youngbride's Xanga

JUMBLY, MUMBLY MIND OF MINE

Fri, 17 Nov 2006 02:07:56 GMT

It seems to me that the people who are truly intelligent in life are the ones who understand balance. To me, when i'm in prime freak-out mode, worrying and such about my life, it comes down to a balance in my head. How much of life do we make happen and when is it time to wait for life to happen?

When I was neurotic and wrote down everything that happened (literally) I would splice life up and down, in and out, waiting for something to exaggerate into something writable. It gave me anxiety, and I would worry when nothing would happen. When life would just sit still. Needless to say, I had to quit writing for awhile. But I was trying to hard to make life happen when I needed to sit back and take a breath and let it happen.

But at the same time, I got all this fire in me. I want to take life by the horns and shake it up. But i want to do it quietly and gently, with a force unforeseen. Like a volcano that's secretly rumbling beneath a still surface. I'm looking to do it that way. There's ways, little ways. Saying people's name's when you regard them, looking them straight in the eye, not being scared of the life you wanna have, saying thank you, reading deeply into books, following your curiousity, exploring your city, coming to conclusions and then taking action. I read in my history text last night that Cleopatra was "active and focused", no one saw her coming but by the end of her life with Marc Antony, people feared her. I don't want people to fear me, I just want to move through life like that. With people saying, "Man, what's she got that I don't?" And Christ will always be behind it.

I put my polaroids above my bed last night and I woke up this morning and laid there staring up at them. I was grateful. And I told myself, I spoke it outloud, "You have to be grateful. God has given you this beautiful, colorful, tasty life, and you must be grateful." It's a sweet reminder. There's a poem by WH Auden about being poor in spirit and thankful. You ought to read it.

For now, until God provides the next step, or something occurs to me, I do the best at what I can, school and relationships and whatnot. I'm trying to live well. At any rate, what do you think?

I could go on and on, but I won't. Adieu.

AFTER TRYING TO BE ANYTHING BUT MYSELF...

Sun, 05 Nov 2006 18:03:59 GMT

...I'm back to me. And my silly ideas.

There needs to be a revolution of people who ride their bikes, who dance all night, who are happy naturally, who knit and sew, who laugh loud and sing along, who love the simple things in life and don't lose sight of what is important. the world makes me tired because i want to get along but not with people who drink to get drunk, who drive too fast, who want to take the brand name instead of the smaller, lesser-known, better-made version, too busy to dance, too uptight to think straight. I'd like to find these people and call them my friends. I want to talk about nothing in particular but everything at once.

Like last night: I sat with Jen and made up my own nation. "In my nation, everyone rides bikes and listens to good music." and Jen starts analyzing me politically,
Jen: "So, you like lots of control."
Me: "No, it'll be genetic."
Jen: "So, are we talking cloning? Cause that's just creepy."

I miss the woods, where the wind is fresh cause we're probably the first to feel it. Let's be organic, but in this day and age, everything is borrowed. I miss synergy and connecting. I live in a tin city where it's so big I feel like an ant driving one freeway to the next trying to get myself somewhere where I belong. But no matter how many mile per hour I speed through I'll never get there, cause right now I belong nowhere except to myself and that's OK, belonging's over-rated anyway.

SORRY IT SAYS THE F-WORD SO MANY TIMES.

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 09:46:10 GMT

my brother's been acting funny. he came downstairs the second i walked through the door tonight and hugged me in the kitchen for a long long time. i could tell he's thinking about things, or that he's realized something. but those thoughts came a little later after i cleared the air:

"You been drinking?" I ask, my voice sounds squished because his arm is around it.
"No." comes the answer.
"You on drugs?" squishy voice asks.
"No."
"You swear?"
"Yeah, I swear. I'm glad you're home." he says, all mystical sounding.
"Yeah, but I've come home lots of times and you didn't do this." I know exactly what's going on.
"I think I figured out what love is. And it makes me come downstairs and hug you."

He sat on the kitchen counter and I cut up brie cheese and toasted bagels. He asks me about what I had been doing, he grilled me about school and after this and that he finally got to his point, (mind the french):

"Am I a fuck-up?"

And that just hung in the air for awhile and I said, "No."
"Are mom and dad frustrated with me?"
and I said, "Sometimes. When you do frustrating things."

"I do fucked-up things but I'm not a fuck-up?" he's honestly asking.
"Well," I'm pulling all the wisdom in my head together for such a loaded question as this. "People do fucked-up things and don't learn from them or change them. That makes them fucked-up. If you did fucked-up things and didn't change the way you are, then you'd be fucked up. Hey, I'm sick of saying the f-word."
"Yeah me too. Let's quit it."
So we drop that for sake of example and I try to go on.
"I guess there's a difference between being frustrating and doing things that frustrate people."

He tells me how he hates school and is motivated by nothing but music and his girlfriend.
I told him he should get out of town and figure himself out a bit before he gets started on anything.

Doesn't life surprise you? When you're bored and busy wondering if any of those strangers at school are going to talk to you, or if anything in your life will enchant you again and suddenly your brother is hugging you in the kitchen. Things change again and it's good.

Where's God in this? That's always my question at the end of the day.
I don't know yet. But hindsight's coming. So is eloquence. Wait for it, it's coming.

Sorry about the f-word.

ANGELLA, the film adaptation

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 09:30:59 GMT

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
I had no idea I fit into a 2 hour schematic presentation.
But apparently I do, and my soundtrack kicks ass.
Wes Anderson's doing it.

So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool..

Opening Credits:
Hear Me Out - Ben Kweller
(my movie starts with harmonica.)

Waking Up:
I'm a Cuckoo - Belle & Sebastian
("I had a funny dream and you were wearing funny shoes.")

