two straight lines, once again

.









... we had religious speakers come in today during class to talk about different religions-- one on atheism and another on islam. it was really, really great. i didn't necessarily learn anything new in particular, but i was incredibly impressed by the way the two men articulated their perspectives, ranging from the individualistic and intellectual basis of atheism to the skewed understanding of jihad that most derive from mass american media. it only deepened my convictions in regard to the futility of religious conflicts and the entire "only my religion is the truth" shit...
what is truth, anyway.
i know i've been raised with a tremendously christian background, and i know that i've never exhibited the firm faith that my mother so adamantly wishes i could have--i don't think i ever could, and i know that my spiritual and intellectual struggles conflict constantly. religion and faith have really been an enormous aspect of my difficulty to identify myself and my beliefs, particularly in the past few years. it's difficult.
at present, i feel more like an agnostic than anything else. god, to me, is amorphous and unrelentingly enigmatic. my experiences in life in no way correlate with what i am taught by the presbyterian christian leaders that have dominated that part of my intellectual journey. my perceptions are contradictory and my questions are endless. in fact, i think that their teachings have been more detrimental than helpful...
i don't know...
i just know that i can't ignore that my faith has been an extremely influential and crucial component of my emotional, psychological, and moral development. how it's been an influence, whether or not it's been a positive one, if it'll continue to confuse me, and if i'll ever be able to firmly place myself in one denomination or even a particular set of beliefs... i don't' know. it's all rather grey.











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nous ne pouvons pas

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people who know me well are aware of the fact that i don't anger easily. i get irritated and frustrated more quickly than the average person, but anger is something else. i don't get mad. it takes a lot to get me mad.
but when i do, it's that much harder for me to forgive.

i realized that when i'm at home, i'm always angry. furious, as if hurt and rendered incapable of avenging myself.
and what's worse is that i can't express my anger. i can't yell, because that's just rude and irrational. i can't converse about it in a healthy way, because you just don't do that with korean parents. and i can't rebel outright or be disrespectful, because regardless of the fury i harbor, it's impossible to not be aware that my parents deserve respect.

so it just sits and festers. the anger, pent up like a rabid, caged animal, simmers and morphs into a more virulent antagonism, a resentful impatience with everyone and everything. i can't stand to be in my skin.

i can't stand to be at home.
i can't call this home.













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bloodbath

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i had registration today .

master schedule--

0 calculus II ap [alcosser]
1 english III honors [chacon]
2 wind ensemble [acciani]
3 art history ap [gee]
4 journalism II [chen]
5 french language IV ap [lahham]
6 physics b ap [jensvold]

boo for chen& jensvold.
yay for acciani& alcosser& gee.
i dont' really know much about chacon.

physics b ap is a 90 minute class, and i have marching band as well.













the heat fell out of my mouth, and i felt the air fill me up, and i leaned forward to keep myself from obscurity.








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zeitgeist

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today the paramedics came and took leanne away.
we weren't allowed in the room, but i wanted to say goodbye, at least.
it made me upset.








yesterday, i saw a boy that looked like he was in love.
he was sitting underneath a tree near building nineteen,
unbothered by the heat, his black backpack to his left,
smiling as he wrote a secret message in a red, spiral notebook.
i stared at him from a distance, wanting to say hi.
i wanted to ask him who the girl is
and if she had blue eyes or green.
i wanted to tell him that i know so many songs
and that i'm sure i could think of one
for him to sing and for her to keep,
tucked away underneath layers and layers
of other warm memories.




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this is the sleep of war

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i was trying to listen close, thinking that perhaps there was something wrong with me, but really, there wasn't anything to hear; my efforts were swallowed by the silence with a pallid indifference, not mocking me, but expressing pity, which i found to be even worse





a few of my own pieces:
~ [I, III] acrylic on cardboard
~ [II] watercolor, acrylic, crayon wax, candle wax, ink, graph paper, and artificially induced burns on sketch paper

[I]


[II]


[III]











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haven't spoken in a week, hello and goodbye

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"don't be scared. open your eyes. look. it's me."














i'm a byproduct of two families with too much of the wrong kind of history. no one's to blame, that's just the way it is. if anyone is at fault, it's Circumstance. that bitch.






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all that talk about forgetting is bull.

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today, the air was hot and the skin around my joints were perpetually damp; i felt unclean.




.








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listen: ling--alan kuo
watch: a beautiful mind





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you are the one, the one that lies close to me

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blurred vision as if through water, seen and breahted in-- i can't believe that we've done this so many times before. each day a new, lovely little thing, each night something terrible.
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read: their eyes were watching god
listen: here in your arms-- hello goodbye
watch: mars
wear: xl racerback and somebody's boxers




today:
moca for the poetics of the handmade exhibit& the focus on alexandra grant.
both were grrreat.
then i went to the geffen contemporary for the moca installation on art and the feminist revolution (wack). it was disturbing and emotional and provocative. i had to go in by myself, though, after the viewers discretion sign came into sight.
which was understandable. very sexual, very violent at times, very psychologically unstable.
however, one of the best i've seen thus far. and i've seen quite a few exhibits, if i may say so myself.







announcement!
looking for music donations.
i've finally got my xp system rebooted, and now i can start recompiling my music library.
granted, i'm still mourning over the loss of my 5000+ songs, but what can a girl do.
so, if anyone (cough dominique, cough lily) has any music that they know i listen to, would you mind sending it to me one way or another?
much appreciated.




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harry potter kills me, man.
just kills me. does me in.




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coughing bees, laughing trees, skin

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blood lurches over the edges of this old, fixed love, mimicking the motion of gathered water jumping from cupped hands, such trembling and worn fingers, knobby joints like soft clefts in a pale and hidden road.
i feel every layer of energy in this movement, its interruption of the heart, the beating falters as eyelids struggle and stability is pinned down; a great and terrible king, beaten and ashamed.
i feel my bones. they ache.











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