remy

2009-12-03T11:12:00.000-08:00

So, I jump on this bandwagon already a little conflicted about my photos. For those of you not in the know. I am beginning a 365 project in which I endeavor to take and post one photo per day for the next 365 days. I could wait until the New Year to start, but that seems sort of silly. So, here I am. I will be blogging this here, as well as on my flickr site. Please comment, if no one one is watching I'll simply cancel the show as callously and quickly as Fox cancels Joss Whedon's masterpieces.

Away we go.

---------------

Everyone, meet Remy. I acquired Remy on August 25, 2008. I decided, for Science knows what reason, that I NEEDED a typewriter. Knowing close to nothing about them, I went in search on Craigslist for some kind of 20th century machine that would fill my desires. I found Remy. He was made in October of 1926 and he is a Remington Portable. He is fully functional and beautiful. So, I begin with him. Jess and I meant to take photos with and of him when she braved my cat ridden home for a day to do her closet photo shoot with me. However, in the light of cat allergies and other things to be done, we forgot, and haven't gotten back to him. So, since he worked so hard with me during the month of November for NaNoWriMo, I thought I'd give him a moment to be a star. I post both versions of this photo here because I am conflicted. As you might have noticed, there's a rather conspicious arm hiding behind the type arms back there. The numbers 5 & 6 held themselves up because I had to wrap them around eachother to make them appear in the correct order. 3 however was the lone arm, and would not remain in frame unless something was holding his key down. Now, in the interest of focusing far closer than Sean's camera really wanted to, I was tied to the camera and could not do both tasks at once. So, I enlisted Sean's help. And, so you see his arm. I am convinced that it sort of ruins the color image, but I love it so. It is less problematic in the B/W, but...I like the image less. So, here we are. 1 of 365. Done.

EDIT: Oh, and if you would like to see the image larger, just click on it. KayThxBai!

EDIT #2: It has been decided. By me and others, the color is superior. So, I am taking the B/W version down. Though it is still available on my flickr here.

very busy people

2009-09-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

The song "Very Busy People" by the Limousines has been rattling around in my head since Mike's semi-failed show at the library two weeks ago. (and by semi-failed I mean he did amazing, but the sound guy was a total tool) He played it again at Barefoot last week and the rattling got just a touch louder. I've always loved the song, but something about it was pulling on my sleeve this time insisting on being heard. And so, as a result, I've listened. To the point where I am almost sick of the song. Then, I thought. I thought long and hard about what might be pushing me toward these words and these events.

We are very busy people. We being everyone. Not just those people in my life, but everyone. We all have lives, and friends, and to-do lists that aren't getting done. We have places to be and people we haven't called back in way too long. I've always said that I wasn't born a Gemini, I grew to be one. I love being one. It's always been a lifestyle I loved more than anything. I love being everywhere to the point of exhausting myself and eternally frustrating those closest to me. I double book myself more than I would care to admit, and the social butterfly in me wants to be everyone's best friend. Not only that I want to hear and see that those same people around me that I double book and treat (sometimes) horribly love me and adore me so much that they don't care about my flighty and callous nature.

I've left people behind on this path, certainly, and occasionally I feel horribly about that. But I realize every night when I go to sleep that the people I have left behind are the people that I did not make myself important to. And more importantly, they did not make themselves important to me or my life. They filled the space while I waited for those who were truly meant to fill those holes in my life. I don't know if I have the full house yet, but we will certainly find out as time goes by. So, to the new, the old, the reacquainted, and the dearly loved...I cherish you all as I hope you all cherish me. The Gemini in me cannot resist the life I lead, I love it too dearly. So hold on for the ride, it is most certainly worth it.

My friends and I, we certainly are very busy people. As exhausting as it sometimes is, I think we love it.

VERY BUSY PEOPLE by the Limousines

We'll end up numb from playing video games
and we'll get sick of having sex.
And we'll get fat from eating candy;
as we drink ourselves to death.
We'll stay up late
mixing mix tapes,
photoshopping pictures of ourselves;
as we masturbate to these pixelated images
of strangers fucking themselves.

We are very busy people,
We are very busy people.

There's crusty socks
and stacks of pizza boxes
leading trails straight to the bed.
And when we're done sleeping
we'll stay busy dreaming of the things
that we do not have yet.
Well there's a long list of chores and shit to do
before we play, oh let's just piss away the day.
Crank call the cops down at the station,
just for friendly conversation,
requesting songs they never play;
Let's hear the one that goes like:

We are very busy people,
We are very busy people;

But we've always got time for new friends.
So come on over and knock on our door,
it's open what you waiting for?
We may be sprawled out on the floor,
but we still make lovely company.
Pull up a chair, I'll pour some tea,
We'll shoot the shit, 'bout everything,
till you get sick of politics,
and flip on the TV screen,
we stare at the TV screen.
That Donnie Darko DVD has been playing for a week,
and we know every single word.
I got an iPod like a pirate ship,
I'll sail the sea
with fifty thousand songs I never heard-
And all the best of them go
La la la la la la...
la la la la la la...

. . .

2009-03-26T10:19:00.000-07:00

oh...em...gee...

this has got to be the coolest fucking thing ever. i cannot wait...

word!

Words: Part 1

2009-02-11T13:36:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I have not posted recently, I thought to give you a couple of insights into the way in which I write. To begin, the words I have most commonly used in my recent blog posts:


Click on image to link to larger (more readable) version.
From Wordle.com

My alter ego?

2008-12-01T19:59:00.000-08:00

Every now and again I get the strange urge to GOOGLE myself, just to see what comes up. This time, something very odd came up on the search.

http://www.cfsl.de/games/online.php

The line "...and Siobhan Granvold from murder at boddy mansion Sunnyvale, CA" somewhat boggles my mind.

Hm, is my evil twin at work again?

To be thankful...

2008-11-27T00:37:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that people always choose this time of year to be overtly and expressly thankful about the things that they are given in this life. It occurs to me, usually always around this time of year, that we should be constantly thankful for these sorts of things. They do not crop up on the morning of Thanksgiving just so we will have something to say at the dinner-table when the inevitable question "what are you thankful for" crops up. We have these things every day of our life, and should appreciate them everyday. All the same, I sit here in a bed that used to be my own, and I think, maybe I should put this into words. So, here I do just that, to the best of my own ability.

I am thankful for so many things. Especially this year. This year has afforded me the opportunity to reflect on life, people, and myself in ways that I have never before been able to do. That opportunity is a rare one, and something I take for granted everyday. I have the absolute luxury to appreciate the beauty of a sunset with a cup of coffee in my hand. Not only do I have the opportunity, but I take it too. There are so many beautiful things in this world that we never see because we choose not to. I made a point of choosing to do so this year, and it has given me perspective on things that I will never again see the same way.

The simple action of taking someone's hand into your own and feeling them curl their fingers back upon yours is one of the simplest of things. I have done so with and for so many people this year. It is absolutely amazing, because the way in which I have done this recently is not something I have chosen to do for a long time. I associate it very clearly with a person I will forever love and miss. Because when I held her hand for the last time I remember looking into her eyes and seeing absolute love in them. I thought, in that moment that it might be forever gone from my life after that point. I was wrong. I held a friend's hand much the same way early this year when I looked them in the eyes and spoke the truth. They too left my life. I did so for another whom I love deeply and truly in a moment where they needed me the most. And when I took their hand between mine I realized how wrong everything was. So, I went about fixing it in the only way I knew how, by fixing myself. Just recently I took yet another person's hand in my own before placing my second hand on top of theirs and in a flash of brilliance and revelation I realized that I have not been forsaken in this world, and that I am both worthy of giving and receiving love. That must be the most beautiful of things.

I am thankful for those people in my life. Both the ones that have seen me through the years that have come before this one, and those that have only recently come into it. I am now very aware of who the truest of those people are, and I know who and what will stick by me when when I need that support the most. There is nothing more warming than the knowledge that there are people who will be by my side if everything crumbles. For them, I would be there as well. Love, trust, and friendship like that is not something that can be found everyday. I cherish it. It goes both ways because it would never mean as much if it did not. Of this I am aware, and for this I am thankful.

I am thankful for the fact that I have smiled and laughed in a way that I have not done since I was a young girl. The world is a funny play because it takes you up a road and back again to show you what you have lost and what you have forgotten. Those things that you have forgotten, like the fascination of a night sky, can again be appreciated in a whole new way. There is no kind of appreciation like the appreciation of something that has left your mind and come back to you. The world is a beautiful place so that we can forget it and come to love it all over again. People come in and out of our lives so that we can appreciate their place in it to the fullest extent.

I am also thankful for the simplest of things. I am alive. I am healthy. I am given the opportunity to live and learn in a world where many people will never get the chance. These things I take for granted every day, like breathing and eating, are only so wonderful because I know that I am lucky for them.

But, most of all, I am thankful for being needed, wanted, and loved. This is new. Very new. And it took some adjusting to get used to it. Not only am I all three of these things, but I have surrounded myself with people who believe as much. I need, want, and love them too. All of these people believe that I am worthy of these three things, and I believe that I am worthy of this too.

So, thank you, to everyone. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being patient so that I could take the time to learn the things about myself that I had forgotten. Thank you for taking the time everyday to show me things about myself that I never knew. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for seeing more than simply the facade I tried to put up to block you all out. Thank you for listening. Thank you for talking. Thank you for caring.

Thank you for everything.

Ten things that annoy this Gemini...

2008-11-18T19:02:00.000-08:00

I am a reasonable person. No, really. I am. I think rationally, I use logic constantly, and I give every person a chance to prove themselves to me. I do not make judgements about people (or a group of people) before they themselves have had the chance to make their own case to me. I will neither hate nor love a person before I meet them, because hat's pointless. I will give people second and third chances to prove themselves to me, because not all first impressions are perfect, I know this.

With this said however, there are certain deal-breakers. Some people are idiots, and while I am not a racist, homophobe, or sexist...I WILL NOT SUFFER FOOLS. So, here I will lay out for you ten of the best ways that you can prove yourself an idiot to this Gemini. They are listed in no particular order, and I do not hold myself limited to this list.

