Pockets of Peace

I never understood what artists meant when they said that they are not the creators of their work, that some energy or God works through them and they are just the instrument. But a couple nights ago I was having this static energy in my hands before I was getting ready for bed. My mind was sagging and tired but I felt like I had to write, like I had this pent up poem in my hands that had to come out otherwise it would keep me awake. So I wrote. And usually I detest poetry, or at least my own. I am no poet. But after I came up with this one, I feel like maybe I could start.

I think I'll call it Staying up with God.

                 

I don't have much to say,

other than I talk too much. 

I skip sounds in my feet

add lyrics to a beat

but I don't know how to be quiet.

Thoughts push like a crowd

and each one is loud

but I don't want to buy it.

Because when I become still

each feeling in me is filled

with  consistent one.

I don't have to be pretty or impressive 

or act tough or aggressive 

as a spirit I am done. 

But these pockets of peace 

are hard to keep 

and in that way (or in of it itself) become vital

In this world that can so easily crash

we drink booze and smoke hash 

to keep away the darkness which comes like a tidal.

That's why you have to grow your glow

reap what you sow 

and know that everyone is here for a reason

Go confidently into life

bring joy into strife

and love yourself, because God never plans for treason.

Repeat, "I am me, I am me

I am strong I am free

and if not then I'm getting there."

I'm no saint or sage 

but I got a pen and this page 

and this is what i've come to share.

They will tell in life: be that or do this 

But to know self,  to know God

my advice,

follow your bliss. 

Then the World Should end more often

Today is 12.21.12 the ominous day where it was proposed to be our last day. Yet this morning with all my fellow worker yogi buddies we played games. We played animal charades and pictionary with horrible drawings and ever more horrible guesses. We laughed and cat called and generally acted silly. A bunch of adults acting like children. It was fantastic.

Usually our meetings in the morning are for reading out our duties and planning for the day ahead. But today we played games. And then to top it off we were told to sit down as our leader brought in ice cream and cookies for breakfast. There we were. The 12, yes 12 current apostles sitting around the yellow round table, having The Last Breakfast. Cameras came out and laughs spilled out. So I say if this is what happens at the end of the world, then the world should end more often.

Tell me it gets better

Bad day today. Feeling like I will always be on the bottom. That I'll always be the grunt, the nobody, the body of the chain. I'm tired of being powerless. It's hard for me to feel like I have any energy to climb the long ladder up.

Please tell me it gets better.

Never Left me at All

These are the things I've heard, things I'm affirming, and things that I don't know where they come from

"Once you become aware, you can't go back. Conciousness is both a gift and a curse."-

"It's okay, each day I'm becoming alittle more positive."-

"Thank you ma, thank you for the warmth of you in the sun"-

"You should do it, why not?"-

"I am calm, I am safe, I am happy"-
"By the grace of God I will sleep soundly"-

"No cellphones, no buildings, no internet. You totally disconnect. You sleep under the stars and catch your own fish, and bathe in the ocean. That is what real life is."-

"Knowledge comes from the mind, but wisdom speaks from the heart."-

God is transient and fluid. I feel like he looks out for me and other times I feel as lonely and deserted as rock in the desert. I am trying so hard to match my heart to my head, to believe in these affirmations and positive outlooks on life. But my heart hurts so much because I feel unhappy so often. I do not know if God is trying to tell me I won't live long or that the world will be over soon. Maybe that is why I've always felt so stressed and so afraid of this life. All I know is that I hope at the end he will be there for me, and hug me, and tell me he never left me at all.

 

Locked in a Glass Room

Spirituality. Fuck. It's tough. More laborious than shoveling concrete and more mentally exhausting than try to understand biophysics.

I am 20 years old, a time when I should be out partying, getting wasted, or getting a boyfriend. Yet here I am in the mountain in an ashram taking out trash and washing toilet seats. To say I feel a little odd being here would be an understatement. I don't feel like I should be here and at the same time I feel like I need to be here.

To say my time here is all smiley and divine would be a lie. I cry a lot. Sometime just during yoga, or eating. It's quite pathetic really. I'm battling my ego, my doubts about being in this hippy dippy place, and my aversions to God, all to see if maybe I have some kind of kind of hope or soul in me.

I can't really describe my constant need to be better, or at least to be different. I am never happy with the way I am or my bad habits, I am always looking for that next new diet plan or that new type of exercise or new talent to make me feel like I'm proud of myself or that I've achieved becoming a more whole person.

The people at this place seem joyous and are always focused. It's enviable and its hard to not compare yourself.

My experience with spirituality is akin to being locked in a glass room with nothing to break out the walls with but my fists. I see the smiling people outside, all laughing and talking with one another and I go through the stages. Jealousy. I want to be out there with them. I see the sun and how happy they seem and I want to get where they are. So I start pounding on the windows. But then I realize the glass is double paned. So I get angry. Why the hell put me in a room with a view if I can't even experience it? I start blaming whoever put me here and fume that I have to struggle so hard while everyone else is outside playing in the sun. Then I start pounding some more. My fists begin to bleed. They're sore and hurting but I am so close to desperation now because I feel the big doubt coming on. The one that says "You've worked so hard with no pay off and you still think you're going to make it out?"

That doubt comes like a smoke fire that starts in the room, and the heavy smoke is filling the small space for air, for faith. So I pound with what little strength I have left. Still nothing. And so I don't lose my dignity I start even telling myself that the smoke is just incense. That I'm really at the better place and those damn hippies can have their fields. I cry because even when I tell myself that, I still know I don't believe it.

I am in a hugely different place than what I usually go for. Me, Christina West, analytical thinker, master doubter, in a spiritual commune trying to learn how to meditate. I am still in that glass room and I don't even see the cracks yet. So why do I still try? Why do I still refuse to give up?

One line. "To even want to know God, takes extremely good karma"
I do not want to struggle anymore. I want some sunlight. I want some guidance. I just want to feel like I believe in something, even if it's just believing in myself again.

Great for Snuggling

I miss him, and that scares me.

I was single for a long long time. In fact I've never really had relationships, just passing ships. Flings thats didn't even last long enough to for me to care when they end.

I thought for sure in my mind, that I didn't need men, didn't need someone like everyone else seems to. Then he came along and fucked it all up.

I was spending time with someone, someone who I could discover and let him discover me. It was exciting and nerve racking. It was happiness and yet so much stress.

I don't know if I miss him specifically, or just being with someone. Maybe a bit of both. And I realize it's the small things in a relationship that I love. That hold it all together. That make people want to be together.

