it's so beautiful, our lunacy

ahhh, repose.

after a long day (or thirty) of painstaking work, worries and woe, it is nice to put your feet up and relax so that you can reconnect with your roots... radicals, rebellion, randomized playlists, rest, radio, revelation and reading. maybe discovering, discerning, decadence and delirium? or maybe loneliness, lingering and life planning. in any case it is temporal time, to be tempered with whatever tests i decide to try it with.

in any case, i'm going to fill the days of spring break with the things that i long for in my day-to-day grind, meaning that i will spend the majority of the time just reading for recreation, a little volunteering, bathing, and doing one or more creative thing in a day.

grow up where you're planted?

Why does it scare us that things don't always last forever? Why do I pity those who are alone in their lives? But then, why do I wish for independence?

I guess I've been scared of one thing forever, and it's being defined. I never revel in any one definition of myself. I want to be seen as smart, but not just a smart girl and as hip, but not one-dimensionally so. I want to be beautiful, but not in a flimsy disposable way. I don't want to be seen as the person who needs others or the person who shuns the world. I feel totally uncomfortable around people who don't know me that well, because I know that they either see one part of me or another. Without this understanding of who I am, they're left to guess what kind of person I am. Meanwhile, I wonder if who I am is something I even want to try to define.

I was on top of the world last night, but today I feel there is higher to go.  I want to shoot upwards quickly like an arabidopsis plant, but I know that I can't grow this way without suffering a little. When you take the plant out of the fridge and the gel and put it in the soil, you very well may damage the roots. The seed is stressed out in the growth chamber for a while, but then it eventually recovers and resettles its roots, after a couple days of being covered and watered. But I fear so much the pain of having my surroundings shaken that I cling to the plate and the gel. I know though, that I'll eventually outgrow the plate and if never put into soil, I could just wither away and dry out.

However, it's not just a question of my pain. It's also the pain of the other seeds planted next to me right in the gel. As I am lifted off the plate, I am lifted away from the others, and maybe their roots will get ripped as a consequence of our entanglement-- it can happen when you leave a plate growing for too long. Does changing your life always have to change the lives of others? Is it better in the long run?

Having deep conversations with people

It's a great pastime to share your thoughts with a group of people, to debate, to question your beliefs, and to argue them from many sides, but it often leaves me feeling sad.

Seeing that things aren't simple as they were when I was a child breaks my heart whenever I'm forced to deal with this stark reality.

It starts with realizing that all facts are filtered through the mind of whosoever saw them and reported them. All accounts of reality are only as strong as the degree of trust between people. Give someone a survey, and they could lie. Ask someone what happened and they could forget or exaggerate. Whatever we know could have been biased or false or tampered with. Most people who speak up about issues are the people who hold extreme viewpoints, and almost everything that's worth reading is biased in some way--it's probably impossible to say that something isn't biased in some way. But yet, we still pick up the newspaper or watch the news and believe it for the most part. We believe books we read because we believe in the system that prizes the truth. However, little things are so small that they could be fabricated. How many little things add to a large miscalculation?

From examining this, we find that there is no truth that can't be debated. One can always question the motives of someone else.

However, there is also our truth, our personal truth, what is correct for us, what we see as reality. Were we in love? There is no truly objective answer. Was it right? Are we right? My parents did this thing and so did everyone else I know. If I grew up in a culture where it was okay to hurt others, would I think it was right? People do things under the assumption that their beliefs are wholly true. So, how do you tell them they're wrong without doing it by force? And how do you know that you're right?

I'm a proponent of optimism and idealism. We need hope because only with hope can you proceed forward, and you need ideals to strive for, otherwise there is no direction.  But you can't forget the reality of the world you live in, you can't set policy solely on idealism. Instead, gradual changes must be made in the system to deal with our problems and grievances in better way.

The worst thing about discussion is that you can define the problem relatively simply, but generalizing about humankind is hard, and trying to say how something should be done is not the same as saying if people would agree and putting it into action. And what is the best way to go about something?

