marco polo

photoboard for my next project : Marco Polo.

So many amazing things these past few days .
It’s been so nice to see old friends and family, to catch up with my dears and my loved ones. Although it was short and I didn’t get the chance to see everyone I wanted to, it was lovely. Hopefully I’ll get back soon to see all you I missed this time around!! Happiest Valentine’s day to everyone! Please keep passing the love around! It really does do the body (and mind ) good.
—
I’ll leave you all with this.. just to keep up with the flow of awesomeness.. I saw it hours ago and it’s still making me smile ^_^

!yad s’enitnelav yppah

loverpies never shy
so close today..
cupid’s time
to flirt and play.

<3

tizzy in a lava lamp. wtf is going on… ?

sifting through thoughts
attempting to decipher emotions
attempting to put my pride down (but failing so often)
no excuse this time…
no thing to hide behind..
nothing to pretend. not a single damn thing to cover.
only pride.
and maybe hormones?

jesus.

only pride.

no thing to hide behind,
only something to fold,
only something to be ashamed of..
something
..invisible.

what crap.

so much crap lately.
invisible crap
polluting my air
polluting my thoughts
bullshit
bullshit
horseshit too.
only so small, so faint, so …
not even optic.

how does that work?

humanness
humaneness
ho hum.

i’m done.

..it’s time to put a stop to this.

i’m going to acupuncture. -_-

do it to it

jinkies, gang !

…it seems I am only human. But sometimes.. I wish I weren’t. Wouldn’t life seem so much nicer.. ignorant? or selfish? or … alone? or as a robot (which is essentially lifeless)? Yup. I think I’ve gotta say so. But, then again, I also think I know better. Since it’s our humanity that makes us, for lack of a better [or truer] word, special — it seems silly to think such things. At least, silly when you consider the con-/sub-sequences of such things. ..Right? Yeahhhh… big silliness.

However, it also seems that we, as humans, are so easily swayed to make things difficult by instances of ignorance, selfishness, and a seeming desire for solitude. oy gevalt. what a relief to know that we are all only human. Now we’ve got to talk, listen, respond, THINK, act. Compromise. Both a hard and an easy task. Compromise. Oh the stubborn, oh the pushover, oh, oh, oh. What a world, no?
We want, we take, we have. OK.
We make, we share, we give. WHY NOT?
( ..and my eternal Buddhist is showing… )
So now, what happens when we’ve already taken what we wanted, made it something we want to share, (while still retaining it for ourselves), consciously expressing its gift and then constantly never giving it? …what happens then? Well, in my opinion, a cycle of selfishness is fervently held and the human, capable of acknowledging the concepts of fairness and compromise, is not even relegated to the lifeless robot of preconceived motions (and preprogrammed notions) (rhymes make me happy ). The easy lifestyle of a robotic, right? Sure, but now we have a paradox on our hands. Easy, to have your own opinions and be set in your own (selfish?) ways; difficult, because you are human and your fleshy brain synapses along your emotive spine and when the right cord is struck, it f*cking sucks. Now we’ve got something to fix, something to loosen our grasp of, (if only slightly), and a new deal to make. awesome. Who wants to be first to step on the level field before the raised podium? I’ll do it; I don’t mind. But I need to know everyone else will do the same. For G-d’s sake, you can’t have a compromise about a thingly-thing/idea/concept/practice/protocol/principle/whatever all by your lonesome. ..otherwise you’ve just stepped off the podium into a pile of bullshit. Double bummer. .. you’re also barefoot. sucksssss.
Let’s see what we can do. I hate feeling like I’m the one with a foot in the shit. Damn it !

a grain of salt.

..I picked this up from a friend’s blog. I hope you’ll enjoy it too.