I miss how he started nicknames for me.
I miss how he'd cackle when I'd tease him.
I miss how he'd make me laugh when we were fighting
I miss how he'd talk passionately about things I didn't know about or didn't care about before
I miss how he'd reassure me on the phone over stupid insecurities
I miss how he'd kiss my nose, my neck, my bare back.
I miss how he'd reach for me in the night and pull me to him.
I miss how he'd squeeze me when I sat on his lap on the skytrain so I'd know he was paying attention

I hate alot of things he did too, especially since they outweighed the good. But the thing is he gave me a taste of companionship and now I understand the bitterness of being lonely. Of wanting that arm around you at night and finding nothing. I want to say this because I hope someone will read it. Women should be adored. Women should be loved. Women are the feminine divine which bring light and passion and kindness and love to this cold planet. Every single woman out there deserves someone, especially someone who knows the worth of what they hold. I don't care whether men suck or they will always suck, they're still needed, and they're still great for snuggling :P

You need will for Willpower

No no, I will not let him sway me. I will not let someones opinion overrule my dreams. I've done that for way too long. I need to be concrete in my passion. You need will, for willpower. I need to focus on what I hear when there are no other voices. When there is only one. My own.

Broken

I think the scary part is, I need to heal before I can run back into the wild.

I've put so much pressure on myself for the past 2 years. Stressing, and crying, and losing sleep, and worrying, and planning, and moping, and ripping myself to shreds, all over trying to figure out what to do with my life.

The irony of this all is that in figuring out what to do with my life, I've actually never been more out of touch or ignoring who I really am in my quest to figure out what I will be.

I've been saving and planning and yearning and longing for school, for an education, for some kind of passion that will be my ultimate career. Yet I've been ignoring how I'm hurting. How I'm still lost inside myself. How I haven't even spent one week without having at least one breakdown.

I am so broken, I can't even find large enough pieces to put it back together.

Last night I got caught in a bad situation. I went to friends house with a girlfriend who I know is toxic for me. But she and I hadn't seen this girlfriend in awhile and it was supposed to be this great reunion since all three of us had grown up together. It was fantastic. Until it wasn't. We had drinks, and listening to music way too loud, we ate obscene amounts of finger foods, and laughed as we drunkenly jumped outside on her old trampoline. I felt like it was all okay for a night. That I could relax. Just be happy for once and not feel pressured or guilty for not working at having purpose.

Of course though, life caught up to me. Late at night and chilling back in the house, we were all sitting on the couch, and somehow that same toxic friend after having too many drinks starting picking a fight with me. She said I was a bitch, that her friends thought so, that I couldn't see it.

I don't really like this girl, and I like her friends even less, so it shouldn't have bothered me. But it did.

Maybe I just can't handle anymore negativity from others about myself since I kind of don't like myself enough. I just started crying. Although I at least waited till I was outside and grabbed my stuff. I felt bad for our  good hostess for having to witness all of our fighting but I was more just feeling like if didn't get out of there I would shoot that girl and then myself.

So now it was 3am, and no buses are running and I'm in some suburban street.

I was stuck. And I knew it. I could sleep out in some park till buses started running in the morning. But I figured after debating, maybe just maybe I could try phoning my unreliable mother.

Weirdly she answered. And more weirdly she came and got me, at 3am and with her boyfriend who she asked to use his car.

Getting to her house, I fell on the couch and bawled. Like a fucking demon though. Not soft little cries expected from a pipsqueak girl like me. I moaned and shrieked and choked on my sadness. My mother just kept asking what was wrong. And all I could say was, "I'm broken, I'm so broken." It became like a chant.

Of course my mother just thought I was distraught about the fight, but the thing was I was distraught about my whole entire being.

Now here I am. My spirit in shards. I need to find a way to regain who I am before I can even think about entering back into the world.

Make your Own map

"It's time you start taking control of your life. I can't do it anymore, you're an adult now. I can guide you. But it's up to you to do things on your own now."

Yes I know. 
I know dad but it's scary.

Realizing you're an adult when you still feel like a screwed up teenie bopper can be literally the scariest thing to find out. That you are responsible for yourself now. That every tumble, scrape, drunken night, ticket, missed appointment, even food choices are now on you. There is no one to correct, confront, or compromise for you anymore.

I have so much energy and none. I want to be a dancer, a photographer, a musician, a producer, a script writer, an aryuvedic doctor, but as soon as I get home from work all I can accomplish is making dinner and watching TV.

What can you do? What can I do? PLAN.

"Get a poster. Make a dream board. Plan the next few years, things you want to accomplish or see or do. And then get pictures, visuals, reminders. Make a bucket list. Write it all down."

I was coming back from the kitchen one night with my food and heading to my room when I passed my roommates open door. She's one of those perky Australian travellers who have been everywhere and seen everything and the only thing constant in her life is change. I noticed on her closet door she had posted several cute yellow post it notes. Each individual one had a name of a city or place she wanted to go and then even more specifically some had sights or activities to do in each place. I thought my god here I am trying to get stock of my life and here is someone already on the right track.

Goals, plans, dreams sometimes are heavy weights to bear. Court orders or tickets we want to sweep under the rug and pretend they don't exist so we don't actually have to put some effort in.

However they can be light and vital. They can be candied sweets that we savour in our minds and strings in our heart that hold us up.

If you feel lost, thats natural. The only thing you can do it make your own map.

Only as Beautiful as you make it

I need to be positive. But before I do that I need to be positive about being positive. I owe it to others. But mostly I owe it to myself. Life is only as beautiful as you make it.

Timeless

My brother recently came back from Taiwan and it's been great. I feel like for the first time we are close and in a time in our life where we can actually hang, actually talk, actually be buddies. I mean growing up with 6 year difference I was always running after him and his friends; they were the elite to me. These cool hippie badass skater boys who joked and got into trouble and were always telling to me to buzz off and I'd keep chasing them anyways.

One of the boys, Jamie who was always nice to me was getting married. And Jonah's timing couldn't be better seeing as the day after he arrived Jamie was having the wedding. So Jonah offered to bring me as his plus one and secretly I was praying the whole time he would.

I wanted to look hot, to look grown up, shock them all alittle. Maybe even feel like a grown up for once. And I did. I got smiles and lotsa lotsa "Wow we knew you when you were just a pip squeak and look at you now!"