Sometimes I think it would be best if it was a dictatorship, but it would be run by someone with great morals, someone with a keen understanding of the world, someone who wasn't all one thing. But this person will never be the person everyone is okay with, and this person could change and become someone who isn't this person. One person can't know or do everything. And this person would be hated and love simultaneously.

But the thing is, you can't wait for the perfect system to arise. There needs to be some action for anything to happen. Redundant? Yes. But you'd be surprised at how little is done for fear of how naysayers will react.

Urban Sprawl Like Me

 I've been thinking lately, much under the influence of my Geography 339 Environmental Conservation class, about the history that has brought America to this point. Our ancestors (or more aptly, the ancestors of people who did not emigrate here in the last generation as my family has) have gone through a few crazy phases in which they had this desire to chart out the wilderness, to conquer it, and then not to conquer it, and then to use it, then not to use it, and to keep it safe by spraying it with pesticides, and then to not spray it because the pesticides killed what was beautiful, and then to sprawl to live in it, only to destroy it with cars, with overuse, with pavement.

Our relationship with the environment is just like any other. It's an issue of balance, of using but not abusing, not of needless reverence, but of respect. We can have fun with the environment, we can play with it, we should hang out with it, and we shouldn't smother it with our violent love.

In gaining this new perspective, I've come to examine the great problems with my life that I had dismissed as the way things are. It was easy in my old living arrangement. When I lived in Fitchburg, I lived right next to my middle school and elementary school, my daycare was biking distance as were most of my friends.

Things got worse when I had to go to high school in a different district to accomodate a move to the area just between Madison, Fitchburg and Verona, kind of in the country. While at the time, I suppose, my parents who were building their dream house-- the physical reflection of their hard earned hopes and dreams-- thought that this living arrangement would give us peace of mind, I soon realized that it was very far away from my school; my mother commuted downtown each day (a 20 minute drive) and my father drove (35 minutes) to Stoughton everyday. It was little consolation to me that it was mostly highway/country road driving, when I was at school as late as 9:00 waiting for my working parents to pick me up, unable to take the bus because the city didn't send buses to my house save two school buses.
As I became more conscious of environmental concerns, I came to see the error in this arrangement. Not only did I feel like a leper, living amid nature and beauty, while it bore the costs of our inhabitation, but also, I felt guilty when I had to go anywhere. How could I cope? My whole life was accessible only by car across ten minutes of country road.

When I got a car and a license, the feeling of freedom was unbeatable. It was the sense of freedom I had always desired, not having to rely on someone else to get somewhere. But with the car, came the anxiety that comes with diminishing fuel tanks, and driving a 1999 model Lexus with one person in it.

We are the definition of sprawl and bad infrastructure. Living on campus, I see the immediate improvement. The farthest place I have to walk is a twenty minute slow walk, and the buses are abundant. I can survive without the aid of anything big, except a few textbooks. My legs are my vehicle. Living this way makes me reject the concept of a dream home. Honestly, it's never really appealed to me. For me, my dream home stole me out of my school district, away from my friends. It always gets dirty, requiring constant upkeep. Though sunny and spacious and "environmentally designed," it still kept me away from it all. It felt like there was green space and parks, but no one went to them, no one wanted to sit in nature away from it all.

I found that my friends in closer neighborhoods, who lived among each other, as well as green places went to their parks more, and then they went to the library, and then they biked downtown because they could. They had everything in their backyard, their friends, their library, their school, just like I had once and they took the 10 minute walks and experienced it. While I didn't venture out because there was nothing there for me.  I'd look in my backyard and see a wide empty golf course that we technically weren't allowed to walk on, and an endless stretch of road that if I took a good 3 and a half hours to walk along (I would create a nice thick desire line), I could go to Target by the time it got dark.

The worst thing was that I never rode my bike anymore because I had no place to bike to. The terrain in my neighborhood, with its hills and patchy sidewalk, was quickly my enemy.