I am a woman, not an infantile dumbass who falls prey to ridiculous ploys to get me to spend more money. Case in point: I go into the Apple store today to buy a new power adaptor for my 15-inch Powerbook G4. I need a 65 watt adaptor. It is that simple. I bought this computer a little under three years ago with the extended AppleCare warranty. That warranty covers EVERYTHING, including the adaptor. The only thing not covered is damage done by the owner (ME) to the equipment. My old charger had a wire connection that had come loose, and was beginning to overheat, smoke, and spark. I walk in, tell them what I need, show them the old charger, and give them my information. I was clear, I was specific, and I knew what I needed. The man helping me then tries to tell me that "wear and tear is not covered by the warranty", and so I ask him to show me where in the contract it says that. He pulls it out, and I point him to the line that says "AppleCare covers the laptop and all of its peripherals, (charger, battery, etc...). It covers wear and tear and malfunctions. It does not cover damage done to equipment by the owner." Point for Siobhán. Next, he then tries to sell me a BRAND NEW $2000 laptop. Thank you very much, I like the MacBook Pro, I might want one, but I DO NOT NEED IT. Dumbass, give me my goddam 65 watt power adaptor for my 15-inch Powerbook G4.
Okay people, I understand you're busy, I know there are only 24 hours in the day, and I realize you're pressed for time...but know your limits! I know what it is like to be very busy, and I know how stress can wear on a person. I realize that you want your Venti Faux-Latte to go and you want it now, but is it the best time to drink when you are driving with your knee, holding the drink in your hand, texting with the other, AND trying to change the radio station? Fucking hell people. Know what you can do and what will impede your ability to prioritize. The radio can wait. Think the latte can wait one minute so you can finish the text and THEN drink?
I am being polite. I do not want to go out with you, I do not care about your problems, and I certainly do not want to date you. I understand that common courtesy is becoming a rare commodity in this world, really...I do know this. I understand that having someone say 'thank you' when you give them their cup of coffee is something that does not happen everyday, but there is no hidden message. I smile because I am nice, I say 'thank you' because I am polite. There is no ulterior motive. A proper response would be 'you're welcome' or 'have a nice day'. You could even hold out your hand and introduce yourself. None of these things that I do are invitations to begin a long and angry rant about your day, nor are they an open invitation to invite me to dinner, ask for my number, or...dare I say it, make some lewd comment referring to some sexual act you might be interested in. I don't care. If you want to get to know a person, introduce yourself, ask them about their day, etc... Give a person time to warm up to you. Girls are not impressed with jackass displays of macho-puffery. So quit it.
Children are not adults. Be patient. Correct them if they do something wrong, but don't scold them for each and every little thing. I will be the first to admit that, yes, children do need to be told when they have done wrong. They do need to be guided, corrected, and on occasion scolded. But it is not realistic to hold a child to the standards of an adult. They simply do not have the experience and training to live up those standards. Guide them, and help them. I am not advocating letting them get away with everything and anything, but it must be done gently and kindly. Also, being a sore loser to a 5-year-old child over a game of cards is stupid. You are forty years old, get over yourself!
Nobody is always right. Enough said.
Your bad day is not everyone's bad day. Don't take it out on every stranger you meet. It is completely uneccessary to take out your frustrations on every person who crosses your path, whether you know them or not. If your have a disagreement with your mother, do not take it out on your best friend or your significant other. It is cruel and pointless. It will make your own day (and others' days) worse. It will make your enemies, not friends.
Pointing out another's shortcoming does not make you look better by contrast, it makes you look like an asshole. Maybe you're better at something than your best friend, but it is not a reason to lord it over them as a point of ego. While I agree that pride in your own abilities and knowledge is good, arrogance is not. Teasing and joking is fine, but cruelty is not. They are (surely) better than you at something else. Everyone has a speciality and talent of their own. Do not act in a way that you would not want them to act in regards to you.
A car does NOT make you invincible. Especially when the person outside of your car stands to be hurt by your dumbass driving.
A moment of kindness does not hurt. It can take but a moment to help someone out most of the time. Sometimes it takes longer. But even so, helping another person is a good thing to do. If they are hurt, help them. Hold open the door for a couple extra seconds for the man on crutches behind you. Someday you may hope that another will do so for you. The woman in front of you in line who is 50 cents short of her total will appreciate the change you found in your laundry. Think about it.
We are all looking for a place in this world to feel at home, for someone to understand us...be patient and people will surprise and impress you.

I'm an artist in this world
More profound with the words I don't say than I could ever be with the ones I speak aloud
I'm trying to make a mark on this world with the words and actions that they will see as pointless

Explain to me why all the things I'm not define me
Whereas all the things I am are left by the wayside
Superfluous facts that do nothing to define who I am as a person
Does that mean everything I do tells you nothing about me?

Is the emptiness inside of me everything I am?
I try to hide that darkness from the world
Is there nothing I can do to make you understand?

How should I introduce myself to the world?
If I cannot introduce the parts of me
That mean everything within
But nothing to the world out there?
Should I introduce myself as you will see me
Or as I see myself
Help me to write a definition that will do well to even begin to explain everything I am not

It's the things that are left unsaid that leave the biggest impression
The words I will make you think when this is over
If I can make you see
Make you think
Make you wonder
About this world just a little bit differently
Than I am happy
For I have done what I can

Between the lines
In the brief silence and the white space on the page
That’s the point
Therein lies the message

If that's how I communicate
Why is it so strange for me to think that might be how you understand?

For everything there is an opposite
For light, there exists darkness
For love, hate
And for good, there is evil

Given that, it is so strange to me that my silences carry more loudly than my speech
Explain that to me
PLEASE

So when you look at me
Understand that what I don't give you
Is equally as important as what I do

For every gift, there lay the possibility for the opposite
And now, when I extend my hand in friendship
Know I could have struck you down in ignorance and hate
But chose not to
And it is the choice that marks me
And extends to you as reflection of me

I see myself in the mirror
And it is opposite what you see now
Flipped around
So that I must know you
And understand how you know me
To know myself

So take my hand
Let us be friends
For friendship is far better than hate and lonliness
Let us know each other
That we might, one day, know ourselves

Speak to me in silence
And ignore me loudly
For it is between those actions that we will be at peace
We try so hard
Look so long
For a place
A person
Anything
To feel at home

But is it possible
That home has existed within us
Before us
Beyond us

It is
And it does
It's intangible
Not to be found in the world of men
But barely out of our reach
Only achievable once we understand
That we can never know ourselves until we don't know ourselves at all

The nature of humanity
Is in our imperfections
And I'm not so sure I get it any more than the next person
But that's what makes it beautiful

If you and I can disagree
But still know that we have that in common
We are one and the same

What I'm not you are
And what I am
Is defined by what I'm not
So, by that logic, you are what defines me

So look at me
Through your eyes I might see who I am
And understand what I'm not

Don't quantify or try to define me
For you cannot bring borders to the intangible
I am all that I'm not
And that's the beauty of existence

So listen close
For the silence I give you now
Is more telling than any actions or words ever could be

I see you, and you see me
Without an "US"
There is no we

And so my hand remains outstretched
In the hopes that my offer of friendship will one day be returned
And through knowing you
I can know me
And in knowing me
I can know you

For the space in between us
Is just as important as the space we occupy

I'm not pushing you away
Even now
I'm reaching out to you

For only in questions
Do we find answers

So ask those questions burning the tips of your tongues
For every one I have an answer
And I will give it to you
And even then, I will do one better
I will give you the honest one

Vanity Blog #5: If Only I Knew German

2008-11-11T19:03:00.000-08:00

My words fall on deaf ears but I continue talking all the same, for I have something to say. What I am trying to communicate might not be new or even revolutionary but someone, someday, will listen and it will be good. These words are old ones and I pair them together in an attempt to make people listen. I hope that they will hear what I have to say and will take that message and understand that it is an individual who is talking. My goal is not in the words. It is in me. The same message could be seen if someone took the time to look into my face long enough. The message is me.

We, as people, exist not to bear witness to the events around us. We exist, rather, to be the perceived. the problem is that the perceived does not exist without the perceiver. There must be a person to bear witness to our actions and words to turn them into something of value. My continuing search for an audience is for this and this alone. We exist in a infinite loop of both tasks. We have to be such. The infinite needs us to see it and be it. It is all so much easier with help, and I take no ones hand to help me toward my end. That leaves me with leverage, and my leverage is that I do not look until I see what I want. I talk until someone will listen. The present is as such as well. It is an infinite loop of that which will one day become "history". We are now at a point in this 'present' where we can say that truth is only that which you can make another person believe. The strength and validity of our truth is measured against how many people believe it to be true. And the methodology of creating that truth and honesty is repetition. Say something enough times to enough people and it becomes, for those people, the truth. This is why I keep talking, because for those people, it becomes grander than actuality. It is truth.

We misinterpret the naming of a thing with knowing it. For instance, how do I know a chair? Well, what is a chair? Is it the word? The sound, "chair?" The image in your mind of four legs, a seat and a back? Or is it wood from a tree that sprouted into being from a seed that traveled from tree to tree for millions of years, each tree's survival dependent upon a fragile ecological balance, a perfect combination of minerals, sunlight, weather, and, ultimately, sub-atomic particles that have been zipping around since the Big Bang? Add to that the billions of years and infinite forces needed to create the conditions needed for human beings to exist, chop down the tree, haul it to a mill, carve it into smaller pieces, send it to a factory, shape it into a chair, ship it to a store, purchase it, stick it in an car and drive it home so that an equally complex ass can sit on it, and you may begin to know a chair. In other words, when we truly look deeply into the one thing, we see it is, in fact, the all, and, of course, contained within the all, is the one thing. So, that nothing becomes everything. That nothing can be anything. I'm sitting on a chair now. What is that chair? What am I? And how should I refer to it if I don't know it? For though I know its name, I do not know its substance or being.

Even with this profound lack of knowledge of both truth and the existence of anything there is a place in this world for us. When we truly believe that nothing is anything without us, it occurs to me that the world might just be better without me. For without me NOTHING become ANYTHING. So, all those SOMETHINGS that I put value and merit in pale in comparison to the vast omniscience of the capability of NOTHING and ANYTHING. And that, my friends, means EVERYTHING.

I believe that voices of fear, both from without and within, can only be banished by putting trust the voice that comes from one's own heart. Be still. Listen to it. If it speaks of love and compassion for others, for the world itself, it just might be the voice of God--or a reasonable facsimile. If, however, it snarls with fear of the unknown, fear of losing what you have or of not getting what you want, then it just might be the voice of Adolph Hitler--or a reasonable facsimile. But, be still all the same, and listen. It has something to say, and if you believe it, it is truth.

So, when that voice comes to you in all its glory and form, give it is due. Then, and only then you may toss it away in a moment of derision and laughter. You probably have better things to do than listen to that nagging voice in your head anyway. Or instead, you may choose to be sane and make an appointment with your friendly-neighborhood-head-shrink. He will not tell you anything you do not know, and the most you hope to gain from any of those encounters is from giving this poor man a story to tell his wife when he goes home that night. Or a punchline to a joke that you will hear five years later in a bar. Something that would start with, "What do you do if you hear Adolf Hitler's voice in your head?" The punchline is almost unnecessary at that point, because the opening line of the joke sets it up to failure. It would be traded around bars and clubs for years until someone inevitably answers the question and says, "you listen". I would listen. I wouldn't follow the advice, and I might not believe it to really be Adolf Hitler, but on the off chance that it was indeed kosher, I wouldn't want to miss out. Would you?

Every voice, no matter how derisive or despicable the source, has something to say. And naming the voice or object does not define it. So, even some carbon-copy Hitler voice in your head might have something to say. Though, in the end of it, I think I'd rather have FDR. I don't know German.

