Did anyone every tap you on the shoulder?
And say hey young girl I can see what you are doing
you're clinging to living, overdoing all your giving
you're trying for the best, but the best isn't supermarket labeled
you can't be real and fresh when you're picking out of bins

Your heart can't live on scraps,
with a little faith and zen it might just survive
well it ain't a barren wasteland, who was so damn negative
but remember that its your life and your own prerogative

Its about time someone tapped you on the shoulder
but I know that you wont listen so I'll jab you in your ribs
And say hey young girl I can see what you are doing
you're clinging to living, overdoing all your giving

Maybe you should write bad poetry or doodle on your books
or give it all up, nap and dream of dances in the woods
but baby don't be foolish, don't ask for someone elses share
you know it's only using, a newish race car
but its you who'll do the driving to the old junkyard

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people
take a look in their eyes you see a box with a checkmark
they're all set but they're with you
this dream just won't come true.
young girl I can see what you are doing
you're clinging to living, overdoing all your giving


Your heart can't live on scraps,
with a little faith and zen it might just survive
well it ain't a barren wasteland, who was so damn negative
but remember that its your life and your own prerogative

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people
take a look in their eyes you see a box with a checkmark
they;'re all set but they're with you
this dream just won't come true.
young girl I can see what you are doing
you're clinging to living, overdoing all your giving

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people

So just stop sleeping with those people
who are in love with other people.....

The bitemarks don't last yeah they fade away
The blood vessel he burst, well the mark won't fade
The kitchen smells don't last
They're a thing of the past
The pink hair turns blue there's always a new you

Must I tattoo
You with every screw
Is that the only way
You'll remember me!?

I miss your voice and the breath I didnt like at first
I was chilli then beer, and then you tasted of weed
And the last one was soft yeah he didn't raise a hand
but at night he gently held my hand

Must I tattoo
You with every screw
Is that the only way
You'll remember me!?

It was affection I could hardly stand
but then you grew on me, I insisted on liberty
Yeah you let me go but I came back again
I slowly saw you as more than a friend
And now I fly away, its not new, I never stay
And now I feel you forgetting me

Must I tattoo
You with every screw
Is that the only way
You'll remember me!?

You said you'd write letters but you never did
He said he'd never hit but things changed, and he did
They just wanted some fun, they were each others only one
I stayed with a drink, those erotic events they made me think
And I still remember you all.

Must I tattoo
You with every screw
Is that the only way
You'll remember me!?

Was it nice going in and out?
Were those genuine grins, genuine pouts?
Did you want more, harder than I could give
Well I doubt much stronger could exist
She was better than me in some ethereal way
Unlike me, you wanted her to stay
Yeah unlike me, she could chose to stay.
But I still remember you all.

Must I tattoo
You with every screw
Is that the only way
You'll remember me!?

 

But I still remember you all.

But I still remember you all.

Turn Ons

Intelligence

Nice arms

Piercings

Strong (in any way)

Creative

Tattoos

Music/Art/Theatre

Imagination

Passionate

Romantic

Courage

Confidence

Sense of humour

Spontaneous

Smokers

Killer smile

Openess

Stands up for himself & me

Communicative

 

Turn Offs

Laziness

Lack of goals

Self-centered

Impatient

Boring

Insecurity

Arrogance

Alcoholics

Potheads

Apassionate

Closed

Quiet/ hard to read

I want a lover like sunburn.
I want a friend like mulled hot cider in winter and lemonade with a dash of vodka in summer.
I want a memory like a tickle, a gasp of remembrance of something that glowed
I want a dream of a future with exciting new choices like pick and mix or various chocolate coins.
I want a lover with soft hands and a rough tongue like a good play that thrills and lines that makes you think.
I want a companion with a cheeky smile and a knowing grin, who points to shiny things or old things hanging from buildings in Camden Market, shows me patters in architecture.
I’m imagining someone insatiable but always satisfied, always proud, always pushing for more.
I want twinkly eyes like when children run through sprinklers in summer.
I want someone who likes good red wine, and who regardless of sobriety crawls back to me in twilight.
I want safe seriousness like when a young driver is going to a new address where they long to arrive, peering intensely at the road and the map.
I want someone with the bravery of someone aged and the fire of an adolescent.
I want fingers that curl tightly saying ‘I won’t let go’, nails that scratch like birds that shriek happily at 5 am, palms with a story, caresses like religiously simple hope.