With a true love of mine, I drove to West High School (the western equivalent of my high school) and decided that it was entirely not fair that their school was surrounded by trees reddened by autumn.  I felt surely that this must be the only way to live, amid nature, where the roads were more like paths, and nature was not just gardening but a pervasive element of the architecture itself. I felt that if I had lived in this neighborhood, my home would be a two minute walk, my friends would come over after school and I could run out for some flour if we decided we wanted to bake something spur of the moment.
My high school on the other hand was next to a mall, two busy roads and a bank.

So I've made the decision to get my bike fixed and bring it to campus. I want to rebuild my love for biking, in a city that I love. I want to be one of "those people." And when I get older, I want to live in a city, where I can walk to where I need to go, and I can go outside and lounge around without feeling like I'm in the middle of the wilderness.

The afternoon, you're out on the stone and grass, and I'm sleeping on the balcony after class.

Vampire Weekend, though more recent than some of my other musical interests, have now become a staple in my music library. I just like the idea of blending genres, making music that is foot-tappin' African-flavored upbeatness.

A huge problem for me as a songwriter or whatever, is that I don't know how to write a satisfying upbeat song. It always comes out wrong; it sounds like Britney Spears or like I'm orphan Annie or something, or too girly for it to be okay. I need to write a song for a woman that is driven by just the right amount of testosterone to be not a man. And I believe that I can do it. I just don't know how.

Shuffle be trippin'

The most bizarre choices, such as the Original Broadway Cast of Chicago's rendition of the song where Roxie Hart talks about her boobs, and then Christina Aguilera's song Soar (although this is at least statistically likely because I inexplicably have quadruples of Christina Aguilera's CD Stripped) which is coincidentally the same word as the one that describes my freshman orientation. Then some song by Deep Purple which I forgot I possessed. Then Speechwriters LLC, then Enya. Shuffle be in a weird mood today.

But I think I've discovered that I like Enya.

I've been thinking a lot about my day-to-day routine lately and how it subtly reveals who I am. Friday morning (yesterday morning but it feels like it was a week ago because my Fridays are much longer than any other day of the week and then I woke up early today and went to work and took an abnormally long nap in the afternoon), I went to WSUM and then French class.

WSUM is the student-run radio station that I will hopefully soon have a show on. I realize this makes me sound cooler or less cool than I am; disregard this because the following dilemma shall clarify.

WSUM has this door that only lets authorized people come in with the use of their Student ID which has a magnetic strip which is activated by whoever decides you're good enough to have a show once you've completed your training. No one was around to let me in when I got there 20 minutes late for my appointment to play with the mixing boards so I sat outside the doors doing my french homework and jerking up whenever anyone walked by hoping to sneak in behind someone. Finally when my time was supposed to over, I got let in by two guys who were actually not creeped out that I followed them in and ran into Anthony, Scott's roommate who likes the movie the Big Lebowski which I have never seen but Becca thinks is overrated. I was pleased that he remembered my name because I think he's met me only a couple times. People have problems remembering my name. I've learned to be understanding about it because I'm really bad at remembering names unless they are accompanied by a last name or are super distinctive like Chadwick or Archibald. But it tends to take people longer to memorize my name than it takes me to memorize theirs.

Since I had forgotten to bring my laptop and feared that I would miss my chance to enter if I left to get it from my dorm, I played music off of YouTube the whole time I was there. I did a voice break between every song that went like "That was the very hot Albert Hammond Jr. and his great song "In Transit. Now I'm going to play you something else that's also amazing.... Or not. Wait a sec, sorry there are technical difficulties because I don't know how to use an eighth inch cable to connect to my iPod. Oh well. Here's something new by Vampire Weekend. I just found out there's a bad word in Oxford Comma."