First Day At School:
Stable Song - Death Cab for Cutie
(kinda dramatic for school.
i picture a noiseless except the music drive to school with lots of emphasis on blue shades.)

Falling In Love:
Gatekeeper - Feist
(saucy! & summertime. hooray!)

Breaking Up:
Flint (for the unemployed and underpaid) - Sufjan Stevens
(a pragmatic breakup)

Prom:
Lounge (closing time) - Modest Mouse
(this song i can get down too. it's weird and perfect and ironic for prom.
my prom was on a boat that my date and i tried to pirate.
didn't work.)

Life's Ok:
Pas si Simple - Yann Tiersen (from the amelie soundtrack)
(it's light but still conflicted. like me!)

Mental Breakdown:
You and Whose Army? (strings version) - Eric Gorfain/Radiohead
(withered and intense and classy, i mean strings, c'mon!)

Driving:
The Words - Nathan Miles
(HA! i know glen's reading this. a good thinking song.)

Flashback:
One PM Again - Yo La Tengo

Getting Back Together:
Lay Lady Lay - Bob Dylan
(slow dancing. there's definately slowdancing.)

Birth of Child:
Ambulance - TV on the Radio
(this song RULES. Why is my child born before my wedding? Oh well.)

Wedding Scene:
Skinny Dip - from the 'Thumbsucker' soundtrack.
(beautiful & builds. perfect song. i actually could walk down the aisle to this song)

Final Battle:
I Can't Stop Loving You - Ray Charles
(freaky. it's like Face Off when they play 'somewhere over the rainbow'.)

Death Scene:
There, there - Eric Gorfain/Radiohead

Funeral Song:
In My Time of Need - Ryan Adams
(pretty good.)

End Credits:
Plainsong - The Cure
(perfect.)

My movie's funny, touching, ironic. COME SEE IT. or rather, come be apart of it and make the credits!

FREAK OUT

Mon, 30 Oct 2006 09:04:44 GMT

what am I doing with my life?

LATE NIGHT.

Mon, 23 Oct 2006 07:23:24 GMT

my head keeps me up at night
and i stare at the backboard of my bed
with my eyes closed
and i tell you everything that's wrong.
I speak to the night
with my voice full of tears and quavering.
and I know you'll be kind
with the silly things I'm worried about.
I'm afraid of what I want.
Cause if she's growing up
that means I'm growing up.

LET THEM EAT CAKE.

Sat, 21 Oct 2006 19:42:32 GMT

I spent my day yesterday reading "Running With Scissors" and staring at birds at Krakatoa cafe. I had this weird urge to hold them in my hands, so instead me and my best friend are going to go hold puppies at the pound. I have this need to hold small animals in my hand. Maybe I need to feel benevolent, I don't know.

Last night I saw MARIE ANTOINETTE. It was so wonderful. I loved every minute of it. It's very Sofia Coppola-esque, with the long, almost awkward shots, lots of quietness and scenes of the beauty of Versailles. Very artistic and colorful.

After, we went to Bassam and walked around the city at 11pm, just the way I like. We caught up and danced and read the quotes on the MLK walk. I'm so comfortable and at home with her. She's my best friend. I love to talk to her. She's getting married soon. It makes me sad.

PROJECTS!!

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 19:53:33 GMT

    PROJECTS. I really love projects. Currently, I'm working on a grey scarf for a friend who lives in cold cities, a song on the piano for my best friends birthday (SHH, don't tell her!), I'm starting a blanket for fall/winter, a bag for school, finishing a short story and starting possibly 4 new ones, and I plan on getting straight A's this semester.

   I have this HUGE desire to go out and discover the back streets and overlooked nooks of my city. But being a girl, running around the city at midnight isn't the safest undertaking so at night I stay in and work on my projects. Two summers ago, my best guy friend and I would drive downtown singing and climb up any stairs we hadn't seen and tried to discover our city the best we could. That's how we found Hotel St. James. (I just found out today that San Diego means St. James in english!) We climbed out the window when they'd lock the door on us and shimmy up the fire escape on the outside of the building. We'd sit in the O in Hotel and the A in James and talk about what we wanted in our futures. I miss that and I want to do that again - sitting out under the stars singing our songs and dreaming of life outside of our city.


"Helicopter, helicopter let your long rope down
Let us sway into the sunset,
I have done all I can do in this town." - Matthew Ward

4TH TIME AROUND

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 23:35:23 GMT

"...my young bride, why are your shoulders like that? Of a tired old woman, like a tired old woman."

   I'm at the racquetball club, avoiding writing all about my amazing weekend because I don't want to spoil it with words yet. When wonderful weekends happen, I like to let them sit and absorb for awhile. In short, I spent Monday in San Fransisco with four incredible people, at one point, five. And at the end of the night I saw Bob Dylan. While we walked back to the car I was so lost in thought I stepped into traffic.

   I'm learning from someone who's only around in my head often, around physically every once and awhile. i'm learning to just do it. to go forward and do the things you want to do, without the analysis, without the worry. this person teaches me so much and they don't even know it.

   We're supposed to forgive our brothers 7x70. Or something like that. I'm working on it. I really am.

IT COMES & GOES.

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 00:28:04 GMT

Somehow, without me knowing it, school picked up such pace and is trying to outrun me. i'm tying my shoes and stretching my legs and I'm gonna beat that miserable son of a gun.

I'm losing my inspiration, my old vision. I'm beginning to think I'm not a real writer anymore. a writer wakes up thinking about writing. I don't anymore. I just think about waking up. That's it.

that's it for now. this is a test.

wait, look! you nee this:
http://timedoor.textdriven.com/index.php?id=98