Image of a Woman

2008-11-09T22:05:00.000-08:00

Imagine a woman who believes is it right and good that she is a woman
A woman who honors her experience and tells her own stories

Who refuses to carry the sins and burdens of others within her body and life

Imagine a woman who trusts and respects herself
A woman who listens to her needs and desires
Who meets them with tenderness and grace

Imagine a woman who has acknowledged the past's influence on the present
A woman who has walked through her past
Who has healed in her present

Imagine a woman who authors her own life
A woman who exerts, initiates, and moves on her own behalf
Who refuses to surrender except to her truest self and wisest voice

Imagine a woman who names her own god
A woman who imagines the divine in her image and likeness
Who designs personal spirituality to inform her daily life

Imagine a woman in love with her own body
A woman who believes that her body is enough, just as it is
Who celebrates her body's rhythms and cycles as an exquisite resource

Imagine a woman who honors the body of the goddess in her changing body
A woman who celebrates the accumulation of her years and her wisdom
Who refuses to use her precious life energy disguising the changes in her body and her life

Imagine a woman who values the women in her life
A woman who sits in circles of women
Who is reminded of the truth about herself when she forgets
Imagine ME as this woman

Vanity Blog #4: I Hope For A New Dawn

2008-11-04T16:03:00.000-08:00

For my own part: I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words, with even more distinctness than that which I conceived it. There is however a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which are not thoughts and to which is yet, I have found, aboslutely impossible to adapt to language.

These fancies arise in the soul--alas, how rarely--only at epics of most intense tranquility, when body and mental health are in perfection. And at those near points of time, where the confines ofwakingworld land with the world of dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see or seen is but a dream within a dream....

Edgar Allen Poe

A shot of caffeine starts my every day and breath rushes to my lungs in a fervent desire to poison my every waking gulp of life giving air. The assumption that I want to live is an age old one, and people wonder why I favor to gulp down smoke instead of the clean air of this quarantine. This is a place I know far too well and have never visited for reasons of my own. I am here for another's pain and another's tribulations. Why must I feel it all?

The shot goes straight to my heart and jump starts it from the peaceful tranquility of sleep. Another day, another coffee, for that is what has replaced blood in my veins. My fingers shake as I've had no food and only espresso, a gift from a face behind the counter that knows my name, but not that the drug he hands me will keep me going for another hour.

I had a shot this morning when I awoke. It was enough to wake my brain enough to think. Not many do that anymore. I voted too. I had to think before I could do that. So much hangs on this choice that voting without a mind is unthinkable (pun intended). And because I voted, I get another free shot. The shot that reminds me how much is riding on this. A reward for something that should be done anyway. I think about how much this choice means and what it can do for this world.

Another shot and I see you face and I fall in love all over again. The simple beauty of a smile reminds me how little I need to think about you, and how okay that is. The words to describe those thoughts do not come because they are not thoughts at all, they are feelings. I may not be good enough, but if i can make you happy I am all that I want to be. Remember that when the world ends.

An IV straight to my blood adds some more energy to the mix and I cannot see for the world moves too slow. Speak quickly so that I might be slow enough to understand. If I have one more shot the world will end and it will all be over. I have made my voice heard, a thing all people should do. I have stood for those things I believe and know to be right, and I hope that will be enough. I have loved beauty, and I can call that good. This world will not end with a bang, for it started that way. Things should never end the way they began, it is not the way. Eliot has told me so, "This is the way the world ends: not with a bang but a whimper." And so with a whimper I cast my voice out into the world. All of our whimpers together might join to make a torrent of noise louder than the bang this world began with. Let us hope a new day shall dawn.

What a keyboard was made to do...

2008-10-27T22:56:00.001-07:00

If I could find a new way to feel like my old self maybe then things would make sense. As I cannot seem to find a new solution to an old problem, I walk off in search of an old solution. I never had a solution. Would another's solution work just as well? Probably not. A strangers answer to my personal question would probably fit about as well as a square peg in a round hole. These things never work half as well as they should. I am not myself these days, and I wonder while I sleep if I ever was myself. I think too much in sleep and not enough in waking and it occurs to me that nights are not for these endeavors. If I never was myself, then who was I? I am a stranger in my own home most days, and home is nothing anymore. Then again, it has been suggested that a family might be no more than a group of people who all miss the same place. What if I miss the security of a person's arms? Does anyone else miss that same place? And if I am the only one, do I have no family. Not only would I not be myself, I would also be homeless and hopeless. The best I can hope for in such an event would be that the arms I miss so much during the day (and even more at night) belong to a person who missed my embrace just as much. That would not be beyond reason to hope for. I am not yet hopeless.

The words that fall from the busy tasks of my fingertips do not seem like my own, and I am certain my voice does not speak them. The voice that others hear fall from my lips is different from the one I hear in concert to the clicking of the keys. I wonder sometimes if the rest of the world even hears the words I intend them to. If my voice is different, why wouldn't my words be?

The other day my phone rang and I went to the door in the hopes that I would see your face on the other side. We've become so disconnected that we would rather phone across a wall rather than walk a few steps to see each other. Even with the people we are closest with we do this. Why?

Time and space seem to form around the life I am building, and I feel myself swinging through time in a way that i have only heard described by Vonnegut. I swung forward recently. The flash of the life was a sight to behold, that was for certain. I could remember everything that came in between and I feel sure that i will dream it tonight once you put me to sleep. As it stands, you sleep now under the crook of my arm and I swing back. Things that have come before this point in time flash in front of my eyes and my finger click on in the attempt to record it all in some inadequate shadow of what is happening. I swing back, and then forward again. The process repeats, and my pendulum will continue to do so. If I thought enough about this, this would frighten me beyond words. As my words continue are continuing to be born into this world, I can reasonably assume that I am not thinking too much on this. My swing forward was a sight to behold, and I think you would have liked it very much. You will see it with me someday, that I know.

Maybe this is what happens when things are working the way they should. What is time in relation to matters of love? Should we count time in centuries? Or rather do we cherish every nanosecond as though it is an hour? I am both here and years ahead all at once. In many ways I want to continue this path, but at the moment I want nothing more than to turn back the clock a few hours so that I can prolong this moment with you. I want to go forward, backward, and stay stationary with you. I want all of these things all at once. No wonder I am swinging through time in such a way. There is no other reasonable explanation.

The only thing that remains is to ask if you miss my embrace as I do yours. But, as usual, you give me an answer before I've asked the question.

-kpp.

Without Reflection

2008-10-22T21:56:00.001-07:00

It's a dog eat dog world
Which is just fine for a bitch like her
Her heart put together from the shattered pieces she has taken from others
Love letters and sweet words that she gives you will be whittled in your skin
Blood drawn from the shards of your own heart
Scars for you to show to others
Proof that she loved you enough to do this to you
Once upon a time
When letters are sent with no postage attached they never reach their destination
A life is spent tiptoeing around the pieces of another's wreckage
They will cut into my skin the same as yours
I may not have the same scars to show but I have taken the time to put those pieces back together again
It wasn't my heart
The heart of another that never belonged to me that i pieced together
The heart she cared enough to break, but not enough to fix
The heart is still hers and it will never be mine
The organ was whole until her love acted as a hammer does on glass
The blood spilled in the task of reconstructing a life that will never again take its original form
Bandages cannot do what they should
The blood meant to keep me alive seeps from under the skin that was supposed to keep it in
Torn edges of paper that used to say more
Words carved into skin cannot be erased
Skin that used to belong to me
Skin that belongs to you, and so then it belongs to her
All you have belongs to her, and I am yours
These stories were not written for me
I did not write them
They are another's words on my lips and somehow I can breathe only blood
Teach me to unfurl the petals of the blossom yet to be
Cast a shadow of the life I desire so that i may see it once before this blood is gone
Before the words run out
How does one heal a wound that refuses to feel pain?
Why does the dawn come dark as night?
The sun refuses to shed light on this place and so we have no place to see
he speaks of her so reverently
Her portriat stands proud on his mantle like the Virgin Mother, looking over all that we do
There is no escaping her divine works now
What does that make me?
I have no right to cast the stone
She came before me, and will always be first in your mind
I built your love again and the image of her remains
For just today I will speak with you
In your own tongue and on your terms
Forget not that I am not of this place
I have no home here, and there is not one to be built for me
I can play the part you see
Walk her walk
Talk her lilt
Sing her songs
But you cannot be fooled
So I rebuild the vestiges of the heart she broke
There is one piece she took away with her
I give you a piece of mine so that yours might be whole
A child looks through the chink of my own heart
She sees only the image of you
Why must she have inherited your eyes?

--S.Granvold

Vanity Blog #3: The Art of Being Right

2008-10-22T20:16:00.000-07:00

I believe that I am unequivocally right about everything. This sort of self-righteousness manifests itself from the logic and rationale that has been instilled into me from the young years of my life. Being raised in such an environment I came to question not only those positions that disagreed with my own, but also those that I subscribed to myself. I believe that this, more than anything, can explain my cynicism and bitterness regarding the world. Not only do I regard other people's opinions with extreme pessimism, but I regard my own statements and opinions with the same doubt. I hold myself to higher standards than I hold others to because I believe that I am better than that. This is my vanity at its best. I hold myself to a higher standard than the rest of the world because, quite simply, I do not want to be like the rest of the world. I get somewhat stubborn when convinced of my own righteousness in any given situation that I refuse to let go when I've sunk my teeth in. I will argue a point to exhaustion. I take defeat very personally, and so I have learned how not to lose.

My parents, damn their intellectual hearts, raised me to be intelligent, self-serving, and rational. I never understood why everyone else in the world did not subscribe to this same definition of intelligence. I firmly believe that everyone has it in them to be intelligent, but that many choose not to be. Why they would do so boggles my mind. So, logical being that I am, I came to the eventual understanding that intelligence and the effort required to manifest it were overrated and not truly valued in this world. Even as such, I go about trying to impart some kind of impression on people that will make them see basic reason, basic logic, ANYTHING! My inherent desire to make this world see reason and my intrinsic laziness now cohabit in an apartment far too small for them and the divorce proceedings are still in the works.

I am, as stated, cynical and sarcastic. But, really, I'm an optimist. I just like to throw in a good dose of reality into my paradigm. I believe that people on the whole have the ability to achieve greatness. Until the rest of the world sees this, I will do it myself in small ways. Someday, I hope, it may add up to something truly great. I have nothing to show for my quest yet, but the day of reckoning is yet to be had.

You may have come to the logical conclusion at this point that I am merely a bitchy, overrated, egoist, arrogant girl who is capable of huge delusions of grandeur. You would be right if you came to that conclusion. However, it would require you to follow a basic line of logic to understand that, and as most people cannot, I thought it prudent to simply supply all the idiots with the answer. It's easier that way.

There is no hope. Only reality. Reality is a sad sad reflection of what it could actually be if people took the time to think. Unfortunately, as coherent thought seems to be a thing of the past and a fad that has seen its day, I await a new dawn.

Prop 8

2008-10-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have not been following my recent Facebook discussions, this post is in response to an ongoing conversation about Prop 8.

