Uncanny...Will showed me my horoscope for the day, and it read:
An option appears where none existed. Beggars can't be choosers, although your first impulse is to hold out for something better. Haven't you learned your lesson during the past few days? Seeking temporary relief is different from signing away your soul. Refrain from making a full commitment until you have a chance to rest and learn more of the facts. Ignore thoughtless laughter. Anyone that makes light of your situation obviously hasn't been in your shoes. It's nice to get a few points for style, but your raw accomplishment is what ultimately appears in the history books.
Thursday, May 30, 2002
am i truly free of pain or do i simply choose to ignore? i feel in so many ways that i'm moving forward blindly--flinging myself against the winds of change...the faster i move the farther i am from where i used to be--but am i headed in the right direction?
the days fly by, the weekends are a drunken blur--and somewhere i know i need to come to terms with God--because i feel very, very guilty.
one part of me wants to move forward, metamorphosize, prove to myself that success is not an intangible illusion. the other part wants to linger and luxuriate (or perhaps wallow?) in the last years i will ever truly be free--
and i cannot for the life of me discern which voice speaks the truth.
the days fly by, the weekends are a drunken blur--and somewhere i know i need to come to terms with God--because i feel very, very guilty.
one part of me wants to move forward, metamorphosize, prove to myself that success is not an intangible illusion. the other part wants to linger and luxuriate (or perhaps wallow?) in the last years i will ever truly be free--
and i cannot for the life of me discern which voice speaks the truth.
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
In darkness soaked, sinking
awake yet still sleeping
not seeing, not hearing
but somhow still feeling
A fingernail scratch
along the spine, down the back
draws a line of red blood
a bright crimson flood
A six-act charade
well written, well played
the delusions you made
while smiling I bled
It's so hard to cope
waiting for hope
some sort of spark
light my way in the dark
a half-second long song
ripples in a pond
light gleams and is gone
what have i done wrong??
awake yet still sleeping
not seeing, not hearing
but somhow still feeling
A fingernail scratch
along the spine, down the back
draws a line of red blood
a bright crimson flood
A six-act charade
well written, well played
the delusions you made
while smiling I bled
It's so hard to cope
waiting for hope
some sort of spark
light my way in the dark
a half-second long song
ripples in a pond
light gleams and is gone
what have i done wrong??
Sunday, May 26, 2002
Friday, May 24, 2002
I'm lost in nostalgia today, hehe.
My first and only attempt (circa 1999) at the Shakespearean sonnet (iambic pentameter, rhyme scheme ABABCDCDEFEFGG) with enjambed lines a' la Robert Browning's My Last Duchess :
I sometimes think that if I searched my mind
and happened u'pon some dusty, lonely wing
of memories long forgotten, I would find
a clearer explanation of the string
of dark uncertain thoughts that fill my head
with premonitions of impending doom
and worldwide pandemonuim. Instead,
I'm quite surprised to find that in this room,
pressed hard against these stark white padded walls
a part of me that wants to stay and hide--
A part that recognizes that life calls
for so much more than I posess inside.
My sanity, has left, it couldn't bear
To face the callous, dark cold world out there.
My first and only attempt (circa 1999) at the Shakespearean sonnet (iambic pentameter, rhyme scheme ABABCDCDEFEFGG) with enjambed lines a' la Robert Browning's My Last Duchess :
I sometimes think that if I searched my mind
and happened u'pon some dusty, lonely wing
of memories long forgotten, I would find
a clearer explanation of the string
of dark uncertain thoughts that fill my head
with premonitions of impending doom
and worldwide pandemonuim. Instead,
I'm quite surprised to find that in this room,
pressed hard against these stark white padded walls
a part of me that wants to stay and hide--
A part that recognizes that life calls
for so much more than I posess inside.
