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Three Years Later...

Apr. 20th, 2011 | 01:37 pm
mood: hopefulhopeful

No one is reading this, but thank all things good in this world, I still have the ability to write. I can't even begin to say what has happened in the past three years. I've "graduated" gradually, moved to Korea to work and live, and now I'm in New York writing, gardening, cycling, and raking old leaves from the seemingly endless winter of 2011. In a sentence, I guess that's what it was. But over-exposed, I let myself become, which in all honesty, is not such a bad thing. I remember saying goodbye to my mother in Nokdong, my first 6 month teaching experience in Korea. It was supposed to be a temporary position, but I made a friend that I felt I could not leave. And through that gorgeous, but slightly neurotic Korean friend, I met my English gentlemen. That one that I made up in my mind when I was younger. The one that I was supposed to kiss during the London trip my last semester of college. He had obnoxious smurf blue eyes and thinning blonde hair, he recited sonnets, and he had that same quality that I seem to desire in my most recent romances... he was leaving. But that didn't seem to matter (at the time), we relished in the now, and Ive always been haunted with the ability to create some grand story out of almost nothing, so I gave it life. Who would have guessed that after a year and a half of letters, postcards, Christmas and birthday packages, thousands of miles between us, and only a mere 2 weeks of physical contact between us that we would still be friends. Perhaps it was the way in which we met? For a time, I thought it was the fact that we shared mutual friends, but now that I am gone, our friendship still exists and he has planned some time for me in his home turf. Planning days and free accommodations for me in the UK. So, once again, Anna will be in the UK, but this time with an old friend. It was a great story, but never a love story that could stick in my mind, I knew that all along, but wanting something that I could never have has never been a foreign feeling for me. Sad truths, but most say to hold onto the experience and use them, try not to let them use you. Should have remembered that before the Irishman came along and filled out all of my intangible ideals. Well, almost all. It's funny though, to try and explain to people what it's like living in a different country for more than a year. To explain that I too have to do my laundry, pay the bills, go to work, and make my bed. It is something that you have to experience and be ok with. You must have the superhero ability to let go. Unfortunately, I've become a professional at that and it scares me a little. I know what is important, no, I know who is important in my life... and despite the shameful silence I've given some of my friends, they don't go away. They know me, and that is comforting. I've had the most romantic things happen to me in the past 2 years, but now... now I truly understand what romance really is. It's quite simple, all you have to do is ... stay.
Korea is my second home, one that I plan to visit again and again, because it gave me that happy feeling that is never foreign, no matter where you are. It showed me what real love and companionship should feel like, and when it is right, I will get the real definition of romance because it will be right. I've seen love with my eyes, almost like a deer sighting, lovely, but never tangible. Reading over my last journal entry so long ago and reevaluating my feelings of today is distressing. I fear I haven't changed all that much and that miss I was going on about is still lingering, but for another man. And who am I to say that this one hurts more than the other? Something must change, and that something is me.

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Black Soybean Milk

Mar. 17th, 2009 | 01:12 am
mood: nostalgicnostalgic

Ingredients: Filtered water, soybeans, fructose corn syrup, corn oil, black soybean extract, eggshell calcium, black sesame paste.

To name a few...

It is Mid-March and we are all still here. It is one of those things that happens to one person's life, something that seems so big in the mind of the beholder that can cause a split in the waters of make believe tranquility that we live in. The constant miniscule reactions that pose threats to that "stability" of daily routines. The change that makes you shrivel on the inside and unravel on the outside. Some people aren't good at faking things, I am one of those people. I can be in "that relationship" for months on end hoping and wishing that the pinkish hue will eventually turn into a violent red. This passion I speak of Is what makes me scream. A happy scream, to say the least, but a scream nonetheless. I need it. I have found that half-ways in any circumstance will never be enough. If that makes me selfish, so be it. I have lived in half-ways the majority of my life, I can't pretend that I can live with that much anymore. People have let me go, because I have inched them away. In the slowest way that still causes that split in the waters and that stain on the sheets, still, the end result is always the same. The inches becomes miles and eventually years becomes nightmares in the night. I dream of hasty things. I dream of misplaced feelings and unresolved dialogues. Too many things left unsaid even when I know that with repetition, it is never enough. What we, as people, consider "enough" is at the cliff of extremes. What we as human beings need is automatic in our dreams. I miss him still. Some people are surprised of this feeling I have. It is not the "idea" of what he is or what he stood for in my catepillar life, it is him and our conversations. The things I took for granted. The unjust comparisons I constantly made. In comparison to a rabid beast salivating in a blackened sea, I am but a grainy flea dangling on the tip of its dying hair. I must admit, though, I have located the joy in all that I have lost. Some say memories are what keeps you from the future. Or that the present is faulty if you constantly rewind to the things that have passed. I think, no. I miss him. It is a painful "miss." A miss that I live with and will continue to live with, with not a sprinkle of regret, but a miss of that that is genuine. Personal genuinity is not a task, by any means, but to turn the tables and find that in someone opposite of you is almost obsolete. I will not cry about the miss I have created, the miss that I have brought upon myself. But I will remember and hold onto the memories as things that have passed. Happy things. Much like...

