| LB Pride 2.0: And on the second day he cried.... |
[May. 17th, 2009|10:01 pm] |
Hey listen. Instead of trying to act tough I'm just going to tell you.
I'm hurting.
I was really disappointed when you couldn't hang out. But more than that I don't like to see you cry and not know why. I wish I could help but i know you're living a different life now and that you don't belong to me like you used to.
Por mi parte, I love you. And I always will. But you hurt me. Bad. And unlike you, I can't see passed that a lot of the time.
When I see you, it just reminds me of how I miss us, and how we're not together anymore. And when you cry and I can't take you in my arms and make it better I fall apart.
I don't wanna fall apart anymore. I don't think I can see you again. Not like I saw you today. Como un forastero. It makes it worse for me. |
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| Sharmendra |
[Apr. 8th, 2009|01:43 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | Resolute | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Tommy Torres - Pegadito | ] |
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure
There are still certain songs I can't listen to. I've waited for the new music season for so long. KLOV is still banned from my radio. In fact, I overwrote it on my presets. I still can't.
I've said that the romantic part of me is under quarantine. I know that I haven't had a reference point til now, but I'm happy that I have loved. As imperfect and cumbersome as it is...I have loved. I love.
Forensically, I will try and rid myself of all the icons and psychic statues, the tapestries, the altars in my head. I'll say they're heathen. That they belong elsewhere I'll say. They are someone else's. Love.
And it may be too true for me to see. My eyes that have been too used to lies. Washed in my own before and after. I blink and try to resolve, and the ghosts of light will stay. They stain my vision like lenses I can't remove. And now everything is saturated. Colors are colored. And dark is never as cold.
Yet I remember moments as a convert. I remember the innocence as ignorance. And I lie.
That I should never love like that again I'm terrified. |
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| NO on 8 |
[Oct. 22nd, 2008|08:17 pm] |
@Liv. A national conversation on same-sex marriage will be beneficial no matter the immediate outcome. Right now, you have religious zealots who just use their faith to pin everyone down. A conversation at the national level might be exactly what the country needs to re-establish the *fundamental* separation of church and state that precipitated this country's settlement by those white folk so long ago. The USSC has been a platform for bigotry before, but they are subject to logic and there is *nothing illogical about the argument against a same-sex marriage being recognized by the state*.
And like I've been saying the Mormons and Calvary Chapel ('cause I saw a billboard sponsored by them on the side of the freeway) should be stripped of their non-profit status for de facto campaigning and contributions to a highly politicized cause...esp form out of state. (Let's get started on that law degree soon Liv, shall we?)
It's not just Ellen's fault...we all underestimated this one. |
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| Restore Marriage |
[Sep. 30th, 2008|07:17 pm] |
Sure I just passed a landmark four-month anniversary (don't laugh...you all remember how quickly I tire of men) with my partner, so you know I'm serious. But I'm not to trying to kid myself here, II know I'm nowhere near ready for marriage--even and especially for political purposes.
Still though...today I saw my first piece of pro-8 propaganda. The bumper sticker was yellow and headed by the words "Restore Marriage." Beneath that, bathroom-door-caricatures --presumably of of a "man" and "woman"-- and two gender-neutral mini-people were delighting themselves beside relatively gigantic "Yes on 8."
Hm. Restore marriage?
I thought about it at lunch and even though I'm not ready for marriage and --more importantly-- even though I continue to have deep-rooted issues with the institution of marriage as it functions within the nation-state today, I was disgusted by how willing the proponents are to broker the well-being of their children on the approval of this proposition. Disgusted enough to spark a fit of reactionary creative thought.
My t-shirt:
Plain black t ('cause I still think I'm fat, and I have to be confident about how I look when I'm making a statement...also I guess because it is a solemn statement)
Front: Silver Duct tape over the "Yes on 8" with the handwritten lettering "Outlaw Divorce" or "Make Cheating a Capital Offense" (The first I think).
Back: No on 8.
Lower Back: Get over it, you fuck. (I really want it, and I know it might hurt the opposing cause, but eh....like I said...issues).
If you're so inclined:
[http://www.cafepress.com/prop8store] |
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| Manners |
[Sep. 11th, 2008|01:21 am] |
It would do you well to remember that the past is a retreat for me. A sanctuary in which I sometimes like to linger.
I invite you in by choice. You are an outsider. Un forastero. You are a visitor. Remember.
