24 posts from 2008

Somehow I am still able to surprise myself with all of the weird and random shit that I do. I think that I am a good writer for the most part, but every so often I write something on here only to read it the next day and question my sanity. I am referring to the annoying rant that I wrote last night. There is no structure or clear subject for that matter to that piece and I honestly sound retarded. Sometimes I guess it's better not to transcribe my drunken thoughts and have them streaming across the internet. Today is strange, yesterday was stranger. I am taking this day for myself. I am going to be lazy, watch bad tv and random documentaries in bed and think about all of the things I have to do before Monday....I also feel like shit, and somehow injured my foot making it slightly painful to walk. I've somewhat justified my absence from class and made up enough excuses in my head to alleviate any guilt I feel about not being there...I really should have gone to class though. I woke up and was ready to go this morning but then as I was about to leave I just got really freaked out about god know what, and I went right back to bed. Going back to bed would have been pleasant if I hadn't already taken my adderall, instead I just layed in bed feeling sick and awkward. So at this point I have been moping around all day and I decided to finally eat. Unfortunately, I can't really cook, and food is just a confusing subject for me all together. Still, I tried to make this coconut milk curry and it's honestly very strange tasting. I can't decide if it is bad, so over the course of a few hours I'll probably eat it. Blah blah blah, I feel so bizzarre today! This is fucking weird. I think I am crazier than I have ever been right now, so let's take a trip to the loony bin......

Do not drink and write!

Jesus Christ, will it ever end? Once I find some sort of solace and consistency, I find a way to upset the structure. Although, I have been in a state of what I would normally not qualify as ideal, lately I have been more productive than ever. I am able to actually get myself our of bed and the house, do ten thousand things in the city and feel great about it. This of course is not something that my willpower can take credit for in it's entirety. I've been wearing my glasses, which even though I hate it  and think I am the fucking nerd of the century encarnated when I wear them, I know that I benefit from that embarrasment. I also have been on top of all my med situations...yes I am one of those ADD/ADHD kids who takes aderall, but unlike all you confused people out there who think that taking adderall is means for the time of your life and an obvious way for you to starve and become a Nicole Ritchie lookalike, I take it in times that would aid me from the scatterbrained and spacey mindset which normally occupies much wasted time. 
Blah, blah. I am a little tipsy was the 2 drinks i had earlier....anyway, I had a wonderful and eventful day. Today my studio class took a fieldtrip to Gleason's Gym in DUMBO, where we then divided ouselves into a few groups so we could create an editorial type series of photographs, which of couse will be graded later. Unfortunately I can't express my favorite part of this little journey in this blog, don't want anyone to read it and get the wrong idea....haha, or any idea for that matter. I am kind of a 13 year old girl when it comes to guys, even when it comes to guys are way older than me....But really, I can't write about it on here, so if you want to know what I am referring to you can ask me later.
The gym was great. For the most part, we were shooting men, but randomly my professor wanted us to take portraits of this female boxer (my professor is a boxer at this gym as well). Everything would have been fine, except she wouldn't start boxing for about an hour after we spoke since she had just eaten.....
I've realized that this type of photography is definitely not for me, and I don't get amazing shots, but as a director I am precise and get great photographs. It has me thinking about what my eventual profession will be. I love photography and love taking and creating pictures, but I also in my weird way like to dictate the scenario and mood while someone else takes the photograph. I suppose we'll see eventually how I determine my passion, or whatever. The thing is, I am so passionate about photography that I think I have neglected my responsiblity skills in terms of directing and how to basically interact in the professional world.  ANYHOW, my day went smoothely despite my headache from all the wine I drank last night.  The guys at the gym could not get enough of me and my friend Carianne! I guess 2 blond chicks wearing leggings, or at least tight pants, is hard to ignore......

My previous entry, was an awful attempt to convey anything.  The writing is sooo bad!

