Tuesday, January 30, 2001
sometimes it sickens me to see how popular culture feeds off of the weaknesses of man . the way in which violence , greed , infidelity and hatred are exploited and even romanticized makes me want to vomit . in my spanish class this morning , i was utterly disgusted as one of my intelligent female classmates listened to what has been dubbed by some , "booty rap" because of it's degrading and permiscuous - sounding lyrics . i wondered why anyone would subject themself to that kind of profane thought . i asked her about this , and she says she doesn't exactly approve either , but the music is good . i listened to the beat for a few moments , and i agreed . but i still did not understand how something as influential to every part of your psyche as music can be separated . how you can listen to the music and filter out the words . i know that i cannot do this . i wonder how this would affect one's view on life , the universe , and everything in the long run . popular culture makes me want to scream .
posted by emily oi! at 8:10:00 PM
0 comments
sometimes it sickens me to see how popular culture feeds off of the weaknesses of man . the way in which violence , greed , infidelity and hatred are exploited and even romanticized makes me want to vomit . in my spanish class this morning , i was utterly disgusted as one of my intelligent female classmates listened to what has been dubbed by some , "booty rap" because of it's degrading and permiscuous - sounding lyrics . i wondered why anyone would subject themself to that kind of profane thought . i asked her about this , and she says she doesn't exactly approve either , but the music is good . i listened to the beat for a few moments , and i agreed . but i still did not understand how something as influential to every part of your psyche as music can be separated . how you can listen to the music and filter out the words . i know that i cannot do this . i wonder how this would affect one's view on life , the universe , and everything in the long run . popular culture makes me want to scream .
posted by emily oi! at 8:10:00 PM
0 comments
Saturday, January 27, 2001
i can never say what i want to say to csd2 in person . when i see him it is all i can do not to stare into his eyes , looking like a fool , or rather a lovestruck puppy , clinging and following him around . a nuisance . i watched his hands as he held llf , and i wished i had a camera , even though this would not have been sufficient . i wanted to capture their movement , i think now that a flipbook would best be able to portray this particular style . his hands jump from frame to frame, progressing and moving with a grace so unexpected , so striking that i felt a yearning to hold them , to memorize every bump , curve and line of his fingers . and eventually , in the advent of the evening , he and i sat on the floor and i requested his hand . i learned it by rote . i committed to memory the texture of his skin , the way in which his fingers seemed to require additional joints to be able to bloom and entwine , the way their travel suggested . the sun had set , and the house was dark save for a few lights in other rooms , casting us into perpetual twilight . althought everyone was home , the house was quiet . my brother was reading a religious text , my mother a detective novel , most likely , and my father a book of speeches by mark twain . we spoke softly so as to leave the silence intact . or not at all . i had no words to say , and my nervous twittering seemed to have sunk with the sun . as i traced the bones in his hand , i muttered delicately about the beauty of those hands , and i wondered what he would say if he could read my thoughts . but moments such as these are not long-lived , and this one withered away under the tramping of time's perpetual march . he whispered that he should probably go , he had to watch his sister tonight . i made a feeble attempt at would-be cantankerocity , hoping to stall long enought to think of a good reason for him to stay , but i knew i would have to let him go . i said goodbye . they always seem akward , as though that one word was too breif to sum up or lay any finality to the day's doings . but goodbye is goodbye . and he left .
posted by emily oi! at 9:01:00 PM
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i can never say what i want to say to csd2 in person . when i see him it is all i can do not to stare into his eyes , looking like a fool , or rather a lovestruck puppy , clinging and following him around . a nuisance . i watched his hands as he held llf , and i wished i had a camera , even though this would not have been sufficient . i wanted to capture their movement , i think now that a flipbook would best be able to portray this particular style . his hands jump from frame to frame, progressing and moving with a grace so unexpected , so striking that i felt a yearning to hold them , to memorize every bump , curve and line of his fingers . and eventually , in the advent of the evening , he and i sat on the floor and i requested his hand . i learned it by rote . i committed to memory the texture of his skin , the way in which his fingers seemed to require additional joints to be able to bloom and entwine , the way their travel suggested . the sun had set , and the house was dark save for a few lights in other rooms , casting us into perpetual twilight . althought everyone was home , the house was quiet . my brother was reading a religious text , my mother a detective novel , most likely , and my father a book of speeches by mark twain . we spoke softly so as to leave the silence intact . or not at all . i had no words to say , and my nervous twittering seemed to have sunk with the sun . as i traced the bones in his hand , i muttered delicately about the beauty of those hands , and i wondered what he would say if he could read my thoughts . but moments such as these are not long-lived , and this one withered away under the tramping of time's perpetual march . he whispered that he should probably go , he had to watch his sister tonight . i made a feeble attempt at would-be cantankerocity , hoping to stall long enought to think of a good reason for him to stay , but i knew i would have to let him go . i said goodbye . they always seem akward , as though that one word was too breif to sum up or lay any finality to the day's doings . but goodbye is goodbye . and he left .
posted by emily oi! at 9:01:00 PM
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Friday, January 26, 2001
today i saw you in the halls . i wanted to call out your name , throw my arms around you . but i didn't . my chance has passed . it must be my fault . it always is . and here i shrift , hoping perchance that words can be passed and meanings understood . what would you think of me if i retracted decisions soundfully made ? what would i think of myself ? oh , what to do with words that are said and done but still lay in the air . these such words remind me of veils , protecting , distorting , concealing . i wish i could tear them off and let you see exactly what i am right now , without that image being tainted by the past .
posted by emily oi! at 4:24:00 PM
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today i saw you in the halls . i wanted to call out your name , throw my arms around you . but i didn't . my chance has passed . it must be my fault . it always is . and here i shrift , hoping perchance that words can be passed and meanings understood . what would you think of me if i retracted decisions soundfully made ? what would i think of myself ? oh , what to do with words that are said and done but still lay in the air . these such words remind me of veils , protecting , distorting , concealing . i wish i could tear them off and let you see exactly what i am right now , without that image being tainted by the past .
posted by emily oi! at 4:24:00 PM
0 comments
Thursday, January 25, 2001
a wonderful thing , that magnetic poetry . . .
