fa la la la la

This post will be short and sweet; I just feel like sharing some things that inspire me in case your creative juices are frozen over this winter.

http://igorandandre.blogspot.com/
This artist is BRILLIANT. I especially love the way he draws cheeks-- so delicate and feminine against the strong bone structure of his subjects.

http://wishwishwish.net/
The cutest fashion blog in the entire world! It's also British which automatically makes it a ten in my book.

http://seaofshoes.com/
A favorite of mine; Jane Aldridge has the most unique style.

http://www.raspberryworld.com/today/variations.html
Just a really beautiful poem.

http://stylecaster.com/
This is the coolest website I've ever found! It gives you professionally styled looks based on preferences and your area's weather forecast.

That's all for now! Drink lots of coffee, eat lots of chocolate, and wear lots of fleece!

what's in a name?

My name alone is not a spectacular word. Your voice alone is not magnificent.

But you said my name, for the first time in months it seems, and the galaxies exploded for a millisecond. I felt it.

Only you saying my name would result in me foolishly wandering around the interior of empty, dimly lit campus buildings I've never been in.

Some poems, yes? Oh, I have an exciting tidbit! My English professor was really impressed with a term paper that I wrote as a poem (it was a biography, bleh, boring, right?). Well, she thinks I should get it published in some literary journals, campus wide and beyond. Some other professors are using the piece in class, too. Can you believe it? My professor even said that I should pursue a masters in creative writing and literature from Yale. Confidence boost?

Nahhhh.


I prefer you,
a gentle breeze
over a hasty gust.

I prefer you,
five o'clock shadow
over ten o'clock darkness.

I prefer you,
foggy glasses
over foggy windows.

I prefer you,
under the stars
over a parked car.

I prefer you,
love
over boredom.

I prefer you.

sun. set. rise. repeat.

I am being love now.

the ten and the two is the loneliest sight

I've been an awful little blogger lately, so to my 3 or so readers, I apologize. I came down with a cold last night and just got back from Thanksgiving break, not to mention finals are in about a week, so I've been a little distracted.

Lately, I wish that writing and sending letters was a more common practice; it's so romantic, so organic. There is something very rich in writing prose to a good friend or someone even more in your own haphazard cursive penmanship. I adore letters. In fact, I've written two or three in the past few days just to give my stationery some fresh air.

School is almost over which I'm anxiously awaiting. I love being at university, but I need a good solid month of home. Not having friends gets a little exhausting after a few months, ya dig?

How many times can I listen to this silly John Mayer song before I tire of it? My research so far says "never".

Basically I'm just shuffling my feet along, only picking them up when I have to. Dear God, only two more weeks until I'm done!

a case of the tuesdays?

Okay, people who read this but don't actually follow it on Blogger (that's right, 0 followers), I've been neglecting actually writing anything for a while. So, I'm going to be boring and give just some brief updates.

Let's start off with the cliche, "How's school going?" or "How do you like it down at Western?"

Well, friends, to answer the first one, I checked my grades today and may actually make it without a C this semester. Huzzah! Which may not seem like much, but I'm taking a shitload of math and science classes that I don't really give a damn about, so for me no C's is B-I-G.

For the second question, I'll go out on an honesty limb and say: I don't know if I like it. There are definite cons. I have no theater, thus increasing self doubt (Was I really even good to start with? Will I suck when I get back at it?). I haven't sung in months. I can't actually drive anywhere. I have to familiarize myself with an entirely new city. I have no way of meeting people I actually have things in common with. I do quite a bit of work in the place of the carefree high school life I could be leading. However, there are definite pros, such as actually having time to really explore who I am. I'm so much more who I am now than I've ever been; and I might actually like who that is? I know! Crazy crazy stuff. I'm working harder than I ever have before. I appreciate people who love me back home. Hell, I appreciate everything.

Second matter: what else do people normally ask?

Um, maybe you all want to know if I've made friends or anything? Sure, we'll go with that.

Yes, I've made "friends". I know people. We have inside jokes. We laugh. No one knows me though. It takes a lot to know me. You have to work really really hard to know me. Better want it rather badly. So on that front, I have the appearance of being friends with everyone but in actuality, I'm barely friends with a person here.

What else shall I write about?

Anyone want to know some trig identities? No? I have to memorize them, actually, so I had better be off.

Oh, and for whoever reads this but doesn't officially "follow" it, any other questions are totally open for the asking, so call. Or email. Throw a rock through my window, I don't care. Human contact is nice.

