Good apple. Zesty Orange. Sweet.

I am quite the fruit collector. I should rather stop collecting the fruit and eat it. As I am developing quite the scratchy voice. I never get sick, so its a rarity. I woke up with this whole thing. But yes my weekend was okay, very unproductive. I need to work on the whole productivity thing. Valentines day is in like 15 days. Shoot me. But Groundhog's day on the other case is in 3 days--I think I'll be able to handle that holiday.

Right now I'm striving to be somebody, something, somewhere. I'm figuring out internship stuff for this summer. I'm applying to all sorts of things in NY, but I also have this whole thing in the back of my mind on working on a whale watch in Gloucester and reporting in Gloucester. I need the beach in the summer and a laidback lifestyle. I'm just not quite sure if I'm cut out for the busy city life. We'll see. There is always Washington D.C. but I'm not quite sure if I want to dump all my ethics to the side and be a politician in training. Though it would get me places, it would get me to places i don't agree with.

My main concerns right now are: writing, going to class, saving lots of money, being happy, and possibly buying a guitar.

I did laundry today, so thats always a good thing. And I'm going to the gym so thats another good thing. I cleaned my room. Who am I becoming haha?

Opportunities.

I found this book when re-arranging my room. Its from the 70s. My Nana and Grandpa bought it at a booksale in Vermont years ago, and gave it to me jokingly a couple years back. Though they had no idea that a journalist is what I would aspire to be-I'm here in j-school, three semesters to go. It is so strange that 40 years later the way of Journalism would be completely different than in the 70s. I just picture journalism in those days as professional and bad ass. Today being a journalist could be blogging, photographing your life or telling stories. The definition is becoming very undefined. In the book it refers to computers as these new amazing things. ha

I don't like strange vegtables in my soup

Here is an article I wrote on a renovation to occur in a residential area here at UMass...
http://dailycollegian.com/2010/01/29/new-project-hopes-to-turn-southwest-from-concrete-jungle-to-urban-oasis/

Today is Friday. I tried to wake up for 8:30 a.m. and I haven't felt like this for a while, but I felt absolutely dead. It took a lot of strength to just pull myself out of bed. But don't get me wrong it was a good feeling--like If I had the ability to stay in bed all day I would. But of course we all had to brave the sub zero temperature and get on with our days. I finally mailed my NYtimes reporting internship work. I collected myself and before handing it to the mail person I said a little prayer.

Friays are usually when I come back to my room after errands and turn on the TV or play guitar or write. My guitar sadly is very very broken. And I'm sort of plateauing in my ability to learn anything new, so maybe a break with the guitar it is. I used to play the piano. I would love to pick it up again but I don't have one in my room and am not going to the fine arts center. Mary and I have a joke about the Fine Arts Center because there was an event there goign on that I didn't want to to go and I said, "FAC that." And we sort of just laughed and now I say it a lot haha.

So today I will probably do some writing and photographing and just hang out. Its too cold to walk to the gym. I might re-arrange my room so I don't feel so crammed.



Have a great Friday everyone.

The Wednesday I Paddled Away

Because I spoke with a poet today and am feeling quite poetic, here is something I wrote a while back, but I just remembered it and get something new everytime. And unlike most of my work I have no need to touch it. I like it just the way it is.

The Wednesday I Paddled Away

The sun in the half hazed sky
Says its four in the afternoon
Which means I’m headed West
Which is good, because I started East.

There are no such thing as states and territories
And no place to vote Republican or Democrat
Only the places I allow my feet to stroll

There are no pies for me to steal
Off of local’s window sills
My eyes are blinded and
Translucent orange rays hinder my vision
It will be dark soon
So I absorb the light.

The scent of blooming May flowers
That ants dwell in
And tranquil stirs of life
That are as expected as wanted
Allured me here

I sleep on stones in the middle of the river
Carved smooth by March waters
The mosquitoes stay near the muddy shore, as do the animals
My mandolin speaks the words I cannot

I’m sure the others are worried
As the crescent moon makes an appearance
I’ll canoe home now

People I miss

 

Hilarious. There are bunches of other pics of Lindsey and her "peace dove" that are 100 percent funny but I wont embarass her. This one is cute.

People I Miss

 

And of course beautiful Kristen.

People I miss

 

So adorable. He always smirks at the camera, but never smiles. I caught this candid.

Time has told me

And so another day closes in. Did anyone notice how fast the clouds were moving around like 7:00? It was strange, but the moon was gorgeous as I strolled back to my dorm. Everyday when I go back to my dorm I feel tired as if I had to take another step would be the hardest thing. The first thing I do is rip off all my..... jewelery, get your mind out of the gutter haha--I can't stand it for some reason, even my beloved ring. Then I dive into bed and catch up on the news. Tonight I'm not doing homework my brain is exhausted. I'm going through this phase where I'm getting sharp shooting pains in my parietal and temporal lobes. Its quite alarming, but of course all things medical I push aside. Perhaps I could appear on House. Get me some Gregory House please.

I'm not sure if you want to know this but I'm sure it'll entertain. Okay so lately for some reason, mostly winter I'm assuming I've been feeling down, sort of lonely and lost and don't know where my place is in the world. Its sort of silly and insignificant to view things the way I do sometimes--as a cosmic whole, good or bad, great or trivial. I'm working on changing that. I also contacted someone about maybe seeing if I do need help to get over some things, that I just can't put away or leave behind. The person said the first step of progress that I was reaching out. Because usually I just put on the laughs and go on with life. But there is always a part of me I put on hold waiting for it to sort out. So in the past three days I have gone from worse to much better with the help of seeking help and prayer. Though I am having great conflict with biblical things, I certainly believe there is a God somewhere in the cosmos laughing at all the crazy shit I do. Like when...Today I was with Mary at lunch. I was clearing my glass and what do you know, I left something on the table. Not just anything mind you--my laptop. We laughed, and the day spun madly on.

