Sunday, June 20, 2010

I think I'm going to take a break from the pursuit of men.  I like not being crazy.

So....friends all around.

It's another summer, the same old crowd, none of us the same, but I still got love.

Monday, June 14, 2010

baby this is bringing me down

another try in growing up and letting go

When I came over to your house a few months back, you'd asked if I'd been there before. And I knew I had before, it was familiar, but I couldn't really recall why that would've been the case. You said, it was probably a family thing. But that didn't seem right to me. So yesterday, in part boredom and in part curiosity, I vaguely recalled writing about you, way back when, but I couldn't really place when or why that would be the case, so I pulled out my old hand-written journals and started looking. Of course, since I wasn't sure what I was looking for aside from your name, I ended up taking an unintentional trip down memory lane....from 1998 to 2003. And it's completely bizarre how I forgot so many things had happened. It's completely correct how easy it is that we forget these little details, these day to day happenings, these entire summers spent hanging out. I just forgot things I didn't think I would've forgotten, but I did. Apparently, you came around when I was 16, and you stayed around that summer, and we spent the rest of that year in sporadic conversation. Honestly, I had no recollection, no recollection. I remember her 16th birthday, and I remember sitting around after everyone had left and just talking, but I never placed you there as well. A year after, when she turned 17, I wrote, after everyone left, we'd been looking through old photos from the previous year, and I'd came upon a negative–vintage, isn't it–and it was of you, Charles, Krystine and I from the same night the year before, when we were just sitting around and talking. And I had no recollection.

This trip down memory lane is completely bizarre, not so much because I catalog every moment for fear that I will forget, but the truth is, we really do forget.

I don't write every moment of my life down like I did those years. The after years haven't held time, space or candor for that. I can't be as open and honest online with the identities of others as I used to be in the tangible.

We used to know each other. I guess we used to be friends, and neither of us mentioned it in the after years. You probably forgot, I forgot.


Last autumn, you asked me to hang out.  It wasn't an unusual request, we'd been friends for years after all.  Though friend would be a weird word to describe us, we were always kind of off, there was always something kind of there, that we never took care of.

And then we did, and the only thing that came was the clarity that was why it had never worked.

I wrote about you a lot.  Actually, you overshadowed the former to a degree.  You might be the reason why I failed to recall the former.  But from the moment we met, to the after years, I cataloged the things you said, the things that reminded me of you, and then the drama, the disappointments, and the confusion.  I wasn't good to you.  I wasn't good for you.  And fuck, I probably didn't make much sense, since it seems, through most of it, I was never quite sure.  And then, one day I decided we should just be friends.  So I told you that, via AIM.  And then I continued to prattle on, as if it was all okay.  And maybe these moments, are ones you no longer recall, but.

I kinda sucked.  It's been a long time.  None of it matters anymore, but hey, I'm sorry.

It's funny how, all these years pass, and you think not much happens, but then so much does, so much is fit into these minute summers, those winters, falls, homecomings and celebrations.  Nights spent driving out into the middle of nowhere and hanging out in fields, on driveways, talking about nothing – and sometimes, these moments become so vague in my memory that I'm no longer sure if they were real or something I made up or dreamed.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

she had a habit of running.

When someone wants to be with you, they will be with you.

When you really matter, when it really matters, it won't be a game anymore.


Please don't forget this note.

"If you go on doing what you've always done, you'll go on getting what you've always got, which may be less than you want or deserve."

Saturday, June 5, 2010

"don't let them tell you there's a right way to fall in love..."

I'd been sitting in my college radio station in the fall of 2006, when we were handed Raised by Wolves, Voxtrot's first EP. Back then I recall thinking that it was crap. And then, sometime later, after I'd donned that cap and gown, cleaned out my old apartment, and moved on, Your Biggest Fan and The Start of Something reappeared. And it was one of those things where you can't help but have it on repeat just because, and one of those times where I sat there and really listened, because we never really listen to music, most of the time.

The Start of Something shuffled on last night, and I dusted off the covers of old lines I used to adore, and this time around, I found they resonate more than the last. It's funny how, things, different things, different moments come across your life, and sometimes, the second time around, things just fit better, perhaps timing really is everything.

Then I wondered what Voxtrot was up to these days, and it turns out, they're closing shop, maybe not forever, we can never say forever, but for now.

In his farewell, lead singer, Ramesh Srivastava writes:

"Approximately eight months ago, I spoke to my friend Simon and indicated that I was ready to give up on music, or at least leave it for the indefinite future, but he reminded me that you can't dedicate yourself to another job or a degree, or some other distraction just because you've got nothing else going-if you have the feeling that you were born to do something, you've got to follow that feeling.

As he told me, "Do it because you love music. Do it with passion."

And so I did what I had to do. I swallowed my pride and got two jobs, one of which involved clearing the dishes of the filthy-and-not-so-pleasant-rich, and while this sudden change in lifestyle was not altogether ideal, I was constantly aware that I was building towards something.

For me, the most important thing in life is leaving behind something beautiful, something that finds its way into the lives of strangers, and forever alters them in a positive manner. Sometimes, being able to do this means that you have to work the shitty job and serve bread to rich idiots, but whatever, it's better than just cashing in your chips and spending the rest of your life wondering, "what if…?"

And so here I am, in the middle of another one of my quarter-life crises, except this time, I find myself questioning the entire foundation upon which I've built this career of mine, if you will. I never really knew what I wanted to do with my life, and I guess some would say, those are the most interesting people, but to be honest, it's a hell of a lot of confusing freak-outs for a bit of interesting. So, I thought, I write, that's what I do, and if I could make a living from that, then all would be good.

I never wanted to be one of those people who sat around at 50 wondering what if. So I forsaked the money and chased these dreams, or so I've always believed.

But, when you turn your sanity into your career, and therefore, into your life, because we're workaholics, what's left?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

on matters of worth

Maybe, maybe I ask too many questions, maybe I'm always just demanding too much, I don't know, I've always wanted the whole damn world. I used to believe anything was possible, but as I get older, it only gets harder. Some days, I'm not sure what I believe.

I came around cause I thought, you were worth my time. And I don't believe I was wrong on that point. But maybe I expect too much out of you, and maybe that's not fair, maybe. I just have this habit of always expecting a lot out of the people I care about.

It takes about 5 minutes for me to decide if someone's worth my time, if they're my kind of people. And I'm right about 95 percent of the time, there are always exceptions. But most of the time, I'm right.

I've always been good at keeping relationships–friends. Maybe because I never had a boyfriend to distract me, maybe because I'm an only child, and my parents drive me crazy. So I've always managed to keep these relationships. I choose my friends carefully because they're my family, and I was never one for keeping acquaintances, until I got older and for other reasons it became necessary (I still believe it's bullshit.). And I never realized, how, as we get older, most people don't keep that many friends. Cause we all get busy, this life, you know.

I don't know where I was going with this. But on matters of worth. I'm impatient, at times insecure, at times crazy, and I have this habit of saying everything that comes to my mind, sometimes, I say too much, I can't really say sorry because, sorry rarely ever means much. I'm addicted to the things I fear maybe you're right. Maybe I'm always running after what I can't have because, because nothing good ever came easy. And that's simply how I've always known it to be. If I cease to believe that anything is possible, well then, there'd be no point left in this life.
"you got me up against the wall. maybe we could make this work, but i just had to leave before it's getting worse. i don't know what you came here for."