I was finally getting really into it when I realized I was getting late to my french class. But since I had just played with the boards, I felt like I was really hip so I ran downstairs and got a White Zombie (it's this coffee that's weirdly white because the grounds have not yet browned and it's highly caffeinated) before I left for class, but the girl at the counter added the Vanilla in the wrong order so it wasn't as good as it could've been. Because I was also feeling very curious and inquisitive, I took a different route to my class, through a garden and then through a construction site. It took about 5 minutes longer than necessary and I got to class five minutes early nonetheless thanks to hipster speed-walking during which I spilled coffee on myself but was still in a very good mood thanks to my iPod which gives me rose colored lenses and makes me smile at strangers.

Walking through the construction site and then walking among the ancient buildings on campus makes me feel strangely poetic. They have this old school charm that is not had by Chadbourne which is flanked by uglier looking buildings made in the fatalistic or post post modern styles. Another building that I love on campus is Science Hall, the Geography building, which is filled with topographical maps that you can just touch and feel very satisfied. Its staircases are oddly steep and there is one that I think leads to the roof but it is blocked off.

I finally got to class and saw that my teacher had already arrived and the students sat in their normal seats. The kids in my french class on the whole are more hip than those in my other classes. For one thing, they all have near fluency in French, which is very hip. For another, they all seem to have some kind of niche. Some of them go to concerts, some of them bike competitively, some of them used to live in D.C. and are very buff, some have weird resemblances to rockstars, some are still in high school, some write fiction in their spare time, some of them are very into indie TV shows and films,  like Flight of the Conchords or like Paris, Je T'aime (for obvious reasons) or have clearly read Stuff White People Like, some of them look like an Urban Outfitters catalogue.  Also, they're all very nice.

As for me, I like to assume that I'm very cool, but when I open my mouth, it becomes less obvious. It's a phenomenon ever present in my life I have found. I'd like to be a bit more mysterious.

Quote of the week:
"Aarushi, you surprise me everyday." -Sarah Lewis, in response to my vocal/talking voice dissonance giving me a maybe-compliment-maybe-insult (there should really be a word for that! There is probably one in German.)

I knew you knew I liked you

I haven't been posting in a bit mainly because I haven't been thinking very deeply about more than one thing in a bit. I also haven't been sleeping deeply either. Last night, I (and my roommate) were rudely awoken by a phone call at alarm volume. After that, my sleep cycle was terribly interrupted. I've become a less deep sleeper in anticipation of alarms, and I think it's very strange, since sleeping deeply is part of my identity.

I forgot to refill my medicine prescription in time so now I'm sore and this is right after I decided to walk to class and avoid elevators in my building. Oh no. The increased physical activity is impacting my asthma because when you make walking up 5 floors a necessity, you have to do it quicker than is comfortable so then I wheeze. Oh well.

My band, The Rose Lights is filling my mind a lot lately, mainly because I am really excited about it and we just got a Facebook/Myspace thing which these days is what makes your band legit. Dinner Bell is our first recorded song, and I've been getting some good feedback which is exciting, but also scary because I feel that we need to record fast to keep up the momentum we have.

It has led me to a weird speaking voice vs. singing voice identity disparity. Most people seem to not think that my singing voice sounds like my talking voice and then give me all kinds of funny looks, which I feel ambivalent about. I am normally flattered that people think I have a good voice, but I am also weirded out by the fact that people would say I don't sound like I would sing the way I do, or I don't sing like I'm myself, because the fact is that that is the way I do sing, and I've known nothing different. Also, people like Jack White, Bright Eyes,  and Beyonce, you can tell their talking and singing voice is the same.  Oh well. I am generally happy with the positive response and I'm excited that people like my voice because I will be less nervous about it. Maybe it's a chance to break away from my day-to-day persona.

In other news, my life is being pretty boring. Day-to-day it is interesting, but eventfully, there's not much besides the band or maybe I'm just not in the mood to divulge. Take a listen to the band, though.

Some tidbits

Geography Discussion:

Becca: I think it's like the change between having to have ties with the government in order to achieve your policy, and being able to have power on your own. Like back in the progressive era Gifford Pinchot and Teddy Roosevelt had like a thing.
Aarushi (me): BROMANCE!