Black Soybean Milk. 24 case individually wrapped. One for almost every day of the month. The perfect amount. 6.5floz. Just enough to get me by.

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Like Blankets.

Mar. 1st, 2009 | 10:45 pm
mood: blankblank

Can't stop what's coming, can't stop whats on it's way. I found some sleeping pills that I didn't even know I had. I hope they aren't expired. Very threatening.

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Nobody's here but Me.

Dec. 14th, 2008 | 07:21 pm
mood: satisfiedsatisfied

Today, while reading one of the headlining articles in the New York Times titled "Obama's Closest Friends Form Strategy for Staying Tight-Knit," I began to question my own "strategies" for staying "tight-knit." The article goes on about how Obama's 3 closest friends that live in Chicago: Martin Nesbitt, Eric Whitaker, and Valerie Jarrett are going to maintain their close friendship while the Obama's are locked up in the White House chamber. Awesome. Obama has been recently called "the most powerful man in the world," so, with this power, I am sure Barack will make time for his long-time friends. If they have any doubt or question his loyalty, he will just refer back to one of his famous mottos and tell them "Yes We Can!"
There was a reason for all of this, I know there was. Oh, yes, I was questioning my own ability to stay "tight-knit" with those people that... feel the same way. For a while though, I felt myself purposefully pushing people away. I think I felt that I had to, sort of a defense mechanism, to avoid a later disappointment or pain. Actually, I can honestly say that this was only done with intention to one person. Didn't help with avoiding pain, because it began to hurt from the very beginning, but still it took every part of me to "just say no." For others, I believe that the bind was already loose, still drastic change. I do like change, but for anyone,I think that if it is that sudden and big, it will make any (strong) person feel a bit uneasy for a while. The Obama Buddies will be ok, they are now "first-friends," almost superheroes. They are the Clan that Can. The thing about Obama that makes him so appealing is that he understands universal needs of human beings. Human beings are naturally social creatures, and without human interaction, madness sets in. Animals are great, but will never fill the hole of humanity. Casual conversations. Without people, friends, nothing matters. That is something that I truly believe.
My time here in this desert city is limited, very short. It used to be 8 months, but now it is 5 months. Finally, graduating in May, then off to teach in South America for one year. A professor from College is helping me out with that stuff, honored, scared. I can only be as strong as I can pretend to be. I am strong, but really, very tired of maintaining that strength every fucking day. The relationship is a happy one, or as some might say, an idea of a happy one. The way he looks at me, like I am worth fighting for, like I am someone to never forget, that is the way I would love to look at someone someday, again. He is my good friend, I have a genuine care, a tightly knit knot but still, with a few loose threads. It's ok though. I have faith in what is supposed to be, I only have a quarter of the control in my life, everything else is just "we'll just have to wait and see." Good Stuff.
I am happy about our new-elect president, Mr. Obama. I am happy about a lot of things, except my current bleeding vagina.
Oh captain, my captain....
Maybe, someday, if you do get it again, it won't hurt so much.

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Dec. 26th, 2007 | 12:02 am

December 25, 2007.
what is their to say, we are less than a week away of a new year. It is amazing how many things have happened. How many things have changed. How many faces have tattooed their way to places that won't fade. Another school year has ended, and I am a bit closer to being someone better than I was before. Work times two. Sleep negative one. Relationships divided by none. To give yourself completely, left with the person you never wanted to be. One can only hope that things will be better. The new year (4 digits) is only what you make it to be. Trust me, I am not trying to speak poeticly, I just have this craving for something sweet. To be genuine and live through uncontrollable feelings...is that the way to be? So many questions. Too much wondering. I just wish I could wake up, one day, and be content with being me. Relish on the negatives and mistakes that I have made. Sprinkle my regrets on a bed chilled with his scent and nonsense. All we can do is try, I suppose. Try to be better than we were yesterday. Try to accept that missing is all part of the game. Love is ...how they say... the one that got away? Their has got to be a point. Upfront...bending in the backseat. Something real. That is what I need. Falls into place...with or without your face. happy new year.

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Sep. 17th, 2007 | 02:00 pm

To me he seems like a god
the man who sits facing you
and hears you as you speak
softly and laugh

in a sweet echo that jolts
the heart in my ribs. For now
as I look at you my voice
is empty and

can say nothing as my tongue
cracks and slender fire is quick
under my skin. My eyes are dead
to light, my ears

pound, and sweat pours over me.
I convulse, greener than grass,
and feel my mind slip as I
go close to death,

yet I must suffer all things,
being poor.