I noticed too how much I missed these goofy guys. Seeing each one of them, despite the small changes and appearances, I was relieved to see the unchangableness in them. They were still those goofy playful wise cracking yet sweet and loveable as hell troublemakers they were now in their late 20's as much as they were when they were 8.

Kevin was still that skinny little Indian gangster dressing wild child who either be cracking jokes or smiling his big goofy grin until you couldn't help but laugh. Evan was still had that sneaky charm and his sarcasm still thick in conversation. And Jamie. Oh the married old man was still the confident sweet weirdo doing lineback dancing and breakdance moves on the dance floor even on his wedding day. All of em, they were like sweet and happy reminders of days in the sun, days of my childhood.

We all ended up on the patio terrace after doing too much dancing in the reception. Smoking cigarellas and double fisting beers we all talked about the good old days and memories so funny you choked on the words. It was like I had never experienced all the bad krap, all the hard krap, or any of the dissapointing krap which is inevitable growing up.

That night was about dancing, and laughing, and eating, and celebrating, and doing some much needed catching up. All so far away and on such different paths now it was hard to leave knowing that we'd probably never see eachother again for another 10 years.

That is why if your reading this, remember to cherish life, and cherish those who are important in that life. Keep the good memories folded away in your heart, keep that glow inside for the hard days outside. Time is fleeting, but memories are timeless.

Or in this case, Goddess

I wonder if this makes me weird, makes me a little of a pariah. But I don't think I love anything more or anyone more than music. She can make me cry, laugh, dance, vent, scream, relax, and even get turned on. I call her she because like a man names his car for affection, I see music as a living being breathing loving entity.

I came home tonight from a particularly difficult day. I was deathly sick and still went into work, and after about 5 mins into my shift realized I was probably going to pass out. I coughed, hacked, and dripped snot over at least 200 angry and impatient people. Alone and the only cashier of the night with a snot ball hanging off my noise and my voice now so scratchy I can barely whisper the total, I had to listen to another person complain about how there wasn't enough people on tills at night. Yeah. Right. Like I didn't fucking know that.
I seriously felt like my life had shrunk and shrivelled and would die in this horrible place and that all my days were going to be like this because I've had too many of them.

I came home planning pretty much on dying. And then maybe eating something. Or whichever order came first. But I listened to some tunes after I filled my belly with some hot soup and she spoke to me in her most softest beautiful voice. She spoke in guitar and piano and in that husky voice, each note saying it's okay. You're okay. Life will be okay.

I love her. She is the only one there in the morning and there for me at night. I keep pretending like I don't know what I want to do with my life, but the truth is I know. Anything that involves getting to know her. Getting to adore her. Getting to honour her, I would be the most happy to do. Music, my only God. Or in this case Goddess.  

Just don't know

Oh ma, the feelings you push in and out of me.
Like waves they come. Soft and gentle, then rough and surging.
It scares me how delicate I am in your palm.
Like an ant you can direct me anywhere with the swipe of your hand.
I am trying to understand but all I hear is the infinite, so loud and yet no real sound.
This sound reverberates in my heart and it hurts to listen.
It tell me you must find out who you are.
It tells me to find my passion
Find love
Find solid ground
But how ma?
How?
I want to be in love with life. Free and beautiful and wonderful.
Do you hear me?
I don't want something
I want to be me.
Can you tell me who that is
Because I don't know anymore.
I just don't know.

So Simple

Yesturday I realized life is beautiful.
I slept in. I cleaned my home and was happy to do it. I went jogging along the park in the sun, the trees making little shutter speed shadows between the sky and me. I breathed in deeply and smiled up at the sun and just said thank you aloud, to someone but I don't even know who.
I took time on my meal and ate it on the porch steps.
I went on into the city filled to the brim with people on Canada Day. I met friends and talked about boys and school times.
I made hooting noises with the crowd as we stared in awe at the night fireworks.
So simple. Nothing big. But so beautiful because I was nowhere but right where I was. I was present. And I was so happy in the beauty of being saturated in that moment.
Why don't people do that more?

Sometimes you should listen to the lyrics

Nothing you can do that you can't be done
nothing you can sing that can't be sung
nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
it's easy

Nothing you can make that can't be made
no one you can save that can't be saved
nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
it's easy

All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is Love. Love.
Love is all you need.

The Unlucky Hand

Was looking through some of my old stuff, old photography projects, english essays, and the rare gem of stories I wrote for creative writing class. Found one and made me realize I really did love stories. I still do. Here it is....

The Unlucky Hand

“In a place like this, anything can happen at night,” I think to myself as the buttery sun melts into the horizon and the city lights become the night suns. Standing by our usual spot at the rundown convenience store I look at my companions and wonder whether we’ll go out for trouble tonight or wait around for it. What am I doing here? It’s not like these people are my friends. Well I wouldn’t call them friends, more like acquaintances of convenience. They are my safe keepers, my arms and fists when I need them. Tina is here tonight too which is unusual because Shane, the leader of our little grouping, usually keeps his merchandise at home. She’s pretty though, her tight turtleneck and leather skirt emphasizing the differences between a man and a woman. I guess Shane felt like parading her, a crown jewel in his little collection. She’s his to do with as he pleases, without question. None of us ever interrupt his side work, but that doesn’t mean we don’t look.

 I wish I was more attractive or at least impressive so she would look back. The only thing that even gives me confidence is the honorary leather jacket that rides on my back. Shane gave it to me on the 3 month mark of being in his “group”. Guess this thing is supposed to make me feel badass or tough, and I shift and pull at the black cloth. Nope, still feel stupid, and my tiny biceps barely fill the drooping arms, making me realize even more that I’m just a kid trying on grown up clothes. It’s just like when I was a kid, when my dad left for work and I would sneak into his room to try on his suits and slip into my potential. That’s when I believed in my father, when my family lived in a neighborhood with picket fences and potted flowers. That was before the night my dad said he was going to be home late when he meant never. Since then my life has become a domino game, first my mother trying out pills which made her happy, but apparently didn’t make her boss happy, which meant no job, which meant no money, which meant my life has dropped into this little world called the slums. I never really understood that saying “That’s life” until now. It’s the saying that you use when you have nothing.

