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メグ-さま(The Meg)

[ website | Chaos Chaos ]
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[15 Aug 2008|04:01am]
Dear LiveJournal,

I miss writing in you. My blogging and writing in general has really been wholly inconsistent, but we are happy in the fact it is existent at all.

It is lovely to see such words of various emotion all typed down in Eliot's regard over the past several months, and it's more curious yet how all of those have come to an uninspiring close once over as of recent days again. What is most important remains the same: we are in love with the world, and we always will be. We have our values, and we have our valuable friends with love in their hearts, too, and despite losing our freedom to the first week of class beginning Monday, we are truly in love with learning, and not much could be better in these days.

If there is a deserving soul in the LJ world I truly miss, it's tokoton. I'm sorry I did not send your snail mail letter like I inferred in the recent weeks. It's just that I have felt wholly uninspired. But I have been sleeping and working entirely too much; just give me the time to start school and I will have plenty of blank hours to scribble down words for you. ♥

I want to be up early enough to run some errands before work, but the later the hour grows, the less likely I fear this will be. Until next time!
1 SpellNo Magic

[27 May 2008|05:10pm]
Loving you has been so difficult, so interesting, so wonderful. You both scare me and delight me around every corner turn. I could be making the best and worst decision in my life in hanging on.

[22 Apr 2008|12:14am]
It's both wonderful and terrible to want to write on the road. On the road, your thoughts are so clear and organized, every words you think on a topic sounds so profound. But you can't stop driving to write, and you wish your every thought could become feed into a tape recorder so you could do both and utilize all your faculties at once.

Even before I'm out of my old neighborhood, these thoughts overwhelm my brain. And even before I notice otherwise, I'm instinctively turning to go the long way home. Whether it's to welcome and savor this narration in my brain, or to prolong my homework, it doesn't matter either way anymore.

Leaving my house is the same as it's always been. Being the only thing that's changed when I leave at night is that I'm not coming back that night, except that they wouldn't be awake to see me return anyway.

When I was younger, I used to be mistaken as being older than my age. Now that I am older, people generally confuse me for younger. And perhaps when you change your hair to follow society's changing fashion, somewhere along the way you've passed the age you always were mistaken for.

The music isn't loud enough. Turn it up, kid. Turn it up loud.

It almost isn't worth the time to go back and write these thoughts, because they never turn out as profound as when you're racing along the interstate at seventy miles per hour, staring out over the bridge at the city at twilight for the split second you can. But it never hurts. Definitely never hurts.

A diatribe about boys, the past, and the Law of Attraction.Collapse )
No Magic

"We have a dance in the brothels of Buenos Aires -" [13 Apr 2008|06:20am]
Yesterday, I took my first Argentine Tango class. B taught the class, and said I was doing very well for having danced the brand of tango for all of thirty minutes. Her critique was that I tried to anticipate the next step and I moved too quickly when I needed to feel. Then she said, "For some reason, that's just a part of learning Argentine Tango, everyone goes through that, it's just a rite of passage you have to experience before you get to the next level. You're an official tanguera now!"

And it feels really silly feeling so fond over words I'm sure have been said so many times to so many dancers before, but I could really enjoy growing into such a label and the amazingness it yields.

Now leasing: a vehicle for freedom's movement - [20 Mar 2008|12:34am]
I have bought shoes.

I have bought my first pair of dance shoes.

I feel only the slightest amount of guilt they were the most expensive pair of shoes I have ever bought before.

But words cannot express how much I can't wait to dance them in salsa tomorrow.

And even more so, Friday. I haven't been to a Friday dance in almost month or so now. The unexpected nature of it is almost foreign to me now in the way that organized dance classes have taken over with their form and called out moves which I never remember the names of anyway. Will I follow the right way? Will I find myself internalizing most of the lessons I have learned of rhythm and form? There will always be mess-ups, but will the language of dance find better and proper execution from your humble narrator?

We can hope so, and you can bet it isn't just the shoes.

"I broke her neck with the lack of respect that I learned as an embryo -" [19 Mar 2008|12:15am]
In making judgments of other people, it is always the greatest feat for one to settle in a place between reading too much of things and not reading far enough.

I've been a bit despondent and distracted the past couple of days by Eliot's return home and exhibition of ridiculousness. My mind sung with the hope of letting all things settle on neutrality and it was surprised by those irrational gestures. With no sense of prediction, I can't set myself up for disappointment any more than I already have. I've made my own peace with it, written my feelings down, and sent them away not hoping for anything more than that. (Z, what I truly wonder is: how can you rationally observe such ridiculous inconstancy and not be resigned to give it a steady slap across the face?)

