Privacy

I've posted about 20 entries since my last one that is public but alas, they all receded into 'privately' marked ones because of their angst and general embarrassing aura. Heh. I want to start a journal that is filled with arbitrary information about my day. Maybe I will ditch this one and begin another that can encompass more complacent and sun-drenched times. This journal represents a year of confusion, degradation, jumbled thought and loneliness. I think it's time to move on. Tomorrow, I will make a new yearly one :) Bye Icecreamparade.

Seriously

Something must be wrong with me.

I'm trying to articulate what I feel but my mind wanders too often as if it's tip-toeing over the allowance of my conscious and sub-conscious to meet.

WOIEREWTHEFUCK.

my new family

Got two smaller than palm sized turtles today from China-town . ^___^. One is named Crayon and the other I haven't decided yet. Tomorrow I am getting a phone too (finally) and going to buy Crayon and his bud some turtle food. Hopefully eating sushi for the first time in forever as well. I have high hopes that the day will be swell.

I really want to be skinny enough so that when I'm standing my thighs don't touch. That isn't unreasonable is it? Excuse my lack of fluidity and colloquial language (since I usually use this journal to hone my writing skills) but it's almost 4am and I don't feel like posting a pretty entry. Life has been dull after my return. I haven't really been able to pursue hanging out with anybody because of my lack of communication; though most people are malleable enough and willing to pick me up so I suppose that may just be an excuse of mine. Really though, I'm sick of talking to people who didn't give a shit about me 3 weeks ago and wouldn't give a shit about me if I was still in a relationship. I wonder why I'm socially awkward. I hate these people but I talk to them cause who else do I have ?

I think this quote is also applicable to my feelings in life as of lately.

“What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”

^^^^^^^ yes.
I'm sorry to say but at this point I don't need aloofness, games, waiting and people who definitely don't care.

You disgusting fucks.

Hay Stranger vv

Tanzania was amazing. Paris and Amsterdam were pretty cool too. I can't coherently describe everything and I already wrote a hand written journal for part of my stay in Tanzania and a 'video journal' for Paris, but here are a few of my millions of videos O_O. One is a short clip from Paris. First one is playing with my Maji ya chai babes and another of Joshua and Omari dancing T_T and then elephants just because its Africa haha.

adfae$@P@$)

Crying right now, who knew?

Safari Ina Wanza

Gina Langu ni Malaika~!
Nina toka Ridge
Na miaka ishaniri
na Kwenda TANZANIA ^_^;
Qweri!

Oh boy

Ole Ole

I'm leaving soon niggas. Won't miss anyone though, to be honest. Well, maybe my family even though they have been really irritating and making life hard.

I am seeing Lisa and Kelly definitely tomorrow and then I am seeing Kim and Katherine on Thursday. The extent of the people I care to say 'goodbye' to. 6 weeks isn't really long though so saying goodbye is a bit superfluous. I really wish I saw Minerva but I didn't have a phone. On a hypocritical premise, I'm going to be irritated at Ryan from the library for not calling Minerva and forgetting we were even supposed to meet her. Okay. It's not fair because that's not his responsibility. But the only person affected in this situation is poor Minerva who anticipated us.I know I got every one of my personal items confiscated and that is no one's duty to work around but mine... and I tried! Just no cooperation really and I feel like she is a useless martyr. How hard is it to call someone? Or even call me when I asked him to during the day at work to tell me the status of our visitation (considering that was my only form of contact). Or even so I could get Minerva's number and go alone. Of course, that request was disregarded. This is why I don't really want to talk to anyone from the library anymore. Even if I'm not an 'important' member of your life any longer, at least a courtesy response would have been appropriate. (more than a sloppy facebook message at 11 when I WROTE I had work at 10 and would obviously not have gotten it. fucking genius really) Sorry I am ranting here, but I've been ignored so often by several people when I text/call even though I respond always and it's gotten to the point where every annoyance now elicits extreme anger. I guess I'm just upset because I thought we were unbelievably close friends at one point (all of us) harping on that idealistic idea of forever, and now while I don't expect everything to be the same, I am not even worth a 2 minute phone call.

Seriously, I don't really expect much of anything from friends and if you fail to even meet those standards, well good job ! ^0^

I wish I could write how angry this, as a cherry to the proverbial sundae of anger, has made me. There would be no friendliness in running into anyone again. Fuck little library meet up's too that are just fake and mean nothing. I am tired of being understanding! so FUCK YOUUUUUUU.

Watched Peter Pan 2 today also. It was depressing. Not a particularly great movie, but that end scene where Peter sees Wendy as a grown up really got to me...as dumb as that sounds. :( I guess because her 'time' was over and now she's an adult and I worry that that is happening to me too. Being an adult. Living a boring life. You know, my usual blog entry worries. I still feel upset by the movie. T^T boohoo~~

So, on brighter news, I am leaving for Africa on Friday! I am so happy! I'm waving goodbye to the US with my middle finger

teehee.

there is nothing i will miss here but my sometimes dysfunctional family. nothing else at all i assure you

Barbeque weather

Left work and came home. I'm not sure if that was the wisest idea, but I wouldn't be enjoyable company at Minerva's anyway. The weather is sticky and sweet like donut sugar and I feel like I could fall asleep standing up. Cut off a man driving home when I pulled out of Costoc and he swerved over to the next lane and as we both stopped at a red-light, he started to scream.

I couldn't breathe this morning because my throat was so dry and I woke up sputtering and coughing and unable to stop after I had finally fallen asleep for 20 or so minutes. Very weird. I've had no other physical malady's other than my throat feeling like sand had been funneled down the esophagus. No usual, throbbing headache. Just dryness, throat constriction and lethargy.

I've been thinking a lot about the validity of my feelings. Should I even be allowed to feel thrown off balance, miserable, sad? I was the one who prompted everything so it doesn't seem fair that I am even affected by it. It doesn't seem fair that I would ever come back either.... after causing suffering to someone because then the suffering meant nothing. I was gone and back and they suffered when they didn't have to; since I came back anyway. But if I stay away, what wins then? I can find no solace anywhere, in anything I might do.