---
my eyes explore your magnificent lips
caress your cinnamon skin
your voice whispers in my ear
and resounds in my soul
how long is forever ?
---
why do those words lose all beauty when freed from their little white prisons ?
posted by emily oi! at 7:51:00 PM
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a wonderful thing , that magnetic poetry . . .
---
my eyes explore your magnificent lips
caress your cinnamon skin
your voice whispers in my ear
and resounds in my soul
how long is forever ?
---
why do those words lose all beauty when freed from their little white prisons ?
posted by emily oi! at 7:51:00 PM
0 comments
Tuesday, January 23, 2001
"i...i just don't understand ." i said to csd2 , as we conversed on the phone . this concerned a great deal of our conversation that evening ; why he would move . i didn't speak very much , unlike my normal habit , which is to ramble on without really censoring my words . i couldn't . i had been crying . i doubt he had noticed . ( i attribute that to llf's unusually loud , labored breathing and her juxtaposition to the mouthpeice . ) so i didn't talk . i instead focused my mental energies on listening and controlling my breathing . i held the phone a little closer to llf , just to be safe . i tried to ask him again , to clarify my question so that perchance the response would quell my worries , but it never did . not fully , anyways . i'm not sure why csd2 wants to move . he claims because his current situation is substandard , he desires the lost feeling of independance bordering on lonliness , but staved off by one very close friend . i wanted desperately to tell him how much i need him here , but it just seemed selfish . and i suppose it is , really . why do i want him to stay anyways ? it's simple . because i can't stand the thought that perhaps he would fall into the patterns of so many who have left me in the past , moved away , moved on , regressed . over time i may be forgotten and replaced , but even more appalling is the thought that this could be done to someone else . for the same reasons i cannot bear to loose one hundred archived emails , i cannot stand to think that i may forget or distort a friendship as beautiful and miraculous as this . i don't want to forget what has transgressed between two individuals . i need to remember , so that i can judge change , evolution , growth . i need to remember love .
posted by emily oi! at 10:46:00 PM
0 comments
"i...i just don't understand ." i said to csd2 , as we conversed on the phone . this concerned a great deal of our conversation that evening ; why he would move . i didn't speak very much , unlike my normal habit , which is to ramble on without really censoring my words . i couldn't . i had been crying . i doubt he had noticed . ( i attribute that to llf's unusually loud , labored breathing and her juxtaposition to the mouthpeice . ) so i didn't talk . i instead focused my mental energies on listening and controlling my breathing . i held the phone a little closer to llf , just to be safe . i tried to ask him again , to clarify my question so that perchance the response would quell my worries , but it never did . not fully , anyways . i'm not sure why csd2 wants to move . he claims because his current situation is substandard , he desires the lost feeling of independance bordering on lonliness , but staved off by one very close friend . i wanted desperately to tell him how much i need him here , but it just seemed selfish . and i suppose it is , really . why do i want him to stay anyways ? it's simple . because i can't stand the thought that perhaps he would fall into the patterns of so many who have left me in the past , moved away , moved on , regressed . over time i may be forgotten and replaced , but even more appalling is the thought that this could be done to someone else . for the same reasons i cannot bear to loose one hundred archived emails , i cannot stand to think that i may forget or distort a friendship as beautiful and miraculous as this . i don't want to forget what has transgressed between two individuals . i need to remember , so that i can judge change , evolution , growth . i need to remember love .
posted by emily oi! at 10:46:00 PM
0 comments
i've been unable to post as of late . i know not why . i sit down and focus , my fingers looming above the keyboard , but no words come to me . perhaps i have run out of things to say , having all been worked out in letters to sam and mr. g . or maybe i've just been lazy , which is more likely the culprit than anything else . updates that i begin shortly after returning from school sit unfinished and neglected , replaced by flashing im windows , screaming tea pots , singing stereos , inquisitive parents and other such nusances . but now the house is still , with nick drake rippling its unmoving existance , but causing no waves . my messenger is quiet , all emails written and sent . the tea has been made , and now steeps silently in my stomach . the stairs creek as they are used , as my mother descends them . the phone rings , a loud , harsh noise . it contrasts the musical silence . i cringe and answer it . it is for my mother . she speaks for a moment , hangs up the phone and returns it to me , filling the room with the scent of lilacs , or what is supposed to be lilac . i don't remember what they smell like , anymore . my father enters . he speaks to me . he turns down my music , i can scarcely hear it now . the silence has been snapped , shattered , lacerated , combusted . so much for my post . it wasn't much anyways .