Nathan, Joseph, I post this here in that it is too long to post on Facebook.

I am now going to address what I believe the majority of your arguments seem to have been about, and in addition a few that have been brought up tangentially by Joseph's other posted links. The bolded part at the beginning of each entry is the argument that I am addressing.

The passage of Prop 8 does not discriminate against the LGBT community. Prop 8 is simple and clear: it eliminates the rights for same sex couples to marry. It would write discrimination against one group of people--lesbian and gay people (incidentally a protected class in California)--into our state constitution.
If Prop 8 does not pass, our children will be taught about homosexuality in schools. There is not even ONE word about education in Prop 8, and no child can be forced against the will of their parents to be taught anything about health and family issues at school. California law prohibits it. Sacramento Superior Court Judge Frawley has ruled that this claim is "false and misleading". Incidentally, one of the most conservative newspapers in the state, the Orange County Register, has also said that this claim is false. http://www.ocregister.com/articles/marriage-sex-protection-2174926-california-state And lawyers for the Department of Education have also stated that this claim is false.
A Massachusetts case about parents' objections to school curriculum will happen here. In contrast to Massachusetts, California parents and given the absolute right to remove their children from school and opt out of any curriculum regarding health and family instruction that they do not agree with. Why bring up a case that is irrelevant here due to laws that California has that Massachusetts does not?
Four activist judges... "Prop 8 is not about courts and judges, it’s about eliminating a fundamental right. Judges didn’t grant the right, the constitution guarantees the right. Proponents of Prop 8 use an outdated and stale argument that judges aren’t supposed to protect rights and freedoms. This campaign is about whether Californians, right now, in 2008 are willing to amend the constitution for the sole purpose of eliminating a fundamental right for one group of citizens." I quote this directly from www.noonprop8.com as I believe I could not state it better myself.
The definition of marriage. This discussion regards political issues, not religious. We are not a country that is centered on religion. While many citizens are religious, our policies are not determined by that. This is law. And by law in California sexuality is a protected class, and they cannot therefore be denied anything based on that difference. Even something so simple as that title of marriage. Because you say nothing is being denied but that title. The title is. By denying that we are writing discrimination into our state constitution.
Plessy. Plessy v. Ferguson separated everything. Schools, restaurants, places of worship, marriage. Everything. Everything was kept separate because of an irrational fear and in some cases a religious argument that it was for the better. Brown was the case that overturned it. And yes, Brown did directly have to deal with education, but it overturned Plessy on the whole. I don't remember the last time I wrote down my place of worship or favorite restaurant on my resume.
Churches might lose their tax exempt status. This derives from a flase connection to a case in New Jersey regarding a Methodist Church. Considering that is the case that occurred in a state that does not allow the gay right to marry, so it has nothing to do with Prop 8. The New Jersey case "the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association (OGCMA), a Methodist organization, had taken advantage of a New Jersey law granting a state property tax exemption for a pavilion in the seaside town of Ocean Grove that was dedicated for public use. Note that the case did not involve income tax exemptions and note that the purpose for giving the exemption in the first place was to reward organizations for opening their buildings and facilities for public use. The property in question was a boardwalk pavilion open to the public. 'Bands play there. Children skateboard through it. Tourists enjoy the shade. It's even been used for debates and Civil War re-enactments.' it was also available to be reserved for marriage ceremonies by people of any faith. Nevertheless, the OGCMA wanted to prohibit a gay commitment ceremony (not a marriage ceremony) from being held in the pavilion. The New Jersey real estate commission ruled that if OGCMA intended to claims a property tax exemption for a building open to the public, the could not discriminate. Seen in this light, it was a sensible ruling. Implicit in the ruling is that the group could discriminate if they ceased to claim a property tax exemption for a public facility. It is important to note that this ruling pertained to only the pavilion, which constituted a mere one percent of the property the OGCMA owned. The total amount of additional tax asserted was $200. The OGCMA continues to recieve a property exemption for the remaining 99% of its property. This case had nothing at all to do with any Mormon, Catholic or any other church's chapel or sanctuary that is used for religious purposes. It has nothing to do with any church's income tax exemption. To my knowledge, the Mormon Church has never sought to take advantage of a property tax exemption similar to the New jersey exemption and likely never would. The California Supreme Court ruling on gay marriage cannot have any federal tax consequences, and the Court so noted explicitly in its decision. The Supreme Court also noted that its ruling would not require any priest, rabbi or minister to perform gay marriages, which should be self-evident because of the First Amendment's guarantee of freedom of religion." (quoted from www.mormonsformarriage.com)
Ministers who preach against same-sex marriages may be sued for hate speech and risk government fines. It already happened in Canada, a country that legalized gay marriage. A recent California court held that municipal employees may not say: “traditional marriage,” or “family values” because, after the same-sex marriage case, it is “hate speech.” Of course, anyone can be 'sued' for anything, but the fact remains that no minister has been convicted of a crime in Canada or the United States for preaching against same-sex marriages. Remember also that in the US we have far more liberal laws regarding freedom of speech and religion laws than in Canada. The description of a California case that I have heard brought up is again, irrelevant. Good News Employee Association v. Hicks was decided BEFORE the California Supreme Court decision, so it has nothing to do with Prop 8. Nathan, you yourself said that "The real problem occurs when you have a homosexual couple request a marriage ceremony in a church whose doctrine does not allow such a marriage to take place. The church obviously says no, and the couple who already knew what the answer would be, files a discrimination lawsuit." (quoted, Nathan) "If a minister can be sued for discrimination for refusing to marry a gay couple, then his right to worship is forfeit." (quoted, Joseph) California law prohibits this, so what is the problem?
The choice to be a homosexual/heterosexual. Homosexuality is not only a choice. Where yes, a person technically has the choice of the person they choose to partner themselves with, they do not choose their basic instincts regarding who they are attracted to. As not all people subscribe to the same religious doctrine, it is not necessary or relevant to use one religious doctrine to define all people's actions or moral compass.
Threat to marriage. As I see it, the biggest threat to marriage is divorce. With a 48% divorce rate I think we might have bigger things to worry about.
Marriage as a religious ceremony. As I have stated, marriage was not, historically speaking, originally a religious ceremony. Even among Christian cultures it was not required for a religious official to oversee the union until 1545 and the Council of Trent. Until that point marriage was purely, a personal matter. If we are going to the origins of marriage, should we not go back to that? Also, marriage exists both as a religious ceremony and as a legal document. It is not always both. Where one might be recognized by the church and not by the state, it might also happen in the reverse. What Prop 8 is choosing to redefine is a legal definition of marriage, not a religious one. But it is choosing to use a religious point to view to try and define a legal contract.
"When it comes to religious freedom vs anti-discrimination, religious freedom looses. THAT is wrong. That is taking our rights away." (quote, Joseph October 21 @ 9:13pm). You claim the religious freedom is more important, even if it infringes the right of others. I think not. Your right to worship as you please should not interfere with an individual's right to live as they please. It's that simple.
"The definition of marriage among judeo-christian religions has existed LONG before that same society to which you referred, so how far afield do you want to go?" (quoted, Nathan October 22, 6:34am). You claimed that the roots of marriage were religious. They are not. If you choose to go onlyu far enough back to prove your point you leave out the real origins of the institution of marriage."The definition of marriage among judeo-christian religions has existed LONG before that same society to which you referred, so how far afield do you want to go?" (quoted, Nathan October 22, 6:34am). You claimed that the roots of marriage were religious. They are not. If you choose to go only far enough back to prove your point you leave out the real origins of the institution of marriage. As Sean has provided for me there is mention of marriage both outside of and predating the Christian institution. "Epic of Gilgamesh: tablet 2: Enkidu and Shamhat leave the wilderness for Uruk to attend a wedding."
"I do claim inconsitency because there are currently other people in the USA that ask for their "rights" to marriage to be recognized. Why should your redefinition be accepted and theirs rejected?" (quoted, Nathan October 22, 9:46am) I claim that the reasoning of these four California Supreme Court Judges was sound, and not made in haste nor was it a rash decision, take a look at the reasonings they gave.

"The flaw in characterizing the constitutional right at issue as the right to same-sex marriage rather than the right to marry goes beyond mere semantics." p. 53, from In Re Marriage Cases.
"Because the right to marry refers to the right of an individual to enter into a consensual relationship with another person, we find it appropriate and useful to refer to the right to marry as a right possessed both by each individual member of the couple and by the couple as a whole." FN34, p. 53
"In undertaking this inquiry, we put to the side for the moment the question whether the substantive rights embodied within the constitutional right to marry include the right to have the couple’s official relationship designated by the name “marriage” rather than by some other term, such as “domestic partnership.”" (p.54)
There the high court, in describing the scope of the “liberty” protected by the due process clause of the federal Constitution, stated that “ ‘[w]ithout doubt, it denotes not merely freedom from bodily restraint, but also the right of the individual to contract, to engage in any of the common occupations of life, to acquire useful knowledge, to marry, establish a home and bring up children, to worship God according to the dictates of one’s own conscience, and, generally, to enjoy those privileges long recognized at common law as essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men.’ ” (Perez, supra, 32 Cal.2d at p. 714, italics added [“to marry” italicized by Perez], quoting Meyer, supra, 262 U.S. 390, 399.) The Perez decision continued: “Marriage is thus something more than a civil contract subject to regulation by the state; it is a fundamental right of free men.” (Perez, supra, 32 Cal.2d at p. 714, italics added.)
"As plaintiffs maintain, these high court decisions demonstrate that even when the state grants ostensibly equal benefits to a previously excluded class through the creation of a new institution, the intangible symbolic differences that remain often are constitutionally significant."
"Second, particularly in light of the historic disparagement of and discrimination against gay persons, there is a very significant risk that retaining a distinction in nomenclature with regard to this most fundamental of relationships whereby the term “marriage” is denied only to same-sex couples inevitably will cause the new parallel institution that has been made available to those couples to be viewed as of a lesser stature than marriage and, in effect, as a mark of secondclass citizenship."
"Under these circumstances, we conclude that the distinction drawn by the current California statutes between the designation of the family relationship available to opposite-sex couples and the designation available to same-sex couples impinges upon the fundamental interest of same-sex couples in having their official family relationship accorded dignity and respect equal to that conferred upon the family relationship of opposite-sex couples."

You asked for a outlining of the fallacious arguments you have used, and so I will give them.

The first is called "An Appeal to Belief": something is not true simply because you believe it to be so. A religious doctrine is one such basis when used as an outline for a legal discussion. And the fact that a majority of people may agree with you does not make that claim necessarily true. Also here I will add "Appeal to Common Practice", the fact that something is done and is commonly done does not make it right on the basis of that. This has also been called "Appeal to Tradition".
"Begging the Question" you imply that the fact that it has been done this way means that it is inherently right. It's a circular argument, saying that it's wrong because it has been prohibited, and it has been prohibited because it is wrong.
"Division". The qualities and attributes of the whole should not be be attributed to each part. In this case you say that because civil unions and marriage have the same legal rights that they are the same. While yes, they are both a part of something known as partnership recognized by legal status and they may be in most ways equivalent, that fact does not make them equal.
"Questionable Cause". However many cases you bring of how you think this will harm our families, children, religious institutions, or rights (though as I have laid out, many of them happen to be not relatable anyway), they are not necessarily logically linked. Simply because these events may be commonly associated with gay marriage and the right to do so does not mean that one caused the other.
Slippery Slope". You say yourself, if we consider this redefinition why should we not reconsider them all. This "what would be next" line of thinking is a fallacy.