I have never experienced someone I really loved moving forward and dating someone else and I am going to predict that I would go crazy. I have been the person who wanted to continue when the other fervently wanted to give up, but I have never learned grace or tact when dealing with that. How can people be so strong ? When I wanted to be with someone, I was liquid putty that cried and begged and pleaded and called (to no exaggeration) 40+times in a row. I am so weak. Such a baby.

Still, even when I am not the person 'broken' up with, I am still finding myself depressed and shattered. I can exert more control only because of my lack of phone really. And while I'm trying to be fair, because after all this was my choice, I am just realizing that I have done a better job at extricating my options than even I anticipated. Going back ever seems impossible and it would contradict the suffering I am super-imposing upon someone. What do I do. Will this be like when I realized how warm the library really was? How close me and Kim and Katherine were until I abused it? How good of a place I was at, during freshman year at Stony Brook? How much Eric had loved me the first time we dated in 2007 before I fucked up? Just another thing that I morph into something ugly and ruined.

I am missing, terribly

Complacency

"And unlike the stronger me before, I just sat there hysterical a little while longer. I don't know why I couldn't get up. Why a sudden myriad of thoughts on how great it would be to not exist or just to redo college. How wonderful it could all be.

So, is this it? Fucking heart.

I curled up in my car for 20 minutes after finally leaving my sad stoop until I thought I should go home. Moping never made anyone love you.

But then, what did?"



I am trying to think of what would elicit such an outpour of emotion presently and I am groping around to find nothing. Ha. Of course, this little journal excerpt is a much lesser evil than the pathetic drawl in most of my other descriptive entries...so the weight it holds might not appear as great. However, I view it as the apotheosis of all the hidden things I tucked away. I was different. And this was not Teressa as she exists now. I was a girl who could cry, man. LoL. A girl who could rush out of the house at 4am in desperation to rectify something broken and would ask and wonder, according to the entry, how to make someone love her. God, did I fucking harp on that question all the time. I was someone humble, someone meek, someone unhappy but still someone unrelenting and searching to acquire some parity in such an imbalanced relationship without letting go. I was someone who was willing to just...you know, give it there all in laymens terms.

Maybe the best years of my college career have already passed in a quick chemical explosion as soft as feather or settling dust... and I didn't even notice or acknowledge my fortune until three years later. I was happiest and saddest and just colored with the most feeling and I regret how it ebbed away like a wave without my aknowlegement of its warm archaic power. Will that happen again? Maybe I am really at a place in life that is amazing but I am just unable to comprehend it now? Maybe that's how all my life will be; realization after action after inaction.

I am wanting something, hard. That ability to miss, to cry, to get so worked up that I choke and sputter and sit outside begging for deliverance in the form of a simple embrace when pride is my most prized ally. In some aspects, I hate the 'weakened' version of myself that has no control and is only fueled by carnal emotion. But in other ways, I think I crave it.

Photo Update

Ryan left for Canada and life thus far has been pretty easy. My curfew is lifted, my pockets are full of money, my luggage for my trip is packed, my new phone is on its way and time is passing relatively quickly. Tonight I saw Star Trek with Katherine which was good (consider me a budding Star Trek fan; I just spent an hour looking up Star Trek information) and had a relatively boring day at work. Here are a few flics from my life thus far since I'm too lazy to write. Yaaawn.

I got 99 problems but

It's 11:45am and I am wide awake. Lying in bed with Ryan who is wrapped in comforter and curled, facing the wall. I can hear his light breathing, the air conditioning blowing whorls of fresh air, the clack of a keyboard and a car humming outside. Laptop crookedly propped against my left ankle and I can't wait for him to wake up and for us to get Thai food today. I realized on our venture to the city that Thai iced tea is simmilar to sweet bubble tea only without the bubbles. n_n.

How will I survive on Wednesday ?~

No, seriously.
-----
NVM Ryan is a lazy fat pig and its almost 4pm and no food

MMM air conditioning

Sitting on Ryan's bed right now with a lap top balanced on my legs, Indian-style. King of the hill providing muffled background sounds, kitchen water running, Conor and Greg stretched comfortably next to me talking about WarCraft. Thoughts pulsing in my mind like the red coal swathed under the fire pit last night. I didn't go home yesterday and called into work today. It was lazy, comfortable, a smidge depressing to be honest.

And I didn't cry just because my mom took away my resources and because my best friend thought I was unreliable and didn't know how I wished more than anything to see her and have my feelings reformatted to 'okay' for even two hours. I'm going to try to admonish the larger words, the poetic anecdotes I'm still prone to and just record my feelings this very second as candidly as I can.

I feel shitty, man. I feel disconnected from everything, unable to accept people or the contingent idea that I am unable to accept people. In a measure of percentages, I feel at the higher tier, creeping along the very edge of my entire threshold of sadness about 45 % everyday. I feel listless and fucking retarded. I wrote a note of apology that sounded like a pathetic attempt at a eulogistic goodbye note and right now I want to go home, tear it up and chew it to watery bits. I want to scream at people for not knowing how I feel but I don't want to share and would rather light heartedly joke and turn my mom's rage, my loneliness, my vagabond status ..into funny stories that I can share and laugh about on an over-stuffed couch in starbucks. Even that damn psychologist from Stony Brook came to view my portrayal of life as gauzy and light as gossamer. I have no faith in anyone or anything in the world possibly ever making me happy even though I am constantly and hypocritically preaching to others that happiness is an intrinsic event that happens naturally, like blinking but I am always questioning the validity of my advice now and just saying empty things in accordance to my normal 'teressa' personality. I feel like the line that graphs my life already reached a peak, leveled out and now is just sloping down. OKAY. wait. stupid comparisons and shit again.

I just feel like the idea of 'entrapment' has bleached itself into my skin and become a feeling I can't scrub away.

I cried because nothing is okay nor can I envision a time when it will be okay; down this metaphoric tunnel there is no far-reaching light. Because I can't even freely write how I feel without immediate regret and embarrassment so I'll choose not to, at least here.