posted by emily oi! at 5:47:00 PM
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Friday, January 19, 2001
my, you have beautiful hands, csd2. your curved fingers, your nails bitten to ravages, the elegance of their movement, it all captivate my mind. the trinity of your eyes and mouth sends unnamed thoughts and emotions seeping through the folds of my mind, it's image impressed into every electrical impulse. everything i want to say to you lays unspoken, stagnant and fermenting in my memory. but it matters not, they are not words to be given life, for life without pain has no meaning. all words have meaning. i find myself telling you half-truths because...because i understand so little of what i think, and i can verbalize much much less that if i told you all i could, perhaps you would understand me better than myself. so i will give you a peice at a time, and maybe in time we will both know what i mean. or maybe not, my csd2.
posted by emily oi! at 7:27:00 PM
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my, you have beautiful hands, csd2. your curved fingers, your nails bitten to ravages, the elegance of their movement, it all captivate my mind. the trinity of your eyes and mouth sends unnamed thoughts and emotions seeping through the folds of my mind, it's image impressed into every electrical impulse. everything i want to say to you lays unspoken, stagnant and fermenting in my memory. but it matters not, they are not words to be given life, for life without pain has no meaning. all words have meaning. i find myself telling you half-truths because...because i understand so little of what i think, and i can verbalize much much less that if i told you all i could, perhaps you would understand me better than myself. so i will give you a peice at a time, and maybe in time we will both know what i mean. or maybe not, my csd2.
posted by emily oi! at 7:27:00 PM
0 comments
i was awoken this morning by the inssesant ringing of the telephone. i opened my eyes groggily, and stared around the room. i could hear the cordless phone ringing, but i was unable to pinpoint its exact location. finally, i found it under my wool sweater. i pressed talk. "hello?" i said into the receiver. it's odd how hello can be a question. it was a telemarketer. i could tell by the way the pronounced my last name; with an l, y and r. i hung up. i was too tired to deal with someone trying to switch my long distance or sell me cable. i retired to my matress and closed my eyes, only to find that the momentary activity had awakened my body (although not my mind) and my bladder was sending urgent messages to my head. i don't quite remember what it was telling me, but i'm sure it had something to do with effluence. in any case, i went through my ritualistic morning ceremonies and had my breakfast. the day was passing uneventfully. i spoke with cheeky australians while watching anthony perkins twitch and yell at his deceased mother in "psycho". around noon, i received a phone call from my forensics coach reminding me about the meet tomorrow. i spoke to him calmly. "yes, ok. i'll be there at 7:30," but in my head i was shouting profanities and beating myself up. i hadn't memorized my peice and i had to perform it the next day. i spent the next two hours trying fevrently to memorize my monologue to no avail. but this point, i was tired, hungry and frustrated to the extreme. i went to the kitchen and turned on the flame under a pot of water. i would make ramen noodles when it did. i trucked upstairs and brought down a basket of dirty clothing. i took it to the basement and threw it all in the washing machine, added detergent and cranked the knob. it was just moments ago that i realized our dryer is not functioning and i will probably have a damp, moldy load of laundry sitting in the washer for a week. i walked back up to the kitchen, to discover that my water was boiling over and sizzling ferociously. ferociously sizzling water is a scary thing. i turned the heat down and added the folded brick of uncooked noodles. in three minutes, i removed the pot from the flame and removed the noodles from the water and relocated them in my bowl. i dumped a moderate amount of pasta-sauce on top of the noodley tangle. moments later, i realized that it was salsa. i didn't think it had looked like spaghetti sauce should look. so i stopped trying to be productive or eat or anything like that. i sat down at the computer and wrote all about the woes of my day.
posted by emily oi! at 4:07:00 PM
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it's 1 am. perhaps a little past. bumbling and stumbling. i shall go to bed.
and now for a little silence
posted by emily oi! at 1:24:00 AM
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Wednesday, January 17, 2001
today i drew the eyes of all of the people that i love. they all seemed to be saying, "i love you but i'm not listening". except for one. one said, "i'm listening but i don't love you." the one i need to love me.
posted by emily oi! at 5:47:00 PM
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today i drew the eyes of all of the people that i love. they all seemed to be saying, "i love you but i'm not listening". except for one. one said, "i'm listening but i don't love you." the one i need to love me.
posted by emily oi! at 5:47:00 PM
0 comments
me email provider is currently being cantankerous, and has been so for the past four days or so, so if you've sent me an email, please be patient and i will reply when i can get in. if you need to (although i don't know why you would), you can contact me at chuleta@mad.scientist.com .
posted by emily oi! at 1:34:00 PM
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Monday, January 15, 2001
i have recently acquired a new cd, "five leaves left" by the artist nick drake. this is, without a doubt, the most moving group of songs to which i have ever listened. the sheer immensity of sound, that does not impose its presence upon you, but rather is like an ocean. it swirls around your ankles, lapping against the shore, gently pushing, pulling back with every note. and every time there is an overflow of emotion in his voice, the music will swell and rise like some enormous wave, until it crashes over your head, and you feel yourself being immersed in its melancholy beauty, caught in the undertow of his words. i feel such raw emotion in this music that it makes me dive into his subconscious. i hear saddness so profound that i wish i could speak with him, ask him what source of his pain is. i have listened to this cd all day, and i've gotten no work done as a result. i stare at the inside of my eyelids, trying to decipher lyrics, at times as tangled as seeweed, and in the next stanza, so seemingly simple that i wonder if there is really anything to ponder. the music swells, engulfing me in it's treacle embrace. my heart strains, aches, longs to console him. he died when he was twenty-six, after his third album. they couldn't get him to tour because he was too shy to play in front of large crowds. depression, withdrawl, sadness, pain. it's all there, in his voice, his guitar, the cello, the section of violins that sing along, rising, falling, crying. i wish i had known him, this drake of the sea.