I pick at my yellow nails, trying to get the crusty soil out from underneath, but it seems like even if you are clean, as soon as you step out into this neighborhood, the air itself will make you dirty again. That’s when I stopped bothering to stay clean, and not just physically. Luke, the dangerous one in our little group takes a drag on his smoke and blows it in my face. He chuckles and I pray those cancer sticks will kill him. He’s never liked me and he hates that Shane takes an interest in me, because before I was here he was his personal lapdog. Luke has more scars than a face and his eyes are so large and black they almost hypnotize you into fear. I always thought he looked like a cross between a Doberman and an anaconda. Personally I always wanted a Doberman dog, someone to depend on and yet still be equal with, sort of like a team. But after I saw the way Luke acted, lashing out even to his owner, I realized there is no such thing as loyalty, there is just self preservation. Luke kicks me in the leg hard; obviously bored and wanting to stir something up. Despite my small frame, I have a tall temper and I rise up, ready to finish what he started. Luke does the same, pleased he got the reaction he wanted. “Cool it both of you, or I’ll straighten you out.” Shane’s voice sounds like ice and we both know he means it. His face turn towards Luke and then me and we both sit back down, and even through his dark aviator shades I can still feel his stare.

I wish I was like Shane, subtly powerful and having that hold over anyone just by looking at them. But most of all I wish I had a beard like his. It isn’t so much a beard as rough stubble that continues from his sideburns down his chin. It made him look mature. Authoritative. I waited all during high school for puberty to kick in, for my chest to fill my shirts, for a time when I would need to shave, but it never happened. The only thing that did happen was I shot up like a string bean and my spaghetti strides widened. I was a regular geek; tall, lanky, and awkward. The kids in my prep school never let me forget it either. Whatever I didn’t need any of those jerks, I would take back my life and show them that I was dangerous enough to take away theirs. That’s what living in here did to you. You became bitter and angry and the only people you directed it towards were people who had something you didn’t.

Johnny nudges my arm and passes me the cigarette. Johnny is Shane’s “bookkeeper”; he does all the dealing and works out all the things Shane decides. He’s actually really smart; he even used to do AP physics and math, until one day some idiot made the mistake of calling him a nerd during class when Johnny had all the answers. Needless to say it took one stab with a pocket knife to put him in the hospital and Johnny out of school. Just like me he was dealt a shitty hand, but instead of folding he decided to work with the cards he was dealt. I suck on the glowing cigarette, my eyes fixated on the orange embers that advance towards me. I wonder if this is where I’ll be 10 years from now, still sitting in a shitty parking lot store, sucking in my death and waiting to take out my lost future on some poor lost person. Luke interrupts my thought as he looks appreciatively up the street and a wicked smile twitches his lips. “Nice ride,” he comments. I look up too. A sleek Mercedes Benz is cruising up the alleyway, and it looks as out of place as a gold watch on a homeless man. My thoughts boil and my anger surfaces to my skin, because this is car I should have had, the man driving should have been me. I glare at the man in the driver’s seat only to be surprised that his appearance does not match the lifestyle. He’s wearing a grey t-shirt over blue jeans and his face is shadowed with a day’s stubble. Either he’s the owner and hasn’t been home in awhile, or more likely, he stole it. Down the street, slowly trailing behind the car is a police cruiser, obviously having the same thoughts.

 “I think this guy is either lost or stupid. Either way lets relieve him of that toy.” Shane tells us. Luke eager as ever to do his bidding gets up with Johnny. But I stand up and hold my arm out, blocking them. “Wait!” I tell them. Shane turns to me his one eyebrow raised over his glasses. “Let’s let this one play out.” I say straight at him, never letting my eyes waver. “Listen to him Shane.” Tina says, and looks at me directly like she understands. Shane looks back and forth between me, Tina, the car, and the upcoming cruiser and it sinks in. He waves his hands to the guys to signal them to sit back down. Luke looks like a dog that’s just been told he can’t go out for his walk anymore. We all freeze and wait. The man parks his car by the curve and his eyes dart between us and the door of the store.  He gets out and heads towards the entrance, oblivious to his situation no doubt. The police man gets out as well; a pistol shaking in his hands as he nervously advances. Maybe this could get interesting.

“Hold it right there! Turn around and put your hands up.” The officer calls from a few feet away towards the man. The officer positions himself in a classic cop stance and holds his gun straight at him, although his hold is unsteady. The man turns slowly around and oddly enough when he sees the cop, looks relieved. That’s when what I thought would happen and what was happening meshed together as the man reached in his back pocket for his wallet and skittish hand of the cop became steady as the trigger was pulled. And just like the unpredictability of my life, this man who ever he was, was dealt the unlucky hand.

Or maybe for each other

I have this friend who is always letting me down. She's the type of wild child who's always getting trashed, changing boyfriends, and will bite your head off just five minutes after she says she loves you just by saying the wrong thing to her.

We went partying one night awhile back. She brought along her favourite boy toy of the night and because she was dancing with other boys he got jealous and like most testosterone filled idiots started a fight. He got kicked out of course and she went running after him. Little did I know since I had lost them in the crowd. The best part was she had my wallet and phone in her bag since we had combined them at the coat check. So there I was, at 3AM.  Stranded. With no money or phone and no where near home. Thank god my aunt lived liked 20 minutes away because I walked there and she gratefully let me stay overnight.

The next morning I called my MIA girlfriend, and it basically took everything in me not to scream, "What the fuck?"
She simply said she took a cab home after the whole ordeal even though she knew she had all my stuff. This was the part where I literally did say "WHAT THE FUCK!"

Now this is a pretty loud warning sign. Something that should say this person isn't good for you. In fact I got shit from my whole family after my Aunt let slip about my random overnight sleepover at 3 AM. They all said that girl is bad news. Bad friend. Bad Bad Bad.

The honest thing is, she's just lost. She's not a bad person she just reacts more violently and more drastically because she is more sensitive and feels the world more intensely then everyone else allows themselves to.

The truth is though I love her. She is extreme. And so am I. We are both lost souls. We don't have those things that make people love you. We are not talented, or driven, or beautiful, or rich.

We are just people. Bare and lost in this crazy forest of unknown paths.

I love all the people like her and me. I love you because I know what it is like to long to have identity, or be going somewhere on purpose, but you trapped in where you are. And it painful to know you are still there.

I love you whoever you are who feels like you need a career or something or someone to be noticeable. I understand this world is hard, and usually hard on the heart, but I feel like if I won't give up on her, despite that she hurts me, maybe someone will do the same for you. Or for me. Or maybe for each other.

How is there anything wrong with that?

I will jump in. 


The best thing to do is just choose something, whether it is right or wrong, fully dedicate yourself.


I love how simple that one line has helped me so much. I  have kept myself wondering and postponing my life because I was too worried to make a decision. What career...music or writing? music or writing? 