I promise I'll be nothing but sunshine and fluff and time with me won't reflect the pressing turmoil I feel every couple hours of everyday from now on, if that makes you happy.

Teressa's spectacular adventure

I hated that I had to get a ride to work from my mom today. I wonder if there's a word that I might use most effectively to portray how horrible it was, but I really can't think of one right now.

I have so many thoughts I feel are escaping so let me write this as quickly as possible and edit it later to make it sound more polished and pleasing.

Left work at around 4:40pm. Walked cautiously around the mall with my head hung down, trying to avoid any people who I might perchance run into. Didn't feel much like being social. For once, I felt the absolute weight that no weight carried. I could walk as slow as I wanted because nothing was waiting for me and I was anticipating nothing. To walk without purpose, bereft of a desire or destination, it was nice in some way. I am always rambling about from point A to point B. To float in between was a welcomed change.

Using the public transportation system was smooth and free of problems! Yes! I asked the third bus that passed the sidewalk if he would go through the Middle Island/Ridge area and he said to 'hop on.' I read my book Obasan for about 15 minutes before I realized me and Conor were taking the same bus too. He smiled as he also, hopped on board, and then we chatted about life and theories until he left around the King Kullen stop. I got off myself around Hollywood Sweets and made my way into Taco Bell. Got a loaded steak salad and squeezed five very hot hot sauces onto the lettuce and chunks of meat. The pepper made me warm and I didn't feel awkward in my cozy corner alone. I felt nice. After devouring my delicious adult meal I left. I was shivering. The cold stabbed me in little tufts and waves and I really wanted to go sit on the swing set across the street, but I was so cold. Note: Next time do not wear a tank top and paper thin cardigan. Also, bring a camera.

Moving on, I kept up my lazy pace and even began to keep tally of the beeping horns, the eyes that drank in ones image, the bottles of beer buried up to their translucent necks in the dirt. Things started to seem depressing and it wasn't nearly as chilly as before, or maybe I just got used to it. Anyway, stopped by the benches of McDonalds and started to read when I saw a Rooster friend. A rooster! He was brown and clucking, scooting along in the grass and poofing out his plumage proudly. I got close enough to touch him and took a picture with my cell phone until I realized I looked awkward when I glanced over my shoulder and saw a crowd (crowd constituting four or more people) of male Mcdonald's workers all standing by the door staring at me. I figured they were surprised by the rooster too and quickly made my way back to the oblong table with the umbrella, fished out my cell phone and pretended to call someone. When I realized that I would find no peace in a fast food parking lot, I got up and left. I didn't feel like being harassed and cat-called anymore.

I kept walking and wondered if this was who I wanted to be. This quiet, contemplative girl who enjoyed solidarity,long walks home and was completely fine without a car or phone; someone who appreciated that their was a warm bed at the end of this languorous walk. It seemed okay. But then I missed the other Teressa who would pester people into playing tag with her and have contests rolling through grass. Or what of this one, this blog writing, polite, confused and sometimes sarcastic Teressa who wanted to see the world and hated the confinements of home. Often I think we fit into some mold that society can interpret and are 'proud' at the image we project. But would I ever be proud of any image that I project? How do I choose something in life when I want to be everything. Hm.

Down down down Randall road. I remembered how long it felt that day that I walked out of my house and Ryan and Conor picked me up. How good the air conditioner felt on damp skin. I was wishing it was warm again, my arms folded in a vain effort to wrap my cardigan tighter around my body and trap any warmth possible. As I passed the pond, I decided to check out the wooden dock structure that jutted out into the water half-way. While I walked out onto it, I saw a fat blond boy with his hands twined around a fishing wire, the end floater bobbing with red and white. He had a package of opened hamburger buns beside him and he was intently staring at the water and I thought of how glad I was that I didn't have a car just because he was a cool little kid and I got to see him. I walked to the very edge of the dock and looked around and it made me feel happy. The dirty pond didn't seem as drab anymore. Actually, it seemed like the most perfect place in the world at that time. The waves of light undulated in colorful ripples and I stared for a little until my vision was de-focused. The wind was thick and even though I was cold, I decided to sit down after five minutes and start reading my book again. It was peaceful.

The little boy's father soon joined him, ignorant of my curled up presence, as they hauled a flat looking , black fish onto the dock and I had to leave. Sitting on the edge of the dock, hair blowing like Samara...meh. I just felt creepy! Sokay though. I decided to come back on a warmer day. After that, I stopped by the little flower store and green-house and looked around. I thought about buying a plant, but I really had no place to put it. Maybe after I come back from Africa. I passed the old dog house that always housed my friend the German Shepherd too. He is such a lucid memory, materialized to tangibility every time I glance to my side going down Randall. A land-mark on my rides to and from my house; his ropey noose tied loosely around his neck and his ears always alert and erect. He was as natural as the pavement beneath the rubbery wheels that moved me closer and further from him everyday. Without him, the dog house looked empty. And then I felt sort of lonely too.

And as I was grasping around for this memory, I thought about the insignificance I played in his life. The bun-faced girl with a sweep of black bangs who stared at him from cars and buses. What purpose was I to him? I feel like that's my life in brambles and packaging. One sided memories and longing.

Today on my walk I realized that when my dependability extends to the tips of my fingers and is not further vested in anything or anyone else, I can be most happy. I want to be stronger, like Beyonce. I want to have my own car, helio phone, apartment, decisions, blingity bling and opinions. Not like Teressa whose feelings secretly get hurt if someone just raises their voice. Not like the third grade Teressa who got asked to be the ring leader in the game of water seals at Lauren's house but felt embarrassed and said "NOPE," hoping they'd ask her again to quell the embarrassment. And they did, but with irritation. And so she blinked, realizing she might have come off mean, politely refused a second time and sat, feet dangling in water on the hot deck and watched them all have fun. She was happy when splashes of chlorine water reached her but wouldn't jump in any further. Pride bubbling over with pools of salt and sweat. Self-inflicted punishment and recluse. That's still me. Wanting. Impassioned silence and hurt feelings when I say I don't feel much like seeing people and then people actually leave. O_O

Maybe the Teressa I want to be isn't particular, maybe it's just better than this one is now.