Love always,
Mad

happy hanuka

She is so epic. I was on the fence about whether I liked her or not until this video came out.

A) The song has been stuck in my head all day.
B) This girl can dance.
C) This song sickly resembles my love life.
D) It's Lady Effing Gaga.

robbery, sir

The only person I want and need to talk about this with is the exact person that I can't call at all.

the idea of home is gone.

I'm getting to that point where you realize you can't go back to the life you established when you were a kid. For me, especially, it's a difficult stage to be in. I'm not yet in college, but I'm not in high school; my life is floating somewhere in the universe, bobbing up and down trying to find the next planet to pull it into their gravitational force field.

At the moment, life feels empty. Devoid of all passion would be an understatement. Okay, maybe not devoid, because all of my emotion is rather intense and sporadic and colorful, but I'm not doing the things that I love. I'm not surrounded by the people I love. I don't live somewhere that I love, take classes that I love, wear things that I love, say things that I love. Love. That word has been weaving throughout my subconscious since July and it doesn't want to go away. For awhile, I thought perhaps I'd escaped it, but no. Love and it's sneaky little way crawled back in through my ear and settled into a nice condo above my right eye (that location is just a guesstimate, I'm only 87.5% sure it's the right eye).

I want life. LIFE, you know? Something I can grab onto and ride around until I'm utterly exhausted. I want something powerful and emotional and feeling and passionate. I want a big city where there will be thousands of people for me to meet every single day.

I just want more.

That's my problem, I can never just be satisfied. This leads to multiple other, unmentionable problems in my life. As the resident therapist says, "The pursuit of perfection is evil!"

Today was just a really rough day because I can't reason my way around the realization that childhood is over but adulthood isn't available.

By the way, my random scrawled poetry will have to wait for a while so I can re-focus and become re-inspired. So, enjoy one of my favorite slam poets, Sarah Kay. She's incredible.

your middle name is always...

Just some tiny bits of inspiration keeping me afloat in this black hole of trigonometry and cellular respiration.

i won't let them take you

I'm in one of those summer moods.

If only my hands had a way of shaking this cold second skin.

what's that, pillsbury?

Forests are trees.
Flowers are tulips.
Fluorescence acts tragic.
Facts aren't true.
Fudge also trickles.
Fiends are ticklish.

and we would run sometimes

Warning: This blog will make no sense. You have been warned.

God, you know, you're just beautiful. Do you know that? Do you realize that every breath you take and gently exhale releases the sweetest air into the atmosphere?

I want to buy a coloring book and spend 5 and a half hours just coloring in it so that I can calm down about how much I'm still so in love with you and your beauty and you made me laugh one time, so much that I forgot that I was supposed to be sad. When I look at cement and concrete and clouds I always get this urge to just lie down, just lie and stare and exist and be and I always wanted to like roller coasters but they never seemed to agree with me much.

You know I met you in an alleyway 23 years ago back when neon was actually cool. I think I must have told you secrets then thrown them away on paper airplanes and plastic gym equipment. You have a knack of flying away with my thoughts and words and feelings.

When it rains, I imagine your reflection in the glassy pools of gutter water and when the planetarium seems to sway behind the mist your voice seems to distantly quiver with the winds and the rain.

I didn't used to care about being pretty until I was eleven and it mattered.

What happened to bare feet and finger paint and muddy jeans?

You still smell like summer, even far away. I just thought you should know.

My friend pointed out that this song reminds her of me. It reminds me of me, too.
And just ignore the awful New Moon clips. Though it probably won't be awful because Chris Weitz is directing it.

crayola

boo.
i hate
rules.
i never was
good
at coloring.

just a short bus ride

pangs of generosity
flowing
through my index
asian sensation
ghetto nation

i am the minority.

i need something
hot
my old candle blew out
weeks ago
no heat
just words i don't know
keep my numb for now

pilot

my best friend is a plastic pen
i know it seems sad
but he's a nice companion.

he leads me to new, exciting places
and never abandons me
he laughs at my jokes
he listens to my problems
he never judges
he satiates my teeth's ten a.m. boredom
he keeps my secrets
he never hurts me

because
he is a pen.
my best friend is a pen.

he's a good friend,

but you can't hold hands
with a
pen,
can you?

baby, it's a wild world

Have you ever wanted to step outside of yourself and break the patterns of predictability and normalcy?