Cited sources include: Responses from California Supreme Court Judges, www.mormonsformarriage.com, and www.noonprop8.com. Also used, as you have noted was the wikipedia article on marriage. This was used as an outline of the historical background of marriage. If you would like me to cite other sources on this matter, I can if you so desire or require. I did not feel it necessary to cite the entire article, just the portions I was using.

Vanity Blog #2

2008-10-16T16:01:00.001-07:00

I believe that a life left without scrutiny is a life not worth living at all. Oddly enough, I have also found that my life examined has left me with a big headache and a lot of heartache. I believe that this is a dilemma worth examining, even with the headache that it might cause. I believe that progress for people is gained at times of extraordinary difficulty. I believe that those times when peoples' egos and vanities are completely shattered and torn are when they grow the most. Unfortunately, all of this was wasted on me, because it required me to spend months and years afterward building up a new ego and new façade that was stronger and more resilient than the one that shattered before it. I believe that we so desperately seek connection with other people that we give them the ability to break us. We wait not for them to break us, which I believe many of them will eventually do, but rather we wait for the one who we give that ability to who does not choose to take that opportunity. I believe that this kind of fear of total breakage and pain is what we expose ourselves to when we fall in love. I believe that love is the highest form of torment that we can subject ourselves to. For in what other endeavor do we open ourselves to such opportunity to complete destruction? After each and every knock down that I've gotten has actually been a step up for me, and I believe that every step has been in the effort to create a stronger, better version of myself. I believe that the daughter, friend, sister, girlfriend, writer, artist, nerd, damaged-girl, gamer, coffee-drinker, sarcasm, history-nerd, snob, egoist, brat, success and failures in me have all been steps on the way to the ways in which I am now. While each of these steps have been false versions of myself because they were no more than passing fancies that were little more shadows on the wall or the light creating the shadow itself. None of them were…are the actual Siobhán. So where does this leave me? I believe it might leave me right where I started, without ego? I wish. No, I am as much of an egoist as ever. But it makes me wonder, is that enough?

Vanity Blog #1

2008-10-14T18:12:00.000-07:00

This will be the first of a series of blogs that will occur at random, according to my whim. They are modeled after Chuck Lorre's Vanity Cards which would appear at the end of his TV shows for a brief interim and were usually loaded with a copious amount of text. These are based purely on my beliefs and thoughts as they occur to me and will generally cater to my own sense or pride, vanity, and superior self-worth. Sometimes they will stay on one topic, sometimes they will not. Occasionally they will be deep and meaningful, and sometimes they will be shallow. Deal with it, this is my shameless attempt to share my views with people.

------------------------------------

I believe that most people in this world think that they are better than everyone else around them. This is not true. It simply isn't. At the very least, for one simple fact. I AM BETTER THAN EVERYONE. At the very least, I am better than most. It is true, and I know it to be so. But, I believe that I would not be so amazing were others not so un-amazing. It is, after all, a matter of comparison. I believe that most people know this, but simply refuse to admit to it. But, seriously now, I also believe that a person's sense of superiority lies in the fact that they are better than another person. I believe that there is always someone better and some one worse than you out there which gives rise to Buttercup's line, "Only compared to some."

I believe that nobody is that fantastic. If they were, I believe that they might just spontaneously explode. I believe it would be so. I believe that my point of view is generally best. Whether it actually is or not is sort of a moot point right now.

I also believe that the very belief in something both manifests itself in our life and causes us to fear it. We cannot fear something that does not exist, and so as soon as we believe it into existence, we have created something both capable of inspiring awe, respect, or fear. Or, possibly, any other number of feelings in us. I also believe that our feelings are shaped by our experiences and are subject to our whim. This means that we are both capable of and responsible for managing our emotions, feelings, actions, and thoughts. I believe that no one (short of holding a gun to your head, vicious blackmail, brute strength, or a really cute pout) can make you do something against your will. Your will and body is your own to do with what you will and I believe that no one can make you feel guilty about that unless you already feel guilty about it yourself.

I believe that a person has only themselves to answer to at the end of the day, and if they are not happy with that, then they should change something about their life until they are. I believe that change is good and acceptance is even better. I also (for some God-forsaken reason) believe that there is good in this world if people would only care to take the time to look.

You are amazing and compassionate people, even if you do not yet know it.

Thank you.

not like me...

2008-10-07T20:44:00.001-07:00

Have been feeling somewhat...under the weather lately. I am not sure if something is in the air or if there is something more philosophical at work. Either way I have been unable to feel like myself in the hectic pace of my life lately. I am having issues finding my grounding, and very few things feel like home anymore. It's like I explained to somebody today. Sacramento has never been home. This is not where I belong. Not really. The place and people are not one that I wish to continue with as the years go along.

But if the place I live is not home...then what is? I'm not at home in the home of my parents, that much has been glaringly obvious, for that has become more symbolic to me over the years than anything else. And if my apartment here isn't...Well, where am I to go?

This is not all there is
What we see and what we know is nothing
Experiences are limited to the size of our perceptions
We see nothing
We are blind and must make judgments in the dark
I can't do that
That's just not like me
I could ask for more, but what would I get?
To answer to a vengeful God who wishes to strike guilt and terror in my heart is just not like me
Are you happy with that?
Or do you also say you cannot, like me?
I do not need that justification to stand on
I am good and kind of my own accord
I have beauty and compassion in a world that has shown me none
So, why do they not like me?
There is no promised land
Too many people are hurting to call it that
With nothing to call my own I walk on in a world that lost sight of me years ago
I am not lost, even though I do not know where I am going
To lose my way is not like me
Even the sky is too terrified to show itself to the world these days
Another hour is spent raining the tears I cannot cry for the crimes of men who have no one to answer to but their own conscience
Who polices that?
It is not in me to cry for those men, even those who have broken and killed me
That's not like me
Are you saddened by the state of the world?
Do you walk on doing nothing about its wrongs?
Or do you endeavor, in your own small way, to make it a better place?
Maybe, instead, you paint on a smile and go on whether you like it or not, like me
Why does the world take the beauty of innocence and ruin it?
What was there to be gained?
All it gave me was a quest
A jaded thirst for answers with no questions
Even when there is no method to madness, the chaos makes sense
That could be my answer
I could accept its simplicity, but that's just not like me
The tears of my eyes are not my own
The salty tracks they use as roads numb my sight
The day is so still that it feels like death
I keep waiting for even an ounce of kindness to be shown to me
Why do they not like me?
This is my kingdom and in it, I am perfect
The fire is dying and I light a cigarette with its last breath
All my answers are smoke
I am too good for the lives I have lived
I never asked for any of this
My broken lungs breathe air that hates them
My perfect beauty was crafted by hands that never knew what creature would be born from their wreckage
Flowers bloom from the tears of this world
Absolute beauty comes from perfect pain
So too am I
A perfect girl with a hole in my heart and I wonder, can it too be watered by tears?
I know I've cried enough
Will flowers grow in to fill the space?
I only want to know one thing
With my beauty and my perfection
Why do I not like me?

-S.Granvold

Of Clouds and Crows

2008-09-30T22:54:00.000-07:00

So many things to do but none of them seem to matter
I look out and hope to meet your gaze but you're no longer here
So I choose, instead, to lie out on the grass in the hopes that it's embrace could rival yours
You and I both know that nothing does
Instead of your eyes I see the sky
A blue that resonates a total of zero times
That nothing seems to take over
Clouds scattered randomly in a pattern that suddenly makes perfect sense
They float on by with a carelessness I can no longer reach
A night crow flies by with purpose
A purpose that has left me in days gone by and has not been missed since its absence
So I watch, instead, the crow and his intent as it passes me by
I wonder what goes through his mind
Might he be tired?
Would he like to sit for a while next me on the grass which must look greener from his vantage?
Would he like to rest his wings and exchange a few words?
Reflections on what he might have to say pass my eyes
Maybe he would just listen to my stories
The epic tales of my own continued correspondence with terrestrials
It just might be that he would caw on and on
Sounds that I could never understand
Trying to tell me of the creatures who own the sky
A place I have always longed to inhabit
I have long had to content my desires with those of the ground
My land-locked feet forbidding the adventures I would take with wings I will never have
We could sit for hours I reckon
It might be, when it was all over, that we would make a date for the same time the next day
I might ask him to take me for a ride
For my hands long to skim over the clouds of my dreaming
Could he take me with him?
I could ask him to show me a world that was never my own
Maybe, instead, I could clip his wings and take him with me
I could
I would never inhibit such beauty in that way
So, I will instead keep him in my mind and remember the conversation we never had
For I never asked him to linger
A lost opportunity at a friend that will never be
Advice I will never hear
Tales from eyes that I never looked into
Maybe I'll choose to forget him
But I can't do that now
For I never got the chance
I'll go on with my day
The clock ticks by with its steady pace
Seconds and minutes telling me of the places I should be
In the distance a bell rings
I'm running out of time
No time left to linger in the grass of another's yard where everything is green
For my own world is dreary without the colors of this world
Back to time
Time for reality
Reality of what I see with my eyes
What I see of a world I was never at home in
I can return again
It won't be the same
Even at this time tomorrow
The chance is gone and I must take what I can
Even if it is just the possibility of a conversation I never had
Perhaps, tomorrow, he will stop by
I won't be there
I could say, "Next time."
There is only this time
So maybe tomorrow I will avoid a conversation with the clouds
But with a thirty percent chance of rain
I think they will only cry on me

-S.Granvold

life will be all that you make it...

2008-09-25T22:06:00.001-07:00

This past week has seen a good number of "firsts" for me. Some of them bad, but the overwhelming number of them exceedingly good. You see to the left here the first picture I've taken with two people I had never before taken a picture with. Side note: thank you Katia, this picture would not have been complete without your hand and the back of your head. At the end of everything, I am alive, in one piece, and exceedingly happy. All things considered, I count myself as having come out far ahead of par. Life treks on in such a way as to allow me to remain more than content with my place and circumstance. Even the worst of these recent days has left me more certain of the things and the people I have chosen to give places in my life to. Whatever might have happened does not matter, because what did happen was far more critical.

It has been said of me before that I am something of a klutz. People all around me are dancing intricate steps while I continue to trip over my own feet. However many times I may stumble over that doorstep, I will always get back up again. While some might say that makes me a fool, it seems to have done nothing but good for me. I refuse to fix a system that is not broken. So, having fallen off the metaphorical horse once again, I did the only thing that occurred to me. I stood, checked myself and others for injury, and jumped right back on. There was nothing else for it. The trust to which that speaks not only gives me infinite knowledge about myself, but also about that metaphorical horse and that journey I have chosen.