When I got home I took a cucumber melon bath for an hour and relaxed. I wish I had a phone right now. There is someone who I wanted to call.

Happy Muddah's Day

No car, no phone, no problem !

I am getting an awesome new Helio phone as soon as I get my next paycheck (this Friday) and I can hardly wait! It's really cute and has the best ring tones, animated backgrounds and picture templates. My little blackberry with the dilapidated screen and missing plastic back was long due to be put to rest. The weather was beautiful today too; I really just wish I had a car so I could drive with my knee inclined and my hand rolling around balls of air out the window. Ryan dropped me off at work and we split a delicious chicken bake and soda. Yum. Soon he'll be leaving though so I won't really have any outlet to siphon away the drab reality of a phone-less, car-less imprisonment life but it won't be till May 20th and then class for Tanzania starts May 25th, so I suppose I'll always be busy. Photo was easy and a majority of my time was spent catching up on gossip magazines, solitaire fortunes and my EGL 226 book, Obasan. I have two finals this Thursday and they're starting to make me a bit worried and apprehensive; a 'bit' worried being an understatement. But then again, I'm not really one to be pulled into the contemptuous fear of grades and future and finals so I'm pretty okay ^_^

I also realized last night that I needed a turtle! They reside in Flushing for a mere five dollars; little quarter sized green turtles that float around in water and love. When I get back from Tanzania, Franklin the turtle will be mineeeeee. He will live in my West Apartment at Stony Brook. Any one will be welcome to visit

Mother's Day was spent away from the home this year. What did I do last year I wonder? I remember Freshman year I studied for a Math final in Calculus I and helped my mom plant flowers in between those long stretches of room confinement. I only remember that though because Eric had asked me to go to his sister's graduation and I couldn't since the final was the following day and my mom wanted me home for some portion of Mother's Day...therefore resulting in HIS mother hatefully condemning me as disrespectful to the family. o___o. Aha. Oh boy. Weird memories. Anyway, yeah. Following that up, I now remember that last year I was job-less around this time and had recently quit the library in lieu of my mom taking my car and clothes which resulted in my inability to get to work. It was so embarrassing that I just quit. Meh. Anyway, I remember I still scrounged up enough money to buy her mascara and some other miscellaneous item since I knew she needed it. And she was offended :( Seems every holiday gets worse. Seems every year the thread frays a little more until whatever I had suspended...was it love? caring? I'm not sure anymore. I just know that that bundle of feeling is at the risk of snapping and falling too deeply for me to fish it out anymore.

This year, the only thing we exchanged was a deep inhalation of anger. A meeting of skin for a split second and the recognition that we were both alive. Yikes. Next year please be good~

I'm too tired to write nicely. I can't seem to construct anything that can portray my feelings now. It's the cracked feeling of air caught in your gut that travels through your throat and brain. A loss of temperance. Just feeling swollen and blistered from underneath the smooth taut-ness of skin. Leathery, beaten textures transposed into emotion? No crutches, no tissuey shoulders, not even a flimsy dependence. I feel disgusting. What is this precise feeling? It's resting liquid at the bottom of my stomach. Embarrassment associated with nakedness. Loss of dignity. Shame. That's the closest word. It's a feeling I get randomly that I never knew how to correctly label. I wonder why it happens. Hmm.


My eyes feel creased and worn. My body feels porous. I feel exhausted in every inch and angle of bone and blood. At a loss. Maybe I'll keep it simple with the word 'defeated.'

Pichas

Today I went to the city with Ryan and we met up with Katherine and Andrew for dinner/late lunch at Spice, a Thai food restaurant. Then we went to the Mono concert (main event of the day) which was great. Icecream, red mango, thai iced tea, chicken pad thai, a piggy back ride all the way to my car, a storm of cherry blossoms...hehe. Here are pictures instead of a description. Maybe it'll make my blog a little more cheery and interesting.

bai bai bai~

My short term goal is a fun summer filled with side-walk chalk, butter-fly raising, clementines, donut burgers and lazy reading.

I realize now that I've been struggling with the idea of growing up this past year entirely too much in lieu of the realization that twenty is on the brink of true adult-hood. Not only that, but I've also become egocentric in my solidarity. As much as I think people generally suck, it's not like I'm a different species or anything. I'm not above the quota, I'm just the same and I probably depress just as many people with my thoughtless action. To think you are any better and wonder why people act the way they do is haughty and just because you realize how fucked up, mass-produced, bereft of individual thought and idiotic people are, doesn't mean you probably aren't just like them in some way or form. Even the yummiest apple is still an apple. Wish I was a chimpanzee instead >_<.

Cause growing up right now is like having my delicate bundle of dreams ripped apart at the edges with such rancor I want to cry.

The reality of life today is so contradictory to the plans I had when I was younger for the future Teressa. Honestly the best, most fantastic thing I could possibly imagine might happen today, tomorrow, even ten years from now (cure cancer? become a famous world reknowned writer? Travel the entire world and even space? ect ect)--it doesn't even compare to the most ill conceived fantasy dreams of a seven year old girl. Ha. So...yeah. That's what I miss most about being younger and why I hate this whole aging and moving forward thing. That hope contingent with youth and lack of longevity is kind of leaving, you know ? That idea that anything was reachable and my life still hadn't unfurled yet but when it did, it would be great. That uplifting injection of excitement and anticipation that all beginnings can be characterized with, the knowledge that although life seemed mundane, it would soon pip up with alacrity and some perfectly scripted adventure that had already been especially written for me. Although, here I am. Twenty. A bit lethargic but for all observable purposes, normal. Living a life as complacent and cozy as any other twenty year old in the gray suburbs of Long Island. Probably taking the whole path of least resistance and on my way to own another little gray chunk of land, a blue collar job, a dog and a tv and a kid and that will be my less than optimal life.

I'm flailing around here, gasping for air and escape from this suffocating sub par story.

