Friday, December 28, 2012

Overanalyzing pt. 3956

One of the most fascinating and telling qualities of someone is how often and how intensely they make eye contact when having a conversation. There are so many benefits to truly looking at someone straight into their eyes when you're speaking to them. Yet it seems to scare the shit out of so many people.

I try not to overanalyze people by how they react to eye contact, but it happens without my consent. There is a distinct different between being someone who doesn't make a lot of eye contact, themselves, and someone who is uncomfortable when the other person has their eyes on you.

It can often give you away when your words protect you. Your words are saying "I am confident, I know who I am and what I'm saying, and I am choosing every word skillfully and careful." Yet as I watch you explain your family and what they mean to you, I notice your eyes hit the ground and focus on that one spot by your foot; while you were too busy learning every crevice of your hard wood floor, I had the wonderful opportunity to notice your mouth tense up when you say her name.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


Dealing with this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I've been praying for strength, with is strange, because I haven't been praying lately. Then again, I feel like it's only fitting.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Made of Paper

She sounds like a dream on paper. Hiding her face behind her soft curls, tangled so her fingers get caught when she brushes it away from her eyes. Her sleeves are long and falling past her hands, dripping like rain water down the car windows. But her curls do more than catch her fingers, and her sleeves hide more than her pale blue nail polish: they are her armor, shielding herself away from any feelings of emptiness. Nothing breaks through her brunette barrier - nothing gets in and nothing gets out.

She sounds like a dream on paper. Every morning she paints cat eyes carefully onto each eyelid, to make her smiles look more genuine. The extra oomph is just what she needs to sway a crowd in her favor. She is a magnet in the room, and everyone is drawn in but her; only she stops and wonders what all the fuss is about - an empty girl with too much make up is all she sees. Her laughter would lighten up the darkest of hearts, even though they're all fake. She draws in so that she knows her facade is working; she is more believable than she ever thought possible.

She sounds like a dream on paper. When you're spilling tears onto her lap, she will rub your back, using her nails just enough to let you know she cares. Whispering into your ear gently, her words engulf you and swim through your head as if they're contagious. It only takes minutes to forget that there could ever be a problem if she's around. Tugging on your heart strings is not a strong enough phrase for the sheer feeling that comes out when you can feel her breathe on your neck.

She's made of paper. Flawlessly smooth to the touch, yet hollow on the inside. There's nothing inside to hurt and there's nothing to give away. 

Thursday, August 9, 2012

One Week In

I wish my urges to write didn't only occur when I was sad, angry or fucked up (mentally, not with alcohol.) But, let's be real, they only occur when I'm sad. angry or fucked up.

I've given myself one week to process. A death of someone close, a suicide scare of another close friend of mine who (thank goodness) is fine at the moment, and a whole lot of City Year bullshit has put me in a really fucked up place right now. But the week is now coming to a close, and I feel just as close to the edge.

There is a tendency for me to use the phrase 'dark place' too much in a joking manner - i.e. joking about going to dark places during monologues - but it really isn't a joke at all. Right now I feel like I'm moving closer and closer to do not return place. As much as I try to make light of it, I can't deny how scared I am, as well. I know what that's like when I go there, and it truly does feel like a one way ticket. It begins with that teetering feeling: one foot is on the ledge and one foot is already dangling off of it, and you're just yelling at yourself over and over to just take a fucking step back but your body won't respond. No matter how much you try to say "this isn't real, this isn't real, it's just an emotion, a fleeting feeling that you control," there's really no control at all. And that's what I'm really afraid of, I suppose.

Losing control.

Earlier this year, I let myself lose control. One moment I was there and the next I was weak, I was needy and I just couldn't do it alone. But last time, another person was responsible for that loss...and that almost helped, in a way. Because every time I wanted to cry, I let the tears burn me as they fell and turn into anger instead. There's no one to blame this time. There is no one to point fingers at if I slip below the surface and drown myself this time.