posted by emily oi! at 7:20:00 PM
0 comments
i have recently acquired a new cd, "five leaves left" by the artist nick drake. this is, without a doubt, the most moving group of songs to which i have ever listened. the sheer immensity of sound, that does not impose its presence upon you, but rather is like an ocean. it swirls around your ankles, lapping against the shore, gently pushing, pulling back with every note. and every time there is an overflow of emotion in his voice, the music will swell and rise like some enormous wave, until it crashes over your head, and you feel yourself being immersed in its melancholy beauty, caught in the undertow of his words. i feel such raw emotion in this music that it makes me dive into his subconscious. i hear saddness so profound that i wish i could speak with him, ask him what source of his pain is. i have listened to this cd all day, and i've gotten no work done as a result. i stare at the inside of my eyelids, trying to decipher lyrics, at times as tangled as seeweed, and in the next stanza, so seemingly simple that i wonder if there is really anything to ponder. the music swells, engulfing me in it's treacle embrace. my heart strains, aches, longs to console him. he died when he was twenty-six, after his third album. they couldn't get him to tour because he was too shy to play in front of large crowds. depression, withdrawl, sadness, pain. it's all there, in his voice, his guitar, the cello, the section of violins that sing along, rising, falling, crying. i wish i had known him, this drake of the sea.
posted by emily oi! at 7:20:00 PM
0 comments
Sunday, January 14, 2001
i walked slowly home from katie's house, in no hurry to arrive at my house. i new that once i got here, my state of mind, finally calm and focused would be shattered to a billion peices, like glass on the sidewalk, by distractions and noise. it seems that this happens to me everyday. i will ride home on the bus, staring out of the window and putting my thoughts in a sensible order. i will get off the bus, adjusting my backpack, laden with books and homework, but my mind will be focused, on whatever topic it had dwelt upon previously. i will walk past the high school, ignoring the groups of adolescents participating in their infantile mating games, throwing snow and making excuses to touch, grab, throw each other. i will continue, unfazed, past a gaggle of gossiping girls, smoking cigarettes and assuredly feeling mature and appealing, with their nicotine and cell phones. i will hear swatches of conversation, intricately woven into the patchwork quilt of their life, their friends, their school. perhaps i will wonder if they really want to be there, or if they go home and write volumes of poetry, wishing that they had someone with whom they could entrust their real feelings, instead of being only able to back bite and critisize to win acceptance. i will not wonder this for long. i will pass them, my coat wrapped against my knees by the wind, then blown away again. i round the corner, emerging from the throng of loitering teens. i will cross the street, being careful not to slip on the ice. i will see paul and his adopted son, noel. i will wave hello and keep plodding forward. i will see the city workers, destroying my street, and i wonder when they will finish. i open the gate and walk into my back yard, a pitiful little square of earth that my mother uses for gardening in the summer. i will fish my keys out of my coat pocket, and unlock the door. i will walk up the flight of steps, and enter the kitchen. i will hastily remove my backpack, coat and drop my text books. i will write this down as speedily as i can, hoping to beat the distractions that will come. my brother will enter, perhaps turn on the television, or maybe he will greet me exuberently, cooing over the rat that sits bleary-eyed on my shoulder, just awoken from her afternoon nap. i will tell him testily to leave me alone for a little while, i need to concentrate. he will probably tell me that i'm acting like a bitch, and i will shoot an explicative back, or perhaps just roll my eyes and growl. my writing will reflect this.
i hope i've clearly shown you why so much of what i write here is somewhat negative. it's because silence is a rare commodity, and when i see it glimmering before my nose, i hold on by the skin of my teeth.
posted by emily oi! at 6:09:00 PM
0 comments
i walked slowly home from katie's house, in no hurry to arrive at my house. i new that once i got here, my state of mind, finally calm and focused would be shattered to a billion peices, like glass on the sidewalk, by distractions and noise. it seems that this happens to me everyday. i will ride home on the bus, staring out of the window and putting my thoughts in a sensible order. i will get off the bus, adjusting my backpack, laden with books and homework, but my mind will be focused, on whatever topic it had dwelt upon previously. i will walk past the high school, ignoring the groups of adolescents participating in their infantile mating games, throwing snow and making excuses to touch, grab, throw each other. i will continue, unfazed, past a gaggle of gossiping girls, smoking cigarettes and assuredly feeling mature and appealing, with their nicotine and cell phones. i will hear swatches of conversation, intricately woven into the patchwork quilt of their life, their friends, their school. perhaps i will wonder if they really want to be there, or if they go home and write volumes of poetry, wishing that they had someone with whom they could entrust their real feelings, instead of being only able to back bite and critisize to win acceptance. i will not wonder this for long. i will pass them, my coat wrapped against my knees by the wind, then blown away again. i round the corner, emerging from the throng of loitering teens. i will cross the street, being careful not to slip on the ice. i will see paul and his adopted son, noel. i will wave hello and keep plodding forward. i will see the city workers, destroying my street, and i wonder when they will finish. i open the gate and walk into my back yard, a pitiful little square of earth that my mother uses for gardening in the summer. i will fish my keys out of my coat pocket, and unlock the door. i will walk up the flight of steps, and enter the kitchen. i will hastily remove my backpack, coat and drop my text books. i will write this down as speedily as i can, hoping to beat the distractions that will come. my brother will enter, perhaps turn on the television, or maybe he will greet me exuberently, cooing over the rat that sits bleary-eyed on my shoulder, just awoken from her afternoon nap. i will tell him testily to leave me alone for a little while, i need to concentrate. he will probably tell me that i'm acting like a bitch, and i will shoot an explicative back, or perhaps just roll my eyes and growl. my writing will reflect this.