Leave your gavel on the threshold. I will not rearrange the furniture to suit your liking. It is not your place to critique my decor. Or to push your way into certain rooms. Not your favorite colors? Who gives a fuck what you think? {Am I wrong for being so blunt?} I will not get rid of anything. Everything is nailed down. I can't let you have anything, and even if I could, how can I be sure that you wouldn't throw it back at me in anger?
And if the time comes again that I want to dust something off from inside and show it to you, I would hope that you will have learned by then to appreciate it for what it is. And not just it. But me. For what I am. For what I am with you. Now.
Because the more you trespass unrestrainedly, without manners, without discretion, without reverence, without respect on my past, the more likely you are to become part of it.
And you damn well better start wiping your feet. |
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| Gardening |
[Aug. 29th, 2008|02:46 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  curious | ] |
Monthly arguments. I should have come to expect them by now. Pity that this one came concurrent with our anniversary. The twenty-eighth. Is it the cynic in me or the realist that tells me this:
"The Two will not survive the winter."
Tonight we unearthed old things that would have been better left near-forgotten on the edges of the fields of memory. From before this season of intensity, this heat, this passion there was something insidious that sucked the vernal bliss from our courting. There was something pruned back. Cut down to a stump. But still twisted into the bedrock of Us.
What do you mean? C'mon. When have I hurt you?
You know when.
When?
I don't want to talk about it.
Ch-
Do you really want to bring this up?
The spades began their work indifferently. All each knew was his own point. They dug. And they found.
...You hurt yourself.
Now there was something landing here in the middle of our summer. I wonder if it will take root. Here. Now. I thought we were on different terrain. Somewhere else. I thought we were on common ground. The fruit and flowers of months now celebrated what of them? On what plot have I been gorging myself? Not Eden. No, never Eden for the weeds since then.
But now look at myself two months out of the gym and here in this garden: Fat and happy and sticky. My hands smelling so good I could lick them. But what...what have I been eating?
This is at least 10 times over-dramatized.
Hm. And that last line was thrown in to make myself believe that it's not that important to me.
And somethings should not be written. |
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| Am I Ready...for...um....Grad School? Yeah...Grad School...right. |
[Aug. 1st, 2008|08:21 am] |
\
Oh Jesus.
Hi journal. I feel like I have to approach this slowly like a friend that I've neglected to write in a while and I want to get back in contact with {Hi BeXXX}.
Now that Alvin fixed my laptop screen and I don't have an annoying crack down the middle of my screen, I'm surprised about how much I love the Internet again. I wasn't even able to watch porn and enjoy it in all its full screen glory...and that...in the end...sucked.
Another reason I should be excited to have my computer running is that I'm (finally) (re)starting grad school (this time for real) on the 25th of August.
To be honest, I'm not over-enthused about the program but I figure an MLIS is the professional degree I need to bust my ass into making enough money not to complain about my quality of life (read: not getting what I want all the time).
I've been up since I think 4:30am thinking. Being anxious and excited. Contemplating how I'm going to transfer my life successfully into grad school mode AND keep my awesome (read: easy) job AND move back to Orange County. Oh...and stay in this relationship with Randy. I hate that that's an after thought. But it is. Still for me. I'm not willing to sacrifice my ambitions for a relationship. for love. Love?
Shit if I can't be honest on my LJ where can I be?
I don't know that I am in love. I know that I'm in a relationship with a 19 year old who is completely and utterly devoted to me. Who says he loves me and wants to be with me forever. And that's cool. That's nice. That's well and good, but I know in the recesses of my being of my thinking -ness... that this is one cookie I'm not biting into just yet. Okay....wait..maybe just a bite. But I'm not taking the whole tray.
I won't get into what's wrong with the relationship interpersonally. I'll just go ahead with the stuff I know an objective person would note and perhaps chastise me for:
I have no doubt in my mind that what he says about loving me is genuine, but as Terrius and I have discussed at length on the phone--genuine as it may be, his love for me is unripened. That is, yeah, at 25 I acknowledge that dating a 19-year-old is 1) an easy out for me commitment-wise 2) probably taking advantage of him or at least his naivete 3) going to end poorly because of the former 4) immature on my part or a way of staving off maturity in a sense and 5) hence a way for me to test/prove myself capable of being in a committed relationship.
That said, he's not an experiment or a play thing for me.
And I write about this now because when he looks and me all these concerns sort of melt into the background. Like that Shakira lyric goes: Sólo tú doblas mi razón I wonder if I have said that about anyone else before. Hm....if only there was a way to do a full text search of my journal. Anyone? Anybody? I would google it, but someone should tell me. Now.