Geography Lecture (maybe a few weeks ago):
Professor Olmanson: Can you guys think of a significant event that occurred in the first half of the 1900s?
Becca: The Teapot Dome Scandal!
Professor Olmanson: Um, that was very significant, but that wasn't the one I was really looking for?
Some other kid: World War I!
Professor Olmanson: While World War I may not be as big of a deal as the Teapot Dome Scandal, I think it's pretty relevant here.


Today I am at the Milwaukee Public Library. It's a very beautiful building. But this is because I got up really early to go to Milwaukee to get citizenship but my mom thought that they would do it early and then we could go home, but the fact is that now we're stuck in Milwaukee until 2:00 when it is, when I could've just gone to class (Sex lecture). Sadness.

Becca on some class: I was just looking around at the class and looking at all the attractive people, and I realized that you are definitely one of the MOST attractive people in the class.
Me: Thank you, that's very sweet.
Becca: There are a lot of REALLY unattractive people in that class.

I just watched the librarian kick like five people off some computers because they're "designated for people 18 and under." Bogus. (Especially since all people 18 and under should be in school right now, unless they're me who is in college and has an excuse.)

venn diagrams would be useful here

What I wanted to accomplish today:
-finish Geog readings
-write proposal for Honors project for Geography
-write French project, and study for French Test
-go to Sex Honors thing and successfully not make a fool of myself
-get back on track with seed planting and transplanting at work

What I accomplished today:
-read exactly one paragraph of Geog readings
-decided on tentative Honors research paper topic after not being able to find Volunteer work through the bureaucracy that is WISPIRG
-thought about doing French Project and made a word doc with an outline that I need to fill with content, and failed to study for test
-kind of made a fool of myself at sex honors thing but it was probably okay because I sounded like I was prepared and hopefully charmed professor
-did not get back on track with seed planting but got closer to track and wrote a plan for the next two days of lab work
-ran down my laptop battery while unproductive at Rheta's for several hours accompanied by two bromancing bandmates, one of whom is my boyfriend
-went to the wrong place at the wrong time for a meeting I wasn't destined to make
-ran down cell phone battery
-almost lost tooth paste in a restaurant style booth
-made valentines day plans
-had lunch with Gina
-made this blog entry which is nothing in comparison to blog entry i wrote on monday which got deleted by God and the little moles who crawl through the browsers on the law library's public computers.

Sleeping is giving in

So after some rude awakenings (literally),  I have decided I need to repair my sleep cycle/productivity/ability to take medicine. I have been losing sleep and it's becoming apparent because I have started substituting names for other names because I think about one person and then I try to talk to someone else and the name of the person I was thinking about comes out of my mouth and it's super embarrassing.

Also, gonna be more awake so I can think more original thoughts because before my mind was teeming with these thoughts, new and alive, but now I'm crippled with work all the time, so my mind thinks really really boring thoughts like, Jeez, I run everywhere now, or Eww, I wish I could get vaccinated but I don't have any time. They lead to nothing productive and I'll probably get a horrible illness and die soon.

Becca's blog has pictures on it! It's pretty cool. I went party-hopping last night and I managed to have a bit of fun sans substances, which is weird because normally I'm annoyed by the party environment because people are creepy and android-like and just do things for no reason, but last night was kind of fun because everyone thought I was hilarious, and I realize it's maybe because people take themselves way too seriously and when they're drunk they're as likely as I am to say weird things. The nice thing is that I can have a good time without sacrificing judgment.

I am sleepy.

Skip down, slow down, push it to the East Coast

It's so late, why not post now?

Lately, I've been well. I suppose I started a new semester and I suppose I'm in that stage of the semester in which I still feel that I can conquer it all and I am doing things differently than ever before. Some things that are different:

1. I never take the bus anymore and basically run to wherever I have to go, or as in the case of this morning, I trudged through sticky, flour-like, quick sandy snow to slowly get to my destination. Leaving with ample earliness, it still took me five minutes longer than necessary. Still, an improvement because the bus is inefficient, and it's warm when you walk and the only downside is that I spill coffee on myself while I'm running to class, but otherwise, I have found some really good shortcuts!