I took off this weekend for an escape into rain, trees, and dirt. It has been a long time since I have gone camping and it was certainly long overdue. So, thus packed and ready to go we (Steve, Katia, Sean, and myself) set off onto the road. I learned, quickly at that, that I should never discredit that 30% chance of rain, especially when the rain would be inconvenient. I learned several things that weekend. Thankfully, one was a lesson I had learned before, and served me well in two regards over the course of the weekend. I learned how to fall a long time ago, and thank goodness too, otherwise both of those things could have been...well, bad. In a way I am learning to fall all over again. Only this time tucking my chin and pulling my arms in won't do me any good. I must trust myself to fall without knowledge of what the repercussions might be. At least (both literally and metaphorically) I am not falling alone. I now have things in my life that I didn't even know I wanted...maybe I'll finally get my wings too...

And so fool that I now am, I wish for wings,

As one foot steps off the edge of the cliff that I've been teetering on for my entire life

So, we set our tents up, boiled our water, and pulled out the boxed Cabernet Sauvingon and prepared for the night. A meal of freeze dried Beef Stroganoff and two cups of cheap wine later and the conversation quickly began to degrade. It should be mentioned here, that this is not a good mix in my stomach. Included in this "conversation" was a horribly bad (yes, redundancy can be fun) rendition of Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks, to which we could not even remember all of the words. Seems to be a common problem with this group, as previously we had trouble with the words of American Pie even with the lyrics printed out in front of us. Now, keep in mind here that Siobhán is a cheap date when it comes to wine, and this night was no exception to the rule. I was afraid, at one point, that we had scared away our camping neighbors.

So, my camping urges thus satisfied, I made my way back into the real world. If I had thought it would be boring in comparison, oh how wrong I was. From plans far that I am far to young to consider to backwards marriage proposals of convenience from men I don't even know I have had myself an interesting week.

Despite annoyances at certain people who seem unable to do the simplest of things, I go on with my life the best way I know how.

Oh, and as a note, Siobhán has the most bizzarely awesome afterglows ever! And she is glad someone finally understands them.

So, suffice to say, Siobhán is looking forward to the near future and is trying not to think too hard about the upcoming Batizado. I am building a life for myself that could possibly end up to be better than anything I could have ever planned in my youth.

Slainte!

Ciao!

Tchau!

Arrivederci!

Meow!

axé!

2008-09-18T13:07:00.000-07:00

Capoeira is a Brazilian "martial art", as many of you have probably heard me say in the past. But the term "martial art" goes a long way to NOT describing Capoeira at all. While there is, certainly a fighting element involved in Capoeira, it is also so much more. Mestre Acordeon has said that it is "A dance like a fight, a fight like a dance, a song…a way of life." It is, at once, a martial art, but it is much more ritualistic and fluid than more traditional Asian Martial Arts. But I will explain that later.

Capoeira begins in Brazil during the period of the slave trade with the slaves taken from West Africa to work on the Brazilian sugar plantations. Capoeira takes its roots in the Diaspora of West African traditions, which explains a lot of traditions that I will enumerate at a later point. Capoeira, as compared to other martial arts, is very young, having only been in practice for around 300 years, and only established itself in the last century. Up until that point Capoeira had a history of violence, danger, and unlawfulness.

The slaves practiced Capoeira in secret, as they had to hide it from their masters. As such Capoeira was turned into something that resembled a dance in many ways more than a fight. Once slavery was abolished in Brazil these ex-slaves made up the lower rungs of society, and many of them took up crime and gangs as a way to survive. Because of this Capoeira became associated with poverty, crime, and gangs. Capoeira, up through the early 20th century was heavily punishable by law. It was even, at a point, punishable by death. Capoeiristas found ways around these laws and rules. There are rhythms on the main instrument, the Berimbau, that indicate certain things to Capoeiristas. One, in particular, tells some of the ways in which Capoeiristas had to hide their activities. Cavalaria is a rhythm on the berimbau that tells Capoeiristas that the police are coming, and to get out. In this way they are able to, covertly, help each other out and get out. Hopefully, by the time that the police got there, the only person left would be the one holding the berimbau and there would be no roda to break up. Other rhythms dictate the type of game that will be played, or to form the roda.

The roda is the circle around which Capoeiristas sit and within which the game of Capoeira is played. Music is played, songs are sung, and the game is played. The roda is a somewhat sacred place in Capoeira culture. There are many rituals and traditions that revolve (pardon the pun for those of you who get it) around the roda.

At this point, I find it pertinent to get into a discussion of Capoeira rituals, of which there are many. The first, and possibly most important of which is the Batizado celebration. Batizado translates to mean baptism. It is the celebration at which new students receive their first belts and actually become Capoeiristas. The celebration generally spans a weekend and involves workshops for students, visiting mestres, food, music, dance, and a lot of merry-making, as they would say. It is an opportunity for students and mestres alike to come together in celebration. Students, as I did just a few weeks ago, make their own cordao (belt), and eventually must enter the roda with a Mestre to receive it. Students are often presented with apellidos (nicknames) at Batizados as well that do something to explain something about them and that will follow them through their Capoeira lives.

Capoeira is not a fighting style so much as a way of moving and defending that can be applied to fight. It is, traditionally, fought barefoot. One explanation that I have heard to explain this has been to harken back to Capoeira's West African origins. In many West African religions there is a belief that ancestors do not go up (say, to heaven) when they die, but rather underneath us in the ground. Therefore, our connection with them is through the ground and the feet are more sacred than the hands; the hands being made for work. This would also explain why a lot of Capoeira fighting is done with the feet. This is why you will also see many Capoeiristas 'connecting' with the ground at various moments. The most obvious and continuous example of this is the fact that we are often barefoot, especially during the roda. Also, you will see many Capoeiristas touch the ground with their hand just before, and especially after the game has been played. This moment of connection is singular and specific to each and every Capoeirista. Some sign the cross before they touch the ground, others hold their hands over their hearts during certain songs, and others still create their own ritual.

The idea of community is very important in Capoeira, and is made evident in everything. The roda is the most important example of this. Even if one is sitting on the outside of the roda and is not playing a game, they are responsible for clapping and singing to keep the Axé (energy) going for the players.

There is so much more to Capoeira, and many things I do not yet know. Not all of this is any kind of definitive description of Capoeira, but it does well to explain some of the basics to those of you who do not know much about this art that I have come to love.

If you have any questions, please ask, I love talking about this, and I enjoy helping people to understand this art that is growing in American culture.

Agua de Beber, the studio at which I train, is having its Batizado on Saturday, September 27 at 4pm. If you are interested in seeing a good show and want to come out, I suggest it. It starts promptly at 4pm and is $10 for the public to come and watch.

Blessings to all of you, and especially to everyone out there that is preparing for their own Batizados for in that way you are my brothers and sisters and I love you all. Immense gratitude goes out to all of those who have taught me, and especially to Contra-Mestre Galego for all of his help.

Axé!

Ie viva meu mestre!
Ie viva meu mestre camara!

Ie que me ensino!
Ie que me ensino camara!

Ie a Capoeira!
Ie a Capoeira camara!

less than three...

2008-09-17T04:26:00.000-07:00

The dust is in my eyes and my boots are kicked up, I've won a lot of heartsick prizes along the way. I've picked up so much and left even more behind. I never see these things when they're sticking to my skin, but I'm certainly better off for everything that I let in. To be certain, I'm better for what I let in than what I choose to keep out. I lost way too much way too young, and the with all the promise and work left undone. It's funny to think that all that guards me is some created imaginary median line and I used to fear that brutal crossing over. Now it's time and it's not painful at all, and not nearly as frightening as I once imagined.

One days those bullies will be withered up and spent. The father, son, the holy warriors, and the president will fall from the imagined grace of our reverence. Those glory days when we kept up our fists for all the world to see will beat them - and maybe us - into submission in the name of the free. I've heard it said that we're in an evolution, but we're all so busy now that we can't even keep our heads. How do we get ahead? Planets eternally pirouetting and atoms that are cleaved in half remind me that it all will keep moving.

Those crosses on the side of the road tied with ribbons look lonely with the flowers that will die in commiseration for the memories with which they were laid to rest. They remind me, daily, how lucky I am to be able to walk this mile. I lay down at night and smile to myself at my luck. Wake me up again. There's a poem in my head. I don't believe in war but I do believe in luck. The birds call to me in the morning; what are they saying? The gate blows open and the trees sway in the wind. I pass the cemetery sometimes and stop to think. The names forever written in stone beg a silent prayer. When I come home it is time for supper and I know that all I can ask is to be loved, and the only way to ask for that is to give it myself.

I wasn't looking for a lover or a friend. I wasn't pretending and I wasn't working undercover. You walked across that space, an imagined dance floor in my mind, and you said the only thing that could have been said. Intricate steps of a dance I never learned played out in front of me and suddenly I knew how to move. I knew that I wanted to see more and I knew that I would try. Eye contact is all that is needed at times. I don't want to be saved, and I don't want to wake. Let me sleep. I was born a Gemini. I don't mind confiding, or even the word vomit. I've been misled and misguided, and I am easily led astray. I dance with disaster, and I rarely miss a step. I spin faster and faster, long after many have slipped. In the middle of everything there's someone to break the fall. Over and over, again and again. I stumble on in.

I am pulled in so many directions, but I choose my own no longer burdened with regret. I dive in over my head and find a way to stay above water. There is a perfect protection. I am soaked to the skin, but water is my home. There are bones in my closet; I've collected quite a few over the years. Goodness knows what causes any two peoples' timing to coincide or what brought this fool to where she is now. Love a fool!

There is no time and no space and there is a permanent smile on my face. My friends have complained that I'm going insane, but the truth is...we're all just afraid. That's okay. My fear has been thrown out, for it's not worth the time. We all decide what counts for us, and for me it's in everything. Outside, inside, actions, reactions... It's not a lie. What brighter light is there? I'm going with the tide and the angel on my shoulder wonders just why I've blindfolded her.

blackbird singing in the dead of night...

2008-09-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have not heard of this woman, you MUST now go find her. She is amazing. Her name is Julie Fowlis and she has and amazing voice. She sings in both Scottish Gaelic and English. I, myself, heard her on Mojo Presents the White Album Recovered. This album is a compilation done by various artists covering the Beatles' White Album. Amazing. She sings Blackbird in bothe English and Gaelic and the experience is somewhat amazing in my own humble opinion. So, go find her, go listen to her, and marvel in her beauty.

That being said, I can move on to topics more pertinent at this moment. The first of which being my recent re-acquisition of a claddagh ring. I have not had one in a few years, and I am glad to (once again) have one on my hand. To me it always felt as though something were missing in a way. For those who care to know, it is indeed on my right hand facing in. Most of you reading this may well not know what that means, but those of you do each acquire a few points each, because that's just cool. So, thus armed with my two rings, I go out into the world feeling at the very least secure in my own personal connections to the past, the present, and the future yet to be written.