I realize now after that one little line in Charity's email, that it doesn't matter, I will choose one and just go for it. I will not fear if it is the good or bad decision because either way I am fulfilling a passion. And how is there anything wrong with that?

I miss nothing. And I miss everything. I miss being careless. Fearless. Staying out into the night and never wanting to settle down. Telling myself what I want to be when I grow up and believing it would be possible. Giving charm bracelets to my friends because I loved them so much I wanted people to see.

Why do I feel so much like a child now that I am an adult? Immature. Insecure. And afraid of crowds, even when I know everyone at a party. I am so sick of writing sad things. But it is like a black weight tied around my ankles and hooked into my chest. A treasure box filled with lead.

I don't want to fade. Or lose me in this void of nothing. I am like a water-colour painting, the colour spread so thin and the vibrance diluting with age.

I want to be satisfied with who I am and not care if I am alone. I want to be excited about the future and fold away the past. I am scared no will read this. No one will feel this imprint of this longing in the footprints of their own heart. I don't want to fade. Or wear out. Or disappear. I call out into this abyss and I hear nothing. And that scares me

Am I the only one who feels this way?

Today I went to hand out resumes. With my heavy bag carrying all I need, my glasses, my sweater, my water bottle, my 30 pack of perfectly stapled resumes, my wallet, my cell phone, my umbrella, all of it. All of it weighing down my shoulder and my fragile self esteem as I spent an entire day in the pouring rain walking through the entire city in sopping wet sneakers, trying to find someone who will at least give me a chance. Sounds like the next fucking tragic novel :P


I can't help it I hate this damn system. We work, we get money taken off our labour even before we get the money, we get change for our hours, then we spend it all on food and shelter because that's all we can cover. We are constantly running on this mouse wheel, work, work, work. Work or die. This is no time for exploring, for meditation, for some music, for some planning. This system steals our life, our hours, our time. And we love them anyways?

I understand why all those people blow their little extra cash on booze and partying, because what the hell else is there? It's not enough for vacation or to get out of this rat race, so they say fuck it. At least for one night I can forget it all.

But I can't drink with out puking or smoke a puff without crying so that leaves me pretty much fucked. What is it about this planet that everyone thinks the same things but no one says anything?What is about people that makes them obey the one who steals from them?

Am I the only one who feels this way?

I Felt at Home

I don't know what's wrong with me. Whenever I get close to something, to someone, I close down. Like I always revert back to an emergency shut down button to end the program before I have to really try or experience what is coming up. I've been in New York for the past 2 weeks, and its a mixture of intense happiness and intense anger. The New Jersey beaches are beautiful and so clean and fresh I want to stay all day and night. And then New York is so exciting and yet so negative and loud I'm exhausted after only a day there. Plus it doesn't help that the friend I'm staying with is one of my best friends and one of my worst enemies. We nag and get into fights so easily it's like we're a couple who just can't get along and yet won't leave each other. And even though he has told me he likes me, I've never felt that way back. I guess since he just knows how to piss me off quicker than anyone on the planet. But he also comforts me in a way no one else can. We also have intense connections, I mean after fighting and bitching after a few hours we both come back to each other and hug and talk for literally hours and so honestly, that its divine.

I guess I'm just starting to wonder why the greatest gifts or the most beautiful things in my life are also tied in with my biggest challenges and biggest problems. I mean here I am travelling and in the new exciting place, yet even when I'm at the fucking Statue of Liberty all I care about is how my friend is such an ass to say certain comments about me.

Last night was particularly confusing for me. We were driving back from dinner in NYC and he was playing some music. But it was the same exact music we'd be playing the whole time I'd been here for the trip. For some reason that sparked something in me, and I just freaked. I turned it into this whole fight about how he doesn't listen to me or include me and how he's so selfish since he doesn't let me play my music. Fucking such a girl move. Picking an intense fight over something so damn trivial. I mean the real reason he kept playing the same songs was probably since he didn't have anything else to play.

Anyways I felt like an ass as soon as we got home. He wouldn't look at me and I couldn't look at him cause I realized how stupid I had been. So with my tail between my legs I walked back to him as he was brushing his teeth and apologized. And he forgave. We sat down on the couch and talked for a bit. But around 2AM  I said I was ready for bed and headed upstairs, but we reached in for our usual routine hug. Only this time we didn't pull out of it. We sat there, him resting his head on my shoulder and me cradling his neck to me. And I just allowed myself to be vulnerable and to enjoy this affection without worrying that I was "leading him on." But the problem is I think he took this that way anyways. Because as I was falling asleep I felt his light fingers stroke me cheek. Immediately I was alert and scared, and yet I kept pretending to sleep so he wouldn't go any further. He kissed me anyways. A light peck which I pretended not to notice and kept "sleeping" because I couldn't blame my ignorance in the morning on booze. I honestly don't know whether I am happy about last night or sad or creeped out. I mean for that hour we cuddled I felt at home. Safe. Cherished. But not romantic at all. More like I was at home and at peace for the first time in my life. But as soon as he kissed me he ruined that. He tainted something pure by turning it into something physical and dirty. I eventually "woke  up"and walked up stairs to bed. Thinking I could finally go to bed. But all night I've been wondering, am I rejecting happiness? Does this safeness or comfort I feel around him mean I should be in love with him? Am I horrible to love closeness but not be in love with someone?

Transformation is never calm

So I'm going to be honest, I haven't been completely honest. This blog was meant to be the place if not the only place for me to lay my shit bare. But I worry how things will sound, if my family will read it and judge me, or even more ridiculous that a stranger will judge me. But that's not how I want to be. I don't want to be afraid of the future anymore. I don't want to be constantly missing the past. I want to give up on this ridiculous notion of finding someone to "complete me". Fuck those movies and those books and the whole mass media telling you that you have to find prince charming, find that right car, that right job, that right boob size to fill that gap in you that you constantly want to avoid by filling it with things.

I want to be happy inside who I am. A total loser nerd who like books and Beatles and smoking mary jane with the stars outside. Who is fragile and tough and unbelievable undecided about life. I feel like the gap only gets smaller when you start filling in your character instead of your desires. Becoming an adult is like reinventing yourself. You can change and add and discover yourself like you're meeting yourself for the first time. It's beautiful. And bloody sad. And sometimes devastating. Transformation is never calm. I need to know what my passion is. I am open to finding out anything. I am open. Please find me. I cannot decide what to pursue anymore. I am so lost ma, help me out. I cannot listen to sad music anymore haha.
I miss faith, can you call her for me. I need to meet up with her again.