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.”
-George Washington Carver

*check out her blog here. You’ll continue to be impressed.

tango, tangissimo

How many people do you love? …I mean, really love?
I’ve got to say, I think that I’ve loved a lot more people than I thought. Actually, I think I love people so much that when I have to correct, confront, or rebut something to a loved one, I do one of two things: (1). say it bluntly and directly.. even with a little attitude, or (2). try to lay it out as nicely and un-offensively as rhetorically possible. (<– fun with suffixes !). Anyway, it seems to be faulty. I am faulty. ..or, faulted, rather. I only say this because I was faced with a broken heart, just this evening. It was quite unexpected, to say the least. I was stunned.. I nearly gagged from the shock. I saw a face I had only dreaded I would see, yet, still a face that I had been thinking of only recently. Weird. Disarming. So, I stepped out. I needed to make a phone call anyway.. and help a lost friend find her way.
It was freezing out. The core of me was warm, but limbs were cold and fingers, icy. It started out fast. A quick pace, then slower, less breath-y …weaving through gentrifying blocks and across decaying streets. ..the phone ringing, my fingers freezing. Surgery went well, but I wished I could be there. Homesickness is lethal. And, my dear, at least she is doing well.
I needed my mind off this heartache, and I needed to put this fervorous feeling into something decent and I needed to hear that the doctors gave her an okay. (they did ). All's well that ends well.. and ain't that the truth? ..surgery, good; break-up, not so good.. I had to come back soon. A friend was still lost and I needed to get her. A success. But shortly after, heartbreak still everpresent and a mind still ill at ease. It slipped by me: stealthily, daringly. The surprise, the shock of it hitting me like the broomstick blow to a 6-pointed star piñata.. nova.. candy guts bursting out… my blood exploding through veins under my skin.
..What do you do when the face of a heartbreaker is before you? Worse yet, what do you do when the face of the heartbreaker before you doesn't know that s/he broke your heart? Ahh, yes, and now we've come to my dilemma. My non-confrontational, pussy fault. great. It seems that I would be the only one who has reservations; it seems that I'm the only one with an issue; it seems that I broke up with him/her without his/her knowing it or why.
[this is] B U L L S H I T with a heavy-hearted sigh.
[Alas ], it is long since time that I zip up my big girl pants and speak my peace. scary. of course. But, I'd rather face the heartbreaker than an involuntary gag reflex and a Parkinson's shiver.
Oh …life. ..It's good to have revolution. ..evolution.
Breathing.. 1.. 2.. 3… … …

i went out for bubble tea

I was so angry. Livid. It was almost difficult to stay upset though. Odd. I would find myself, eyes closed, under the blanket, in a half conscious slumber where a random assortment of loose thoughts would swirl and mingle until, at one or two certain moments, I’d remember the anger — try to hold on to it — actually work to keep it from slipping again. I wanted to be mad. It somehow satisfied some strange desire. My feeling of hostility built. I was getting furious. At least.. I would have like to think so.

On the way to the metro I still felt this strange, slightly subdued, slightly subversive, slightly trivial, slightly mocking tension. I was anything but light-footed. Limbs performed their habitual practices; I walked, foot in front of the other, arms at my sides, hands stuffed in my jacket pockets — mechanical and angsty, I stepped. I wanted to bitch; I wanted the angst… (I was on my way to get ramen).

The train came.

The accordion player sat, played (softly); a child swing around the car’s center pole; a woman slept; a man read; a couple conversed; some stepped in, some stepped out — but the accordion’s sweeping, breathing sounds and the accordion player’s fingers, traveling the keys like a spider tip-toeing atop the strings of a harpsichord, remained. It was lovely — melting — and it made my efforts to harbor this anger, this ill, so much more of a trial. Damn him.

So many actions and interactions in the car; so much life — alive — within it. What a pleasure it was to observe; feel; experience. The proximity. The expressions. The incredible life that exists. The talent; the hope; the eyes; the voices; the sounds; the feelings; the sensory — beyond my comprehension — beyond my ability rhetorical to express such brilliance. Utterly incredible. So incredible, it almost puts me in a state of anxiety — an anxiousness of caged energy wanting to burst out, threatening to burst out — until I am nothing more than a hot puddle of bubbling goo. Somehow it feels that I have a love of life the intangible, inimitable thing we refer to with this slight and pictorial combination of four little letters (of the simplest little lines) that I am overwhelmed by its possibility, its existence, by its… it. Such a pleasure, such a thrill, a scare, a worry, a beauty. The things it brings: the expression, the art, the seismology of variety in every single thing. It is a comet — bright-burning, brilliant, and sometimes, hardly bearable. It is romance ad pessimism; hope and disdain; it is sensory and ours.

I am still in disbelief.
And I am still a little bit angry… but only when I try.

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(please forgive my lack of editing)

…

I just saw this and had to share..

a realist after my own heart. <3