I find more and more as I walk along that things are rarely how I thought that they might ever be. I had a very clear plan on how things were to go and where I thought I would be right now. As seconds pass me by I realize that these things aren't what I really wanted at all, and that what I really want were the last things I would have thought to ask for years ago. I was certain, at one point, that I would have it figured out by now. If I had been where I wanted to be, I wouldn't be where I am, and that would be such a shame.

someone once said 'all good things must come to an end'...what a load of crap

It really is sort of funny, because these kinds of ideas really are ridiculous. They have no basis in reality and we hang on to them with some sort of ridiculous tenacity that makes absolutely no sense. We form ideals and pictures in our minds about what we think we need or want and they have no foundation in actuality. So, why cling to them?

i mean, sure, the good things have to end, but the bad things have to end too. and then they all start over again. that's just life. and you can spend your time worrying about the bad things, but it'll kind of keep you from noticing the good things, so i wouldn't recommend it

The nature of life is this cyclical pattern that reoccurs at every turn. The problem really is that everything in a circle is a turn. We find patterns that repeat because that is how we associate and log things in our minds. Comparison is as much a trait of humanity as is emotion. There is no good without bad and no recognition of light without the emptiness of night. We go on the best we know how with the experience we have and make good on what we get and give. How else would we know how to live? The condition of humanity is such that we can only do what we know with what we are given. We can choose to make it good or we can sit and pine on what we do not have, but that is sort of a waste of time at the end of the day.

i don't really know what i'd recommend, come to think of it

I really don't know any better than the next guy what is right or wrong beyond my own experience or knowledge. I feel and experience the same as the next guy, and that is all I can do. I enjoy living like that because without that kind of subjective knowledge and basis for action I would have no grounding. I can't tell you what is best for you because only you know that. I can tell you what I would do and what I think, but you must take that advice and those words and shape them to fit your own life and experience. There is nothing else to be done for it.

really, the only time things end is when you die. that's pretty final - but not always

We go on as though there is some sort of time line that is going to end a some predetermined point ahead of us. But our influence and impact on this world never really ends. It just is. we are still quoting the works and actions of people who came before us and they still have impacts on our lives in ways that those same people never could have known. When I quote MLK to a man on the street and he ponders those words, does not the man who originally spoke those words still impact the lives of those who lived past his own life? Is that death? is death final? Not always.

people say they're trying to 'make their mark on the world' before they die - that's another kind of silly thing to say. you can't make your mark on the world unless you've got a bulldozer or know the secret of making crop circles when no one is looking.

It's not about the physical world and what we do here. The things that are more abstract make such a bigger impact on this world. The physical world does not last, as our physical bodies do not.

i figure if you're going to leave your mark, you should leave it with people, rather than inanimate things. leave it by the words you say, or the things you do. the good things, and the bad things. they go hand in hand. i don't think there's a 'big mark' you leave so much as little ones, all over the place. here and there, people repeat something you say, because it was a good idea. or you made them think something differently. or you loved them is all.

People don't always see those little things as being as important as they really are until much later most of the time. Being unrecognized for the littlest of things is the way to go on about life. Because when you've done something without recognition or pride involved, you've done so much more. There is an instinct in me that wants to simply see a smile on a stranger's face or watch as a person I care about does something for themselves that helps them. They don't always know it at the time, but it is important in that you've done something for them with no expectation of return. I'm always shocked at how grateful people are sometimes when I simply say thank you for something small. They understand the rarity of such things, and it can make their day. So, make someone's day. You never know who really needs it, and you might be that random act of kindness that makes someone feel better. Understand that as much as you may need the help, so do others. Go out of your way to see another's joy. You'd be surprised at it's results. We all have the days when we simply need that simple kindness. Some of the best moments in my life involved free cups of coffee from an understanding barista or a friend willing to stay up with me all night studying because I couldn't do it alone. There's a sense of comraderie there that cannot be replaced. Give it, take it, appreciate it. Le mo grása mise agus liomsa mo ghrá. Give what you get and get what you give. There is nothing else for it. And often enough it need not be talked about. For sometimes these sorts of things need not ever be spoken. I've told the full story only once, and that says something. There is something in those moments that makes baring your soul completely to another with no expectation of return that can be self-gratifying. The story is not always for them, and if they can understand that and give you the understanding that you need without being told than you may know that you have found, as Anne would say, a kindred spirit. And one I have found, and keep them I will if it is within my capability.

all those little marks you make, they'll add up to a big one, someday. and in the meantime, you should just live your life the best you can with what you've got to work with, and call it good.

There is no sense in making things harder than they need to be. We are all dealt a hand, and the deuce-seven can win, if played right. It's all in the play, not in the cards. There's a lot of using what you're given and knowing where to give up and when to keep going. For now, I take what I'm given and I am happy for that because it is good. It is most certainly good. You are good: for me, to me, and, most importantly, for and to yourself. I am better because of you and I like who and what I am when I am with you, and that is enough.

i guess that's what i'd recommend, come to think of it. and while you're at it, try not to take life too seriously, because sooner or later you're going to end up as it's punchline. and you can choose to be pissed off about it - or you can choose, instead, to laugh.

I CHOOSE TO LAUGH...

a bed to be made and a bed to lie in...

2008-09-11T12:10:00.000-07:00

Part of me feel guilty for not spending this day in quiet remembrance of that Tuesday morning 7 years ago, but I cannot bring myself to do so. We've come so far since that day, and there's something beautiful in that. I cannot pretend that I feel that day anymore than the average person in this society. But, as it did with many, it touched me.

I have the mind of a skeptic and the heart of a child, which often lends me to a kind of self-discerning nature. These two should never meet, for they would certainly kill each other. I see my eyes in your eyes in my eyes, and the skew makes my head spin round like mad. It is time, certainly, to sweep the ashes and let the silence envelop us.

Wars, in themselves, can take many forms, and we have seen many, though not as many as some perhaps. We work our way through this world against the tides of people who would wish to see us fail. I collect my information and I stow it all away, I'm collecting you...all of you. In that I want to know you, understand you and connect with you. Motivation is small to name, and I don't like that smile applied so blindly to me the same as you would to any other just the same. I know better than any other what is happening inside, so why won't you call out to me? I feel the danger and the foolish thrills: oh, yes I will!

What it will or won't be doesn't matter. What is, so stop and look. I guess that you were lonely, that's why you called me on the phone. And in a moment of forgiveness, I didn't want to be alone and I answered. I guess that I was willing, more than I ever was before, to listen. You came knocking at my door again. I woke up smiling last night to realize that they were here, and it's time to come home. I guess I was hoping that you might finally understand, and in a moment of forgiveness that you would reach out and take my hand.

I know you're not one for baring witness or weakness, and I've always said that one wrong move would sell you out; but you've made so many mistakes. I can see now that you've kept your word, and even made it harder than it had to be. I wish I could save us the trouble and give me a little peace of mind. I can't live without you, and you will never realize that, no matter how many times I tell you that. I miss you, I love you, and I want you to come home.

I guess I was hoping that you would finally understand. Take my hand, it's been waiting for years for you to take it.

We talked all night and it came down to nothing. We started a fight that ended in silence and confusion. We're stuck, again, and where do we go from here? We get to decide what we think is no good. We have been sculpted from our youth, and all of this chipping away makes me tired. As for the turth? It seems like we just pick a theory, and thats the one that justifies our daily lives and backs us with quiver and arrows to protect openings. And when the warring begins, how quickly the wide open narrows into the smallness of our deconstruction. Things never really change, and they're the same as they ever were.

The plot is a predictable ending. And though it may seem grand with it's one speck of sand, and back to the hour glass we are going.

Sing to me
Sing me to sleep
Like my mother used to
Old songs long forgotten to time
...
Back when the sky was blue and my mind was clear
Back when simple red lines made sense in this world

Parallel, straight, perfection in chaos

Sing me to sleep, just like she used to
The only thing that makes sense is your song
...
Forgotten words and a song to a child who is now all grown up
When did that happen?
Sing me back to youth
Maybe then, I can be happy

wait long enough and people will surprise and impress you...

2008-09-10T20:10:00.001-07:00

There are moments in life that define people and tell them things about themselves--and sometimes about this world--that they may never have wanted to know. If there were a way to control these impulses and reactions, the average person would take that chance. I know I would. As such, there are no ways to do such things. So, I go on living as I do the best way that I know how without concern to my inability to take control over these events. I have come to accept the things in my life that are beyond my control and take them with their prescribed grains of salt, however large those might happen to be. People will, I have learned, rarely live up to my expectations for this world, and I cannot expect them too either. I am, as I have often stated, often disappointed with the lack of thought and common sense that I find in the world around me. It saddens me to think that most people do not live up to their potential and, worst of all, most have no care to ever do so.

I have moments often. Moments in which silence and respectful distance is often required with me. I need to contemplate in these moments, otherwise I am likely never to calm down long enough to take that grain of salt that I have in my own hand. When those moments are intruded on I feel invaded, as though something precious has been taken from me and I believe will never again be able to have that again.

I appreciate the things in this world that people have to offer for what they are. I have my own set of expertises, but I cannot honestly expect other people to fit into those boxes. It would be ridiculous and an impossible kind of standard that I refuse to hold against the rest of the world. People will touch me, teach me, and see me for what there is and sometimes for what it not. That is enough.

I meet people every day and form judgments about them that may or may not be fair for what they are. Some days I choose to try and see the best in people. Those days happen more often than not. This is a good thing. I want people to be good, I hope they'll be good. Whatever proof I actually see of them, and however many times this world proves me wrong I still believe there is good out there. I believe that because it is true.

As disillusioned as I have become with this mentality in pocket, it pays off on occasion. Even though those occasions are few and far between, they are most certainly worth the wait. Though it does often mean that I don't always see that good, even if it is right in front of my face. I am so accustomed to having to dig for that goodness that having it given to me without expectation is odd. But this, this is a good thing. I did not see it right away, and I tried to turn a blind eye to it for a while, but I know now what has been gifted to me, and I shall endeavor to continue to know as much.

It is true, that people wrap themselves in layers. Be patient, for they are trying to show you something, trying to communicate no matter how little they will actually speak. Give them the time, the respect, and the patience so that you can hear it. Not only will you hear it, but you will also understand it. Be good to those people who expect less from you, for those are the one who deserve it the most. And those who expect preference without having done anything to deserve it are the ones you must be wary of. Keep your eyes open in this world, for losing your way is the worst of things.

