life is worth living just to be able to cry about it.

forever

tonight, different pieces of me died-- i hope you feel satisfied.

gushing!

This morning:
I was informed that I missed half of my shift, and should come in to finish it. I swiftly went in, to find marky completely understanding of my ridiculousness (i am forever grateful). He didn't even mention my quirky hairstyle (consider the leftovers from the day before coupled with a hard head on the pillow) (i am forever grateful).

I fell while trying to reach for the towel hanging from markys jeans, and though he didn't take note, others did. "It's ok, I thought you were a thespian, practicing. if my legs were as strong as they were in highschool, id have jumped over the counter to rescue you, because you fell for like what, 4 minutes....what were you
trying to do, save yourself and stop the fall?.... I've seen leaves fall faster than you."

I bumped into a guy with an accent and we exchanged polite but interrupted sorries, until he said "im not sorry!" while smiling. - "well then neither am i!" -"well I hope you have a lovely day, with your little...thing...on the head, is that your hair? You're both lovely!" He crossed the street and I felt confident until I bumped into a girl of the past, looking breath taking as always while my thing on my head and I pathetically turned red in the cheeks. This is my last week of 25, I'm not a day over 13.

arvin's portrait without her knowledge.

im wishful, ok--

why can't i just wake up tomorrow and have the pipe of a British soul diva? ive got things to proclaim out here...

observation of wit:

I like the lines of seperation that my gray hairs create.

wont take you for granted, nor the words between us.

i am feeling privileged these days. and to summarize what exactly im keen on, after looking that word up in order to take it as serious as it was intended: to be granted [...] a particular [...] pleasure.

i refuse to throw these words around light heartedly. i resist it.

tonight!

i will bake a fucking cake.

!

i will create a self-portrait. i feel i owe it to my future self. and then, in a year or so, i'll do it again.

on bon iver, that which owen could never

petals on my skin, echo in my ear, i am forever changed. i want to love deeper, get married. every day. i want to long for miles over how unjust every minute away is spent. cry over the dreaminess and kiss your hands, im giggling just thinking about it.

everything, from the frame of the door to the tiding of the bed, is inspiring. 

(http://www.npr.org/2011/06/09/136855313/first-listen-bon-iver-bon-iver)

surround me.

i want to nourish. and continue. 

two sentences divided as one.

seeking enlightenment. the veins on my leg have become a river,
who's(e) running (is the centrality of all that awakens and saddens me) she or i?

aesthetics and intellect, wrapped up in my soul and hers

http://adetacher.com/

preko plive

In the old fashioned, un rest ful way, Bosnia echoes my name with melancholy articulation. And I persist.

life,

i hope you see the want in my eyes,
i am all but green for you and
etc.

dis/en/courage

I know you are well
on experience, a person
must weave her braid,
I know this thread
of hair is meager, but
can't you see
I'm already down.

okay,

let me be a comforting grasp

palming your very still heart,

and open to the mercy of the

box  of  this  childish  poem.

how should  i   encapsulate  

your    intentions  to  come, 

all patient yearning for now

is your adoration solely as i

hold on,shaking you to love

me, as desperately as i you.

loud shirll

scary when you dont like your self in one night,
the sound of my voice is the loudest sound and
believe me, my ignorance frustrates me more
than you.

say it will be okay.

Colin

In the kitchen you are the charming,

I could look all day(s

In which I hoped for

Before I knew you).

My hands

(Breathe) for you.

sour

Estranged hugs the word "strange" in it so warmly, that even claiming to be parenthetic

makes it seem too familiar for the words being. there is no kind seemingly familial lettering in us, there is only We are strange.

 

(painting by Odd Nerdrum)

an ode to klimt

 

how do you center a collection for klimt in kaleidoscopic variety without a trace of gold? be not afraid of the gentle weaving, she will wear it on her hands.

expressionism

someone at work said, "emulate a more vernacular feel," which turned into a hand painted sign. think about it.

barbaric

I can't claim myself to be trilingual any longer

because lan-tongue-uage evades.