My sanity, has left, it couldn't bear
To face the callous, dark cold world out there.
from my journal on november 11, 1999-- the ramblings of my nineteen-year old mind:
somehow it seems that all my past transgressions follow me around like a shady mist, sprinkling their dewy wetness on everything i attempt, so all that is left is a damp waterlogged sheet that disintegrates with the next rain.
whispers slink snake-like through the room, carried by the overinflated egoes and shrunken self-image of the roomful of people.
through the air, lingering here and there near gossipers' perked ears just long enough for the lies to spread.
i cry out, but no-one hears me. the room has changed--it has become a prison.
Bigger, 1999 ---
Hiking up the dark, steep trail, all I can think of is that I wish I had quit smoking.
Somewhere, someone is whistling. It echoes through my head, reverberates until i can hear my memories answering, spreads and grows louder and louder until my thoughts are a cacophany that i can neither distinguish nor comprehend.
The air tastes tangy, like copper. It is that time just before dawn (dusk, i think they call it, or twilight, i can't remember which) when the light is diffused through the morning air, and fog descends on the mountaintop, trees, and people, like a shimmering veil.
I have never left that mountain. I have never forgotten that night, those people, the music. When i close my eyes, memories wash over me and take me back, however briefly, to those few hours when I first felt I belonged somewhere.
They say that fairies come out at night and dance in the woods. I have seen it.
somehow it seems that all my past transgressions follow me around like a shady mist, sprinkling their dewy wetness on everything i attempt, so all that is left is a damp waterlogged sheet that disintegrates with the next rain.
whispers slink snake-like through the room, carried by the overinflated egoes and shrunken self-image of the roomful of people.
through the air, lingering here and there near gossipers' perked ears just long enough for the lies to spread.
i cry out, but no-one hears me. the room has changed--it has become a prison.
Bigger, 1999 ---
Hiking up the dark, steep trail, all I can think of is that I wish I had quit smoking.
Somewhere, someone is whistling. It echoes through my head, reverberates until i can hear my memories answering, spreads and grows louder and louder until my thoughts are a cacophany that i can neither distinguish nor comprehend.
The air tastes tangy, like copper. It is that time just before dawn (dusk, i think they call it, or twilight, i can't remember which) when the light is diffused through the morning air, and fog descends on the mountaintop, trees, and people, like a shimmering veil.
I have never left that mountain. I have never forgotten that night, those people, the music. When i close my eyes, memories wash over me and take me back, however briefly, to those few hours when I first felt I belonged somewhere.
They say that fairies come out at night and dance in the woods. I have seen it.
Thursday, May 23, 2002
i have been reading my old journal lately... revisiting past thoughts and worries. some things have changed--i have much more control over my irrational emotions-- but other things remain quite the same, like the fact that i'm still completely flabbergasted as to where my life is headed (not down the drain, i hope).
i desperately want to be free of materialism, but lately money (or the lack thereof) seems to be dictating my goals. i can't move out or buy a car or afford law school without money.. but i know quite well that once i accomplish all of those things, i'll still have lots to worry about. it's begining to sink in that life only gets harder and harder, and if i don't keep growing i will soon be overwhelmed my societal and personal obligations that may or may not serve to improve my well-being....
bowl of cherries my ass. :)
Monday, May 20, 2002
so i'm back from berekeley and have a small cold due to the glaring miscalculation i made in assuming (subconscioulsy, maybe even unconsciously) that every other place on earth must be as mild and sunny as so cal. it rained all during the graduation and yours truly stood out in the open and got completely soaked. greek threatres suck.
but on the brighter side, i got to see all the old homies again...not too often we all get together. it's amazing how with some friends (the ones worth keeping) you can not see each other for years and still hang out and feel like nothing's changed....
henda works in this amazing club that's very very nice and had a lot of exclusive VIP areas that we got to wander around in, acting like very important people....needless to say, i felt rather out of place. this strange guy started gyrating in front of me like a belly dancer gone wrong, and actually BECKONED at me with his finger--a truly horrifying sight, and very painful to recount. i stood there with what must have been a look of utter confusion bordering on hysteria... and he eventually gyrated in another direction. sherry cracked up. i'll probably stay confused for awhile.
