Thoughts #9



You'll see more of my bow ties and preppy look this summer <3
We ended up mistaking our conscience to the color of our blood and rationale as the salt of our tears. We affirm and deny in desperation; a frustrated attempt to save something of the past. We convince and are convinced, we argue, deduce, and assume the conclusion in a reasonably uniform and balanced way. Contrary to what most people think, we are simply skimming the surface of concepts about which we only have the vaguest of ideas.
Conclusion: You begin to love when you disintegrate your obsession with habit.

Knowledge



Puppy Love

There are many different interpretations. To me, knowledge is experience.

I am not a very smart gal and I’ve never claimed to be, but I’ve been around the block. I’ve seen and done a lot of things. I’ve traveled and met many, many people who have all taught me something either about life or just about being human.
Sometimes, it’s not what you know, but what you do with the information you have. If you know how to build a birdhouse, but never build one, then what fucking good is that information? It’s useless.
And now, inside of my head, I’m starting to dissect everything so I think it’s best that I stop there.





It’s made of art


Literature is what created life, my friend. Words, thoughts. Have you ever noticed that you think? Your mind is full of words right now. Everything is a word. There is a word for everything. Bear. L’esprit de l’escalier. We are built of words, we are built of art. We find a longing to live in the art, to create our own stories. Do you not understand that our entire life is a story, one little blink in the scheme of everything describable? Do you understand that I could, if I honestly wanted to, describe my entire life in minute details if I really wanted to? If it exists in life, there is a way to explain it in words. Haven’t you ever said something to someone and used an interesting image to get your point across?
Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but every memory I describe, every poem or story I remember is the brightest possible. Life and art go hand in hand, there is a possibility to live without art, but you will be unfulfilled, you will never truly exist as you are supposed to. The colors that cascade through our minds when we read a sharply beautiful piece of literature… those are all from life, it is all captured by words. 
Words fade, yes. Life fades as well. Look, no one could describe everything flawlessly. That’s why they’re artists, they describe as they’ve wanted, as a creative endeavor to explain life, because that’s what life is for. to be lived and shown. To live, and create.
Welcome to the real world, kid. It’s made of art.


After a half bottle of moscato, I settled into my re-tasting of old morsels of life. While I’m never that reticent, the almost cloying sweetness lining the rim of my glass kept provoking stories I had long stopped telling or forgotten to tell. 
They say liquid courage is all you need, but I think you need much more to write here. To not allow your voice to be squelched by too salty of a peanut gallery. To stand behind some of your most lurid confessions when your wings are clipped to bony fragments. 
We live in an escapist culture, but this a place where I contend and confront. Maybe it’s you today, or him, or her. But I have to remember that it’s always me I’m dealing with and the claustrophobic cells I’ve compartmentalized everything into. 

Let them be notches on your headboard, but never ticks on your heart.


Don’t fall in love with creative writers. No matter how sincerely, or passionately you long for them… it will never be as sincerely, or as passionately as they long for their imagined worlds.

Don’t fall in love with narcissistic writers. No matter how powerfully or intensely you obsess about them… it will never be as powerfully, or as intensely as they obsess about themselves.

Don’t fall in love with angsty writers. No matter how deeply, or sharply you love them… it will never be as deeply or as sharply as they hate themselves.

Most of all:

Don’t fall in love with romantic poets. No matter how concrete the passion, or beauty of the love you share… They will always reach for the intangible passion, or beauty of the love that they can only share with the unattainable.

Thoughts #8




It’s so strange to me how you can meet so many people and have a good time and then we all must return to our own lives. The adventure is over and everyone says their good-byes.
We all say, “I’ll miss you!” and “We’ll see each other soon!” but how much do we really mean it? It really seems to be one of those things we just expect from each other. I’ve never really been able to grasp that. That’s probably why I become so distant from these people in the first place.
We all seem to be perpendicular to each other. Crossing at one point in time and then we just keep going, no looking back. 
How much do we forget? How many feelings do we really lose?

Thoughts #7


Preppy in Riot
I think it’s interesting, people’s organic reaction the phrase. I generally don’t clarify my meaning, because I don’t want to influence the interpretation of others. Most of the time, it’s taken as a self-depreciating concept that I’m applying to myself. To some extent, it is. But like everything I write, or adapt for my own purposes — there’s a lot of layers of meaning present in the combination of words, for me.
Fundamentally though, below the surface, it represents a personal philosophy… a perception of reality that I always strive to attain.
Something a bit contradictory, that makes perfect sense to me:
To live every moment, to experience life, and to view the world with such wonder, that the sensation of wonder becomes my norm… “ordinary”. 

Response



Thanks for the kind words. They mean more than you think, whoever you are.
My inspiration comes from my willingness to reflect on how I feel. I think a lot of people fear their emotions, so they silence or ignore them. 
I, on the other hand, embrace each one - good or bad. That's when the writing comes easiest to me. I suppose that goes hand-in-hand with my belief that writing is an attempt to take a snapshot of the soul's current state, which isn't always going to be distinctly happy or sad. That's why I think my writing's all over the map in terms of how it feels, because the state of my soul is constantly shifting. If I know what's making me feel a certain way, I'll write about that. If I don't know the cause, I use my writing as a means to try and figure it out. Without wanting to sound like a self-help book, basically what I'm saying is that I think inspiration starts with the individual. It's not about waiting to be inspired, but about drawing inspiration from within oneself, because I like to believe we all have a story worth telling, and that no one can tell it better that its actual author.

Short Note

This summer is going to be just Me & Winston (my bicycle)
“I think I should conclude with this,” the speaker said with a smile, “that of all the planets out there in this great big universe, Earth is so uniquely special. And do you want to know why? Would you even care to guess why? Well I’ll tell you, it’s actually rather simple really, this planet is an evil, decrepit place, where people live to die.”