- Sappho

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Special Needs

Sep. 12th, 2007 | 08:22 pm
mood: uncomfortableuncomfortable

At times, I taste the salt from your face.
dehydrating tips off your fingers
cold and not easily replaced.
Your laugh and smile
without taste.

Will forget you today
Might love you tomorrow
epitome of my disgrace.

At night, my eyes make believe sleep.
Pleasures that the light brings
can only
contradict the dreams and thoughts I keep.

These lyrical rhymes ....
they take up my time.

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Fond but not in Love

Aug. 29th, 2007 | 03:09 pm
mood: rejuvenatedrejuvenated

Smells like freshly cut lime green grass. Tastes like garbanzo beans and sriacha hot paste in my face. An appropriate mix of things, bland meets bitter, Tang meets 100% grapefruit juice. The once bad and uncontrollable is now revised and set in front of me. Guess what I am trying to say, in the most confusing way, that I am happy now. I can honestly say that The past few months were the ones that people talk about...those struggles that you must go through in order to find some sort of stability of that feeling....happy. Maybe I am using the wrong word, comfortable, seems more appropriate. I am now living on my own, still in school (story of my life), much sooner than later ...leaving an intorelable helljob, and entering into 2 other small part time jobs that mean something to me, and more importantly to others. So I have this plan, plans, now all I can do is continue to try and make sense out of things. Find a talent or skill within myself that might be their. See it coming... that feeling of self-worth. I know...sounds a bit extreme... I know I do have worth, but need to program myself into treating that worth as delicate as egg shells. Maintain.
Absolutely love school this semester. Jazz, Poetics, Educational Technology, and possibly a minimester of Math...we'll see. Doesn't seem like a lot... but it's enough for me right now. Quick question...for whoever may be reading this...when the hell did the "mini mohawk" come back in style. I take it as a joke, but seeing their faces, they are completely serious about their hair and crinkle cut jeans. I may just be getting old and out of the loop, sure that is what it is. I catch myself starting sentences with..."back in my day..." or "this is not music...just on-going nonsense"... hilarious. well, I have to pee now.

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Vivid and continuous dream

Jul. 7th, 2007 | 04:34 pm
mood: anxiousanxious

Gonna leave, any minute.... see the skylines disappear. Haven't been around for quite sometime. Been scatterbrain for several months now. Shattered little peices. Moving out and moving on, such a nice thought, but which of us is strong enough to actually submerge into what life really is. Simple. An exhaustion of the same with change only brought on by the hardest of times. Easy to read, even easier to bleed. My time is unorganized and set out by the hour. Misplaced priorities most of the time. I can never make anyone happy, learned that that has been a huge part of me, but continuously failing. At least I can admit to that. Don't know what I expect, just minimal specs of light. I smoke too much. About a pack a day lately, my fingers are mostly bones with veins pulsating purple blood beneathe my skin. Will never be good enough, that is how you make me feel. You will never be there for me, that is what I know you feel. Leave me responsible for the death of your hope in your perfectly polished world, hold me accountable for your uncertainties and manic panic persona. Fill every waking moment with distractions and those tendancies that make you who you are. Still lying here, somewhere in the middle. These games are completely unfair and without any set of solid managable rules. Am I willing to lose myself in this process, hurt the ones I love, hurt myself? And for what... rememberance of those small happy moments. Redirect and focus, what I need to do. I have the best friends anyone can ask for...feel completely broken when we are out of line. My words mean nothing at this point.
going to korea tommorow. visit my mom and my sister. very excited. experience of a lifetime. i will have to come back though. i realize this. night, going to sleep.

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May. 15th, 2007 | 08:21 pm
mood: anxiousanxious

To be free- not under control or obligation of another. Delicate. How is it described by many before me.... aahhh I think it's "the deep breathe before the plunge." Seems like it would be the simplest thing to attain, yet impossible to completely reach. Centuries of locked down and unwanted restrain in our kettle of containment. "Remember your place" Bitter beads of salt roll down his neck; your just a man.
Infatuated with the mere scent of the thought. Standing sickly still. Getting a glimpse of what I read about in books. Complete torture, self-inflicting pain...that I allow and ridiculously endure. Complete torture, feeding off this pain...that I allow and horrifically dish out. I am the narrator. Someone must be killed off.
Managed to do it once...half way, anyway. Some where in between this feeling, undercover and withheld. All the wrong reasons once before. Antes. Something has changed though. Overwhelmed with this sense of dreadful calm. Equally matched affliction is given off with the "letting go" factor as well as "holding on." Sense that I can actually go through with something. Don't want to be known as ..."all talk." Ms. Never Change. Just Me. Nothing more. Nothing more than Me. For whatever it's worth.
Despite my morbidly conflicting words above... I am happy about things. I actually feel like brighter days are ahead...soon after the deep breathe has passed. Decisions minus actions.
To be free-

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