"The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place also. " -Oscar Wilde

"For birth control, I rely on my personality"

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. ~Anaïs Nin

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love. ~William Shakespeare

"She remembered Nana saying once that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world. That all the sighs drifted up the sky, gathered into clouds, then broke into tiny pieces on the people below. 'As a reminder of how woman like us suffer,' she'd said. 'How quietly we endure all that falls upon us.'" - A Thousand Splendid Suns

Life is greater than death. But love is greater than either-Tristan & Isolde

"To laugh often and much...
To win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children...
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends...
To appreciate beauty...
To find the best in others...
To leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition...
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived...
This is to have succeeded. "
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Three passions have governed my life:
The longings for love, the search for knowledge,
And unbearable pity for the suffering of [humankind].
Love brings ecstasy and relieves loneliness.
In the union of love I have seen
In a mystic miniature the prefiguring vision
Of the heavens that saints and poets have imagined.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge.
I have wished to understand the hearts of [people].
I have wished to know why the stars shine.
Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens,
But always pity brought me back to earth;
Cries of pain reverberated in my heart
Of children in famine, of victims tortured
And of old people left helpless.
I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot,
And I too suffer.
This has been my life; I found it worth living. - Bertrand Russell

14

Twitching, the silk illogically
I am aware-violates me
Caressing my thighs. Somehow
Aware, overly so, the threads
Pushing against breasts as yet untouched
By man or woman
But taken, used by this
Neurological weed, this
Monster- un-mythological,
But equally baffling.
A ghost, a desperation for a battle,
But how?

And so it is my duty, for my mother
Who studied for me, a small
Sister confused, a father helpless. I
Attempt not to shriek. Am I seeking
Attention- I ponder,
momentarily distracted.
Perhaps.
Too long a mental pause- my muscles
Constrict, and nails dig into my skin,
Forehead, arms.
Shallow grooves, like my struggle
They will fade, unremembered, unproven
Unless I count them.
My mother, my sister, please
I make clear I desire a presence, with whispers between convulsions. Someone
Must stay, must look on, revolted or pitiful.
It must be witnessed; for my own proof no-one will count on.
Who trusts the un-eloquent testimony
of a child?
Will I even remember, being seven?
And tell me now, the pain I cause
By existing, being seen
Does it make me more of a monster
Than that which steals my smiles
And my humour?



-Shaken, not stirred-

No red-meat, non-religious, a virgin Mary
Around my father’s neck. His scent, deep
A faint backdrop of cigars over what emerges
from his brown skin. A stranger
accuses me of for my singing of Swedish songs.
Familir, comforting words, their meaning-unknown to me
Yet I continue.
Their mocking eyes follow, as if I must earn the right to each
Of my different parents. The heat the cold
Pale wood, overabundance of food. The music
Their melodies combined in me.
Perhaps less musical,
Or more.

Guilty I search, a justification
For expression at the forefront
of my mind. Imagery fleeting, not there
long enough for interpretation,
or to be captured, like a bird in a net
its wing pinned against a wall. A symbol,
of oppression and division.

They were raised, their skin, or their love
Or maybe a habit, held against them. I, again
Splintered-without pain. I have grown into prejudice, it did not
Teach
Or accompany my youth.
I learn and it comes to me gradually
The sharp ends of tree branches, suddenly less beautiful
In their contrast to the sky, and more menacing.
My friend, my family, they gather, tell me of their past
Of other places, expectations.
And I try to incorporate into a consciousness
Always raised to be proud of itself, its heart, its heritage
The concept that I could be hated or rejected
For a kiss.
Or not being pale enough,
For San Diego.



Mothers mother


You cling to the books,
You will no longer read nor
Need. Your small watery eyes
Worried, tense, aware of a lacking
A loss. Memory
Becomes a blessing, the right
Was left somewhere, lost,
Or no longer deserved.
If we assume justice.
I question my sins,
My mothers, yours.
I do not know, I can not judge,
Two women I have loved, sets
Of suffering; salt and pepper. Season
My life, my version of flavour,
A right. Another granddaughter.

I walk back from the library, second, maybe third version of my Spanish paper in hand. It was cold but my large Bose headphones covered my ears like monarch butterfly cocoons. How I loved the chrysalis when I was a child, I thought the spelling was as beautiful as the idea. I imagine you saying you aren’t lovely, I remember trying to disagree. I picture us in person finally me cross-legged on your bed drinking in what I didn’t expect to see on your walls or desk. Laptop in my lap, I try to sit up straight/ The idea reminds me I should ride in the park, the horses don’t whisper beautiful fallacies or tell me how they don’t truly support me, they just nicker, and I feel their hot breath on my hand as I come close. I always come close, I like to touch. I’d like to reach for your knee now, instead I try to focus on the document, I scribble 'Knee' in the corner of a notebook.