Its so ironic. Today I was in a mental health office. But not for an appointment. So close, I know what you're thinking. It was for an interview with a M.S. who won a poetry award. Of course me wanting to develop a poetry reporting beat would want to cover this. It felt weird to be somewhere that I might very well need to be, but not for the same reason. I sat there in his office, chit chatting about Dana Gioa, James Tate, Pablo Neruda, Sylvia Plath and Whitman and I found that maybe you can't be healed by anything else but yourself and creativity. For today, that is the conclusion I have come up with.

Poets are like delicate souls that can get lost in life, lost in the words sometimes never appearing but on the pages.

The man I interviewed was easy to talk to and very intelligent. I asked him, "The title of your newest work--its very creative, how did you form the title?" He replied, "I don't know I took half of it from a poem in the story, and the other words just followed. Like poetry, you never know what is on the page until after you write it."

So true.

I'm taking a poetry class this semester. The teacher who I talked of last post, is great. But she is teaching us the constraints on poetry the if ands or buts, the abab cdcd pattern to follow. The man who won recently this very prestigious award described he never had any formal training in poetry--and I told him, nicely, and look where it got you (laughing). I explained that in a way learning the science of language can sometimes ruin it. It can suppress any creative flickering you had throughout the day by assigning it a pattern or a rhyme or a syllabic science. Don't rhyme your poems people. But what do I know, I'm just some 20-year-old punk with an affinity for wry poetry and lack of care for much else.

And since I am a great observer of the cosmos, I can truthfully say soon we will all be close to the sun, when the weather isn't -11. Perhaps by that time I will be able to report back to you that I feel put back together again.

In the mean time, stay classy ;)

Not so sad

In case it matters at all today was good, considering the past two days have been in emotional turmoil for seemingly no reason. Today the sun was shining as was evident and I felt better mostly because I'm in a poetry class and the teacher came out of a Meryl Streep movie. And I'm doing good in the beginning of a magazine writing class I love. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. I'm pretty tired so I'm going to take a snooze. This weekends plans are nada and boring. I want something wildly spontaneous.

Sad

There is a common theme in my writing right now. It is absolutely souless, because frankly that is how I feel. Today was overwhelming, I had to leave class and get some air so I went on a bike ride.

Book stacks unwashed slacks

James Tate

James Tate is a professor at UMass who happens to be a poet with an incredibly humorous voice in writing. He reads so monotone--making the subject of his absurdities to the nth power of hilarity. Here is Tate reading one of his poems.

Last night I fell asleep to listening to poetry podcasts. I love this, and wish I could find more poetry on podcasts.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/audioitem.html?id=1824

Beware of Subduction Zones

Beware of Subduction Zones
As I swim in some deep desperation
Songs of the ones I listen to
Drench a broken soul
Into an Atlantic trench
Fall pieces of light
That I’ll never see again
Despite the strong sun
An infinite molecule
A temporary being
An unknowing force
An aware thought
Dims in the shadow
And the worry turns to
Immediate fear
Regardless it swims by.

"Let it go, let it all go away, we'll start all over again."

I'll start off with an alarming proclamation: buying Oreos because they are on sale is no excuse to buy them. I bought Oreos and they're addicting. Its funny I was telling my friend today how laid-back I am compared to years ago. Before I would never buy Oreos.

How I approach deadlines with a fearless demeanor, at the last moment these days is a common occurence. I don't keep a calendar or a planner. I'm not a planner, not much of a do-er these days either. That may need some speculation. I sometimes wish something or someone would pull me out of bed before the normal time I get up and say we're going to Alaska, we're going hiking in the Grand Canyon, we're going to New York, we're going to Yellowstone and we're gonna leave everything behind and go find ourselves in the world someway, somehow. I guess I have to do that here in Amherst instead.

I think I'm in this weird phase where honestly I'm a bit weary, a bit scared to jump in and not worry about everything and just focus on one thing. Focus is something that I would like to focus on...no pun intended. For most things I have long answers or explanations. For my current mindset of letting things unfold, I simply can't explain. Its this person I've become. If I can apply this philosophy to the rest of my life that would be great. I worry but don't do anything about it. I'm in this phase where I'm very worried about the foundation of my life, my future career, my view of myself. I fear that I will never find a place in the world-my place, that I don't question or hesitate to jump into. I don't know if this is me or part of the human experience.

I get envious of famous poets, writers, authors and know-it-all journalists. I need to transform that into inspiration. I don't want to become one of those tortured souls who only writes incredibly when they're strung out. They're brilliant but idiots at the same.

Its my reasoning and hope that maybe some souls can't be held down, or stay in one place too long, or be perfectly content with things the way they are. I've always got a yearning for something, a want for peace and rest coinciding with progress. I'm just one gray soul, who wants to use my voice in writing and through song, my eyes through photography and understanding, and my mind, which sometimes loses itself altogether.

Frank Conners

Catch me if you can....

Why can't that be my slogan in life and not just a great movie title/remaking of a remarkable story. I am rather sneaky, and know how to work it. But I try to not let myself do this. This is one of the best movies, and I'm glad I made it the only option for Mar, VA, and I to watch haha. I love movies that you need to piece things together, that put your mind behind the shots. I also love comedies but who doesn't. I often times find myself thinking that I wish I was Woodward or Bernstein, in a real life investigation to the death or truth. Of course a movie named after a Water-Gate reminiscent wouldn't be so bad either. Maybe one day it'll happen. I was walking on campus with a friend the other night by a parking garage and asked, "If I was to conduct some investigation, I wouldn't want to copy Woodward and Bernstein, I'd want an even sketchier place than a garage. Where or what would that be?" I still have yet to find the answer. Not that it isn't pertinent or anything. Yes, leave it up to me to want some corrupted thing to happen in order to create the greater good, the greater truth.

