| (no subject) |
[Jun. 13th, 2008|04:43 pm] |
It's Friday the 13th.
I'm at work.
I just put up my first route on the climbing wall. It's called Captain Hook.
I am trying to conquer a route that has been holding me captive for a week. Everyone can do it except for me.
That will change, today. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 2nd, 2008|05:56 pm] |
I am sick of society, media, culture, business, and academia.
I am sick of money, transportation, internet and insecurities.
I am sick of scrutiny, Homeland Security, and fascist policies.
I want to go live in the mountains in Latin America, grow my own food, and ride horses.
I want to spend a week in a tree.
I want to be happy with where I am, what I have, and what I can do.
I want to get out of the web that is America, that traps you in a never-ending cycle of loneliness, second-guessing and that search for something "more."
We lack communication, we lack humanity, and we lack the connections that keep us alive.
Today I saw a man on the bus reading a book called "Why Your Life Sucks."
All I could think was, "Well...at least he knows it sucks."
So. Mountains. Horses. Vegetables. Trees. Air.
Who's with me? |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 5th, 2008|02:08 am] |
I work at a rock climbing wall.
I even have special rock climbing shoes. They hurt my feet. I guess they are supposed to, though.
Logan is visiting right now. Pretty much awesome. I am quite honored.
In other news, it appears that I basically fail at communication with others, as well as with myself. I harbor a depth of respect and loyalty for the people I love, and they certainly do not comprehend it, much less understand it. I don't know how to share those things, how to burn down the walls that allow me to keep assuming. Does anyone know how to be honest, how to be fair? Can you teach me? How do you tell someone the whole truth? Are there even words? Because I am too obsessive about words to merely settle. Which leaves my attempts at communication sounding hollow and forced, full of contradictions and too many words. I guess.
Oh. And. Uh. Kyle and I have decided Captain Jack might be the spawn of Satan. He is a quite unassuming, even odd little dog, but we fear he will still be alive in 30 years, unchanged, unaltered. Just watching, staring. Waiting for his moment.
My throat hurts. I'm going to drink some water and go to sleep. Hooray! |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 27th, 2008|11:25 am] |
we are born the way a ship is born inside of a bottle,
or the way an obsession begins.
when you feel around in the dark,
that's your childhood tugging at your hand-
a green lake riddled with wire.
when you find the perfect song,
you will grind your teeth against its silences,
and the tension will carry you like a grudge
towards the core that tastes like the first place you remember. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 19th, 2008|10:52 am] |
You know how there are people who understand, and people who don't?
I'm having trouble making that distinction. So I don't know who to talk to.
And I don't even know if I need to talk to someone, because their ideas then wiggle and squirm through my ears and into my brain. There they stay, insidious, omnipresent and never quiet. They persistently scratch at my resolve, drawing blood and leaving several sore spots, until I begin to second-guess my decisions. What if they are right? What if I am wrong? What if there's no such thing? |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 14th, 2008|11:00 pm] |
My kitty turned a year old on the eleventh.
She's adorable.
See??
(Sorry about how obnoxiously large this picture is. Photobucket is being an ass. Fuck technology, and all its done to the world. Amen.) |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 10th, 2008|12:03 pm] |
What the FUCK is going on in my life right now?
Is this a test?
Because if it is, well, I definitely didn't study, and now I can't find my pen. Pretty typical.
Like three different math problems, all with the same answer.
But I guess I never learned this particular algorithm. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 18th, 2008|02:14 pm] |
woah.
something very unexpected has occurred.
it's not so much WHAT has happened, as WHY that bothers me.
because there is no WHY.
and for me, there's ALWAYS a fucking WHY.
but maybe that's just it-
i need to stop asking stupid questions. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 29th, 2008|11:50 am] |
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"well other than that, mrs. lincoln, how was the play?" |
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pirateswin's journal