2. I have become totally lax about socialness. While this does not really mean that I've stopped being a social butterfly who always goes out of her way to hang out with people, it means that I am not that affected either way by my relationships with people which always go well generally otherwise I'd probably be more freaked out right now.

3. I am brimming with new excitement for several things-- including my friendships (though I am not stressing about them), my band (which has become a talking point for me as it previously was not), my lab job (this is the one I stress about), my other two jobs, my French class (it's so fun, and actually doable, which means that I have improved!), and the prospect of learning things from scratch the right, scholarly, collegiate ways for my other classes (not like last semester in that I actually DO readings on time, and am self-reliant about understanding material and am taking a class that is taken by people who are almost done with their major, allowing for interesting perspectives to flow in discussion sections.)

4. I am also very, very busy. Last semester, I felt busy because I had to work and because I was taking 17 credits. This semester, I'm both academically busy (15 credits of social studies and language is no easy task as I may have thought before) and not academically busy, and when I'm not doing homework or studying, I'm working, and when I have a rare moment of neither, I am being a socialite (in a way I only can).

5. I totally forgot to mention that I am training at WSUM- The student run radio station at UW-Madison. Soon, Becca and I will have a show and it will be amazing and funnny and smart, with the great accent of GREAT music. (Currently, I'm listening to Smashing Pumpkins.)


6. I got a brand new computer! It is of the Mac variety and I bought it myself with my hard earned money (well more like my dad bought it with his credit card, and at my next convenience I have to take $1475 out of my account and give it to my dad because I do not have a check book)!  It came with a printer! For this computer, I got a nice case that is BLUE and it was $30 from InCase.

I know it sounds as though I am going to kill myself, but I assure you that I'm actually excited about this crazy schedule, because I feel that I am doing what I want to do with right now.

Some Goals:
-Find more time for creativity: try to write a song in the next 2 weeks or refine older song ideas.
-Dress cuter and beat those hipsters in my french class at their own game.
-Go to bed no later than midnight every night. New formula: do homework in solitude, socialize/chillax/be creative until midnight! Wake up at 8:00. Class. Work. Repeat.

I think I made you up inside my head

This part of me wants to run away from everyone because I feel like everyone is asking something of me that I cannot give them, or asking nothing of me when I want to give them more.

Why do I have to be anyone's or anything's at all?

I don't want to be a pessimist and that's why I don't want to be like you and that may just be the only reason.

A portrait of a young woman on a night like this

I am sitting, thinking nothing at all
in a place I will find myself more than once this semester
in the bottom of a building filled with people
most of whom I will never truly  know besides a sideways glance or a smile

Is this my home? I don't know, nor do I care for the moment,
I am living the life of someone I know only through her song
in a language I only know by a set of trivial circumstances

Her voice whistles and bristles and wanes and wails
with a vibrato that never quits
a big band background that transports me to the rues that I will never visit
It's the fault of the piano, and the accordion and the imaginary night sky that I am removed from in this castle of wire-driven enterprise

I wonder if life will be like this movie in my mind.
I wonder if I imagine everything around me
and I wonder if the complex algorithms that make me myself can ever be cracked or derived or reduced into a simpler form
But I am small; I am nothing at all; the illusion of importance gives me light and it allows me to become bigger than myself.

Maybe it is a crazy joke, by Dieu or some other heavenly entity...
and maybe they watch me on TV
and maybe I am their cartoons
and maybe they live in a 5 dimensions that my human mind cannot comprend
and maybe that's all right
because there is no such thing as a tesseract.

You have WHAT twice a week?

Sex.
Well, Human Sexuality, that is. It's a course about the psychology, biology, sociology, etc of sex.
The class lends itself well to abbreviation, we call Chemistry Chem, we call Biology Bio, and now, Human Sexuality is delightfully deemed Sex.