Solstice

Hey folks
So today I woke up and it happened to be a beauty of an Amherst day so I set out for a bike ride. Turns out the trail is all snow (what do ya know), sometimes I'm so over enthused about these things I forget it is the dead of winter and unfortunately that includes snow and sheets of ice. Before I had the graceful dismount off my bike (sliding then falling off my bike) it was great to be back on it after months about being lazy about fixing it. I needed a nature day to myself it was nice. Its always beneficial to run back to the things you love, or in my case bike. hehe:_

Green!

I love this plant. I don't know the name of the species or what it requires to live. Maybe just a little sun, pulling of the dead leaves sometimes, ample water after a month long drought and just lots of lovin haha. But I wrote a story titled, "Planted in Time," after this plant it it is 2 years old and I plan on planting it around until it can no longer handle it. How it survives is beyond me.

Adios Conando

To be ridiculous here is this, a kiss-- a final good bye To Conan O'Brien haha. May his laughs on NBC be remembered.

Bacalao (work in progress please excuse) this is just somewhere to put it.

A short story, that some 20 year old somethings may relate, or not. Its based on my theories if you care.

Bacalao

This is not something that I say often but, I like who I am, and have for many years. I realize this may seem quite like a secret, but its just one of the many. I realize I'm a bit different from the average of my age and stage in life, but I appreciate that even more. Sunday is for church, weekdays are for school, weekends are for hikes, bikes, runs and occasionally wine and good food. Recently I went out with friends and to make small talk, which I despise, after some guy gave me a drink, I asked what his major was. As if I could care less, the girl I was with said, "rule number 1, never ask a guy what his major is."

I'm calm by nature but something in me just wanted to yell to jump inside or outside my skin. I hadn't become one of those. Those who stamp a brand on themselves, a type, a look, or a living style. That in order to win some guy over they have to ask X Y and Z, and if you play your cards right it just might happen in your favor. Well I don't play cards and I don't ask X, Y or Z and in knowing that comes a great amount of self-respect and dignity that I hope I never lose.


I cannot tolerate anymore that people put their insecurities upon me and use me as their puppet, to mold. I was ignorant and naiive, and blinded to the fact that its me that I like and others that I don't. And that may sound harsh, but after being trampled over for years I understand the severity of words. I'm so fierce in my own shoes, that they themselves are falling apart. Maybe the way I dress in flowing patterned tops and dark denim and flat shoes may signal something to those around me, but I couldn't love it more. I never feel better than when I'm wearing an old jacket, a knitted hat, a bike from the 70s, and a Nikon strapped to my shoulder.

There is a Spanish saying that goes like this, "te conozco bacalao, aunque vengas disfrazado," my teacher from Cuba taught it to us, and even though it rolls off the tongue, if said to you personally it may just stab you in the heart.

It is a strange thing to need to be near people at all costs, surrounded by comfort and the things you are familiar with and know. It is also astonishingly difficult to not feel empty around all these people as well. Its an imbalance that for me never feels quite leveled.

In some great deep void I am feeling in the winter days in the beginning of a new page some internal tick, a heart valve or murmur or a brain synapse something inside of my subconsious is moving me to knew observances I've not yet made before. Making me even more satisfied with my personal decisions, and less satisfied for living for those around me. My mother once said you have to be first name last name, no matter where or who you are near.

The heart.

Its almost February. Valentines day sort of lingers in the back of my mind. Last year no one was around, no one. It was a three day weekend and I stayed here. I remember just wanting a flower haha, but instead I went to Starbucks and read poetry. I then got together with my friend and ate pineapple and chocolate. But I mean its not for another 25 days haha, but I was talking about it with a friend tonight and it got me thinking. I need to have all of my internship things complete by the end of Jan. And I promised creative writing, so that is what I will post...later. Tomorrow I don't have class. I'm taking my camera and going photographing around Amherst most likely after I do internship stuff. Maybe fixing my bicycle.

El sol

I took this a while back, but I love it and it reminds me that Spring semester only brings more sun as the days progress.

If heaven looked like this, I think I'd be okay with it. It just captures what I would think God looked like.

"Wednesday 4 p.m."

Torn from a composition notebook, found inbetween letters to friends, God and random assortments of poetry I found this, and sort of made me laugh. Don't we all forget about those thoughts that we jot down throughout the day? I sure do.

Here is something I decided to title in my old notebook as Wednesday at 4 p.m. Knowing me--it was probably written on a Tuesday at 8 a.m.

Wednesday at 4 p.m.


Have you ever just sat on a bench and just calmly observed life as it passed, right before your eyes? People of all sorts strolling by living their lives, while you just sit there with yours on hold. I do more thinking than acting, and more nothing than everything.

I often watch people. One night I took a ride around the campus and there was a student playing banjo on the bench at 10 p.m. It took every bone in my body to not go over and say hello, suspenseful in the dark. It was the night Obama won presidency, and I was sad over some school fiasco and blew some steam off with a late-night bike ride. The banjo was calming. A part of me now wishes I sat down with the banjo player. Also, hopefully its not just me witnessing this hilarity, but I often see students walking around campus playing the harmonica. That is just great.

Sometimes the only way to stop life and see others is to simply sit down and breathe.

Creativity flows about

I'm back to school and have already accomplished...the first nap of the semester. Which considering was taken approx 1 hour after I arrived, I'm a slacker. I've got to get going on more internships stuff. Oh ps this blog isn't going to be about me ranting or writing things about my life anymore--that is right folks, its turning into a creative writing blog!!! Its about time I got out the good old writing pad, and used my brain. So I will spare you all the details of my life, and give you stories instead. More to come

Short Story # 2. Healing a Poet May be Harder Than Painting

Look beneath the floorboards for the stories I have hid.