Music or writing. Music or writing. Music or writing? Music or Writing? Music or Writing, Music or Writing, Music or Writing! Music or Writing! Music, or Writing?!

I feel like I miss someone who I don't know

 I can't explain it, but lately I feel a mixture of intense contentment and intense loneliness. I walk outside and feel the sun on my skin, the way it gently kisses my cheeks and I smile. I feel free. But then I feel this intense sadness. Like there's something vital missing. From the situation. From the heart. It feels like I miss someone who I don't know. What am I missing? Is it because of my old friends? My old life? My future life which I haven't grown into? My family? The love I have never experienced with a partner? The freedom of travelling? I wish more than anything I felt free but this society constantly moves so fast it does not give us time to breathe. To think. To feel. What should I do.. how can I take a step forward when I feel like I'm tied down to the past.

Be Badass. Be Bold

I'm alittle scared. I feel like every time I know what I want to do, I get pushed to another idea and I feel like I need to figure out what to do all over again. I had my last exam today. After 2 weeks, 3 hours sleep total, 4 exams, and  a toal of 8+ hours of exam time, I feel really exhausted. I came home and felt very weak, emotionally, physically, everything. Everyone in my family has told me I'm smart. And I get it, I'm a brain I've fucking always been, and they all want me to go to school, to study, to get the official degree, the official job, the actual 9-5 job, the only one in a family of artists. But coming home from those brutal classes which will determine my future, I just felt like crying. Whats the use of a brain if all I do is exhaust it, let it run my life. What's the use of learning if my brain is filled with usless facts I don't need. I feel really scared. I love my philosophy class cause it actually teaches us to think for ourselves, the only class on the planet which does actually. Why do I have to take algebra, Bio Chemistry, if I want to be a writer? This whole schooling system is so fucked up. They teach us to learn things we'll never use, and the courses which we do want to take, the ones thats inspire and open our world up, are worthless to graduating. I keep feeling like I should just go to that music school, fuck the regular degree stuff, do something that takes you out of your brain. Something that takes you into your damn fire. Stop being a chickshit, be badass. Be bold. Firgure it out. And hurry up cause your next class is in 5 mins....

Something I can Recognize

“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.” - Bob Marley


I kinda feel sick. Everytime I find something good, it dissolves as soon as I grab it, like a sandcastle that with one touch, crumbles. I met guys who I think are nice, they turn out to be douche bags. I think I've found a genuine friend, yet she ditches me whenever I need her. I get what Bob Marley is saying, but sometimes it feels like I should just become a hermit, cause I don't think I can do anymore of this suffering stuff. It seems like I am constantly fighting against luck, against murphy's law. That ol murphy loves to hang around me and I'm starting to think he's the only one I can count on. I miss feeling like I have a confidant. Or someone I can rely on instead of always having to be the reliable. But am I the problem? Am I attracting all this shit, all these flakes? Or even is it my fault? Most of the time I convince myself that all the hurt they dish out, is actually my fault. How fucked up is that? 


What should I do? I know I complain but it's only because I feel so fucking lonely. So goddamn lonely. I have friends and family, yet I don't feel like I could or would call any of them even if I was lying in the streets.  I am in a crowd of familiar faces, yet I am homesick for something I can recognize. 

Seeing

Friday night was like any other night, except for the fact I realized who I was for the first time in my life, and my connection to humanity. Yeah, just that small detail. 

I had hung out with one of my favourite buddies that night. We hadn't seen each other in awhile and we'd been fighting in the past so when we first saw each other I'll admit it was awkward. But after a few minutes of cold ice cream on a windy night, and walking along the seawall with city lights painted on the water, we gave into our old ways and talked freely with each other. After walking till our feet were numb we finally headed back to his place and smoked a puff. I decided fuck it, it's the weekend and for once I don't have exams this week so why not. And if you don't know me smoking weed is a big big deal for me, mostly because I hate how it makes me emotional and usually that leads to my dark depressed side and usually end up thinking about how the world is going to shit (yes I'm a tad dramatic if you haven't noticed). But maybe this weed was really good or maybe I was finally just having a good night, because I felt high on life.

Heading home to the transit stop I felt aware of everything. How the cold rain made my nose red,  how the couples linked arms and huddled under their umbrellas. How the pizza shops were bustling, and cashier at the gas station looked longingly out at the party-ers on the strip.


It was like I was seeing for the first time after a lifetime of walking with my eyes closed. Getting on the last sky train of the night I realized how the day train people differ from the night time train people. I don't know what it is... it's like they're more relaxed and shed their "Business Mondays" facade.


Sitting down on those sticky vinyl seats I decided not to plug in my iPod or randomly scroll my phone, but just people watch instead. And there was so much of it. 

Kids coming back from friday night partying, the girls giggly and the boys loud.

An old man in tweet pants, old man slippers, and a trench coat and bald spot, fast asleep, his head resting on his chest.

A couple together, the girl sitting beside him with her legs up on the adjacent chair and her armed linked in his. The way he  easily slipped her hand in his.

And then another stop. He came in. Slouchy rocker clothes, big rimmed glasses, and a cocky smile. Everything about him was a contradiction which I liked to look at. This guy and me noticed each other, but like any other crush, you notice everything under your avoiding eye contact. This guy and me were looking everywhere but each other and then when our eyes clashed we both flash smiled and looked away

But it's not the crush or even the funny little things I saw. It was fucking bigger than any of that superficial stuff.  

I felt like i was witnessing life, or present stories, or memories in the making. All of it. Happening right in front of me.

Just the thought that all these people have families to go home to, or a loved one to call tonight, or a urge to make it home to their comfy bed, made me realize we are thinking feeling beings, all connected all the same.

I felt a link and love at the same time for humanity.

That's when my intensity (partly let's face it mixed with my weed buzz) gave me this weird sensation and image in my mind projecting onto the screen of reality. Everything, all the people on the train were all there just as they were, but I also saw and felt my heart pumping outside of my body. My heart was pumping these veins or arteries connected to the people, like they were parts of me and we were sharing the same blood flow that i was supplying. I felt like God.


I know this all sounds like hippie dippy bull krap, and you're thinking next thing I'll be tripping on acid and renaming myself some tweaked out name like "Purple Star Child". But the thing is if you know me, you'd know that admitting this experience means it really was more than some fleeting drug affect. It was like for the first time, I felt like reason and love were connected to make sense of all this craziness going on in the world. I felt like for once in my very pessimistic realistic I don't give a rats squiggly ass life, that I cared. And that I wanted to be more present to what is going on around me and the people who are right beside me. 