There is nothing on television that I would really consider good tv unless it's bad. Unless of course you are talking about the National Geographic channel, but that is completely another realm of obsession.
I don't own a television, and hardly watched it when I had one, so I don't even know what would constitute a bad show....
Anyhow, I am hopelessly addicted to these terrifically bad television series, 90210, America's Next Top Model, Sons of Anarchy...The others are less consistent in terms of me following them. So how do I watch these said shows? Well,  I discovered, during one of my many too hungover to get out of bed kind of days, that I am able to view them via the internet! Who woulda fucking thought?  Plenty of people, I'm sure.

Never in my life, except for maybe when I was below the age of 10, have I made time in my schedule or even thought about making time, to follow some series on television week by week. Ha, I laugh at myself all the time, because it's so bad! ...

But really, I'm still getting all my shit done for work and school, no interference yet. I'm just living vicariously through all of the fucks I watch on these shows. I figure that taking a vacation from the fun, but dehabilitating, nights of getting so purposely trashed was a good idea..I don't want to look 45 when I am 30, though the damage may already be done. I may laugh about it, but my body has a rough history of abuse. I always wonder what I would look like if I hadn't started drinking in middle school, smoking when I was 14, gone through periods of starving myself for years...Besides what I would look like, I wonder what my mental state would be like and if my body wouldn't ache every morning from whatever the hell I did to it in these past years.

I won't lie and say that I am over the fact that I have destroyed promise my life may or may not have had, but for all of my mishaps and the debauchery I've contrived, I am doing fucking good.  Someone even told me I was uptight the other day, and I that I needed to loosen the fuck up!  Me, uptight?   Now, me being drunk and uptight is a twisted improvement on my end. That I am a loose canon and quite possibly irrational, is something I am used to being told about myself while intoxicated, definitely not uptight.

Enough is enough, any I have watched more internet tv today than my eyeballs can stand .

GOOD NIGHT.

I wasn't aware of these social qualms that came along with my decisions.  If I had known making that decision would take away any hope I had for a normal fucking existence, it's unlikely, but I may have chosen otherwise. By leaving, I gained standby happiness. Standby everything, really. From the moment I left, I was on someone else's time. The life of a vagabond is not as free as one might think.  Money, food, housing, even friends are usually on a first come first serve basis and if you miss your chance, fuck you for being too slow. In a way I hate that system, though the unreliability is taunting with it's variety of eventual inconvenience. I always strive for impracticality, I owe everything to it. I live by feel, blind almost. If I didn't, I would waste an incredible amount of time planning absolutely nothing since I am fully aware of how my brain functions...Still, at times I even plan impracticality. I think that most people with mental illness do. That statement shouldn't be taken too seriously, most people these days have "mental illness" or have been told that they do therefore changing their course of actions based on the way that they think they should act. I myself, "suffer" from a number of things..which I would say cause me to at times, plan impracital activitites or events in my life. For example, eating disorders...such a planned inconvenience. This is not to demean anyone who is dealing or has dealt with an eating disorder, I've gone through it all, but the disease causes you rationalize every harmful thing that it puts you through. To me, this is clearly an example of unrealistic and inconvenient planning. It becomes ritualistic, something which is thoroughly thought out in order to obtain a stability which is indefinitely unnatainable.
Then we have bi polar disorder, manic depression..whatever. It's been debatable between doctors in multiple states as to what my connection to that one is...Regardless, I am quite familiar with the ins and outs of this disease.  Mania, is not planned, but certainly an inconvenience. In order to sustain a manic state, one might do anything to continue the euphoria that it might make you feel. Doing drugs, drinking alcohol, having sex, among other things are choices that someone experiencing mania may do so that they don't lose it all together. On the other end of the spectrum, depression may be a chemical imbalance that causes involuntary sadness and disdain for life itself, but because of those conditions one makes decisions that destroy practicality. Of course of top of that there is always ADD, anxiety and a plethora of other undesirable conditions that people suffer from.
My point to all of this is not to explain my mental illnesses or anyone elses, because I can't...I guess I am just caught in the cycle of my life and why and how I make the decisions that I do. The only way I know how to, is to begin this almost impersonal analysis. 
I am continuously struggling to find a way to make the past and present coexist. Right now, I am hurt by events that have occurred in the past, some recent and some not. I wonder how my ailments play into this and if I will ever feel like I am in control or satisfied with a healthy form of it.
Of course, I have gone on a tangent again and have failed at keeping my words superficial, I've gone further under the surface than I would have liked to. I just wonder where my life went these few months and if I deviated so far from a realm that simply HAS to work, that I will need to retrace my steps and hope that there are enough that remain in order to find the origin. NONSENSE, is what this is.