I have this constant and unexplainable compulsion to keep my actions consistent, my personality consistent. Don't get me wrong, I reincarnate myself at least twice a year, finding new things out about my multi-layer self. However, there's always that fear of people thinking you're odd, fake, schizophrenic or bipolar or have some other mental abnormality. I find myself stuck in this juxtaposition between moral and immoral (I hope I used "juxtaposition" correctly, but if not, at least it's a beautiful word).

I have the dangerous desire to be typical and cliche, to break rules and make stupid choices for spiteful reasons. I hear constant gossip of so-and-so's drunken escapades or Jane's basement weed parties and I think to myself, "Are they bad? Are those choices bad? Is there even such a thing as an immoral action or choice? And when in my childhood did I establish my preconceived notions of good and bad?"

Supposing I smoked or drank or whored myself about the general community, would that make me less of a person? Or, in fact, would it make me more? Would it quench my hunger to live a passionate, full life? Would I gain wisdom from experience or would I just be your average teenager getting "fucked up" and having a good time just for the hell of it?

These wonderings began last winter I suppose. The more I'm exposed to, the more curious I am, and consequently contemplative.

I wonder every day what constitutes the value of a person and what variables have worth in calculating it.

Again I come back to the question: If I chose to do this, this, and this, does that make me BAD?

The newest John Mayer single is helping me let go of who I am, learn to roll with it. For now. Not to mention the cinematography is beautiful and the melody is lulling.

autumn leaves

Exactly.

Jazz is medicine for the soul, I swear. Something about autumn and slow piano riffs and honey vocals makes my heart melt with warmth and love. Well, partially.

I am gradually getting back to who I am.

match point

But I love to love so it's okay.
I love to love so it's okay.
Love to love so it's okay.
To love so it's okay.
Love so it's okay.
So it's okay.
It's okay.
Okay.

is anybody home?

I feel so disconnected from my body. I raise my hand, ask a question, but wait? Whose voice is that? I don't recognize it. I speak and stutter and soliloquy while my mind thinks to itself, "What is that sound? Am I conscious of it coming out of my mouth? Is this the same voice I've had for my entire life?"

I look at pictures of myself and can't remember what I look like. I feel like I'm looking at photographs of a complete stranger. What is this face? And those eyes? And that smile? They do not belong to me anymore. My mind and body have separated, broken apart right underneath the nose that no longer feels like mine.

What's going on with me? There are days that go by where I can't remember a single thing I've done. Conversations I find myself in that I don't remember starting or participating in. My body is simply a transitional shell for my mind. This is both frightening and intriguing to me.

I have no idea what I'm going through, but it's extremely odd.

there's a screw loose in the pendulum

I am confused beyond measure. Unclear of my position, my status, my being. What is my life? What has it been? I can't seem to remember it. Last week, I woke up and forgot who I was. For thirty minutes, I had no recollection of my childhood or my location or my name. I merely lay in bed, staring at the ceiling contemplating my existence and it's significance. This makes you realize how insignificant your existence truly is. We live, we die. Others live after us and they die. And so on and so forth. There is no point, it's this never ending cycle of shit (because that's really all we are and all we contribute to the universe, just lots of shit).

I was really beginning to find myself, discover who I was and what I was and how I was and how I've been and why. However, my life has encountered some turbulence and no equilibrium can come from it. My life is a pen balancing on the edge of a cliff like a see-saw, waiting for some force to penetrate the surface of either side. Either way I will be falling. Hard. Life is painful and intense and colorful at the moment. This is always my problem, aside from how I deal with my problems as well. That's also awful. I don't cut or anything, so you can sleep better now.

I have 99 problems.

I don't even have a song that works for how I feel. Only my past writings of the last two years to remind me that I've survived this long.

Fuck it, I've got to be at least halfway through my nine lives by now. They're slipping grain by grain through my heart's hourglass.

anchor

I remember a time when I couldn't finish a cup of tea. Now, I drink gallons. Credit is also due to the horrible hacking cough I've gotten. And for some reason, which I will not reveal, my right eyebrow periodically twitches, an odd spasm of muscles at the most inconvenient and uncomfortable of times.

Oh you. You will not be named. But you are making my week just really not fun at all. As you did last week as well. You are the reason I read Sylvia Plath and watch sad movies and forget what my name is when I wake up in the mornings.

But I love to love so it's okay.

deflated beauty

The sound of God whistling
Through an empty wood

The refracted light of a stained-glass window
In an abandoned chapel

The sweet, ripe tang
Of an untasted summer strawberry

The girl biting her pen
On an empty concrete bench

Depreciation due to bad timing
And bad population.