I guess Lennon was right, life really is what happens while your busy making other plans, or mainly, scanning your cell phone. 

Nothing Wrong

I keep feeling like somethings wrong, but the funny thing is the thing that's wrong....is that nothing wrong. Probably for the first time in my life nothing is wrong. I am content. It feel weird, like a dress that's a a little too big and I haven't fully grown into it yet, but at the same time, it feels really good.

Life in Inventory

I'm doing a business accounting course :(
for those who are not Asian, mathematics lovers, and descendants of Albert Einstein, you know what I mean when I say I hate accounting. I mean I'm trying to learn, I"m trying to get better at it, I'm trying to understand what the fuck the professor writes on the board. But that's just it. I'm always in the trying stage! I mean when am I gonna get to the lightbulb-goes-off-in-the-brain stage??

Funny thing is though is I'm starting to kind of see my life in a Inventory format way. Even rating people as well.

For me it goes something like this. Scale of 1-10, 10 being good.
ASSETS:             
Personality.....8
Humour..........9
Ability to go from queek to chic....10
Work Ethic.............(can I give myself 100 on a scale of 10?
Total= 127


LIABILITY
Money........-100000(currently in negative dollars due to fucking school fees and having to eat occasionally)
Upkeep of Apperance......1
Smartness ..........1 (thanks to accounting goddammit)
Finding a good Career.......0
Total= -98000

TOTAL SCORE: 127- (-98000)= you're screwed

Shit I need to up my assets. Maybe if I add a toned ass or something I could get my plus income points...
Fucking kidding. Sorry I'm rambling. Just feeling like I need to rant. Back to the books :P

Natural or Rational?

I have a philosophy class in school, and I thought it would be amazing, and it is in one way...but it another it's kinda terrible.

I mean I'm all for rationality, reason, facts, evidence, against faith. But it feels to me like this teacher is set on attacking everything spiritual or everything that has a natural law behind it.

For those who don't have a philosophy book in they're hand, the Natural law basically says that everything in the natural world has a reason or PURPOSE behind it. Like if a hurricane hits, it's because of  humanity's karma. Or if one person dies and another lives, that survivor was probably a better person.

But that can't be right. I mean a hurricane has no conscience or brain that says, "I'm going to punish people for what they did to the earth." It's just a hurricane. It's just a change in winds. And it just happened to be passing through the land that day.

Or if mass murderer and a child both have cancer, and if the murder gets to live, obviously that wasn't the right choice right?

So rationality says that natural law is bogus. And that rationality is what distinguishes us as a human being. What makes things work.

But what about the rationality we are living in. We are constantly reproducing as humans, we have mass starvation and population crisis' everywhere. Rationality dictates that well if we have a growing population, then we need more resources. We need to expand. We need to make more room. We need to chop more trees down. Take more fish to feed the empty mouths. But in that very action of rationality, we are ignoring natrual law. That those trees had a purpose in the area. That overfishing and mass slaughter of animals is leaving more species extinct. That we are in fact temporarily feeding the overpopulation, but also speeding up the end of our own demise.

In the natural law, a virus or a species that it overpopulated, by natural selection and by natural balance, is destroyed or lessend to achieve balance once again. The natural law in fact says, that balance IS purpose. It's what keeps the sustainability of life ongoing.

But becuase humans have conscience, have power, have the unique mind with the ability to go against the natural order, we do not follow the balance. We overtake, overuse, overspend, and overpower our way of life against all other species and inhabitants of this planet. And yet still humans think rationality is better. I mean I understand rationality is needed to govern life, but in matters of sustaining life, which is better to follow? The natural or the rational?

Unbiased God

Am I the only one who thinks religion is bullshit? Or more specifically religious people?

I hear them on the TV, they're in the newspaper articles, they're in my life. They're on bumper stickers, on songs and in my bloody philosophy class.  They preach about their ways. They say they're way is the only way. That I'm missing out. That I am wrong. That I'm cynical. That I am cursed. That I'm going to hell. But wait! They have the get-out-of-hell free card....just convert :)

Let me tell you something. You are not a better than me because you believe in something I don't.  You are not a better person because you condemn others. You don't have a better chance at going to heaven because you follow scriptures. You are not a better person because you say everyone else is damned. You are not a better person for judging someone if they're homosexual, or of a different faith, or because they believe in science.

You are not a better person if you use the "word of God" to kill another person, to stone a woman to death, to bomb a country, to make someone feel like they are hopeless. You're not closer to God than anyone else just because you think you've found the "right" path.

You don't have a better chance at Heaven if you push ideas on other people. If you put fear and restrictions on others. If you coerce someone into something they did not want themselves.

And most of all. It doesn't matter how much praying, or yoga, or meditation you practice, if you can't follow simple morals and have good intentions towards others, you are still in the preschool stage of enlightenment. You can do all the religious practices you want.

But in the end are you a good person?
Because my nameless, religionless, unbiased God, he cares about that the most.

Kicking some anonymous ass

I just thought I'd laugh. Apparently people are just as crazy as I thought. A certain "someone" from a certain blog entry of mine (cough cough Find a good place soon...) contacted me out of the blue because I used her email in my blog. Apparently I guess people are that bored. I mean how the fuck did she even find my blog? I deleted the name of course just cause I know how hard it must be for "anonymous" to own up to her actions....
but still really really funny. I guess I kinda understand now that maybe this blog thing isn't as secret as I thought. Or like I said this chick is really really bored and felt like kicking some anonymous ass :P
Tonight I'll erase the name in order of keeping the peace, keeping the order of privacy intact, and mostly in order to appease the people who like to go into the whole suing people over lame shit :).

WANTED: PHILOSOPHICAL MENTOR

So I'm wondering when school has to end because I am both terrified and glad when that moment comes.

I mean for me to get up before noon is a huge accomplishment, both considering I'm a fucked up kid and also because I'm psychologically programmed to be an insomniac. But with the reason of college classes I've found myself up and awake and ready for life again. I don't eat much, I study fucking everyday, and I struggle understanding most of what my classes are about. But I'm starting to feel content.

Not crazy excited about everything, or so much a nerd that I need to study to be happy, but in a sense reading and learning again is so wonderful after so many months of well...how shall we say "catering to assholes in the checkout isle" in a more polite way?