i hope i've clearly shown you why so much of what i write here is somewhat negative. it's because silence is a rare commodity, and when i see it glimmering before my nose, i hold on by the skin of my teeth.
posted by emily oi! at 6:09:00 PM
0 comments
two letters in two days. my my my. i must be becoming popular. oh, that would be a shame. if i was popular, i would have to spend more time talking to people that exist and less time talking to you. that's not to say that you do not exist, but that is rather to state the fact that casi nadie reads this site. did i just use spanish? yes, i did. casi nadie means almost nobody. it is very late (early?) and i should go to bed so i can get up early and start studying for finals. would this be considered concrastinating? probably not. can someone tell me what the opposite of procrastinating is? no, you cannot, because you do not exist,which is why i am talking to you. seems logical enough, right?
posted by emily oi! at 1:07:00 AM
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Friday, January 12, 2001
i thought i was going to write sam a letter. so i got off the computer, picked up some paper and a pen, and sat down at my desk. "dearest santiago," i began. my pen hovered above the paper, trailing invisible circles in the air. my mind had gone completely blank. i needed time to think, to formulate my thoughts and put them together in such a way that they could be understood. i sat there for several minutes with my eyes closed, perhaps searching for inspiration somewhere on the inside of my eyelids (perhaps the dancing green spots were bits of a lost message in morse code). i opened my eyes and sighed, i knew i just couldn't write the letter. so i skipped the writing and went to the final stage, decoration of the envelope. i opened a drawer and took out the box of envelopes, but it was empty. i wondered briefly why i had placed it there if it was empty, decided i didn't know, and closed the drawer, with the empty box still inside. i felt defeated. the gods of fate had not wanted this letter written, so i was not going to take any chances with incurring their wrath. but gods are fickle, i suppose. i was walking down the stairs, about to proffer myself up to the unfeeling stupor of online chatter, when i accidentally kicked over a stack of old national geographics from one of my earlier projects. i was struck with a wonderful idea and set about the house to collect the necessary materials; an exacto knife, a ruler, a pen, a middle-aged cabella's catalogue to sacrifice for the sake of my endeavor, and a good cd to listen to while i work. i took the covers of two ng's, one on the reform in iran and the other on the balloon trip around the world, and wove them together. for hours, i cut, arranged and wove those peices of paper, letting the repition of the task occupy my hands and the music to let my mind wander. i thought of every single important thing that is happening in my life, and every single truth that had crossed my mind that perchance will aid my sam in his quest his happy medium. i am now ready to write my letter, and, to quote mr. g, "it's going to be a doozie."
posted by emily oi! at 10:41:00 PM
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i thought i was going to write sam a letter. so i got off the computer, picked up some paper and a pen, and sat down at my desk. "dearest santiago," i began. my pen hovered above the paper, trailing invisible circles in the air. my mind had gone completely blank. i needed time to think, to formulate my thoughts and put them together in such a way that they could be understood. i sat there for several minutes with my eyes closed, perhaps searching for inspiration somewhere on the inside of my eyelids (perhaps the dancing green spots were bits of a lost message in morse code). i opened my eyes and sighed, i knew i just couldn't write the letter. so i skipped the writing and went to the final stage, decoration of the envelope. i opened a drawer and took out the box of envelopes, but it was empty. i wondered briefly why i had placed it there if it was empty, decided i didn't know, and closed the drawer, with the empty box still inside. i felt defeated. the gods of fate had not wanted this letter written, so i was not going to take any chances with incurring their wrath. but gods are fickle, i suppose. i was walking down the stairs, about to proffer myself up to the unfeeling stupor of online chatter, when i accidentally kicked over a stack of old national geographics from one of my earlier projects. i was struck with a wonderful idea and set about the house to collect the necessary materials; an exacto knife, a ruler, a pen, a middle-aged cabella's catalogue to sacrifice for the sake of my endeavor, and a good cd to listen to while i work. i took the covers of two ng's, one on the reform in iran and the other on the balloon trip around the world, and wove them together. for hours, i cut, arranged and wove those peices of paper, letting the repition of the task occupy my hands and the music to let my mind wander. i thought of every single important thing that is happening in my life, and every single truth that had crossed my mind that perchance will aid my sam in his quest his happy medium. i am now ready to write my letter, and, to quote mr. g, "it's going to be a doozie."
posted by emily oi! at 10:41:00 PM
0 comments
i got an email from the infinetismal sam today. i had started writing his letter in school, but it wasn't going very well. a little too silly for my likings. i thought i'd send it anyways, because i am a pretty goofy person (despite how my page may sound). i was devastated to hear that his cousin had attempted suicide by overdosing on otc drugs. i trashed my pitiful previous attempt at a letter and started over. near the end of his, he wrote "oh emily, sometimes i feel that you are the only sane person left on the earth." i know what he means. it seems like the rarest commodity in our society is someone who can just listen, and try understand what is being said. or maybe i'm wrong. maybe good listeners abound, and i'm just too caught up in my own world to notice them throwing little bits of paper at the back of my head to get my attention.