Wait, no. Sub par is a bit harsh don't you think hmmmmm

Actually, I can't particularly complain. The weather is getting nicer. Everyone I love is still alive. I'm not leathered or wrinkled yet and my bed today is very soft and warm. I especially like the sheets and my room smells distinctly of birds which I also love. I like that I'm building sensory smells that will later remind me of this room and then this time that I'm writing. And while I'm not in a magical house like Howl's with secret doorways to gardens nor do I own a mystery cupboard that breathes life into every inanimate object I own, I can say...in some abstract form of the word, I'm happy. I believe I am happy and I am here and for now that's good enough.

Si Jambo!

This week has been very busy and the proactive quality of it all has left me in reasonably good spirits. Yesterday (or rather, two days ago) I had my last official Tanzania meeting before the real classes start and I got a Swahili name which I know is silly, but it still made me happy. My professor went around the oblong table asking people to stand and then gave a few people names. My name was Mahl-eye-ah-cah, pronounced quickly it sounds like "Metallica" , which means angel in Swahili.... u_u

Today I spent a large duration of time hammering out a ten page paper on the cognitive development of the Pan Paniscus and the question of linguistics in relation to these great apes. It was done a bit sloppy, but actually I really enjoyed the reading about the Bonobo chimpanzee Kanzi who was on 'the brink of human mind.' The chapter on the origin of language was so interesting and everything made sense. Animals such as primates don't use words which have definitive meaning and systematic layering like humans....they use a 'graded' system of speech where each sound has no exact start or finish and emotions can be as varied as the different shades of color in a rainbow. Gutteral sounds of pain, anguish, excitement and desire that all vary depending on exactly how you are feeling at the time and can be understood by one's counterparts. How cool would it be if we could talk like that =O Awesome. I have always wondered if language was more of a barrier than a bridge over a gap that confined our thoughts and feelings to the words that we could employ. Like, maybe instead of using speech to denote feeling..we were denoting feeling because of speech. Does that make sense? Well, I think we should be like lil chimps instead. It seems much more effective.

After my paper, I hung out with some buddies I haven't seen in awhile. We cooked some food and dessert and then sat around giving my one friend these sporadic acting tests and finally talked for almost two hours about what we would do if there was a zombie invasion. Hmm. Wonder if you could just pretend to be a zombie? Cover yourself in blood and jump into the zombie crowd and say "BRaAaaaaaINS" and start walking with them. Maybe that's what I would do. O_O

Cough it up!

I am seriously concerned that I am on the brink of physically manifesting my anger and ripping this house to pieces.

"Just tell me that we're still friends at least, and I'll stop bothering you"

I've gotten so many messages like these this past week and a half from friends who did nothing wrong.


Tendrils of thinning cloud whipped down and broke upon the horizon; the sky was lit up with flecks of color that spilled around the powder paleness and made her remember threads and soft methodical hands and fabric from a different era of life. The air, like soup, was thick and seasoned with pollen dander and the narcotic effect of un-opened buds. She tasted it on her tongue and rolled it in the pocks of her cheek before exhaling, before blinking, before breathing and ordering limbs to continue their mechanical stride. Words were dripping out again; their withered exo-skeletons began to coat the pavement and suffocate the greenery. The lesser, more buoyant ones floated like fat puffs of steam and stuck to the blue above. Was all the color unsaid words ?-- she wondered as the sky became more festive and her stomach no longer drooped with extra weight at their extrication. She was light now, almost light enough to follow her counterparts into the soft stains of chroma but she remained with the earth and continued home. Her passivity (and I say this word with the most weight a word could possibly carry) was the reason that she still existed a breathing brain with rooted feet. An earth child instead of a snuff of air and dust.

She said this statement and wondered, as was typical, if there was a deeper reason she was here tonight on this road thinking these things. But she was the only listener; the speaker and the receiver who would haply rest with these unsaid thoughts and no one would hear their searching, groping, obtuseness; if not today, then not ever. And time would fray and wrinkle their meaning and the lack of a subpoena would leave her quiet testimony to settle dead and unheard by the impassive ears of the world. Or maybe they would help her float up when she grew too tired and nestle themselves thickly over blue, faded skin and joints. They might lay her to a final languorous rest and then snap and disappear.

But still, no one would hear.

Maybe the whole sky is filled with un-said words from other times and people..... and so she cried because she would never hear their lingering thoughts that she craved for solace. Everything was so much more beautiful than ocular attention demanded and everything was so quiet but still incredibly loud. And she simply did not have the right ears or eyes or comprehension to hear, see, or feel things the way she so desperately needed. She wanted to submerge, gulp, inhale, flux her tanned skin to soupy sky broth; drown in the pureness of color and never resurface.

Oh, the future?

I've been thinking lately that, although it seems out of reach, the future is already burning holes through my brain and I should begin to prepare. My immediate thought had always been- Go to Korea and teach English for a year. I had no other pre-meditated plans.

However, I've been researching and the California State, Sacramento Graduate School seems pretty appealing. They have an English program and I can earn 9 credits from volunteering in the Peace Corps while attending school. That would be a dream. I could probably head to Korea for the summer months too and keep hold of that plan or, before I start my actual career, go to Korea for a year and make money to pay off my student loans. I think I am starting to have some sort of cohesive plan for the future. I mean, I doubt that I will follow this stringently, this is only the accumulation of one hour of thought but at least know more than I did before. I do not particularly want to stay in New York nor do I want to go someplace so strikingly different-- I would still like wherever I reside to be busy and proactive enough. Sunny California seems great. I always thought I'd go there, Boston, Washington, or stay in New York but move to the city. I also must travel as much as possible no matter how or where. I guess that seems to be the only criteria. And then there's the possibility of a law degree. Law is dry, but a degree in it is very tempting--if only for the useless society symbolism and respect it evokes in the dumb people around. o_o^^ hehe. sry~*

I just want to build a life that I'm proud of. You know, kind of like the SIMS but this time I'll make sure I don't get my savings stolen from my room-mate, lock my neighbors up in my house, or scare away my mom because my house smells so bad. It took three or four tries to finally learn how to live most perfectly in that game.
I sometimes regret that it might take a lifetime to correctly learn how to live in this one.