but on the brighter side, i got to see all the old homies again...not too often we all get together. it's amazing how with some friends (the ones worth keeping) you can not see each other for years and still hang out and feel like nothing's changed....
henda works in this amazing club that's very very nice and had a lot of exclusive VIP areas that we got to wander around in, acting like very important people....needless to say, i felt rather out of place. this strange guy started gyrating in front of me like a belly dancer gone wrong, and actually BECKONED at me with his finger--a truly horrifying sight, and very painful to recount. i stood there with what must have been a look of utter confusion bordering on hysteria... and he eventually gyrated in another direction. sherry cracked up. i'll probably stay confused for awhile.
Friday, May 17, 2002
Thursday, May 16, 2002
i came thisclose to death or serious injury yesterday. three or four inches and i would have hit a very big, very sturdy looking tree. i don't even really care that my car's totalled, and although i worry about the pther party's medical bills that i will probably have to pay, i feel very lucky to be alive.... somebody up there loves me, that's for damn sure. it just freaks me out that i caused the accident and that i was completely unaware of what was happening... i couldn't have prevented it. funny how a split second staring at a car headed straight for you can really put things into perspective. it makes me shudder. i could be dead right now. inches away.....
Sunday, May 12, 2002
wrote this while hopelessly bored at work....
Beige
Sitting, Staring
at the plastic calm
hiding so well the troubled storm
of emotions, worries, goals unmet
boredom, loneliness, mounting debt
administrative banalities
muttered obscenities
Frustrated, feeling
that i may never escape the
painted, peeling
walls that shape
the boundaires of my self-made prison--
dampened hopes, blurry vision
Sitting, Staring
at the plastic calm
hiding so well the troubled storm
of emotions, worries, goals unmet
boredom, loneliness, mounting debt
administrative banalities
muttered obscenities
Frustrated, feeling
that i may never escape the
painted, peeling
walls that shape
the boundaires of my self-made prison--
dampened hopes, blurry vision
Wednesday, May 08, 2002
Wish You Were Here
I once threw out a half-whispered wish,
Flung it out into the depths of an abyss
It floated there for awhile, on gossamer wings,
Borne up by hope and sunshiny things
And as i watched, there came a silver cloud
-it looked so very innocent at first-
That wrapped around the wings, a silver shroud
And then the veil caused those frail wings to burst
And as I watched my wish plummet down
I noticed that there were other wishes too
Made by others, falling, not my own
More than one made me think of you
And wonder whether somewhere in the somnolent dark,
The pieces of our splintered wishes met--
Before your dream, and my half-muttered soliloquy,
Shattered on the rocks of reality.
Tuesday, May 07, 2002
I was looking through a stack of old floppies and found this half-written essay on one of the disks. I wonder what else i I would have said if i finished it.... and before anyone reads it, i do apologize for the choppiness and the overuse of innapropriate words, and the syntax errors....this WAS two years ago...
The attempt of a moral argument for drugs attacks much broader issues than just the immediate health and legal problems associated with drug use. In order to form a cohesive and adequately comprehensive argument for drugs, the issue of why drugs are stigmatized must be addressed. Thus, an attack on the commonly held belief that drugs are “bad” must argue against the very precepts of society as the world has constructed it. In order for drugs to become socially acceptable, even laudable, there must first be a drastic paradigm shift. Are the values that capitalistic societies uphold really the values that should be upheld? Is drug use labeled as immoral because it is dangerous to the individual, as is so often proclaimed, or because it threatens the existing power base?
It is not without good reason that most countries adopt a strict anti-drug policy. Drugs are seen as a matter of great international importance; among the first international intelligence sharing between post-Cold War Russia and the United States had to do with information regarding the movements and activities of drug cartels between the two nations.