I walked into the house the other night, my parents were chatting with my father's friend before he and his friend went out and my mother to work. A box of wine and dining room chairs marked it was Friday night. Nonchalantly entering the house to grab some food after work my parents cheerfully said, "Here is the poet." Which I brushed off, because I do consider myself a poet, but then I did one of those movie-like, 'wait go back what did you say' moments. They said it again. This time adding an adjective "secret"--thus Genevieve the secret poet.

My fathers friend went onto explain that he has a son that is in a semi-famous band and that he never knew about this. Its strange. How well do we even know those closest to us? How well do we know the person we see every morning, as we scrub our teeth and comb our hair to impress those we think we know?

I was thinking I know my parents from when there were age 23 and 26, the moment I started living, but before that who were they and how did they view the world. That's their secret for me. And though I ponder, I don't ask, out of fear of closeness. Sometimes I try to look at family as if they are just people I'm close to, trying to see something I haven't before. My mother as just Elizabeth, and see how she sees herself, my Dad as Stephen the golfer/drummer, Grace as just some loving hippie, and Charlotte and Noah as people not part of an intricate and complex family mosaic.

I also sometimes wish and hope that the word and verb 'heal' could take over my life. I say it more often than not that I need to be healed or someone in my life needs to be healed, or that once I'm healed everything in my life will merge into a cosmic whole of no return, a good reaching point. I find myself in nature most days, pensive, understanding those days heal me, piece rough edges back together, repair torn capillaries, the lungs clearer and crisper on a cold fall day.

I'm now unsure what I mean by healed. Instead of healed I would rather view things as an abstract painting. Where you can stand in a museum, in a square room with a bust statue in the center, white walls, illuminated paintings and your not sure what to make of some be-loved work, a well-known one. You know the pain and suffering that went into making the painting, the debilitating battles of where to place the brush, how to translate feelings to material. You see the texture on the canvas, the deep understanding of color, and for a moment you get lost in the painting seeping into the already dried and weathered oil, and begin to appreciate it for what it is, not the harsh lines drawn across the indented canvas that compose the whole.

Instead of being healed or in the "ing" phase--healing, I'd rather be a completed painting on a once stark white canvas, on stark white walls, illuminated with the most cautious lighting and composed of the softest brush strokes, the harshest lines and the most eloquent waves.

My parents call me their poet. For a while I was a poet to myself and to my pen and paper. The words have freed me from a canvas to the world, where they can heal, more than I will ever know.

**as most of my other stories, it is in the process of major re-vamping.

Pumpkin Head, String Dance

So if there is one thing you might know about me you might say I have a love affair with Conan O'Brien. And this isn't a recent revelation mind you. I've been watching this man's show from the time I was ten until now, alas making it the past ten years. I remember it vividly, channel 44, MSNBC would replay the prior nights episode the next day at 5 p.m. I would often rush to the television in my room and catch the monologue before family dinner (strange to think we all sat down around the table for dinner way back then), but it was the comedic highlight for a while of my life. He inadvertently taught me that it was okay to be a questionable list of things and somehow pull it off, un-proportionately lanky and tall, eccentric, strange, quirky, so pale as if to never see the sun, literary, a nerd and jock, guitar playing, freckled with bright as bright can be--red hair. You see its not like I planned it this way, for me to become the epitome of Conan O'Brien or some other real life effigy.

Back to the point. With the whole late-night schedule situation all I can say is 1. I saw this coming, NBC execs need to get their bald capitalistic heads out of their asses. 2. Love the man, but Jimmy Fallon on Late Night was doomed to ruin the run it had for Conan's 16 years. Doomed. The man runs through the monologue and plays game-shows as the pre-interview segements. Honestly, Late Night shows require the best of the best script writers, the most outlandish humor and Fallon isn't bringing it. Which brings me to my next point--Why is no one questioning Fallon, its questioning Leno and O'Brien. Another clear fact, 3. Leno is not funny. Monday night headlines are funny, because it doesn't require the staff to write the jokes and skits. NBC putting Leno back onto the 11:35 p.m. time slot is absurd and fiscally reckless. They're wasting money contracted to O'Brien (who could be doing a good job) and screwing the show's ratings even more by replacing the show (again) with Leno.

I'd like to say I'm an insider, as I live for the camera writing and production and all that jazz--I'm not. I'm just someone watching a Late-Night revolution. But this isn't the world. The world isn't quick punchlines, and skits making fun of politicians and disregarded d-list celebrities, it is real and sometimes not so easy. The reason I appreciate the Tonight Show so much is because of its ability to portray this time at 11:35 as an escape, as something purely comedic for an hour of my day. Its sad to see one of my heroes leave, who knows what is next. I sit here with my black "Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien" t-shirt on completely saddened by the news. At least I still have my "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" mug (which suited him so much better.)

Sorry is not an emotion they express

Sorry is Not an Emotion they Express

The pair of eyes that glow in the directed light

Mine cast upon its without a thought

The droplets of Wyoming rain that reflect on the sharp brown hair

That I want to comb so desperately, that I want to run my delicate hands through

The paws that rummage through whatever the furless own

The relentless teeth that tear through the Nana’s red checkered table cloth

The sweet melody of the harmonica’s tune is cast away

As the wretched sound of misery confronts our ears

In the dark of the night

He leaves unapologetic

With a trail of baked beans and ketchup

Planted in Time

....A short story, that wont be so short hopefully soon. It might become a novel who knows. All I know is I've got to get writing.

Planted In Time

As simple as one forthright question it all began. I asked my mother for a plant. A flowery blossoming green living breathing one. She said that the sea air breezing through my window would be an unsuitable atmosphere for an organism such as this. But as always some deep desperation in her heart to prove herself right and me wrong, or maybe just to soothe my agitation for having such a sterile living environment, she visited me and brought a plant. To my dismay it wasn’t a beautiful flowering species, but rather a small self contained spider plant, with strong vibrant leaves, and some small white flowers. Beautiful and non-descript. It fit.