posted by emily oi! at 7:31:00 PM
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Thursday, January 11, 2001
"you like dan, don't you." andrea said. not asked, said. it was stated as an aphorism. a truth that is both self-evident and blatantly obvious. i wondered exactly from where her reasoning stemmed. i tried feverently to explain to her how i could love dan so much, but not love him in the way that perchance she is thinking. i gave up when i realized i sounded like a blithering fool. it's kind of hard to explain things to andrea. to anyone, really, but andrea especially. oh-so-tired. this isn't making much sense, so i'll end it before i start confusing myself. oh-so-tired
posted by emily oi! at 6:34:00 PM
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"you like dan, don't you." andrea said. not asked, said. it was stated as an aphorism. a truth that is both self-evident and blatantly obvious. i wondered exactly from where her reasoning stemmed. i tried feverently to explain to her how i could love dan so much, but not love him in the way that perchance she is thinking. i gave up when i realized i sounded like a blithering fool. it's kind of hard to explain things to andrea. to anyone, really, but andrea especially. oh-so-tired. this isn't making much sense, so i'll end it before i start confusing myself. oh-so-tired
posted by emily oi! at 6:34:00 PM
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Wednesday, January 10, 2001
such a stupid smile. she greets me in the hall. my head snaps up to see who called my name. my lips form an automatic, almost default, smile, just in case. "hi" i say, wiggling the fingers of my left hand. my right is occupied holding my biology book. an art folder too, i think. it's a good thing we're walking different directions, i cannot keep up this smile for long. i've barely gone three or four steps when i feel my face pulling back, resisting the smile. i try to keep it there for a moment more, but the result, i realize, is more of a scowl than a smile. i let my face fall. i must look silly to any that observe me in secret. the smiling scowling falling girl. i glance around, no one even sees me. the smiling scowling falling invisible girl. i walk into my class. i write this down, so i may remember it for later. i am intensly aware of my face, while i write this. i wonder what thoughts it betrays to the watchful eye. does my furrowed brow lead observers to think that i am searching for a word, left by the holes in my vocabulary, or do they perhaps infer that i am searching for an answer to a difficult question, or something completely different? i try to force my face into impassivity, when i realize no one is looking anyway. the smiling scowling falling furrowing yet enduringly invisible girl.
posted by emily oi! at 3:36:00 PM
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such a stupid smile. she greets me in the hall. my head snaps up to see who called my name. my lips form an automatic, almost default, smile, just in case. "hi" i say, wiggling the fingers of my left hand. my right is occupied holding my biology book. an art folder too, i think. it's a good thing we're walking different directions, i cannot keep up this smile for long. i've barely gone three or four steps when i feel my face pulling back, resisting the smile. i try to keep it there for a moment more, but the result, i realize, is more of a scowl than a smile. i let my face fall. i must look silly to any that observe me in secret. the smiling scowling falling girl. i glance around, no one even sees me. the smiling scowling falling invisible girl. i walk into my class. i write this down, so i may remember it for later. i am intensly aware of my face, while i write this. i wonder what thoughts it betrays to the watchful eye. does my furrowed brow lead observers to think that i am searching for a word, left by the holes in my vocabulary, or do they perhaps infer that i am searching for an answer to a difficult question, or something completely different? i try to force my face into impassivity, when i realize no one is looking anyway. the smiling scowling falling furrowing yet enduringly invisible girl.
posted by emily oi! at 3:36:00 PM
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Tuesday, January 09, 2001
my father and i will be going to a few resale shopes this week, or perhaps next, to purchase a typewriter (with any luck as cool as the one in that auction) and a ribbon, so that i may embark upon my letter-sending entourage. there's something more satisfying about writing with a typrewriter as opposed to with a computer or (at times) by hand. it's nice, when i write, to feel the pen/pencil/keys resisting. it makes me think about exactly what i'm writing, and perhaps re-think it. when i write by hand, i prefer fountain pens over ballpoints, as they scratch the paper. another advantage to writing by hand is i know when to stop. when my arm starts to hurt and my handwriting becomes unreadable, i stop. that way (hopefully) i won't write too much. i have a tendency to babble (as you may have noticed).
posted by emily oi! at 5:17:00 PM
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my father and i will be going to a few resale shopes this week, or perhaps next, to purchase a typewriter (with any luck as cool as the one in that auction) and a ribbon, so that i may embark upon my letter-sending entourage. there's something more satisfying about writing with a typrewriter as opposed to with a computer or (at times) by hand. it's nice, when i write, to feel the pen/pencil/keys resisting. it makes me think about exactly what i'm writing, and perhaps re-think it. when i write by hand, i prefer fountain pens over ballpoints, as they scratch the paper. another advantage to writing by hand is i know when to stop. when my arm starts to hurt and my handwriting becomes unreadable, i stop. that way (hopefully) i won't write too much. i have a tendency to babble (as you may have noticed).
posted by emily oi! at 5:17:00 PM
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Monday, January 08, 2001
i've officially decided to start writing people letters again. i did this rather frequently over the summer, as important people (ie sam, the coolest person in the world [i'll explain why later]) were out of town. but i was just in my room, reading my end of sam and my's correspondance from the summer months, and i realized how much easier it it is to collect my thoughts and say things clearly in a letter or email (although letters are preferable) than in a conversation over the phone. and a face-to-face conversation is in a completely different realm than the aforementioned means of communication. something about being able to see a person's eyes when they speak, being able to observe their body language and the ability to search for that spark of comprehension in the very back of their eyes transforms meaningless words, as real as soap bubbles when heard without a face attached, into sounds, fighting to burst their boundaries and transform themselves into ideas, emotions, beauty and (in some cases) a thick fog, dragging down one's whole mentality, ruthlessly stripping off rose-colored glasses and slashing the eyes, wounding the soul. for that last reason, letters act as a barrier, a buffer. i don't know how to explain it any better than that, but i hope it makes enough sense.