Among other reasons, drug use has been viewed as immoral because it poses a threat to society. In particular, the societal norms of Western civilization mandate a control of one’s senses and actions, and drugs are seen as detrimental to such capacity for control. Indeed, an individual under the influence of a highly potent hallucinogen such as PCP, or in the grasp of a debilitating heroin addiction, is in many ways an inactive member of their society. The drug addict is effectively a non-member of society- one who contributes marginally, if at all, to the advancement or sustenance of the state or government, while at the same time contributing to the deteriorating effects of underground economies and organized crime that threaten to undermine the control governments have on their citizens as well as their economy. The nonexistence of conventional methods for control in the drug world make violence the necessary means of control, thus directly threatening the lives of anti-drug task force workers and innocent bystanders alike. Drug use creates an alternative society, based on different mores and relying on an alternative, underground economy, operated by underground organizations (drug cartels) which rival established nations’ resources and power, and thus posing a very real threat to the livelihood and safety of the citizens of established nations.
The question then arises as to whether the values held by society are necessarily the values that are best for humanity. Is capitalism, and the relentless pursuit of money, any less damning than the relentless pursuit of drugs? People commit suicide due to drug problems, but people also commit suicide because of money problems. Likewise, society condemns drugs citing health risks, while it does not condemn risky activities such as extreme sports. Gambling is a multibillion dollar industry, yet it creates addictions that ruin lives; tobacco and alcohol are extremely hazardous, yet the government wouldn’t dream of pulling the plug on such large revenue generators. It is notable, however, that tobacco does not alter the consciousness, and thus poses no threat to established society. Though alcohol does alter the consciousness, it is nevertheless accepted, thus illustrating yet another paradox.
Societal condemnation of drugs has proven to be extremely case-specific, and aimed towards self-sustenance. Drugs are criticized as deadly and a major health risk, but many indigenous cultures have used drugs as part of their religious rituals without the observed hazardous effects that occur in Western society. Drugs, particularly hallucinogens, cause the user to too often think “outside the box”- an activity that can be dangerous in a society where homeostasis is maintained by conformity.
The attempt of a moral argument for drugs attacks much broader issues than just the immediate health and legal problems associated with drug use. In order to form a cohesive and adequately comprehensive argument for drugs, the issue of why drugs are stigmatized must be addressed. Thus, an attack on the commonly held belief that drugs are “bad” must argue against the very precepts of society as the world has constructed it. In order for drugs to become socially acceptable, even laudable, there must first be a drastic paradigm shift. Are the values that capitalistic societies uphold really the values that should be upheld? Is drug use labeled as immoral because it is dangerous to the individual, as is so often proclaimed, or because it threatens the existing power base?
It is not without good reason that most countries adopt a strict anti-drug policy. Drugs are seen as a matter of great international importance; among the first international intelligence sharing between post-Cold War Russia and the United States had to do with information regarding the movements and activities of drug cartels between the two nations.
Among other reasons, drug use has been viewed as immoral because it poses a threat to society. In particular, the societal norms of Western civilization mandate a control of one’s senses and actions, and drugs are seen as detrimental to such capacity for control. Indeed, an individual under the influence of a highly potent hallucinogen such as PCP, or in the grasp of a debilitating heroin addiction, is in many ways an inactive member of their society. The drug addict is effectively a non-member of society- one who contributes marginally, if at all, to the advancement or sustenance of the state or government, while at the same time contributing to the deteriorating effects of underground economies and organized crime that threaten to undermine the control governments have on their citizens as well as their economy. The nonexistence of conventional methods for control in the drug world make violence the necessary means of control, thus directly threatening the lives of anti-drug task force workers and innocent bystanders alike. Drug use creates an alternative society, based on different mores and relying on an alternative, underground economy, operated by underground organizations (drug cartels) which rival established nations’ resources and power, and thus posing a very real threat to the livelihood and safety of the citizens of established nations.