It created the homey feeling on my otherwise blank dirty-cream colored walls, and a distraction to the abomination that was my roommates half of the rectangled room. If there was ever an invisible but tangible line drawn across a territory than I’m sure it was in this room.

It could be physically lifted out of the pot, and its roots showing, as dry as the August grounds back home, the leaves still strong and green, reminiscent of a nourished green house specimen. As the seasons changed with stale sea winter chills and isolation the plant would seem to be doomed.

Two years later it reminds me of the first year of the life of the plant, and of my life--as a 20-year-old , I sit by the window looking out towards the mountains and the setting sun that always peaks over the steeple, with the miraculously living plant reaching towards the setting sun. It was thirsty for sunlight, and certainly water. I was tired for sleep.

A horticulturist told me these plants can live to ten years and above. I don't even know where I will be in ten years. Ten years after my first week of college.

Marley and Me

I watched Marley and Me last night with my brother. Oh speaking of my brother he is 12 and last night he walked around the house and said, "Thats my stuff bitch," jokingly of course but my true self came out and laughed my ass off, then after I said, "No, Nick, thats not right, you can't be swearing." He was still laughing. Then he said it to Lindsey and right after her face scowled and she yelled at him. Reflective of parenting skills in the far far far far future? Possibly haha.

Back to Marley and Me....the movie was good. Except I hate how they portray Journalism in the movies as this luxurious job, this I write 2 columns a week and get paid __k a year. Thats not it at all. But its a movie. I also am not a huge dog person at all, but this movie made me want to get a dog. Say I do go to New York this summer, I know I probably wont have the time or energy for a dog, but I could really see myself walking it around. Maybe.

Although the movie did make me think--maybe I should be writing columns since I only blab about what I really understand, know about and like. I should be writing columns. Only problem is columnists usually strike me as pure annoying.


Why is everything in my parents house always breaking?! Last night I was supposed to hang out with friends, my mother was working, my father was at the comedy club, and I was squatting while draining the water heater. Great times. But thats life and now I know what to do when you hear your tank making a sound like its gonna blow. Haha I yelled and told the kids to get out of the house. So dramatic.

I woke up and had this dire need to go to Newport, mainly because the sky is crystal clear blue, and its just so perfect out, but its so spur-of-the-moment that no one is around. I miss Newport and just want to go ice-skating and see the shops. If my plan for the summer doesn't work, my backup plan is to live in Newport, because of the beaches, and you can pretty much walk everywhere, or in my case bike and/or moped....depending upon whether or not my dad would let me take it. Now that I'm thinking that sounds like so much fun.

I have three days off from work that is unless they call me tomorrow, in which case I will work. Things are good, I'm feeling optimistic and am trying to be appreciative of everything in my life. Because I should be.

Hope things are good with you, chances are you're probably on break from school and sort of want to go back sort of not wanting to go back. I'm there with you on that one. I was going to post an interesting news article or something but I haven't read the New York Times in over three weeks. Chika What!!

A little more than a week and It'll be sweet freedom.

...Well, something like it. Although I'll hopefully be writing articles, and doing homework, I'll also be working alot stashing up money, and getting in serious shape. Although I worked over break, I'm coming back with some money, but I do have expenses. Which sucks, I hate spending money. I desparatley need new sneakers, and boots and then I have to go by all that school stuff...notebooks and ink. I never buy books, I won't give into that scam. Thats what the library is for.

This break was a whole bunch of blah I could have gone without. I hate January. At least I know when I graduate I will not be residing in Massachusetts. My plans after school are to work abroad in Spain or Ireland, or to live in NYC pending on whether I like it, or make it there. First I've got to get through this semester. Last semester was upsetting, for the amount of work I put in and how busy I was I sucked with my finances, and I got B's and a C+. To me it doesn't get worse. Next semester I better do better. I like going to school and therefore should really do better, because this semester killed my GPA. I'm going back knowing what I've got to do. Its proabably going to be a small social life and large work/school life. Hopefully it'll pay off after school.

Sometimes I just wish money didn't exist, and I could live on a beach and eat pineapple, and write.

Speculative.

So I saw "Its complicated." Its clear to say I have a thing for Alec Baldwin and probably always will.

The past couple of days have been rough. I'm just trying to realize that I need to be appreciative of what I have and go from there. Of course I want to be the world traveler as my grandmother calls me and tell tales of inspiring feats but inorder to get there I have to take small steps, and we all know I run, well, like a cheetah.

Other than that I remain highly questionable of my life right now and what I'm doing with it. I feel rotten just thinking that I have the freedom to choose, when other people are stuck in their ways of life with no choice. I guess I have to look at it glass half full and go from there. I don't know, school is great and all, but I want to see the world. Meet people, meet places, figure out something new about the world, and about myself. As always, I need God and so I continue on.

I keep saying 'this year will be about' but I don't really know, we'll have to let it unfold. I guess last year was all about pulling myself up by the bootstraps and facing everything I hated about myself and doing somethign about it. Not that I perfected myself, because I haven't and will never be completely put together, I who I am. The other day my friend said to me, "Before anyone can love you you have to love you first." And I agreed, and for once, yes I like who I am, and don't really care so much as to what the outsiders think anymore. Which probably explains the way I dress these days.

This year, if I had to describe a theme or wish as to what would happen, I want to let go of the past, change my whole view to optimism, and start my life. Maybe find a decent guy.

Oh also needing mention, I am like a five-year old girl, waiting for e-mails from someone, that hasn't emailed me back after our last conversation. Its rediculous and I should stop. I'm glad I just admitted that.

Oh confessions on a blank lit up screen.

Hope everyones New Year resolutions are going well. My resolution to not drink so much and not eat chocolate was quickly diminished when it went from 11:59 to 12 a.m. and I still had chocolate and champange in my hand. Oh indulgence.