I am trying to write your existence. I want to force the words and my questions to stretch your throat and pull up answers. I want to write your emotional molecules and why you cant form covalent bonds, and instead you look at them with big wishing eyes criticizing yourself but at the same time feeling powerless. Why do you break them, dabbling in the lab, in other peoples labs, in other sciences. Leave the biology out of the chemistry. Mathematics in purity but your intelligence in and of itself might be more scary than intriguing. You could manipulate, twist and turn fingers like daisy chains and pause the sun like a videogame. The fabric of your jeans is ripped, do you like that look? Do I? Why?
My mother always said if you wanted torn jeans tear them yourself, I probably would, I trip and fall on gravel. I scraped skin off my elbow getting off the floor by the bus in Connecticut. The wall, like thick sandpaper, could probably have erased a piece of my essence and left it there, for other teenagers to lean again embedded in the white-washed walls of a public prison-like building of transit, never sure weather it connects people or tears them apart- doors slam loudly. Times expire, gates lock. Gas pedals push. I push play on my ipod and engulf myself in a song whose youtube movie is a fetus, disturbingly beautiful, like the music itself.
You are disturbingly beautiful, I search for a question. Your attention slacks, how will I pull you back to me. I wish you leaned to me with your mind, like a tree grows up, still extending its branches out but always ever taller. Perhaps I will find some other soft-faced orb-eyed foreigner to be my Redwood, grow to me grow to me, always this way. I will feed your longings. Do you doubt me? Let me envelope you in something other than arms.
My thoughts whirl and whirl, swishing, wishing to have a cut up eloquence like Andrea Gibsons spoken word, cut up phrases which melt together like the bin beneath a shredder with all our personal information.

I'll sleep instead. Its a sweet flirtation to imagine there's any eloquence in my thoughts, flirting with men is easier than flirting with success. Success is already angry with you.

Some favorite Songs:
Signal Fire-Snow Patrol
You Picked Me- A Fine Frenzy
After All-Dar Williams
Both Hands- Ani DiFranco
Make Me Stay- Ani Diranco
People Got A Lotta Nerve-Neko Case
Come Comet or Dove- Devon Sproule
Jolene-The Weepies
Wanted-Holly Brook

"The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place also. " -Oscar Wilde

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. ~Anaïs Nin

Could you take my picture? Cause I won't remember

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to loose

It's a major minor detail. Its the ticking of the clock when you wake up alone at 7 am

MOVIES
Then She Found Me
Imagine Me and You
Juno
Stardust
Smart People
Mister Foe
The Fountain

16696 CHI 220 02 0 5.000 CHINESE II (INTENSIVE)
MWF 10:00 am-10:50 am
17296 CHI 220 D02 0 0.000 CHINESE II (INTENSIVE)
TR 02:00 pm-02:50 pm
16737 PSY 271 01 0 4.000 PSYCHOLOGY OF PERSONALITY
MW 01:10 pm-02:30 pm
10558 ESS 930 02 0 1.000 EQUITATION II
13754 DAN 120 02 0 2.000 BALLET I
TR 09:00 am-10:20 am
15924 THE 141 02 0 4.000 ACTING I
TR 10:30 am-11:50 am
16732 PSY 221 01 0 4.000 PHYSIOLOGY OF BEHAVIOR
MWF 11:00 am-12:10 pm

So I am pretty much okay, but I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get stuff done.

I managed to get up to date on everything, I have one late chinese hw I am doing now, and my tecaher extended my spanish test to Friday.
I have been rehearsing a segment of a scene with R and M, and its going well, his prof was like "Who is this girl? I like this" = Me is so flattered.

Me J and M may do some hair dying this weekend, Hampshire has a drag ball which I MAY show at, and D may be over for the weekend. To be dignified, to be happy? I just don't know. Fabulous *sarcasm*

Grades look decent, will make up for some absences in jazz by performing in a final show, and helping from 5-10 for three nights with the grad show. Madness, but I can do it.
Spanish grade is good, Chinese grade decent, psych - absolutely no idea.

Though I think my involuntary celibacy is beginning to negatively affect my academics. Homework concentration has plummeted.

Working on finding an acceptable schedule for next year