Hopes and expectations pour and drip out my eyes and skin and heart and I don't want them to shrivel to dust and settle thick on the rafters of a mediocre house and lost dream. Everybody's life eventually becomes an apple-wood box of paraphernalia, lost in some attic of debris and cobweb sinews and disconnected from the world. Disappearing silently seems to hold some form of comfort though; all I need to know is that I played the game right and un-locked all the possible items, events and weapons that I could before the ending credits roll by.

A day off, nice.

So warm and yellow out today, it felt like the time between Spring and Summer when every breeze smells of sunshine and grass and it made me feel happy again.

Today I had the whole day free almost because I had to attend a parent/student orientation for the Tanzania program. Dr. Arons personally introduced himself to my parents before the program started (only them).. maybe he sensed their extreme apprehension. My dad asked him to spell his name out for him after their awkward hand-shake and scribbled it down on his paper and then soon began dotting the loose leaf with dashes and bullets and prepared to take notes -_-. LoL. Oh dad. Anyway, after about 15 minutes, I grabbed a dunkin donut and was escorted out along with all of the other students and instructed to wait outside on these dilapidated looking tables adjacent to the pond in Jasmine. It was nice and we all got to know each other just a little bit. Everyone seems pleasant and friendly and I'm not worried anymore at all about their characters or what I will do after Tanzania. Many people seem to want to travel, so I'll have plenty of buddies to choose from.

After the orientation, which lasted roughly 2 hours me and my mom headed out to the mall. I bought new summer clothes, a wind breaker/rain-coat and a luggage. Then we stopped to get bi-bim bap and sushi take-out and I spent the remainder of the day ignoring phone calls and napping. I watched some korean drama, took peeko out and let him roam around my floor, had a great cucumber melon bath, read for about an hour and am satisfied that I am finally on track with my readings again. This feels great. I need a day off every week.

My list from the other day is much shorter!
+Inquire about that damn 110 dollar ticket
+Hand in the forms to Costco about study abroad
+Finish reading for EGL 226..about 100 more pages to go which is nothing
+Apply for Student Loan and hand in financial aid sheet
+Pay for Kim's ebay thing GRRRR I have no clue why it won't accept my debit card, but I pretty much just have to wait for my new one to come in and replace this temp. one
+ *new* Register for summer classes
+*new* Buy Sipro(?) anti-biotics, special bug-spray, a first aid kit, a book for class collectively with someone else, another SD card and another camera for me and Vincent

Alright, that list doesn't look nearly as bad as the last one :) Making lists has really helped me a lot. Seeing everything in some sort of tangible essence rather than just calculating it in my head is good. When I only materialize everything with thoughts, they all seem wispy and unimportant and I get nothing done. This makes my little chores more real.

I felt so bloated with words today and now I'm just content and sleepy from my bath and can't write anymore. Goodbye

Hello 5am.

Been a while since I felt compelled to stay up so late and it's not because of the absence of exhaustion or the need to complete the unbelievable amount of work I have due for school on Tuesday. >:[ Maybe it's just a Teressa thing. A few months ago, I felt like staying up was an incurable malady but now I don't think it's so bad at all. Just an inescapable idiosyncrasy.

The holidays passed and they were more or less a pleasant enough experience. Dyed Easter eggs like I do every year, didn't make an Easter basket for anyone this year though, didn't go to church (hehe, not that I care o.O), didn't get peeps (first year without getting them :(... and it's weird to see how each year my holiday's are spent with a revolving group of people. In some aspect it's nice and change is refreshing, but I would much rather have a routine. Where I could say to someone -- "Hey, remember last year..ect ect" and we'd smile and shake our heads a bit and just be glad that some things never change. I took several other Easter pictures too but I really look so much larger than my previous self and I got so upset that after seeing them I had to jog around the block for twenty minutes.... even though I know that wouldn't do much of anything at this point. I really hate how I look right now and I am determined to get fit again no matter what. I resemble everyone who I labeled as 'chubby' just a year ago and I want to dieeee. >___< And I wish I was joking, but it couldn't be more seriously depressing.

On my jog around the block I thought about what type of house I'd realistically want when I was older. It would have to have wide windows that spanned the walls and feel very open; the angles would juxtapose and create a sense of fluidity, not entrapment. I would want light airy curtains like water that had no ties or pins and could just billow around and smell fresh. And I'd want a really nice wind-chime. One that would remind me of the changing seasons and of the comfort of home. Also, a garden would be essential but nothing that was manufactured. I'd want it to be over-grown; a progressive tribute to the un-touched and un-tampered with. As natural as a fenced in piece of earth could possibly be. I don't want rows of plants or bent up chicken wire around fruit and flowers. I just want their leaves and vines wrapped around everything and their roots stretched and spread everywhere. Oh, and a few draws full of nothing but candy and my own soft serve frozen yogurt machine, a tire swing and a tree house. I mean, I want a lot of other things too but those are the uncompromisable assets I MUST have.

Ran after Mr. Softee today with Ryan and when I jumped off his back from the piggy back ride, I sprained the top part of my foot. I wonder if it's just because I'm getting older o__o. Scary. I'm thinking of ideal houses, spraining my foot from jumping down a mere 1.5? feet off someone's back when I used to jump off swings at their highest point, actually contemplating the results of my actions in relation to my future every night till it is morning again and evaluating decisions and worrying. A lot. When did I become a typical boring adultish kind-of person ?

The existence of a future Teressa is scary and I still find myself comparing, thinking, wondering, doubting, feigning, trying, hoping, unsure.

Always calculating everything. Always a maelstrom of un-mentionable thoughts, skeptical action, and every perspective I can possibly conjure so I'm left just shrugging my shoulders and wide-eyed wondering if what I did was right and what to do next.