The question then arises as to whether the values held by society are necessarily the values that are best for humanity. Is capitalism, and the relentless pursuit of money, any less damning than the relentless pursuit of drugs? People commit suicide due to drug problems, but people also commit suicide because of money problems. Likewise, society condemns drugs citing health risks, while it does not condemn risky activities such as extreme sports. Gambling is a multibillion dollar industry, yet it creates addictions that ruin lives; tobacco and alcohol are extremely hazardous, yet the government wouldn’t dream of pulling the plug on such large revenue generators. It is notable, however, that tobacco does not alter the consciousness, and thus poses no threat to established society. Though alcohol does alter the consciousness, it is nevertheless accepted, thus illustrating yet another paradox.
Societal condemnation of drugs has proven to be extremely case-specific, and aimed towards self-sustenance. Drugs are criticized as deadly and a major health risk, but many indigenous cultures have used drugs as part of their religious rituals without the observed hazardous effects that occur in Western society. Drugs, particularly hallucinogens, cause the user to too often think “outside the box”- an activity that can be dangerous in a society where homeostasis is maintained by conformity.
Monday, May 06, 2002
okay, finding a job in LA has been more difficult than i had hoped. but i'll keep trying, and hopefully i'll and a respectable position that won't relegate me to, say, removing staples out of stacks of paper all day long.
i had a dream last night, and woke up with a very bad stomachache, and generally very agitated. when this happens, it usually means my dream will come true. it's very strange, i know, but i wrote down what happened in the dream, and i am keeping it stored away to see if it really happens. if it does come true, i'll have written proof that i knew what would happen...but i can't repeat my dream to anyone for fear of actually causing the event.
i had a dream last night, and woke up with a very bad stomachache, and generally very agitated. when this happens, it usually means my dream will come true. it's very strange, i know, but i wrote down what happened in the dream, and i am keeping it stored away to see if it really happens. if it does come true, i'll have written proof that i knew what would happen...but i can't repeat my dream to anyone for fear of actually causing the event.
Saturday, May 04, 2002
i love paris in the springtime...but i am not there so instead i'm humming this song and checking the low, low prices and growing wistful....New Frontiers - France & Europe vacations
i am too pooped. i refuse to leave the house.
i found out last night that indeed, i partied way harder on thursday than i remember.
unbeknownst to me, i had, while drunk, been dancing (i rarely dance with much gusto), talking my head off about various useless subjects including but not limited to my newly-discovered uncomfortability with people touching me, eating burritos (i have NO recollection of any burrito whatsoever), and even mysteriously disappearing for a period if time, during which god-knows-what could have happened. ugh.
so i'm spending the entire day catching up on much-needed sleep and generally vegging out. i'm even going to church tomorrow.
i went to southcoast earlier and almost bought shoes from charles david, until i realized that, even with the 40% off i could get from stella, the shoes would STILL be around $90.00! then i went to target afterwards and spent $90.00. go figure.
i found out last night that indeed, i partied way harder on thursday than i remember.
unbeknownst to me, i had, while drunk, been dancing (i rarely dance with much gusto), talking my head off about various useless subjects including but not limited to my newly-discovered uncomfortability with people touching me, eating burritos (i have NO recollection of any burrito whatsoever), and even mysteriously disappearing for a period if time, during which god-knows-what could have happened. ugh.
so i'm spending the entire day catching up on much-needed sleep and generally vegging out. i'm even going to church tomorrow.
i went to southcoast earlier and almost bought shoes from charles david, until i realized that, even with the 40% off i could get from stella, the shoes would STILL be around $90.00! then i went to target afterwards and spent $90.00. go figure.
Friday, May 03, 2002
Thursday, May 02, 2002
i've eaten an unholy amount of food today. two large steaks (at least 10 oz each) and two small buckets of salsa and 1/4 loaf of crusty bread... and that was just LUNCH. then i went home and saw that my dad had a gigantic chicken on the grill and veggies with balsamic vinegar, and i'm now convinced that i will either explode or shit out a monster tapeworm.
i'm going to see jason bentley spin tonight, yay! maybe i'll barf all over him....
i'm going to see jason bentley spin tonight, yay! maybe i'll barf all over him....
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