I fear shelving these emotions because I feel they will silence any internal whispers of inspiration that was so strongly brought on by my old collection of boxes being knocked to the floor. The memories, I hold them much more rationally now, and I want to get some down, though I hope not to appear to be holding onto them in a way that is overbearing or full of more meaning than in actuality. I've written tons of fiction. What I want to write now is the additive ambition of gathered memoirs. I'll be an archivist, too, in the way that will matter most to me in years to come.

I feel the only thing that will unsettle your frivolity will be the cathartic punch of a trainwreck, kid. I hope this event, whatever it is (I'm sure I know it), happens in the same way it doesn't. You gave me great things, for which I am very glad, but you could never appreciate the goodness of this the way you are now. You could avoid serving yourself this anguish as you deal it out to those around you, and I fear the very thing that will wound you will be your saving grace. There's a sense of irony here. My feelings are ones of sympathy. (Why, really?)

I look forward to the summer because I want to go to the lake and take my friends with me and spend the day there, feeling freedom in the way that I am beginning to feel burnt out and routine, methodically typing out the words one by one, almost churning the feeling out. It needs be free.

Every day is just me taking a little more experience at a time, taking notes, and waiting for the moment it all becomes relevant material in something greater than I can even imagine in these moments. (Such vague prose grows as I turn in to slumber.)

Transition me - [12 Mar 2008|10:57pm]
An empty house: a rarity. A quiet but unsettling rarity. Perhaps it will be even more of a rarity when I occupy the house with roommates. Yes, it is fact. I am moving out. I haven't been sure of it until just today, when I went with my cousin to Wal-mart to pick up cleaning supplies and then to the house to go over who was moving in where and to sprinkle vacuum powder on the carpet before she vacuumed. The house is ready to move into. But am I? I'm mentally committed. It will just take the energy of finding time to move my stuff later this weekend around my work schedule. I have a key. I'm not sure what else it is capable of opening up, but I anticipate the adventure. There is talk of money issues, to be discussed upon tomorrow. No movement would disappoint me more.

This in-between Humanities (read: philosophy class; this day we cleansed our microcosmic orbits through meditation) and keeping my appointment with Dr. L. Oh, Dr. L. During philosophical babble, I wrote down all the things I needed to talk about, and decided I needed to call in late for work instead of skip this appointment to fit in all of the days activities. But Dr. L left me with more questions than answers. Do you think one side of it is fake? What do you think this behavior is in pursuit of? Goodness, I don't know. My current research for such a case study is in gathering up all the past. My insatiable curiosity seeks not "us" but more of him. Why? A clinical perspective, the way this mind works. A clinical perspective frequently tripping on heartstrings. I want to tell The Patron Saint of Lost Causes: don't let sacrifice eat you alive, but I know she will do what she must to feel she has at least made an attempt to bring goodness to that life. She is dettached, but it could be impossible to portray that with as much zealotry as her curiosity seeks.

My priorities have fallen slightly out of sync, not so much out of intentional deviance, but more from lack of time. If I can remain under the radar, depending on a certain professor's absent-mindedness, I can perhaps still get my project in under the wire. Tomorrow, tomorrow should be a good day. I have a test first thing, simple rote memory, then the partial anxiety of not having finished this 45 points already post-deadline, but I think I should be able to exempt lab tomorrow.

Time. I'm pressed for it, so I should be careful to whom I award it. Z, your words give me the rationality to be forward thinking. I am not scared, I am independent, I am strong enough to carry sense upon my shoulders and not be weighted down, yet I stand stable in light of oncoming storms, though I wait with wonder in the case it should pass me by.

I'm not yet writing for an audience, so I'm not ready for the comment function, not yet. But soon.

Subject lines are so two years ago - [12 Mar 2008|02:03am]
I have endeavored reading Z's old journals from years past tonight, and I think to myself: goodness, I would love to do that, chronicle all of those days past to be able to back and look at them like she is now. Those words are so, so eloquent, unlike words I wrote three years ago in this very journal. The truth of the matter is, I do all of that archiving to a point, with those little notes I leave between pages of my school notes; it is all I can do to keep the memories flowing and keep up my attention to a higher level of learning at the same time. But you should narrate more, M, set up the scenes that you know you could. These beautiful pictures you could find the words for now to recount the past, they'll be gone before you know it. Put them down while you can. It won't be immediate, so you'll have to keep up self-discipline: this is a reward that will shine its most beautiful colors in time.