Brick walls are there for a reason: they let us know how badly we want something. They are not there to keep people out, but rather they are there to stop those who do not want it badly enough. Brick walls are there to see who is willing to take the time to get inside, brick walls have a purpose and it is not loneliness.

no pun intended

2008-09-02T16:24:00.000-07:00

Thus armed with 500 dollars worth of textbooks and supplies for the semester, I begin with a hurt back. 3 days (3 days?) filled with riding around on the back of a motorcycle, I suppose, might do that to a person. Coupled with this, we add an extreme lack of sleep, a copious amount of stress, and a wonder as to whether people really are what they say they are. Seeing as I was, as such, prepared for the start of classes I made my way to campus today. Four classes today, and 3 more tomorrow make for my ever increasingly busy schedule. I enjoy my classes so far, and am excited (to a degree) to keep going tomorrow. I confused one of my professors today, and I'm not sure she entirely believe in my linguistic abilities as I presented them to her. But, they are as such and will continue to be so, whether she chooses to believe me or not.

Having to re-shift my major research topic for the semester will prove annoying, but it stands as it is. I shall endeavor to endure. A huge thanks goes out to Mr. Wells (Brandon) for giving me some hope as to a new possible topic. As many of us history majors well know, this is most true. History is not, in fact, what we remember. Rather, history is what we choose to forget. So finding those things that have been purposefully forgotten and remembering them all over is a task set only to the bravest of historians, for many will avoid this endeavor entirely.

So, as the day is now over, I head home in the hopes that things will look better from there. The thought is doubtful, but a girl can hope, can't she? I am feeling a little discouraged, and it is only day one. I await another day in anxious anticipation of what it will add to my already growing list of worries and trials.

And...HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMANDA...I know I forgot to call you, and have as yet to do so, but I shall at some point. I just want you to know that I have not forgotten you, even if you are 3,000 miles away.

quit having illegitimate babies...

2008-08-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

There is a significant area of my life and brain power that is constantly working in attempt to attain something that will forever be unattainable. An old friend of mine, Taylor (the male one), once read a quote from a book to me, as a bit of advice. He said this:

"Quit looking at symbols.
Go out and get a job.
Quit shooting each other.
Quit having illegitimate babies."

Now, the part that was intended as advice was, obviously, the first two lines. But we both liked the entire excerpt, and as such I include it here. What he was telling me, as one history major to another, was to get my head out of the bloody clouds and do something practical. This permanent state of chase that I find myself long ensconced in is very much fanciful. As I say many times, over and over, I was born seven years behind. That's a huge head start that my goal had on me. Unreachable really. As a result of my constant attempts to reach something far beyond my years or myself is what you have now. A girl who knows beyond herself. Eyes that are opened beyond the usual plane of perceptions, and ears that are listening for what remains unsaid. It is only possible to hear as much as you are looking for. If, and when, you open your senses to an infinite plane of possibilities it is likely that you will begin get infinite responses in return. As such, I am far more perceptive than the average person. There are seldom things that escape my attention. I've trained myself that way. The level of conversation I am capable of holding is beyond my years as well, because I constantly and consistently aspired to a level far beyond me, and often did quite well.

Despite all of this, I do make mistakes on frequent occasion. These mistakes are usually grievous in degree because they come to fruition as a result of my ego. As much as I see, I am also blind. My sense of self-importance buts blinders on my vision, and though I notice things, I often misinterpret them. So, what Taylor was telling me was to come back down to earth so that even though I may lose sight of some things (my fancy and my creativity for example) at least I'd be able to objectively interpret those things I did see.

I didn't listen. And thank goodness as well. These last months since that advice was given to me have included some of my most grievous mistakes that could have been avoided. But they also harkened the creation of some of my best creative work in my life. From my writing, to my drawing, to my performances, and even to my research, my ability to open my mind beyond the plane that my physical body resides in has given birth to amazing possibilities. I took those possibilities, nurtured them, watched them grow, and sent them on their way, as all parents are ought to do. I shaped them and gave them form, but beyond that they are not mine. They came to me in their entirety, and I turned them into something that this world could see, hear, read, and understand. In a way I feel excited, as that makes me something of a conduit for this kind of creative energy; and as parents are proud of their children's achievements, so I am proud of these creations.

My paintbrush has painted the way my skin feels when I think about some of my memories. Dead and cold. The lack of warmth and the desolation I feel sometimes. But it has also painted the brightness in eyes that are not my own. The happiness brought on by the simplest of acts and moments. From the very best to the worst, my brush has been there and reminds me every day why I wake up in the morning again. My pencil has sketched the lines of the people whose faces refuse to leave my mind. It traces the edges of the lips I have kissed and laments sadly on how some of them are lost to the person who holds the pencil now. The whiteness of the teeth that nipped my skin, and the curves of their fingers that once ran through my hair. My charcoal, smudged across my skin and the paper recalls the softness of the skin and hair that I myself touched. The charcoal on the paper and on my own skin brings the moment back one more time. My pen writes the words I never knew my mind had the capacity to even think. The kinds of darkness' that I refused to see for so very long. But given voice, those same blackness' make themselves beautiful. The kind of sombra that I usually spend my days looking over my shoulder for, comforted by it's strangely ominous presence. Peter Pan did not miss his own shadow until it was gone. I will not make that same mistake. It is a comfort in odd moments, its 2-dimensional actions mirroring mine at the oddest of angles and perspectives. The eclipse that falls over my own eyes as my hair sneaks free of its restraint and makes itself known over my face. My pen hears all of these calls and gives them the words to speak for themselves. And so those same shadows, darkness', sombra, and eclipses are given their own moments to shine (even though they cannot, in fact, give light as that would destroy them entirely) so that the world might see them and acknowledge them.

If my head were not so far beyond this physical world, these things would remain elusive to me. I would not know in fact how very much I miss the characters that are now written on my page. For they are all people, and the things that these characters do are things that these very same people have done. I would not know how deeply I had fallen in love with the one now called 'Tony', and I would also not know that I am in fact, also 'Tony' myself. There is something almost sordid about that arrangement. For my 'Tony' is in fact a real person separate from myself. And I did, indeed, fall for him. Tony in my writing reacts much the same way that the one in real life did. but at the same time, I am very much Tony, and as he goes along with his life I realize that I not only fell in love with another person, but also with myself. And, more importantly, I fell in love with the person that this person saw me to be. It's a sort of menage a trois, in which I am in love with two people, one of which who does not return the sentiment, another who does, but that one who does is in fact myself.

So, by having my head in the clouds I have been able to distance myself from the very personal situations I have created for myself. As I analyze these things more and more patterns creep up that I don't exactly want to see. I recognize pattern and theme in everything. Even in myself and my life, in the places and way that I don't want to see them. The patterns of what I allow others to do to me. How I allow them to use me, is not just scary, it's downright sinister in it's very nature. So the dreams that haunt my mind's eye at night when I really sleep for the first time in weeks are faces that I've seen before, and faces that I hoped I would never see again. But I do, when I close my eyes at night to sleep, I dream, and I dream of things that I wish would leave me. They do not. They have something they need to tell me in these moments, and I have not yet made myself ready to hear them. I'm not so sure there will be any peace until I do.

There are two sides of me debating at this moment. The first is my so-called practical side. The side that tells me that I should just deal with it, all at once. Rip the band-aid off, if you will. This is also the side that very nearly demands me to talk to people about everything, that tells me to "go get help." What does that mean anyway! Go get help? I'm not dying, well except for my incurable condition called life. And life itself is enough of condition to drive anyone insane.

The other side of me wants to patiently wait it all out. Take the dreams as they come and let them do their job. You do not interrupt a play and ask the actors to move straight to the end, you let them go through the scenes and acts and then it comes to you in a more complete picture than if it had been handed to you in the first place. This fanciful side believes the need to feel the process completely and encourages me to give voice to the despair of it in my creative endeavors, let myself feel the pain and sadness of it, because that itself might be the message. The strength can only come from the effort and pain of the experience. It can't just be given. Unless I use steroids, and I know that's not really a real option.

I feel powerless as this experience as this tragic journey has its way with me, for none of it really seems to be in my hands anymore, but if I could control it, it wouldn't be the same at all; and that would be a shame.

So, the only advice my twins can seem to agree on is this:

Fight the dream
Take back the right to dream
Fight the dream so that you may take back the RIGHT to dream
And with that, you may one day earn the right to live again

what is the good of your writing?

2008-08-27T17:39:00.000-07:00

Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Siobhan has joined the blog-o-sphere. This is due, in part, to a sort of promise I made to three of my oldest friends. Amanda, Jaki, Saleema, this is for you. Well, let's be perfectly honest here. It is also for me. But, I'm sure you three knew that already. So, with just 6 days left until I venture back to campus in pursuit of higher learning, I begin this adventure. The goal here, in truth, is really to keep those of you who I do not see or speak to on a daily basis updated on my life. So, it is sort of a time saver all around. I hope. Or a time waster depending on how I use it.

I give you a quote as something to ponder, as my friend Sean gave it to me the other day, as it (apparently) made him think of me and my writing:

"Thus, though we do not know what Shakespeare went through when he wrote LEAR, we do know what Carlyle went through when he wrote the FRENCH REVOLUTION; what Flaubert went through when he wrote MADAME BOVARY; what KEATS was going through when he tried to write poetry against the coming of death and the indifference of the world.
. . .
And one gathers from this enormous modern literature of confession and self-analysis that to write a work of genius is almost always a feat of prodigious difficulty. Everything is against the likelihood that it will come from the writer's mind whole and entire. Generally material circumstances are against it. Dogs will bark; people will interrupt; money must be made; health will break down. Further, accentuating all these difficulties and making them harder to bear is the world's notorious indifference. It does not ask people to write poems and novels and histories; it does not need them.

. . .
The world did not say to her as it said to them, 'Write if you choose; it makes no difference to me.' The world said with a guffaw, 'Write? What's the good of your writing?'

What struck me most perhaps about this passage, especially in relation to me and my writing, is the sheer indifference of it. It speaks so painfully about what a writer must go through in order to create something of this nature, and then tells them that it will merely be dismissed. Writers, unlike many other professions in this world, do not give the world or people something that they need. Sometimes it does not even give them something that they will want. But writers GIVE. And many writers give without much expectation of return. The process of writing, especially about something real and consuming, is a path I am just setting down myself, and finding to be dark and full of twists and turns.

Because what I am writing now is, at its base, about and obsession with the inevitability of death and they ways the world relates to that, we can see parallels with Keats' work and what he went through. Obviously, I am not comparing myself to Keats in the sense that I am at his level, but rather to say, I think I now understand how writers and painters and actors can get so lost in their work that they lose themselves. I feel compelled, at this juncture, to bring up Heath Ledger, who was told by an old actor of the Joker, that it was not a role to be taken lightly. It gets to people, is what he was told. And whether it got to him or not we may never really know, but there are connections to be drawn. Losing oneself in something so completely is dangerous. VERY dangerous.

Now, whether my darker introspection of myself and this world is actually related to the experience of writing what I am is somewhat irrelevant at this point. The fact is, I'm writing this work, and I have found myself becoming more introspective, intuitive, and a little morbid if truth be told.

But ultimately, as all things eventually are, it is in my hands and in my control. I've got the reins to stop or start or turn this horse where it will. Truth be told, I kind of like this adventure. It's not that I like being lost in the woods, it's just that the woods are the only place I can see a clear path.