Thursday, May 31, 2001
livejournal recovered 15
1:40 pm - Poet's view of romance
Bought train's "drops of jupiter" cd yesterday. The lead singer, pat someone, is just..one of those men that look at the camera like they're looking into your mind, and they know you, in an earthy fasion. je ne sais pas.
I listen to lyrics, heartaching romance, wanting to achieve something to make someone else proud, throwing yourself headlong into romance and riding, flying as you fall.
it makes my heart hurt. I don't feel that, not with people. with writing, maybe... but all the time lately it's like there is this part of me that is in the background, analyzing, even when i'm being rediculous ... it's on purpose. i feel trained, by myself, almost to survive.
I was thinking the other day about high school, and how I would have been percieved... it's almost as if I made myself invisible, or gave myself ideosyncracies so that people wouldn't see me, it wasn't as dangerous that way. even when I fell in love, I hid myself from them, and me. one or two friends looked at me like they knew, for a moment...then they slipped into some other understanding.
reminds me of another thought I had back then...how can I be myself when I don't know who I am?
maybe I just worked hard enough that I could fake being myself convincingly. Some days I feel like who I am is just hidden in this bright shell; others I feel all of this is me, even the seeming contradictions and strangeness..it isn't a shell, it's all part of the living breathing organizm me. reminds me of paula coles me.
Jellyfish wrote in her journal the other day about how gibson's description of sanfrancisco seemed incomplete, because it didnt have an oakland... poor little sister, normal and somehow aimless.
Sometimes I feel like that little sister.
sometimes i reassure myself that people have that part of themselves inside, to be complete... reminding that mundanity is neccesary for the extrordinary to exist. maybe that means i'm the little sister oakland of my own self, my own dreams. maybe i need that dychotomy - i see myself simply, other see the fantastical. maybe their sight of me is within their own minds to the point that it could never be a real person. je ne sais pas. sometimes i almost feel jealous of myself.
strange, eh?
or perhaps i'll be best when I can smooth out this balance?
je ne sais pas.
I wonder if the blind can tell the difference between butterflys and moths.
or if it would make a difference, anyway...
current mood: melancholy
current music: Train - Drops of Jupiter
Bought train's "drops of jupiter" cd yesterday. The lead singer, pat someone, is just..one of those men that look at the camera like they're looking into your mind, and they know you, in an earthy fasion. je ne sais pas.
I listen to lyrics, heartaching romance, wanting to achieve something to make someone else proud, throwing yourself headlong into romance and riding, flying as you fall.
it makes my heart hurt. I don't feel that, not with people. with writing, maybe... but all the time lately it's like there is this part of me that is in the background, analyzing, even when i'm being rediculous ... it's on purpose. i feel trained, by myself, almost to survive.
I was thinking the other day about high school, and how I would have been percieved... it's almost as if I made myself invisible, or gave myself ideosyncracies so that people wouldn't see me, it wasn't as dangerous that way. even when I fell in love, I hid myself from them, and me. one or two friends looked at me like they knew, for a moment...then they slipped into some other understanding.
reminds me of another thought I had back then...how can I be myself when I don't know who I am?
maybe I just worked hard enough that I could fake being myself convincingly. Some days I feel like who I am is just hidden in this bright shell; others I feel all of this is me, even the seeming contradictions and strangeness..it isn't a shell, it's all part of the living breathing organizm me. reminds me of paula coles me.
Jellyfish wrote in her journal the other day about how gibson's description of sanfrancisco seemed incomplete, because it didnt have an oakland... poor little sister, normal and somehow aimless.
Sometimes I feel like that little sister.
sometimes i reassure myself that people have that part of themselves inside, to be complete... reminding that mundanity is neccesary for the extrordinary to exist. maybe that means i'm the little sister oakland of my own self, my own dreams. maybe i need that dychotomy - i see myself simply, other see the fantastical. maybe their sight of me is within their own minds to the point that it could never be a real person. je ne sais pas. sometimes i almost feel jealous of myself.
strange, eh?
or perhaps i'll be best when I can smooth out this balance?
je ne sais pas.
I wonder if the blind can tell the difference between butterflys and moths.
or if it would make a difference, anyway...
current mood: melancholy
current music: Train - Drops of Jupiter
Tuesday, May 29, 2001
livejournal recovered 14
3:37 pm - maiden and the king
One of my coworkers made special point to talk to me about having read an old story called the evil king and the fair maiden. Evidently it is one of those where the maiden keeps the kings castle spotless, but is unappreciated.
He also asked if I was familiar with the theory that myths are not quite fiction; but rather legends that were once deemed true.
I'm not sure what to make of this. Well, OK, so i have suspicions - but I haven't exactly been happy lately where i'm at. I'm not sure where else there could be to go, and the fact that I'm carrying most of the $ burden makes things difficulter.
i'm feeling odd today as well, tense jittery. like my heart is going to fast, and things are hot. maybe it's just a storm that will blow over. Maybe I'm not happy with where i'm at and so i'm being self-destructive. je ne sais pas.
i'm sure something will resolve, and it will be for the best. if nothing does, well then. I'll keep my eyes open for opportunities, and keep harping on myself for being so ungrateful to actually have a job when so many people are looking for work.
One of my coworkers made special point to talk to me about having read an old story called the evil king and the fair maiden. Evidently it is one of those where the maiden keeps the kings castle spotless, but is unappreciated.
He also asked if I was familiar with the theory that myths are not quite fiction; but rather legends that were once deemed true.
I'm not sure what to make of this. Well, OK, so i have suspicions - but I haven't exactly been happy lately where i'm at. I'm not sure where else there could be to go, and the fact that I'm carrying most of the $ burden makes things difficulter.
i'm feeling odd today as well, tense jittery. like my heart is going to fast, and things are hot. maybe it's just a storm that will blow over. Maybe I'm not happy with where i'm at and so i'm being self-destructive. je ne sais pas.
i'm sure something will resolve, and it will be for the best. if nothing does, well then. I'll keep my eyes open for opportunities, and keep harping on myself for being so ungrateful to actually have a job when so many people are looking for work.
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