My most loved medium now is a pastel blue legal pad. The legal pad spoke to me one night at auditions for Theatre Fest, envoked a memory of senior year where I did something that I loved that looked like this. When I directed (or assistant directed - my memory remembers directing, though one would remember that wrong accidentally, would she not?) The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (after playing a part in it in my freshman year, who knew it better?). I remember that yellow legal pad I used to take notes on auditions, like Professor D's associates were using that night, and taking notes through every straight-through rehearsal. This is a week after I've been to Le Chat Noir, and it dawns on me, I'm awe-struck and surprised like someone's been keeping this a secret from me for years. I love theatre. I really and earnestly do. As a desire, it claims my senses with almost little notice - as dance does now, though that will be the basis for many memories to come. (It is something I have been unable to touch and explore with words yet.) I'm in the audition room, in the audience of The Goat or A Night on Broadway or King Lear and I want to be backstage, I want to be in costume, I want ears cuffed by the head-aching feeling of wearing a headset. At the same time, I feel it is a little selfish and unwarranted of me to take up someone else's stomping grounds, like I am chasing the ghost of Eliot's passions, though I feel I am being honest when I say they are entirely of my own desire. I can't say if the desire for the stage would have come back without him (that is hard to say to associate with a theatre major who I have good memory of trying to turn my forever-conceptualized screenplay into a stage play among other similar biases), but the dance is probably something that would have never found frutation, despite it being listed on my to-do list for almost a year. I have found niche enough that that is a distressing thought; I'll quote Sil on the matter when he said "it would've been a sad thought to have [your talent] go on not just wasted, but undiscovered." C'est vrai. I shall veer subtly back to topic.

That night I saw the legal pad there in Washington Hall, I was reminded who else I had seen using a legal pad. Dr. L. Dr. L is a good counselor, at least from what I know of counselors, and what I remember of therapy years and years back. Even if the woman is overwhelmingly obese and waddles when she walks to close the door behind me, I respect her so much for the things she can do with a L.P.C. license. She is gifted in analyzing the one person I have trouble with: myself. Dr. L's legal pad is white, though, and she never writes notes on the back of the page, the short awkward side you don't have as much room to write on, but she has drawn me two pictures on the back side before. One was a circle, and we divided up my time. My pie is a lot of school. That's not entirely true. The other was a graph of how people remove themselves from romantic relationships. She drew a diagonal line sloping upwards and said that wasn't as normative, drawing a squiggly line up and down through the diagonal one, as one with ups and downs was. Granted, it feels very awkward sometimes writing about being a squiggly line, as normal as she says such a state is. I have to cancel an appointment I have with her tomorrow, and I feel a bit guilty with the things on my mind, like a sinner staying home from the weekly confession with her priest.

What I mean is, I am an artist and a scientist, too, and I will also use a legal pad. Those around me who haven't seen it will see it sooner or later. It will be multi-purpose, unlike the sketchbook, which was poetry and veiled prose. Depending on what goes there, I may give it up to other eyes if insisted upon, but chances are most will not understand it (I hardly can) and it will be notes to myself for later memory or to come here for translation.

But the hour grows late and it is unfit for me to remain characteristically long-winded for much longer. I have much to say about many characters, though I will keep it listed in my mind for now and tactfully attach these things as this narration continues.

[25 Oct 2007|02:54am]
[ mood | contemplative ]

Oh, LiveJournal. If it weren't three a.m., I'd tell you everything. How do we keep meeting up like this, save for my blatant insomnia?

For updated status, check one's Facebook. For updated pictures that we've wasted lots of time taking and arranging, check one's MySpace. In both places you can subtly see as I try to display kindness towards another, but what you don't see is how that individual tells me he cares for me but cares for another at the same time (and he did first, so it's only fair), how genuine I thought he was until I've begun to think maybe I just I confused unique honesty with ignorance, how many nights I've spent up way too late deep in conversation, loving and hating his words, reading and analyzing between lines, never quite sure where I stand, but knowing I'm not moving from that place for right now, and maybe I should begin to make my way over it, but somehow finding making that step is a bit difficult than first realized.

I have to decide my schedule for spring by day after tomorrow and fuck me if ASU can't offer enough times for me to take classes and work around them.

I don't have enough hours to make my car payment without being straight broke.

I need another job, but as it is now I can barely find time to do enough homework and sleep enough that me and my organs don't fail.

On the bright side, I may have the opportunity to move out for super cheap some time soon, and somehow the idea of such a dramatic change just sounds like it could be one of the best things to happen to me in a long time.

I want to party for Halloween Friday night, I need hours before that, and my uncle is getting married Saturday. I need to find hours between the breakfast and the wedding at six. I work on Sunday night. I have to choose between the music performance tomorrow so I can go ahead and write my Music/Humanities paper on it, or go to work. We'll see.