El ano nuevo

Its the new year everyone. It feels the same, as I'm sure for most of you it does. I think I had the most low key New Years ever but thats okay, we all know I'm not that much of a wild child anymore.
I got my camera. I started photographing my least favorite season...winter. Ick. For the first day of the new year it was pretty mundane, and I haven't thought about how much I need to change, but I do.

The Auburn Tundra.....

Bird flocks and twisted branches.

I'm buying a Nikon D3000 and I'm pretty excited. Its going to be fun to learn how to take actual pictures, just not point and shoots. I have an appreciation and eye for different angles and ways of capturing life, and cannot wait to start.

Today was the perfect picture moment and I wish I had the camera. I got a pair of rainboots finally for Christmas, and though I didn't want to give into the whole 'I go to UMass Amherst thus wear rainboots' stigma, but I'll give them this, they are quite practical. This is also because I went for a run yesterday and left my sneakers on the back deck to wake up to beautiful snowfall soaking my shoes. They were already wet though, because at the end of my runs I go to the golf course adjacent to my house. Yesterday the snow had just melted but I felt like running free. It was fun and my feet were soaked.

Today I wanted to walk, take a calm slow approach to the day and after walking around the neighborhood I got to the golf course. It was that time of day where every look over to the sun looks as if it could be in a frame. The sun never becomes mundane. It takes new life everyday, reflecting off the snow, hiding behind winter clouds and peaking over birch and pine trees. I had one of those moments today where its so perfect, just meant to be only in the moment, and can't be explained or translated through film or photography. I was sprinting across the course along side the perimeter unoticed by anyone or anything, not even the gander of geese was disturbed, which felt quite nice, to be both invisible and important.

Its quite funny how some places such as a golf course can become so beautiful in your own eyes. My father has been golfing since his youth, and is one of the best golfers in town so I hear, but I have never bothered to try actually playing on the course. I know I can hit a mean ball because of practice at the range and my kick-ass field hockey drives, that are now useless, but the calmness and discipline that is golf never appealed to me. Field Hockey worked because I could swing a stick near or at people, I could run faster than anyone else, I could hit the ball pretty damn good. It gave me discipline in my younger life. The point is I never tried golf, but still like golf courses. Sort of like I don't like bananas that much, but I love banana bread.

Back to my day. So I was on the golf course having this moment where nothing mattered, not the freezing cold, not the music blaring in my headphones, not the fact that I was sprinting in galashes, just the mere fact that I was alone and happy. The green farthest away from my house is atop a hill that was seemingly larger when I used to walk up it after sledding down it years ago, but still atop is a hill. At the top of that hill are benches hidden under pinetrees that face the west. I sat there and prayed in the freezing windy December evening, facing the west. Its moments like these I'm thankful for. Moments where I can sprint around in rainboots, in the snow, by myself on a golf course--happy as can be. Once I get my camera you better bet I'm going on an excursion and taking pictures of all these lovely places I'm describing.

I'm feeling optimistic and would love if it stayed that way. I feel strong and centered. Hope you are all excited for the new year.

El Apple

Everyday I think about next year in my apartment, where I will be able to cook stew, involving potatoes, sweet potatoes, veg broth, celery, carrots, spinach, leeks, basil, for example, I don't know why I'm just specifically mentioning stew. I love the dorm I'm in now this year and the convenience of living on campus, but I seriously cannot wait to be able to cook and just do stuff myself. I hate bein ruled by the "man" that is UMass. Well this summer I'll find out what its like to make it on my own, in the city, with my best friend. I'm going to run in central park, play on the streets, and do it up. I don't know why I'm looking so far ahead but its fun to think about. The city. Ah.

ENFP

I'm an ENFP under the personality stuff. But really its an acronym for Eternal Nonetheless Fuckup Progressor.

Whats a Christmas gram? I want one!

Merry Christmas everyone. Hope everyone enjoyed it and sort of remembered whats its all about--the gifts. Haha kidding, but I hope you atleast know why it is celebrated. I am definitely thanking God for how fortunate I am, that I can enjoy Christmas and hang out for a day. Though this whole being around the family thing can be very stressful. I sort of keep thinking to myself what would happen if I just left for a bit. Left school, left everyone and everything to go find myself or how I'm supposed to spend this life. Sort of like in that book "Eat, Pray, Love" granted the women was a totally self-indulgent and pittying. I sort of in a way understand Elizabeth Gilbert's want to leave her mundane life, her unhappiness behind and go find something inspiring. I would be lying if I said I was completely happy. Though Christmas is good, and things are great, they don't make me happy. My point being maybe leaving everything that doesn't make me happy behind will allow for only good things to come into my life. I'm still broken and the family continues to break me, my money continues to break me, my own image of the world continues to break me. This year will be all about transforming my views, my beliefs to something that makes me happy. I thought that over the summer I got my life together and was good with family and God and all that. I was dead wrong, I'm still working on myself every day.

If I had planned out the whole Belize thing I would be leaving tomorrow, but in a way I'm saving money, and the reason I was going was to help write a book and you can't actually write a book in 8 days now can you?

I got money towards a camera, I think I'm going for Nikon but don't know what slr I'm getting yet. I got clothes all of which I am exchanging, a too-big sweater, pants too short for my legs, no one seems to realize that I barely have a torso I'm all legs, and a shirt that is baby pink...I DO NOT wear baby pink. ick. I wear black, green, and ocassionally blue.

Now as for those resolutions: That I will keep...
Finish a novel, one of the many I've been attempting to write for years
Or complete a book of my poetry
Get an internship in NYC with Natgeo, Fallon or the Nightly News, I'm aiming high
Keep who I am in perspective, but change some things
Change my cynicism to optimism
Just let loose and have a year filled with love, traveling, journalism related endeavors, and good friends.


Cheers.