posted by emily oi! at 4:23:00 PM
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i've officially decided to start writing people letters again. i did this rather frequently over the summer, as important people (ie sam, the coolest person in the world [i'll explain why later]) were out of town. but i was just in my room, reading my end of sam and my's correspondance from the summer months, and i realized how much easier it it is to collect my thoughts and say things clearly in a letter or email (although letters are preferable) than in a conversation over the phone. and a face-to-face conversation is in a completely different realm than the aforementioned means of communication. something about being able to see a person's eyes when they speak, being able to observe their body language and the ability to search for that spark of comprehension in the very back of their eyes transforms meaningless words, as real as soap bubbles when heard without a face attached, into sounds, fighting to burst their boundaries and transform themselves into ideas, emotions, beauty and (in some cases) a thick fog, dragging down one's whole mentality, ruthlessly stripping off rose-colored glasses and slashing the eyes, wounding the soul. for that last reason, letters act as a barrier, a buffer. i don't know how to explain it any better than that, but i hope it makes enough sense.
posted by emily oi! at 4:23:00 PM
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Sunday, January 07, 2001
you know, i was just about to start writing a post all about how winter is so depressing after january 6th because all of the snow has turned black in the streets and there are no more holidays to look forward to until at least february, and that's if you're a baha'i. but then, i perchanced to look outside and i saw it was snowing again, and i realized that it was all in your perspective. just a thought to end my day, that's all.
posted by emily oi! at 10:22:00 PM
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you know, i was just about to start writing a post all about how winter is so depressing after january 6th because all of the snow has turned black in the streets and there are no more holidays to look forward to until at least february, and that's if you're a baha'i. but then, i perchanced to look outside and i saw it was snowing again, and i realized that it was all in your perspective. just a thought to end my day, that's all.
posted by emily oi! at 10:22:00 PM
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online chat is a very weird thing. weird in a good way or weird in a bad way, i have not the slightest clue. i find it odd how people that you see and talk to every day in the "real" world can have absolutely nothing to talk about online. once the "what'sup/notmuch" stage has passed, the conversation comes to a dead halt. it was just recently, now, in fact that i realized this was, in essence, what our "real life" conversations consisted of. and now i think, well, what about people who you've never met? over the summer i stayed up until five o'clock in the morning, discussing views and theories on politics, religion, society, and just life. i've formed bonds people across the country that i could never manage to forge with people i saw on a regular basis. this is a little discouraging, and even more so when i (just) realized that 99% or more of my friendships are based on a "what'sup/notmuch" foundation. i must do something about this.
posted by emily oi! at 10:43:00 AM
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ok, things are finally good enough for me to devote some of my cranial activity to actually posting. i am a little frustrated with my friend "x1". he had been acting insensitive and rather self-centered, and when i tried to explain to him why i was upset, he totally blew it off and expected me to be non-angry with him. i feel like i can't talk to him anymore, but i never really could so i suppose it's nothing big. it's just that x1 has been one of those people that semi-understood my nonsensical ravings but now i'm just down to natja. maybe my problems with x1 have major emily-origins. perchance i take things too personally, but it makes me angry when people bring up my personality conflicts, because as i see it, i'm just trying to find a happy medium.(a content fortune-teller?) my own little niche. unfortunately, this is a lot more difficult than it seemed to me at first. i wasn't counting on people, mainly x1, becoming cynical at my attempts to improve my character. sigh sigh sigh. la vida es asi dificil, no?
posted by emily oi! at 12:10:00 AM
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Saturday, January 06, 2001
i've been spending so much time trying to design this site, but the visual editor is just making things worse. things will show up on the preview, but when the changes are loaded, they are no where to be found. so if you're viewing this site and it looks substandard, come back later and hopefully it'll be fixed. your patience is appreciated.
posted by emily oi! at 2:34:00 PM
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i've been spending so much time trying to design this site, but the visual editor is just making things worse. things will show up on the preview, but when the changes are loaded, they are no where to be found. so if you're viewing this site and it looks substandard, come back later and hopefully it'll be fixed. your patience is appreciated.
posted by emily oi! at 2:34:00 PM
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well, i have a whole weekend in front on me and i've promised myself that i am not going to spend it talking to people on aim. it seems like that's what i always end up doing and i have no life because of it. it's almost like i have no free will. i will be doing my homework and here aim calling to me. i wonder "hey, what if d or o are online?" and it will all be over. i'll promise myself to actually catch up on my art journal and sketches tomorrow. it's a horrible cycle and it must stop before i lose what little self-control i have left.
posted by emily oi! at 10:45:00 AM
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Friday, January 05, 2001
today I finally took control and wrote my middle school art teacher, mr. g. i had almost written him letters before, but i could never think of anything pertinant to say, and i knew i'd come off just sounding stupid. so while no one was home i started the letter, but about three sentences in (none of them were very interesting) my parents came home and started making a lot of noise with that confounded tv and such. so i stormed around for a while, i stabbed my mattress with a newly sharpened pencil about five times, and then i attempted to continue the letter, only to find that i had written it on unlined paper which only served to infuriate me further as my lines had gone all crooked and wonky. so i started over and tried to make it good. i incorporated many of the random mr. g-related thoughts that had occurred over the past seven months. he's the first person i gave the url to this site to. i guess because he has never critisized anything i've done, whether it deserved it or not. thank you, mr. g!