This will be an experience.

It hit me today, the reality of taking a class like this, where the guy next to me screamed out the word "Cock," when the professor asked for slang words for male genitalia. Then it hit me again (it hits me like once a week) that EVERYONE is affected by sex, not just me or the people I know. The guy next to me, the girl in front of me, my teacher. Eww. Like, when I realized everyone poops. But it hit me so much worse this time because it's not a fleeting thought, it's like bombarding me in the face with its sheer reality.

I consider myself to be a very very open person. I am fine with people knowing my schedule, my favorite color, my opinions,  what experiences were embarrassing for me, and  whether or not it's impossible for me to find a good dress, etc. This openness is somewhat shattered in a class like human sexuality. The way people don't like to talk about grades, I don't like to talk about my experiences in that field of my life with others that much. And not because I'm that squeamish, just because I feel that those things about people are incredibly intimate. To me, it's not not a big deal; it's a piece of me that I'm pretty sure most people don't want to know about.

 And don't get me wrong, I'm pretty okay with what other people do and say and what they choose to share and who they choose to share it with and all, but I'm just a little quiet about it because I feel like when you talk about it, you take it out of context, and it will never mean to other people as much as what it meant to you.

I guess it's just what I learned from being brought up Indian (it's surprising that this is what has stuck with me, rather than dancing skills or being able to cook). I just feel that it's an act of modesty to not talk about these things in relation to myself. Maybe it's a cultural thing-- it's funny that I'm not shy about anyone else's doings. This unwillingness to accept blame, I guess, is from being Indian as well. It's in the language, "Lateness happened upon me," "Happiness is felt by me."

I have a feeling that my "systematic desensitization," (as said by my teacher), though I doubt it will be painful, will be delightfully awkward for me. But I'm pretty good at adapting, so it'll probably be okay.

I have hope

because I know that more people than I simply want to see others out of their pain.

It's an issue of our world, our common home, and the people in it. We are not as different from one another as we think. I always think about the fact that I could have been born someone else. And usually I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad, like when I meet someone with a hairier upper lip than me, but other days, like when I was in India and little girls tapped on my car window with desperate looks in their eyes, or when I watched the news and saw a man who had lost five members of his family to an earthquake of all random undeserved crises, I think, if that were me, what would make me keep going? How could I survive that? How could I survive even one death, let alone five?

Knowing that I could've been born as anyone in any situation gives me the will to fight for these people. What's crazy is that knowing about a problem and being able to combat it are two different things. I know of so many needs, but once I find just one thing I can do for one need, I will put all of myself into it. It's not like choosing subjects for school; you can't just spend 3 hours a week on the issue and have the problems fix themselves. I think sometimes it's kind of a curse for us as humans with access to media that alerts us to problems to see how much there is to do without realizing how much time it takes to accomplish one piece of one thing.

But knowing that people besides me  who want to solve these problems exist gets me excited about what I can really do and what everyone can do if there is focused will. There have already been thousands of donations toward the cause of helping the Haitian people, while the US, the UK and the Dominican Republic are doing what they can to help. And I feel that this will be the first of many steps to our world becoming a kinder place. Yes, there are many challenges to any kind of world-bettering operation; there are often huge negative ramifications to our attempts to turn the tables. But the fight is still worth fighting, and it will never be won with pessimism and apathy. I like to capitalize on the hope that we have because I know that it is this hope that will allow us to tread through these storms, rather than doubt.

I just want to have a conversation with you

without the endless dings of popping up IMs
without a thousand twangling instruments humming about our ears
without the TV in the background
without a million people trying to listen in and make a joke
without the pictures of Facebook popping up
without having to play a game


I just want you to listen to me and I just want to listen to you. Alone.

I want to feel safe. I want to know you're there. I don't want to fight to be heard. I want to share my thoughts with you and see your face because then I will know that you really care.