I wish I could sleep right now

Scissor Lock

Yesterday I had one of the scariest dreams I've had in a long time. I realized I was dreaming and I was driving some sort of convertible car with the top peeled down and it was cloudy. When I consciously knew that I was still asleep and could attempt the 'lucid dream', I immediately drove the car off the road and over a cliff and relished the fact that my passengers thought they were going to die, but I knew I wouldn't because I was dreaming and would wake up in my bed safe and sound. And I did wake up but then I couldn't move :c Sleep paralysis strikes again. Boo.

Anyway, today at work was almost unbearable. I just ate a bowl of ramen for my first meal half an hour ago which will probably turn me into a ~whale-a-sourus~ but I couldn't eat all day and felt sick. The ramen is smelly :c I feel nauseated now too and I tried to jog but each time the soles of my feet hit the floor after being pushed up into the air my head pounds. >_< Headache. Eek.

I stayed in tonight because of a mixture of things and I feel okay. And I think I'm slowly getting a better grasp on what I'm doing/what needs to be done.

Waking up early to hand in my passport forms FINALLY tomorrow :) I also have to go get a capital one credit card ^___^ my first credit card. Momentous.

Reading this entry once I am back from Africa will be weird. I am so excited and filled with expectation now, I wonder how everything will turn out. Beginnings are nice. Starting anything new is nice. They come with the hope that there is so much more to expect and so many great things that could happen. I think I need more beginnings that aren't just preludes to an ending.

So

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sometimes I think..

that nothing can be as vile or unoriginal and depressing as humans generally are. Hehhehehe. Mean humans o_O

I talked to a friend recently who had a frightening lack of empathy for anything or anyone other than himself. Frightening because it made me question the universal quality of his thought process. I know we all do things for 'benefits' even those bereft of recognition or tangible reward because it is still beneficial to us 'feelings' wise but the pride he took in his uncanny ability to succeed(?) in life was disturbing. He laughed when he said he used his ex-girlfriend for sex and thought it was hilarious when he spoke about her crying if he perchance didn't call. The self-absorbed commentary that spewed out over his lips like defecation from the wrong hole made me sick. >_< He spoke of utilizing people, of using and then disposing them...and I suppose this disturbed me because he is as I mentioned before relatively, an 'average' human. It made me worry if I was like that too but just glossed it over better. We all have our flashes of conceit right? I often wonder if we even possess 'personality' or if my likes and dislikes, my wants and needs are all a collection of environmental stimuli. Am I just a mimicry of compacted media personality and social interaction? What part is me ? Am I just as bad as that friend --what is worse? A human who reflects their true selfish ambitions that we are all subject to? Or the other who is encased in a false facade because society says that one should rebel against ideas of selfish ambition but who would just as easily become that 'selfish' person if society deemed that the righteous thing to do. >_< I can't believe I would act the same if everything around me preached different. Obv. not, right? Ewww.

I don't know who I am. I always felt as though I have a strong handle on it, but music and taste and thoughts that I've had have already changed greatly within these past four years. Even my typing has changed these past months because of who I interact with most. I can't just chalk up changing to getting older. It has to do with my revolving group of friends and surroundings. Sigh. Influential jerk Teressa ;_; This was dumb ramble. ANYWAY--


Met a cute man today who travels to Kenya every year and who is friends with Dr. Arons. I really can't wait to go to Tanzania. I hope it becomes the catalyst to many more trips. Why do I want to take trips ? For a change of scenery, for an injection of excitement in life, for relaxation ? I'm not sure if any of these apply.

Death comes to mind, for some reason. Home and sedentary action has always disturbed me though it is meant to be warm and enjoyable. The paint and wood and ceramic feel suffocating in a house all the time. So I suppose I don't want to travel for recreation, but as a form of escape? To escape the death that exists in routine. Comfortability can be deadly.

zZz sleepy goodnight~~~*

Wishes

Other than animals whose deaths I've generally taken with ease besides a few weeks of mourning, no one I really loved has ever died. It's quite simple. To distinguish if I love somebody, I always imagine how I'd react to them passing away. Sometimes it would be sadness, most of the time disinterest, sometimes pity and a strong desire to help those who would be affected by said person's death. But then, there's a very small hand-ful of people who, the idea of death, can't seem to touch. My brain can't function and compute the idea of 'death' and them and so I get confused and bothered.

Those are the people I love the most. I can't imagine a life worth living beyond them and couldn't even begin to comprehend moving forward; it would be a life where their absence is greater and more gaping and glaring than their presence. Than anyone's presence could possibly make up for, really. These are the people I passionately love. There's not many.

You know, I never really lost something I didn't eventually miss. I've let go of relationships and friendships, acquaintances, times and places and even though they slip away un-noticed at the given moment, I always find myself reminiscing at one point or another.Wondering where they went and if they might care to remember me too. My trip to Korea and sequential trip to China seemed to encompass everything I'm talking about. People I bonded with that I never saw again, places that are more hazy and ephemeral than real. Why did that one boy travel alone back then? How old is Simon now? Yuna, a girl at camp, cried when we left and I didn't. Did it really take me years to realize what she comprehended within a few minutes? That we would never see each other again and it was a time for mourning. Why does this bother me years later. I wish I could have cried then with her.

Another thought that does not seem to hold value on this trajectory of random thoughts .....>

I can't seem to grasp the concept that I will one day be forty years old. I used to wonder if it was human intuition, perhaps I knew that death would find me before then and that's why dreams of marriage and grand children were never coherent with my proper train of thought. Like maybe there was a reason I could not envision a future. But now, I think I'm just greedy. It's the most eery feeling when you realize you're sitting on your bed, sitting on a raised piece of wood and fluff and enclosed in four walls. I can't explain it, but I feel awkward and then I feel trapped and then I feel worried because this won't be my room forever like a dusty museum piece and in time it will change as everything is subject to change. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to, for the life of me, remember what my room looks like while I'm at work or school.. and then I have this pre-conceived image of my room that I compare with what I actually see when I get home. How did I forget to draw my Togepi card, my italian mask, the chips in the blind from when I owned Mika and she bit them, the rolled up N64 controllers. I was just in my room a few hours ago. How did I forget?! When this happens I get scared. I get so scared that my brain is faulty and I spend everyday in my room and can't even correctly imprint it onto my memory. What about things I care about that I don't necessarily see as often ? Should I take pictures? Videos? What can I do to makes sure that I lose nothing when I know life is about loss and gain ? What can I possibly do to preserve the happiness I feel now without it becoming almost meaningless later ? I guess I'm just being stupid now. Not like what you leave is important compared to what you have at the time. And something that made you happy is always existent even if it doesn't at this very moment. Aha. DUmby dumb dumb. Such a weird stream of consciousness this entry isssssssssss. I'm scared to read it over.