I need to revisit this later...I don't proofread, usually, so this whole rant is quite possibly incohesive and difficult to comprehend..
  

Black bruised lips

violent kisses

with wishes wasted

not yet washed up

silence had plagued the audience

distracted by vulgarity

you block

I block

your eyes

my eyes

they roll back into our heads

I'm thinking

if I can't see it

well..

you will

contortions carry this cabaret

questioning the swings I make

towards a face

I still cannot remember

I ingest habitual regret

forcing figments to form

those facts are irrelevant

when I can just lie

fuck me for everything that went wrong

I slipped

my shoulders

down to my ankles

confirmation of what

an accidental inhalation

made us do

90 degrees

long sleeves in August

a dress

80's shoulder pads removed

and the length now worthy of the word

whore

I wore red stiletto boots

imagining something other than the mess

I was

in the making

the hues poetic yet

reminiscent of one of those faithless and

juvenile mood rings and

like those pointless party favors

I would share the same

transient interest

choking on images

carry the price

and I'll tell you

*The memories, they blend.

Years blend too.

Losing sight now, the void of color that had lured and taunted, vanished leaving a fog so thick, her pupils had turned a light shade of grey. Her once tamed, red curls were no longer the image of perfection, her vanity mirror shattered by fits of jealously and shards of perfume bottles seemed decorate the floors. Scarves draped over each lamp, the room had an essence that combined Manhattan glamor in the 20's and the scum in the 70's. I was uneasy. The man lying on the bed laughed at my questions and she giggled at first. She paced back and forth, her feet crunching glass with each step. She was uneasy. The man sat up quickly and seized her nervous hand, pulling her quickly towards him. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, lovingly I thought, but by her expression and stiffness I knew otherwise. Without hesitation he threw her against the vanity, the already splintered glass now showered her defenseless body. As she lifted her head I could see that she was smiling, as was he. She began to laugh hysterically while slinking to the floor. Disregarding the glass on the floor, she sat down. He stepped forward and kicked her, she laughed harder. At this point I didn't know if they even acknowledged my presence. I was fascinated by them, and their violence that seemed almost ritualistic. I then remembered why came. When I left the room I heard someone else in the apartment. She was a tall blond, and greeted me with poise and hospitality. I was about to ask her the question when the two lunatics lunged out of the bedroom. We ran for the door but they caught her before she could step out. The crazy woman held one of the broken perfume bottles and threatened to slit the blond womans wrists. I didn't understand why, and the blond woman looked at me as if I could do something. Ten flights of a spiral staircase were ahead of me and I couldn't remember how I had even reached the top. A muffled scream sent me racing down the stairs and when I reached the ground, blood had began to pour over the edge of the tenth floor down the center of the staircase. My question would never be answered.

*this was a really creepy dream I had yesterday at 10 AM. I couldn't sleep all night so in the 30 minutes that I napped that morning, this is what consumed my subconscious.

As much as I sometimes yearn for the past to present itself in a better way, it is never the right answer nor will it ever happen. I am disgusted that I let my subconscious drift back to that era... Two nights in a row, my dreams consisted of the same characters. These characters of course were people I know, but rarely speak to or interact with, anymore... A lightness in mood proved only to make me feel guilty upon realizing that the events which took place were long overdue and now not only harmful to me. I was dealing with secrecy and deception, mixed with cocktails of promise and redemption. You finally let me tell you the real story, your only interruption was a hand which you gently placed on my shoulder. I couldn't feel it, I turned away and you were gone. Inside the house, I walked towards you and a single tear rolled down my cheek.