It's weird when you can tell exactly what someone's impact is on you

by examining what happens to you when they're not around.

Sometimes I think I'm going insane because my sleeping pattern is all wrong and I'm hopped up on Claritin and Advil Cold and Sinus. But I'm going to work on my song.

Please please please let me get what I want this time,

Lord knows, it would be the first time. 


Actually that's not true. There are a lot of things I have wanted that I have gotten, but for the most part it has been in terms of friendship, which is cool because you know how when you first meet someone cool and you think, "oh this person is MUCH too cool for me!" Well, I did that with some people, and it turned out they were cool, and as a function of them being cool, we became friends! Happy ending.

Of course there are the times when I think this person is MUCH too cool for me and then they do something majorly not cool and I'm like whatever, get away. That is why you should never think people are too cool for too long because you will lose your sense of reality and get whirled up into a cyclone of dumb thoughts that are not intelligent. (Redundancy is in, I don't care what you say.)

Other things that I have wanted, in terms of material possessions, grades, awards, I feel have come and gone with the chances. I'm happy to say that I've gotten a few things I have wanted badly.

My biggest fear is that I'll have a chance at something I thought I could never get and I'll completely blow it.

That might be happening right now.

The dashboard melted but we still have the radio

I know no one is listening, but sometimes when I say things they mean so much more than how it looks. I feel like that one relationship psychologist who looked at micro-expressions on couples' faces that determined their potential divorceness in Malcom Gladwell's Blink was probably onto something. I feel that my life is kind of movie-like in that you could tell how I was feeling pretty easily if you weren't there and if you watched me closely enough like those cameras that capture every angle and expression and twitch. We give movies a lot of crap for not being like reality, but I think that most of those movies about people are somewhat realistic even if the people are uglier in real life and wear sillier clothing and commit political, social and fashion faux pas. To that person, she looked that beautiful. Who is to say that someone's life is not like a movie without the cutting?

I tend to look at things through my own weird paradigm of confusion. I have to say that I pretend to have shit under control in my head more than I should because I can't deal with the idiocy of having sinful thoughts that don't make any sense. I'm worried that when people look at me, they can tell how much my drive reducing tendencies are affecting my actions and what exactly I want and if and how it differs from reality. I wonder if I say things because I want them to be true and whether that's a bad thing or whether they really are true but I'm not totally confident about it.

But mostly I'm wondered that I'm not gonna wake up because it is already 4:05 am. I also wonder:

• if when we think a song in our head it is in the key it's supposed to be in, and why we can hear it in our head but not really be able to totally remember what it is if we try to think about it too hard
• if anyone notices what i look like besides me when I walk around
• if Cosmo ever really knows what it's talking about
• whether being feminist is just one of those things that people do because it sounds good but they actually passively just think that women should have equal rights, and how far it can go before you're just crazy and how liberal you can be about it before you're not a feminist
• whether it's actually derogatory for a guy to use the word "bitch" and why it's okay for "bitch" magazine to be called bitch magazine and also if it's the same way with the n-word
• if a non-athletic guy and an athletic girl could ever be together in harmony, or vice versa-- what causes us to be compatible anyway?
• why the songs off of my favorite artist's worst records are still better than anything i could ever write. also, why i can feel so deeply but never be able to put it in the perfect words when i want to be able to.
• if anyone will ever read this and relate to it
• why, after everything, people still give me a chance
• why turning off your emotions and screwing up your heart into a tight knot is still much worse than feeling all of your blobby emotions that can just be so frustrating to have re-listen to like a top 40 hit gone terribly sour from being replayed in every department store, coffee shop, airport, restaurant, and party you ever go to.
• whether it's okay to finish a sentence with a preposition.
• who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?

I need to find just one thing

to do, by myself, utterly alone that will give me fulfillment
that does not involve myself.

My dad used to draw pictures of other people.

I wish I didn't waste my life away surrounded by things other people have done.

i hate depending on others to be happy. i need to disappear.