Back to the issues at hand: I am attracted to him, yeah, and I think as much as it is a physical thing (which is far, far, far from saying it's completely physical) it is also an attraction to his attraction, his devotion, and his "love" for me. {Here the quotes meaning that he calls it love and not so much that I doubt that it is}. Sometimes when he looks at me, I feel like he grows wings and wraps them around me...and I know I have a penchant for angel imagery, but work with me here. It's a cocoon like effect where I am simultaneously seduced, comforted, and knocked into a punch-drunk stupor.
And how much of that is me not taking responsibility for the being in at emotional maturity level that's miles if not lightyears (says I) from his? This is my owning up to that. And it's nothing I haven't shared with him as well. Don't get me wrong. I'm not the predator (or am I?) this scenario I paint makes me.
I met him on May 2nd under the impression that he was 23. Later the same day I found out he was 19. And later that first week, I found out he was really 18. And at that point I carded him like any self-respecting joto. His birthday was last week, so he is now 19. Thank God. But still. One might see this as an excuse. And really, I'm not trying to justify this relationship to anyone except perhaps myself because in order for me to continue treating him well I have to respect the relationship that we share, and I can't do that if I don't feel I'm not playing fair.
What I do know is that we've been together officially two months as of July 28th. And that's twice the lifetime of my longest relationship rounded up. And. And. And. I'm not bored. With him. or it. And that's got to mean something. Right?
Fast forward (as I come back from a chocolate chip cookie break): I think a lot of my hesitations when it comes to people I choose to bring into my life have to do with making them fit into what I have. God that sounds so unhealthy. And perhaps working in a library has already started to have the toll on my personality that I think it can have...which is incidentally why I'm not so keen on this whole grad school thing in library science.
In general I've weeded what I don't like from my life thus far effectively, and for new people I generally have a series of filters (which unfortunately most don't weather very well--at least 90% of the people from the IE I've met do not).
NOTE TO SELF: I've realized it before but in my relationship with Randy I've come to realize that I don't just observe anything, I don't see it for what it is, I don't appreciate it, I don't accept things; rather I evaluate it, I assign it value, scrape up some meaning to attach to it (e.g. 3 paragraphs up)--deserving or not. For goodness's sake I BLOG! And this can be rather disruptive or destructive to relationships I have. Worse than that, I can be prejudiced enough to preclude potentially awesome relationships from happening because of this very English-major type of Romanticism.
{help me out here, BeXXX, is it Romanticism?}
I have this sort of tendency to hold a person, a relationship up to the light and say, "Would this work here? What does this go with?" As if I'm trying to match a person with the decor of my life. If it doesn't fit in the motif, it's gotta go. Or I gotta build another room for it...and really the expense of construction in my mid-twenties? Come on. I'd have to take out a second mortgage. (End of exhausted conceit).
I also like to throw in semi-arbitrary standards like if they don't get along with my brothers, they're gone. It's the family litmus test. Or my most frequent is trying to fit them into the Davis bubble and all the artificiality and political posturing that went along with that part of my life. Incidentally, when am I going to give up that ghost? Obviously a sign that I need more experiences in my life. Not that going to say Africa, or moving to San Jose would make me stop asking how would Olivia or Diego or Gaby or Becca or Angelina (and really I should let her rest in peace) get along with { }? And while these people are those that have in essence been able to terraform me even in my adult life, it's not like it wouldn't be awkward having them all at the same dinner table.
These questions. (About) This relationship. Damn...this journal has always only be about myself. It's not what I can do to be a better person...although I'd like to think that since I draw these aspect of myself into my consciousness, I become more understanding at large. It's been about learning about myself. And that's I think I keep coming back to this journal. When I want to know. When I want to learn. When I go back to school. When I'm ready. I write. |
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| Soc Just Bitesize |
[Apr. 1st, 2008|01:11 am] |
A friend asked me if I liked "chocolate" today (I dunno why since she knows I'm pretty much unavailable right now, knows my record, and that I'm moving pretty soon and hence would be unavailable with whomever he is). This is what I said:
I like dark chocolate. literally. Otherwise, I'm not a fan of food substitutes for ethnicities. Society antagonizes our identities enough without us tryin to consume them ourselves.
Snaps. for. me. |
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| Hey |
[Mar. 31st, 2008|12:52 pm] |
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Do your taxes already. |
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lymphexmaquina's journal
devious
irritated