Und wohin verschwindet mein Versuch?

i s'ćim da se pomirim?

recently, i have attributed faces of familiarity (even estranged) upon the people of san francisco.  i see you almost always, and i bare with me a smile and the want for a wave, but you walk on past- busy with your deadlines and appointments.

it is notable of my brain, to manipulate what bone and skin hold to be permanent. perhaps my eyes aid with soft blurs and steady conviction.  it is as if, all the generic attributes tie in, and i assign structure and in the end, even the sheer sight of humanity reminds me of you.

my innerlichkeit (not sachlichkeit)

i want to breathe more sensual than social
instincts. i know you. i know what happens
when i close comparison. let us envy
inwardly, the culture of. and admit to the newness
in following feeling, out burden of sight, a curve
feels sweeter blanketed by the lids of our eyes.

officially embedded in my being:

 

gustav klimt. tonight my text book showed me "Frieze Beethoven" and i eagerly searched to share with you, but cannot find the image in full form, or even, saturated enough-- 

 

and so, consider the aching with me. and i will continue the search, i wont even attempt to compliment his work in a charming way, because my adjectives lack density and demeanor here. but one thing i do know, hes my kind of man.

potential correction to my beer statement on a previous post:

 

"She is a thing of beauty"

Although I see where the 60's aesthetic is going, and blah and etc, I don't understand who approved the word "thing" amongst a meager group of 6 words (depending on whether or not you count articles).

???

margarita's are on me!

recognized as a sherpa and awarded with nefertiti's head last night at a work dinner, the satisfying part comes here: i've now learned what it means to reward your employees. giving them humorous yet symbolic recognition creates far more loyalty than an "outstanding customer service" award. feels un-corporate. feels humane.

for the love of god,

seeing all my peers' work today, makes all of my croquis look like antagonizing-ly eager stick figures. i would show you, but won't for fear you'll agree.


tears,
arijana simultaneously inspired & depressed.

classy

in addition to embarrassing my dignity, my attempts at being a responsible young woman have failed of the teeth grinding variety.

birth control should feel as empowering as it did to the women of the 50's during its birth. on a visit for a prevention vaccine and potential inquiries on the pill, i somehow got suckered into a gonorrhea and chlamydia test. how on earth does that happen? every question asked fostered a(n) honest negative, no, i have never done anything deviant and am realizing, while fidgeting with my fingers, that i am a complete prude. of the hair raising variety.

i must admit, i am impressed with my doctor as she was quite persistent, perhaps she thought of me as a liar, with such an uneventful sexual background. perhaps she hears all kinds of life styles and cover-ups, that it is all the same to her, and so proceeds to inattentively hand over all kinds of tests without there being any sort of merit.

on some level, i can respect that. but what i cant respect, is the constant logging in and out of the damn website this foolishness has caused me ( dont misunderstand, i am not worried. but anything pending immediately causes a sort of obsessive checking, like, for example, receiving your final end of semester grades, or seeing if anyone has commented on your status update on facebook, or whether or not that damn book from amazon has shipped). i hate this.


and i want my dignity back.

would you rather...

be peeled to death with a potato peeler or wake up next to a cannibal (on an island full of cannibals)?

(p.s. should you get caught on the island, you are eaten alive.)

wow, a woman

this is the conversation that annoys a man, frustrates a woman, generally confuses both and is finally reaching clarity for me:

here, i'll admit it: i love women.  so many of them. i like the mere concept of the female. my eyes are opened (constantly) at this feline who inhibits emotions so generously even if she can't pronounce them eloquently. wears vitality on her chest and when she senses another feline's awareness of these feelings she shuts the observer out (publicly, but you bet nonverbally at first)! swiftly finds the others' faults! how dare she tune herself into my sensitivities! intruder! she must be threatened by me! she must be a copy-cat! what does she know about assertion!? and where is her intellect?!