If I could have any wish in the world, it would be for those people that I love most to be healthy and we all die at the same time. I think I could live life peacefully if only I had that.

A house

I wish we could make our dream-house real. Katherine room, gold bar room, zip-line, gusts of wind that start up only when you grab the suitcase and umbrella firmly in hand, carrier pigeons, collapsible drive-way that leads into the lair, beds in every room, wish-puff garden with a little helper. It would be so great and fun.

Mom brought me up a bowl of strawberries covered in sugar and whipped cream and I really wish I was hungry and didn't feel like puking up 5 scoops of ice cream from the giant crowd pleaser I just devoured with Kim and Katherine because it was a really nice thing for her to do. I don't know why, but I feel like writing a poem. I love when I get that feeling because it's such a hard feeling to conceptualize or explain and even harder to control once it blooms. Does that make sense? Ah babbling. Okay. Go.

The sun-washed ground, the lazy heat
the yellow spilled about my feet
the stench of air, the whorls of steam
that hug bare arms of butter cream
It's summer time, again, again
and them? They're both my foe and friend.
and skin and hair and dreams recede--
projections I no longer need.
Recumbent still, I've chose to stay
I wish that someone felt the same
for even colour chips away
on leaves that tremble, crack and sway
And Autumn days are never deep
Twenty two hours full of sleep
To eye-lids, covers, walls of gray
I lost my life in mundane days.
But winter slinks, however slow
and brings a chill and dark and snow
Unmoving, yet I still might go
I wanted more not long ago.
The seasons change, its such a shame
that I could never do the same
LJFOEIURPEURFJEIF 15 minutes up.

I used to do this all the time to get 'better' at writing. Give myself 15 minutes and then look at a random object in my room and try to compose the most provoking and profound piece of work in that short amount of time. No clue why I felt compelled to do that, but this is what it reminded me of.

Turns out, Kim also narrates her life quite often and knew exactly what I was talking about. No wonder why we are best friends.

Once upon a time

I want to write a lengthy entry about my day... seeing the creepy Easter bunny, animating Chi, laughing and laughing with Katherine, shouting "I LOVE YOU," relaying my nationality to people and then listening to their curiously awkward relations to the Asian race (my daughter married a Chinese man...ect.) and follow-up clumsy compliments, the happiness of seeing old friends and belonging again, a return to normalcy even for just three hours. But I don't really feel like it. I'm tired.

I have so many things to do and my limbs are itchy and aching to be free from fabric and wear shorts and summer dresses again. But really, I don't want to do anything and for no discernible reason I'm feeling listless and lost again. How to convey this 'lost' feeling is something I could never do with words though. Even admitting to it seems embarrassing and almost immediately preempts a feeling of regret, had this journal been a public tool. I feel like a mass lump of fat with nothing to look forward to but atrophy. I always wonder why nothing makes me happy, worried, particularly angry or sad.
Hearing the world might end in 2012 seems more relieving than apocalyptic and even though I'm pretty sure it won't happen, I can't say I would mind it. The idea of aging makes me depressed. I think about how everyone I cared for a year ago, two years, five years ..they all stayed stationary as I swung forward, clinging and swinging through the grid-lines of the calendar from month to month and left them all behind in the respective time we were once both important to each other.

Walking

My brain is throbbing again.

I needed to shake off the mechanical verve that my body had fallen rhythm to. Was I still breathing? Still blinking? But lets recalcitrate against the realization of self. I hate that. I just want to be dangling limbs and a pair of impartial eyes buried in flesh and warm layered fabric. Not a pariah looking for a purpose. I hate thinking of all this shit that is ultimately useless. Why can't walking just be walking? Why does it have to take on a degree of theatrics with me?

It was raining now, but my walk was still comfortable, still careening about in languorous loops from point a to point b, unfolding fictitious scenes in my mind... had this been a good short story. I was narrating my life again, viewing myself in a third person point of view and delegating purpose and meaning to every nuance and subtle movement of my being.
Everything was color and everything became subjective and deeper than its intent. I observed the viney green that clung haphazardly to the spine of a building bearing left, not right, as it lurched higher and higher. The bursts of yellow and cream light that doily-ed the dark and fell, creating distinguished shadows against the puckered street. I tried to find profundity in the orange peel lying next to the garbage, in the garish picket sign that screamed at me with color and caplocks to vote for Robert or in the globular bits of water that soaked my hair and clothes and skin. Had everything come together correctly, I might now have experienced a transcendent moment of glory; a resolution with a purpose that might direct my life, change my person and inject meaning into the serendipity of my phone dying, of my car being blocked, of me wandering around in the rain alone for 30 minutes now. So, where was it? I looked around and found nothing.

Is life really a collision of unaffiliated events that crescendo to meaningless dribble? Most of the time I assuage uncertainty with the idea that decisions and action that precipitates reaction are all amalgamated together and meant to work out, but more often I see events hang dryly in the air before me with no meaningful beginning and no end. And rather than follow a driven trajectory, they just materialize and then disappear, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment only to be dissolved and dismantled the next with no legacy of their existence. And. I can't have that. Part of me needs to believe in something more. I want to trust that old mantra of everything happening for a reason. Of it never being the end until everything works out. And the idea that everything will work out. You know, something nice like that.


Kept walking for an hour until the police cleared the parking lot and the mild chaos of the dead boy was over.

Singing

There are so many things I want to say and I feel barred by my unimpressive repertoire of words to convey it. I wish we could just sing like whales and I could scream my pithy feelings out precisely and everyone would know exactly what I meant to say without me having to get wordy and confusing.