I don't know though, I still feel like something is missing. I kind of always do when I'm happy. It's like when I finally achieve what I'm after, I start feeling like it's not as good as it should be. Like it's flawed or it could be better. Why is that? Am I just naturally the most pessimistic person alive (I'm starting to feel like I could be) or is it true?

I just feel like I'm heading down a path that leaves behind so many other things I've wanted to do. I'm learning academics at college, but then I'm giving up becoming a writer. I'm giving up my dream to be a dj. To become a movie producer. A director. A vet. A philosopher. A freaking interior designer (that one's more just cuz I choose a good color for my bedroom and was so pleased with myself). But still. I feel like life is really about having the confidence to walk down a road and not look back before you even get lost.

I think what my life is missing is a mentor. I mean it's pretty obvious if you've read my other blogs that I'm a loner and a loser. It's kind of just a fact. Some people are funny, some people are pretty. I got this weird philosphical emotional crazy personality that makes me like a pariah in this society. I mean I love people and I wish I was one of those social butterflies that just have everyone begging to be attatched to their wings, but I'm not.

But I feel like I should have lived in older times, where people had mentors like Socrates and Aristotle who literally coached and taught and explored the world in more detail with their students. It's sounds so fucking cheesy and lame but fuck it. This is for me right. You guys can continue getting smashed in parking lots and having dance sex at a club, I wanna chill with Socrates! *(how cool am I?)

The thing is where do I find such a mentor? I mean criagslist has no heading called "PHILOSOPHICAL MENTORS".

Should I put out an ad in the newspaper?
WANTED: MIDDLE AGED MENTOR NEEDED FOR UNSTABLE GIRL
BE SMART. BE WISE. BE HOT??

hahah especially the last part...I'm joking byt the way....sorta :P
Oh fuck. I guess I just miss company of someone I can look up to.


I mean the best conversation I've ever had was in the waiting room of a doctors office. This wringgled old chinese man with pepper grey hair was sitting beside me. We started talking about the randomist shit. But amazing stuff came up. The emotional baggage of family. Our beliefs in the afterlife. Things we'd probably done in past lives. He said he was a Chinese emperor. I said I've had dreams that I was a horse
He even did a palm reading for me. He said he was a healer and could read people in this life. He took one look at my hand and spoke.

"You have strong mind. Intelligent beyond age.
But heavy emotions. They rule over you. Make you sick in heart. Strong passion, but lots of fear. Too much worry. Too much fear. You will grow old quickly if you let emotion take over. You will be successful but much work to get there. Lots of past ancestreal karma. Many problem with parents in this life. Curse put on you from past. Maybe you say you'll never be rich, so now you suffer with money. Lots of potential, only if you choose."

I felt like crying right there in that waiting room. With the babies crying and the manicured ladies flipping through magazines, I could have bawled if I hadn't bit my tongue so hard to hold in the tears. I felt like this man and stripped me naked and now Iwas emotionally more bare and vulnerable then I ever would be. It was a horrible experience. I hated him for awhile. But I also felt loved and amazing like for the first time I had the most honest conversation with someone.

I never saw that man again. I can't even remember his name. I wish I had. Because that is what I want. A teacher who can know me with just a look and see all my shit, but also all my pent up potential that I am dying to unleash.

So if you are reading this dear mentor please find me!
Or at least send me an email.

Or at least maybe..

My sister told me, "You're going to be a great business woman someday. Your so intelligent and pretty, I mean most people only get one or the other. But you have both."

I snorted, "Me, pretty?" HAH

"Seriously. You can't get anywhere on just looks, you have to have talent. But I mean it definitely helps."

Well then why does it always feel like I can never get anywhere? I love my sister for being the only one who gives me compliments and reminds me that I worth something once and awhile. But most of the time I just kinda wish someone else noticed me other than my family. I feel very much like I've lost my ability to connect with people these days. They talk about Dior, and timeline on Facebook, and guys they've screwed, and I'm still into The Beatles and books. I wonder when I'll find those people who make me feel good again. That restore my confidence back in being exactly the way I am. A nerd. Or at least maybe a pretty nerd....

I think that Lion was me

I had a dream last night. Dream is a light word for what I experienced. I had a physical and mental shock that past from my unconscious into my conscious.

What I remember was somehow I was is this desert. Golden sand for miles and sunlight so bright I felt like a lizard in a tank with a lamp hanging right over me. I can't remember specifics of who I was in the dream. Whether I was me, or some guy, or maybe really just a lizard, part of the desert surroundings. But I could see everything and nothing at the same time.

Until I saw a lion. Or at least I could see the outline of him in the distance. He was football fields away, but even from that distance, I could see his head turned towards me. I could see him looking at me. I shuttered. He moved closer, walking. Almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. And then he started picking up his back feet, and his head bent forward in the wind. Pacing.

I wanted to turn, I wanted to run with everything inside me, but just like a dream, I couldn't.
He was now a field away. That's when in went into attack mode. Full on running at me. His mane flapping back behind him.

I screamed but nothing came. I ducked but he was still coming at me.

The last thing I remember was seeing him a foot away and his big golden eyes looking straight into me as he pounced forward, ready to take me down. And for some reason, mixed in with the absolute terrifying reality I was going to die, I was also in awe. His eyes were so big. So large they filled my whole vision. And it looked like I was looking into a whole universe contained within his gaze. I snapped awake, sitting upright and sweating so badly my clothes were damp.

It felt like the most blessed curse.

I talked to my sister the next morning about it and she said it was a good sign. That it was a powerhouse symbol coming to me.

But how can dying and being scared shitless be a good sign?

I think it meant things are coming for me. Terrible, terrifying, drastic things. But they will be just as fierce in their magnificence.

Just like the time I once did this questionnaire story thing, that symbolically tells you about yourself. My friend asked, "If you are in a field and off to the side a storm is coming, what does it look like? What are the clouds like? What does the air feel like?"

I said the storm would have strong winds, and violent black clouds, and slashing through it would be pink lighting. Apparently the "storm" was a symbol of what my future problems would be like in my life.

And true to form, my hardships are huge, they are rough, but just like my pink lightning, they are also blazing forms of change, that in the end are gifts. The worst things that happen to me are also going to be my greatest moments.

That lion was a physical embodiment of the way I react to life, fearful and scared shitless as it comes right at me. But only at the exact moment before despair, I gave in. I allowed myself to be at peace.

I wonder why it's only at the moment of destruction, we realize we should have done things different, and why before we die we finally have peace.

I look at the lion now like he is my greatest fear and greatest power. And I think he knows that too. Because somehow I think that lion was me.