We wish there was a loophole.

ding

I've decided to start reading the journals of Sylvia Plath because it seems her mood fits mine at the present.

winds make my hollow heart whisper

image courtesy of: snippetsofwisdom.com

This is what my life is right now. No returned messages. No returned calls.

No returned affection.

Fuck it.

choke

You

are

killing

me

with

your

invisible

hands

laced

around

my

visible

heart.

lightlust

How fast does the Sun's heart beat
when the moon intersects her orbit?

Does her breathing get rapid?

Do her hands lose circulation?

Does she find herself aware of how bright the moon's face looks in the dark?


Well she does.



And then the moon spins around and says,

"I always look better when I spin out in your light."

i will be hanging on your light

I think the reason I didn't like Copeland when I was younger was because I didn't have any feelings that went along with the sound. I do now and find them to put me at peace.

fall into you

I'm going to explode in a few minutes, I'm sure of it.

I have no time tonight to do all of my work, I'm extremely tired, and for some mysterious reason my RA wants to have lunch with me tomorrow. The fact that it was so mysterious just freaks me out even more. I am stressed.

And I've also discovered the natural theme of this week is the 90's. So here:





My heart hurts this weeks :(

broken wishes

"Have you ever liked somebody so much you just wanna lock yourself in your room, turn on sad music and cry?" - Glee

Yes. Yes I have.

That

is all.

sugar, ah honey honey

A slow, sweaty rush of exhaustion,
An envelope of calm, quiet
Humidity
Wraps me,
Coddles me
To a numbing lull,
An incantation of fairy tales,
Tea parties,
And tutus.

This desire to be young
And bounce on the balls of my
Feet
Until my forehead brushes
The basin of the sky.

But looking up,
Nothing.

The only way to see it is to
Be it,
Feel its spirit
Drip from its edges
Into my hair,
Running down my cheeks,
Slipping onto my lips,
The clouds' molasses
Trickling down my trachea.

Childhood,
That taste you can't get out of
Your head,
But can never remember with
Your lips.
The only thing I thirst for
Now
Is that which I never did like the taste of
Then.

Youth is a sweet
And messy
Business.



Also, this song is adorable.

oops

when the vapor of the air clings to my shoulders,
i think of you
when the vertebrae in my spine bend one by one,
i think of you
when my head bobs up and down in the crowd of a thousand faceless bodies,
i think of you
when the e is plucked,
i think of you
when the red illuminates and vibrates at 3am,
i think of you
when nicotine and caffeine waft through my airway,
i think of you
when the clouds drift into scattered masses of nothing and everything,
i think of you
when the wind brushes my hair against my cheek,
i think of you
when God made the world in seven days,
he thought of you
and he thought of me
and that thought must have happened so sporadically
that a little piece of each of our thoughts collided
and switched places,
leaving a part of you in me
and a part of me in you
because there is no other logical reason
for why the rain,
or a paperclip,
or a chocolate chip,
or a cardboard box,
or a shoelace,
or a styrofoam cup,
or a candle stick,
or a freckle on my nose,
or the word "angel"
would make me think of you
except that God made a mistake
and didn't notice
and that's the reason that we've worked.

my only concern is that God might notice soon
and try and fix it.

awake on my airplane

This week's been spent going to bed late, sleeping too late, listening to some badass music, and looking at some even more badass art.

Current inspirations: Madeline (the french ginger), Chanel, yoga, tea, Company of Thieves, "From Clouds" by Via Audio, "The Wolf" by Miniature Tigers

Oh, and basements from the 1970's. And hookahs.




Boardwalk by ~Jazzdogg on deviantART

bus stop

I'm feeling pretty sepia this week. It's actually been a rather god awful week if I'm being honest. I've had limited contact with some close friends, and it's been one of those weeks where you're too tired to care about how you look. And breakouts that ensue because of the stress of such a week don't help either. So I decided to cheer myself up with some shopping, some good cinema, chocolate, and wicked new music.



Okay, so not new, but the Smiths are classic.



Company of Thieves has become an instant favorite. I absolutely adore the lead singer's style!

Current inspirations: the 1970's, my hippie mother, basement parties, underground British lifestyle

Current love: my friend is the most inspiring artist in the world, her art is this ethereal mixture of classic fairy tales with a sort of tea party twist


cool salt painting by ~ewest1016 on deviantART

Check out some more of her stuff at http://ewest1016.deviantart.com/gallery/

More posts to come, sorry I deleted my past few. I don't know, I felt like a new beginning was needed.