I've slept in just about every day of this semester, and you'd think I know better by now.

No Magic

[12 Oct 2007|06:18pm]
Dear LiveJournal,

Midterm week is over. I'm so happy. I shall be back to visit you soon.

Luuuffs,
Me
No Magic

[29 Sep 2007|01:36am]
Insomnia's been bad this week.

Yay for the weekend.

/sleep
No Magic

To the agnostics on my friends list - [11 Sep 2007|07:23pm]
I want to hear you start using the Flying Spaghetti Monster or the Invisible Pink Unicorn argument. Because they are kind of amazing and say so much so humorously.
4 SpellsNo Magic

[10 Sep 2007|03:04pm]
On The 'Choke' Set with Chuck Palahniuk

Man, I cannot wait for this movie. Second only to The Dark Knight. I'm only scared of its close association with MTV.
No Magic

[08 Sep 2007|03:38am]
Guess what we're going to see in March.

http://www.avenueq.com/tour/

You're damn right we are.
3 SpellsNo Magic

[03 Sep 2007|11:56am]
[ mood | chill ]

This is what school does. In combination with work. Any free time is usurped by the former, because I feel guilty if it isn't. Anyhow, besides that, these first couple of weeks have been good, if not full of preliminary textbook reading (which I should be doing now). In any case you're curious as to what my schedule looks like, it's here.

My classes are interesting. I have a feeling I'm going to think differently about other people by the end of the semester, as I am taking separate classes detailing the cultures of the past, society as a whole, and human diversity between individuals. I'm also taking my Wellness class, which I dread and welcome at the same time because I have always needed that little boost to start getting in shape. If a class doesn't do it, I don't know what will.

My History class is full of freshman, though there are various piece of eyecandy floating about the room, so the class is enough to keep me focused yet entertained for fifty minutes three times a week. My Sociology class is much the same, minus the eyecandy. The professor there is new to ASU, and has take home quizzes and movie critiques lined up for us. Usually classes are 40+ people trying to discuss some open-ended topic. I usually doodle, and write down definitions when she makes a point to say she's reading out a definition.

My Sociology class and my Psychology of Human Diversity class are pretty similar in context, both talking about people. My diversity class is a little smaller, and the people seem like they could be fun in there, so discussion should go a little easier when we get to it. So far we have talked about stereotype and social stigma, and our first exam is probably next Monday. We have a project that we have to start working on, which details closer examination of a social minority, preferably one we are currently uncomfortable with, such as homeless, deaf people, etc. I have a few ideas, but I'm not sure.

Eli is in my Wellness class, and there's a very strong possibility that you will see me try to hang out with Eli and Jeremy more this semester, because I think they're awesome. And they just bought a house somewhere. Which is twice as amazing.

In newer new news, I practically live on this one music forum because the community there just keeps me wildly entertained. I kind of have a tiny e-crush on another user, but shh, because it's kind of silly. But I have learned about a number of new bands that kick ass at this forum, so it's a great place. They finally got me to use last.fm, and I will, granted I am on the computer that supports it.

To answer some questions about AWA: hotel money will be about $45. It will be slightly less if Tristan does express considerable interest and pays up. I am slightly bristled by the idea of having a guy with us this year, but I know it'd be completely different if so. I know Lane wanted to/wants to drive, and I am/will if I have to. I will get money some day that I see you before we go, because I'm not willing to stand for "I'll pay you for it later" bullshit this year. :D

Anyhow, I have some things to do (read: school work) before I go see Mayday Parade tonight. Catch you guys on the flip side.

3 SpellsNo Magic

[02 Sep 2007|03:29pm]
I have a lot to say and very little time to say it in.

But expect me back here soon. Truly!
No Magic

[20 Aug 2007|01:39am]
[ mood | awake ]

So, yep. First day of class tomorrow.

I'm in bed.

And that's as far as I've gotten.

Zzz? Argh.

5 SpellsNo Magic

[08 Aug 2007|05:50pm]
What the heck *is* emo anyway?

Because I find the history and styles page to be a really interesting and educating read.

And I just heard they found a body in a car from Clarke county at the Evans Wal-mart. How'd you like to be the one to discovered that corpse in this heat? Wow.
4 SpellsNo Magic

[04 Aug 2007|06:44am]
Oh, new movies.

Your posters are damn exciting.
1 SpellNo Magic

[30 Jul 2007|07:39pm]
If I don't get anything else on my "Summer To-Do List" finished, I'd like to finish cleaning up and rearranging my room.

My bookshelf is too close to the wall to get to the outlet.

:(

Work schedule under here.Collapse )
1 SpellNo Magic

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