Pictures of the Past

The past couple days or week have been really hard. Just re-arranging my life for about five weeks while I'm home for winter break. I'm still figuring out where I am interning in NYC in the summer and what classes I am taking next semester, and what I need to do next to pull it together, and to have some damn fun. I'm finding myself to be extremely quiet and serious, and introverted, and to that I say WTF! I've decided after Christmas I'm buying a Nikon, and that's that. I am stashing all of my work money and returning to school, for my sixth semester...
Today I also had lunch with my family and my great-grandparents from my mother's side of the family. They are possibly the most loving adorable people I have ever seen. My great-grandfather crafts little wood figurines, and puts googly eyes on them and smiles and funny sayings, and it just showed me to slow down a bit, enjoy the simple things before its too late. Occasionally my ggpa will talk about WWll and how he was stationed as a 20-year-old in the Philippines and I just think about it imagine being 20 and being told you had to fight in that war. Incredible, hes a purple heart because of it.
I had quite a nostalgic night. I never really thought more about Costa Rica after I had left last January. I had an amazing time a year ago and that was that, but for some reason it popped into my head again. The feeling I had before I left the days after Christmas re-materialized. It is a feeling that could be described as amazement, child-like excitement, and complete trust and faith that it would work out, something making your heart beat a little faster, a bit stronger. I couldn't sleep the night before I left. I don't know why I decided to think about this almost exactly a year later. I look back at myself a year ago, and not much has changed, maybe I'm a little more pre-occupied, and a bit more tight laced on how I run my life, but I'm still the same I guess, which makes me wonder why I am not doing something crazy like this again. That trip re-enforced the idea that I was meant to be on my feet out an about. I could never work in an office and stare at a computer screen all day. I found myself loving life because I could immerse myself with a different culture, a different language, and a fond appreciation of a lifestyle much less materialistic, and much more environmentally friendly. Basically I don't think or believer that in the near future I could settle down, own a bunch of things, and have an established non-mobile sort of lifestyle. After college I will be moving, around the world hopefully.
Tonight I had vivid images of galloping on a horse on dominicalita beach, and riding through fields of palm trees, coconut trees, sloths, tucans, macaws, monkeys and wild boars. I thought of how fortunate I was to be able to go in the first place, how great my best-friend who invited me is and how truly beautiful life can be. The people in Costa Rica live so simply, and so beautifully at the same time. I remember getting of the airplane and first thanking God my head didn't explode, on the decent. I flew eight hours alone, and ended up in the airport alone for quite some time, but was taken back by the mountains. They were up to 13,000 feet tall, which I had never seen before...only for me to later find out we would wind and curve in a packed SUV over these mountains for four hours, playing chicken with trailer trucks lugging stuff up and over to the pacific. Scary as hell.
One of my favorite parts of the trip was the day we went to a beach called, "Las Ventanas" where monkeys swing on vines above the 100 foot sedimentary cliffs. After a day at the beach with caves that have water rushing in to the beach and out to the ocean, which you can swim in, we left only to find the SUV wouldn't start. We then hitched a ride with two guys from Wisconsin to a gas station. We needed to get back to the place we were staying on top of a mountain before it was too late, and it was about 20 miles down the road. Well, a VW from the 60s ended up picking us up, with the doors being held together by bungee chords, and it chugged alone the pacific coast as it drove us back at dusk. We all knew it, we would have to hike up the mountain to the house we were staying in, there was no way that this van would make it up. All we could do was laugh, because that day was such an adventure. Only the day before there was one of the biggest earthquakes Costa Rica had to date and was extremely destructive--luckily enough I didn't even feel it, other parts of the country did though.
So the van dropped us off--at the bottom of the mountain--in the dark. I had a dress and flip flops on. Once again I found myself laughing and cringing at the same time, because this was possibly the steepest mountain and road I had ever seen. Also it was dangerous, because being the jungle, there are large cats and such, that are hungry. We made it, and I have to say this is one of the best adventures I ever had. We rode horses to waterfalls, and hiked through the rainforest and swam in the ocean with dolphins. In the past year I can't think of a time that I had been happier, more excited about the future, living in the very moment. That was the start of the year, and this is the end.
This year I have learned a lot about myself and life, and that is isn't some whimsical thing that I had always thought it was. I became increasingly cynical and along with that became becoming increasingly independent but busy. I also increasingly questioned myself, my beliefs, my family, the way I understand things--myself. But let me tell you, we all set goals for ourselves, climbing points. Its as if your climbing a rock wall and you say that in the next 30 seconds you better be 20 feet higher and you feel the rope give and you end up going back 10 feet. And you realize that it isn't all that bad, because you've still got time, and you've got the rope to help you out. That was my year. So here I am on December 22,and I know a couple things, 1. I have the most amazing friends, 2. I want to be a journalist, and 3. What I want out of this life, and what I want to use it for.

I you guys had a good year, and learned something new about yourself, or did something for someone, made a difference, made a new friend, or maybe turned to God in times of despair (such as what I did). There is so much to do, learn, see and live. Here's to a happy and healthy end of the year, and onto the next decade. That is so weird to say...I still remember the millennium. I was 10 and wore shiny metallic pastel blue pants that matched what I thought was "so millennium." I was also obsessed with the Backstreet Boys.

All I can do is pour some tea for two and speak my point of view

I've abandoned this thing...so much has been going on, but its a whole lotta nothing.

You know that song "No Rain" by Blind Melon, I often find myself listening to this and agreeing with every sung word. Its soothing.

If one were to ask me about my mood right now it would be bothered. Bothered by many things that dwelling or caring about produce imminently blank blah feelings, that should be disregarded. But me being me, soaks things in like a sponge, and just becomes fragile rather than stronger.

It has been a week now without my phone. It is hard to believe 10 years go people could in fact live their lives without them. I wonder what it was like. I was still so young then, clogging up the aol dialup with talking on the home phone for ever.