posted by emily oi! at 11:34:00 PM
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today I finally took control and wrote my middle school art teacher, mr. g. i had almost written him letters before, but i could never think of anything pertinant to say, and i knew i'd come off just sounding stupid. so while no one was home i started the letter, but about three sentences in (none of them were very interesting) my parents came home and started making a lot of noise with that confounded tv and such. so i stormed around for a while, i stabbed my mattress with a newly sharpened pencil about five times, and then i attempted to continue the letter, only to find that i had written it on unlined paper which only served to infuriate me further as my lines had gone all crooked and wonky. so i started over and tried to make it good. i incorporated many of the random mr. g-related thoughts that had occurred over the past seven months. he's the first person i gave the url to this site to. i guess because he has never critisized anything i've done, whether it deserved it or not. thank you, mr. g!
posted by emily oi! at 11:34:00 PM
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for sale:
one adolescent female
needs some repairs
bad circulation
falsely sociable
toxin-free
fickle
--
we will start the bidding at twenty cents.
posted by emily oi! at 7:07:00 PM
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Thursday, January 04, 2001
a few days ago, i went to a local resale shop to pick out a new coat. i am a coat junkie. at this moment, i own four winter coats. all four are from resale shops and cost under ten dollars. this is the second day i've worn this one, and i can't help but feel slightly self-conscious whenever i'm breaking in a new coat. there's something wonderful about trenchcoats. not those uncomfortable leather ones, but a nice, long, wool coat. when i walk to my bus stop in the morning with this great, heavy weight resting on my shoulders, i feel grounded. braced against the wind, i feel comfort in knowing that a passing stranger cannot discern my sex. i can step outside myself, is what it all comes down to. thank you, wool trench coat.
posted by emily oi! at 5:20:00 PM
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a few days ago, i went to a local resale shop to pick out a new coat. i am a coat junkie. at this moment, i own four winter coats. all four are from resale shops and cost under ten dollars. this is the second day i've worn this one, and i can't help but feel slightly self-conscious whenever i'm breaking in a new coat. there's something wonderful about trenchcoats. not those uncomfortable leather ones, but a nice, long, wool coat. when i walk to my bus stop in the morning with this great, heavy weight resting on my shoulders, i feel grounded. braced against the wind, i feel comfort in knowing that a passing stranger cannot discern my sex. i can step outside myself, is what it all comes down to. thank you, wool trench coat.
posted by emily oi! at 5:20:00 PM
0 comments
Wednesday, January 03, 2001
joe joe joe. how can i describe thee. he's different. he likes me. i can't say i have any particular feelings for him, but it's nice to know that somebody thinks i'm desireable in any sense. since i ended my relationship with omar for reasons i will assuredly speak of in later posts, i've felt like i'm despensable. i feel like shit, to put it bluntly. i don't need to have a guy to make myself happy, and in fact, i've often considered the reprocussions of complete celibacy, but i just wish my hormones would make it easier and settle down a smidge, you know?
posted by emily oi! at 7:37:00 PM
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joe joe joe. how can i describe thee. he's different. he likes me. i can't say i have any particular feelings for him, but it's nice to know that somebody thinks i'm desireable in any sense. since i ended my relationship with omar for reasons i will assuredly speak of in later posts, i've felt like i'm despensable. i feel like shit, to put it bluntly. i don't need to have a guy to make myself happy, and in fact, i've often considered the reprocussions of complete celibacy, but i just wish my hormones would make it easier and settle down a smidge, you know?
posted by emily oi! at 7:37:00 PM
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change me change me change me. what a name for a blog. to whom this command goes out, i really don't know. i have always hoped that one day, some unknowable higher power will suddenly change my life. i will become a better baha'i, be certain in my endeavors and so forth. i realize that this is a very irresponsible way to live your life, always hoping that someone else will make you a better person. i once read in the baha'i writings that no man can change himself, but when change occurs it is because he has made himself open to god, and god has changed him. but how do i make myself let god change me, or anyone, for that matter. i don't know. i wish i did. maybe i will change the name of this blog to dime (tell me). perhaps that would make more sense. but in any case, i hope that maybe, perhaps by some chance of extreme luck, this blog will let me find out who i am. i'm not very skilled in html, nor am i the greatest writer in the world by any definition, but that's not why i'm here. i'm here because i'm an extremely lonely, frustrated, sad adolescent individual. the first blog i posted on (and still do) is dan's site. now, on dan's site i was (for the most part) a rather funny, up-beat (or at least i tried to be) individual. i feel like i got stuck. because i told all of my friends about the site, i felt like i couldn't express my true opinions, especially if those opions were related to the readers if you get my drift. i then created a different blog, but i told people about it and, even though i did no work on it for a longish period of time, i still was self-conscious. i'm afraid that people will read my site and judge me for it. but i suppose that's a chance i'm going to have to take. while i was considering creating this site, i thought about what voice i wanted my writing to have. i knew the voice i took in my other site would not do, because it's impossible to clearly explain one's feelings if one always has to be happy. i wasn't enjoying it. i thought about writing similarly to that of jack saturn. but then, thinking about it, i realized that i needed to develope my own style to know my thoughts, if that makes any sense. so, this concludes my first post, rather lenthy and such, but i hope it clarifies my purposes. oh, and by the way, i'm a vegetarian. the reason my url has "pork rinds" in it stems from a book i read in sixth or seventh grade. it was called "staying fat for sarah byrns". i don't recall the author. but anyways, in the book there was an underground school newspaper called "crispy pork rinds", because all they had left to report on was the rinds, i guess that's kind of how i feel. but back to the point, which is the end of this post.
posted by emily oi! at 7:00:00 PM
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