in the sun I feel as one

December 28, 2012

“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps…perhaps…love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”

mad fools


I am


what appears in music

December 21, 2012

Every Christmastime, which is generally from about Halloween onward, I begin my running bet with myself that I will not hear a certain especially damnable song for as long as possible for both gods and humans. If I win, which, item: has never happened, I get to enjoy a season unpunctuated by dashes of utter crap, and throw back my head and howl with victory. I imagine there would also be a little dance. If I lose I have to hear the world’s worst Christmas song and pitch an immediate mini fit wherever I am, which ranges from the airport on holiday eve where everyone else was also miserable and it was acceptable, to the fancy Christmas ornament store my mom took me to a couple of weeks ago where people were frankly shocked at my lack of yuletide spirit. Maybe you have guessed, all smart over there with good hair, that this year like every year I am losing again. Rather than pout about this however I am going to share the true spirit of Christmas with you; wicked glee at the fact that one is not alone in one’s desire for some perfection of form and/or function, a ball or two, or at least a good damn laugh.

The internet: bringing justice and holiday cheer to make glad the heart and retract the claws.


I am

so delightful

December 18, 2012

Every time I get on the elevator with someone who only rides it to the second floor I judge like a vicious motherfuck. There are stairs for short timers like you.

I am

just her window ledge

December 12, 2012

I am feeling magnificent today. I just woke up so thrilled at my life; the morning is beautiful and I feel beautiful and I feel humbled by my existence for the first time in a while. I’ve been tasting it and remembering it and reveling in it and fitting my fingers into the grooves of its complexities, but I haven’t really been so tranquilly hushed in a long while. I am alive and that is amazing.

I feel so much more of who I am supposed to be. My life has receded a bit into the multibraided rainbow tightrope it’s supposed to be, it’s got down out of my face and is now dancing under my feet and through my lungs like it ought to. I can breathe again, and be still like a mountain under its filigree of moss and walnut shells. Apparently I am a mountain that has a lot of walnut trees. That actually totally works for me.

It’s also hard not knowing what comes next. Besides math.

I feel such a need for expansion of horizon, movement. I love who I have become and who I am, but I’m not done being more things. And I know I’m acquiring more things all the time and I have set myself up to being doing that more or less indefinitely, and so I should just chill out; but ‘as the pattern grows more intricate and subtle, being swept along is no longer enough.’ I feel like my bones are clamoring for me to stand up and fly at the glistening tip of my little world, and like I’m doing it blind as black and fast as crazy. Which…obviously. I guess I am just bitching about a lack of cosmic roadmap once again, you would think I’d get over that but no it turns up like gum stuck under a bar every several months or so. As ever I crave an automatic change and something new and ess curve compatible, and a bunch of boxes to pack all my things into and take them out of again in the frame of a brand new empty slate.

What I need though is to keep on pushing those roots I’ve been so determined to curl down, keep the moss and walnuts in the light and shadow where they are right now, and run like the wind with another part of myself. I want to go far away, and rollerskate. And chill out in the raucous, gentle awesomeness of the space I inhabit; and have sun chips. Again.

I am

me like a gull takes to wind

December 12, 2012

This is what draws me most strongly to write: the desire for change, as if somehow by writing about my very desire for it I can conjure it out of thin air. And probably I can. Where else would it come from, anyhow?

I am

I am finished with the term.

I just submitted my last paper.

I am ridiculously stupidly sad about it; I loved this term like the mock turtle loves tureen. And now it is gone, and I have an eternity of math stretching beyond me up into the mountains of doom as far as the quailing eye can see, and I am pretty sure this is exactly how that is going to go:


However Frodo did just fine more or less despite an inability to read elvish, so maybe I can get through all the math I have to do without losing more than a finger and a few friends.

Also what the hell am I going to do with all my time now?




I am

how it could have maybe been

December 11, 2012

I just participated in a psych study for my final project, and ye gods. I have discovered something about myself that is I guess not exactly surprising in its existence but is somewhat shocking in its intensity: I cannot handle the concept of glory without guts. In my opinion, the glory is a direct product of the guts. Without blood, sweat and tears, where is the victory? I took a study focused on my feelings about taking drugs to enhance cognitive and emotional abilities, and while in some situations that would be exceptionally awesome, due to natural deficits in those neuro regions, when applied to the general public it grinds my gears like a socket wrench in the delicate bits of a precision conveyer belt. It’s not that I don’t think that people should want to grow and improve; I just feel that there is no improve without grow. I think that personal growth should come from a cocktail of internal motivation and external stepping stones, and that popping a pill or acting out a rote behavior to ‘level up’ is not only taking the easy way out, but a hollow endeavor; it does not allow for any true depth of personal introspection, decision and journey. This is not to say that I am against drugs in general, especially those that play an important biological role in bettering quality of life in some way. But when given the opportunity to develop new or better skills in an interactive, growth based situation or via the automatic mimic of a drug that is supposed to achieve the same results, I will take the learning experience every time. It seems to me that enhancement of skill through synthetic means would be at its fundamental core a synthetic contrivance, the end results achieved but the means completely left out and all supporting systems that would have been developed as well along the way incomplete or nonexistent. 

I am