it isn't that we despise each other,  we dispose each others potential. and prematurely, we are able to dismiss the other for unwarranted reasons. i do not see a fault in the exploration of another woman's philosophies. no matter how secretive or selective she is, we, as a whole, are master linguists in her basic needs and her most complex desires/aspirations. where is the fault in acknowledging your immense spirit? what is so intrusive about earnest responsiveness? be intuitive, yes, because it is the sole accessory of your fervor, an extension of the collective experiences that have carved you a woman. but be tame, cultivate your senses until they are trained to respectfully oblige the invitation of friendship.

i am an avid believer in your eagerness to live. i hold my hands out, waving them hysterically each time you've discerned your life in risks and conquered them, friend. i am inspired by your breath and your voice. and trust that it is okay if we seem meek, our mild hands grasp tediously but not without severity. i follow your movements, and to your credit, am not embarrassed by it.

a metaphorical muscle

i've decided that i express myself more fluently through youtube videos than my fragmented sentences. tongue in cheek is more evident visually than the quantity of my exclamation marks, but really; i will use this new talent until i have biceps worth of material i can explain via snippets and content.
here is how i feel today, thank you, past: 

i like

Recently, as I was declothing the hangers of my closet, Colin was in the kitchen washing dishes. Alongside our tasks, we were listening to radio lab, laughing together from our separated walls. The topic was "falling," covering the physical action and uncovering the metaphorical expression and all of the etc-era's in between.  

There was a point in New York, where cats simply could not keep their bodies inside of the buildings. You would think that this would be a feline disaster with as many as 4 instances a day (over time, this could become an animal clinic's worst nightmare!). Notably no, these little acrobats are able to fall out of a 42 story building without a worry. Okay, there was one case, where the clumsy cat chipped its tooth. There is something about a cat, realizing in its fall that it must turn into a certain position somewhere between the 9th and the 5th floor, relaxing and- this is seriously the answer- belly flopping onto the ground.

mild conviction:

went to watch arianna huffington speak on sleep, side tracked.

grooming and fostering myself,

i have many generic goals for this year.

familiarizing myself with tolerance.
teaching abigail to quit meowing. so frequently.
log into my blog more than facebook.
becoming a little more versatile. the idiom "spreading yourself thin" sounds appealing to me, i want to accomplish everything.
finding the balance.* 15 minutes of silence? yoga? breathing exercises? writing more?  ???
eating healthier than i already am. it is not normal for a girl to eat a small bun and look 5 months pregnant thereafter. am i weaning myself off of my favorite food? yes, i am.  and beer, too. unless its a special occasion. then i'll have a stella artois, please.
learn a song, from start to finish. i dont recall one complete song that i know "by heart"...though the skipping from line to line is from the heart guaranteed.  i tried learning bill withers' "use me" earlier this year before realizing i am just too white. until i found fiona apple singing it. back in action when no one's home.
find a routine, no matter how uncool that is. i want to be a morning bird and a night owl. and for each, i want to give my best.
pass my midpoint later this fall, currently trying to find my own design philosophy. im collecting artifacts and pure words that are simple to convey but echo strongly. my girl is not romantic fluff but she is also not a jagged sword. rather, a walking poem.
be more engaged in the world.
i need to learn an eloquent way to become the listener of the conversation. is it hard to believe that people who talk a lot, don't always want to be the chief of entertainment? there is a certain pressure when everyone's eyes lean toward you, waiting that you give them material to laugh, or nod their heads to, so they have engaged in the conversation. well, you will not evade me this year. i will sit with you, and grin, too, awaiting your thoughts. no matter how awkward that shit will get.
a pro pro awkward: not falling.
learn how to correctly iron colin's dress shirts. why is it always hell? why does mom do it so effortlessly?
assert my kitchen skills more, because internally, i am quite proud of my cooking etiquette. and wear that cute apron kim bought me from a yard sale, just to celebrate my new found respect for domesticity.
work on my signature, holy shit, have i got an ugly signature.
floss more.
organize the closet and all of the paperwork i always think i will need, but never do. i'm not a hoarder. i think.
stretch more. i really like stretching.
grow out my Spock haircut. i'm not kidding.

all my life i have been afraid

 

a bee cleaning itself, morning ritual.