I'm thinking about a couple things now....when or if my so called "real life start" will start anytime soon, when I don't have to imagine what things will be like, where I'll be working, who I'll be going out with, what I'll be, how I find my place in the world. I think that is what I want most--a place in this crazy world, and hoping somehow I can try to fix it, for one person or one group of people who need it most.


I also have come to the conclusion that I am 20-years-old and its time to get my shit together and leave. Leave all my spite behind, and most importantly forget any wrong doings anyone has done to me or any negative thoughts about the world or my life I may hold on to, because if the past is holding me back, what is pushing me forward?

A common theme in my journal of my life, is that I'm searching. Paralleling most things, I don't know what I'm searching for. I'd like to say its not God because I have God in my life, but God for me its the opposite of a fairweather sort of situation. When things aren't great its because of me, and I just dwell, but when things are good its because of God. I might be searching for someone to love, or someone to understand me, or for my place in the world, and when everything will be constantly good. I guess I have my health, a brain, a sense of humor, and an education, and of course bright red hair--I want to do something drastic, challenging, and great. I've just got to make it happen.

Now that I read all of this it seems sort of trivial. There is a man who stands on the corner of Greenwood and route 20 everyday. His image is too vivid, an emaciated bearded older man, with a cardboard sign explaining he needs money for his cancer. This kills me. I think God explains that there is so much injustice in the word, we can start by prayer.

I can remember this time last year. It was my first semester completed at UMass, and though I liked it, I remember explaining to Lindsey and Molly on break, about the idea that I don't belong there I want to be in the world doing something and anything to be my own person and stand for my own beliefs and ideals, and put them to use. It was because I had taken this class detailing the great imbalances in the world we live in and how the few hegemonic states are incredibly irresponsible and reckless. Don't get me wrong I still fully believe this. But I sat there sort of stuck in the idea, that I was learning about all the situations that needed change but that there was no way to do it, no point to it. Now I just know I have something pushing me forward, so I'll hold onto that and go for it.



I need strength and prayer. One day will come when I don't feel broken, or that every piece of my life has been criticized, scarred, and hurt. I'm hurt, not Johnny Cash hurt, Chelsea Whitton hurt, and this time I'm not going to even try to make things better, because it always ends up like this, me alone, and hopeless.
I've got to figure something out because I can't do this much longer. I'm sick of waiting to feel put back together again, or that anyone wont accept me until I am put back together. I guess that's the way I've always seen it.

Dwelling doesn't do anything and doesn't change whats been done. Consequently, when there are people rummaging for food, I'm trying to not eat as much, when there are people saving rain water for thirst, I can go to my facet, where there is an orphaned child, and I have everything, when I want to go swimming there are people in Bangladesh up to their shoulders in their homes, because of Himalayan glacial melt and global warming deriving from industrialized countries. So in some way all of my reflections on my life are mostly trivial and ridiculous and not noteworthy. I'll work on providing some content eventually that could one day be of some use.

NPR broadcasted headlines that journalists collected over the years for many different reasons...Headlines with intentional meanings:
"Prostitues appeal to Pope."
"Drunk gets 9 months in violin case."
"Panda making fails, vetranearean fails."
"Red tape holds up new bridge."
"Astronaut takes blame for gas in space craft."
"Iraqi head seeks arms."

Ha, this is great.

Let it snow

I'll start of by saying I am the most fickle person in God's creation. No body ever said having lots of options was a bad thing right? FOCUS is a gift I was not given. Also keeping my shit together wasn't a gift either. But we can't have it all haha.

Today in church I sort of was John Edward(ed) into realizing that I truly have turned away from the good path I was on. I'm not on a bad path just a weird path. Kindof like the one in Wizard of OZ that has apple trees chucking apples at you. Yes that path, somewhere between reality and fiction. This isn't anything new really just a thought that was brought forth amongst the many thoughts in my head these days, and I felt I needed to prioritize.

After church India and I strolled through Amherst. Can I just say how much I love this town, I could never just walk around Auburn, with coffee, casually walking...I mean I ride my bike around Auburn and even that is risque. But we all know I live on the edge of a cliff most of the time. I got a white chocolate peppermint mocha from Starbucks, that is the most snobbish sounding drink ever, but its really good. So I'll sacrifice my humbleness for that drink haha. Its also way too expensive. Oh capitalism.

So India and I strolled about and looked at Christmas trees because, well, they smelled amazing and its just so damn Christmasy around this place. Which I happen to love. After that instead of retreating back to my little room I decided that I would go for a run, it was cold, but gorgeous out.

I like to make Sundays my 'explore Amherst days', and usually that is what they are. I ran on the trail and found some trails that branched off of the main trail and realized how in the middle of no-where I was. Though I was scared at first-at the thought of a bear sneaking up, or even worse a moose, I was more cautious of other lingering people. But un-interrupted I just traveled around and ended up on this hill, with a bunch of hay circles (forgot the actual name of these things) and just stood on them, and realized that I was completely alone. Exactly what I wanted. I sometimes find the most peace at places like this, where there is an empty field, where everything is gone for the winter except me. The sun was shining and I just sat there and did some thinking and praying. I then ran back to campus, played some guitar, and after multiple attempts to nap, I am here, lingering on.

Did I mention Friday night some friends and I watched "Elf" and cut snowflakes? It was hilarious because I cut this snow flake out of paper that looked very cultural and we all started cutting out snowflakes that were then taped up to a door frame for decoration and each labeled a country. I was responsible for, "Guatemala" and the "Incan" cultural snowflake. So funny. I was on the quest to cut out one resembling Iran but I just couldn't do it ;).

Over break I want to get the family's violin fixed and start trying to learn. I plan on working, hopefully getting a camera, and new guitar, practicing yoga, and getting internship things squared away.

As for how things are, I'm as irresponsibly hilarious as ever, but getting things done. I leave for home very soon, and am feeling quite in the Christmas spirit. I am praying and constantly renewing everyday.

Cheers.