Positivity is being thrown my way, but every time I hear another "it will get better" I just want to gently explain that they need to grow the fuck up and realize that's not reality for some people. The only thing I can do is remind myself that I didn't drown last time. This time last year, I thought I wouldn't ever be able to feel truly happy again. But I did. It took a long time, it took almost a year, actually, but I did make it. Ironically, everything came crashing down as soon as I built it back up, but this time for totally different reasons. But it'll be okay, right? "It will get better," as they have said so often these last passing hours.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

No more advise, please.

Her Space Holiday can instantly put me right back into 10th grade. Even if it's a song that wasn't around then. Just hearing those same voices and flow and there I am.

Lately I've been conflicted with making post-graduation plans. On one hand, I truly am not freaking out about it like everyone else around me seems to be doing. Yet, I'm somewhat worried that this laid back attitude is going to be a problem. I don't normally have a laid back attitude about planning....ever. Last week I spoke with my thesis advisor, and he was really encouraging me to keep graduation school in my future plans, and that I should really aim high with professional aspirations. I suppose I should be flattered that all of the faculty and graduate students that I've worked with in any academic setting in the last 4 or 5 years have been very adamant that I have strong skills and unique ideas and thought processes and that it would be a waste to stop after undergraduate. But sometimes I just want to tell them to stop. Unless they plan on each throwing in a few thousand dollars so that I can afford a 40k Master's and __k PhD, then the advice might have to go unused. It's frustrating to be graduating from one of the best universities in the country and yet my income will still be a problem for quite some time.

Only six more weeks of school. It may be the last time I'm ever a student, or I may have eight more. Who knows...

Thursday, April 26, 2012


There's something about sleeping.

Well, to be more accurate, there has always been something about sleeping.

When I was in high school my problem was that I just couldn't do it, period. I had to completely exhaust myself until my limbs would feel glued to the ground and my eyes had the sting of an unnecessary all nighter so that I could finally fall asleep at 3pm after school and sleep until my body forced me into the unfortunate awake position yet again. I hated being awake. When I was at home, I felt that I wasn't allowed to feel upset because somehow there was a story that everyone gave me that I was somehow the lucky one and any complaint or hint at a deeper seeded issue was met with an eye roll. Obviously I wasn't deserving of depression. I had nothing to be depressed about. That was the feedback I was accustomed to. This made me want to sleep, yet sleep was the only thing I couldn't have. If I set my mind to anything else, I could have it with enough hard work or determination, but the thing I wanted the most? Unobtainable.

Then for absolutely no reason whatsoever, I just started sleeping. Sleeping normally, even. Not only was I able to fall asleep at night, but I was able to just close my eyes and within minutes, every time, I was sound asleep. It's been a few years like that. And man, it has been amazing. If you have never experienced sleep problems, then you couldn't imagine how fucking horrible they are. And the thing is, you can't really tell anyone you have sleep problems. Because when you tell someone, "I couldn't sleep last night," their reply is somewhere along the lines of, "oh my goodness, me too, I swear I slept like, an hour last night." What they don't realize is that their exaggeration was met with the unfortunate truth from you. Everyone thinks they have insomnia when they really just had too much caffeine one day; insomnia is a common word to see on Facebook in the early morning hours of any given day of the week.

You want to hear something silly? Sometimes, in the midst of these years of normal sleeping, I would go back to a few hours of sleep a night on purpose. It was my own well hidden manner of punishing myself. Sleep deprivation does wonders for the self-esteem, let me tell you. Sometimes I would stay up all night to 'get some work done,' but really it was because a friend had inadvertently made me feel worthless that day. Or, I would set my alarm for a few hours after I went to bed 'on accident,' but really I wanted to spend the next day in that state that I was so comfortable in. I wanted to walk to my classes in that hazy vision that only a lack of sleep provides just right.

I'm scared I'm slipping back into my old patterns. Except this time, I'm not doing it on purpose. And I keep blaming it on the things that everyone else should be blaming it on - I drank too much caffeine, I took a nap, I slept a lot last night, I shouldn't have watched tv before bed - but, the excuses only go so far. I'm trying to not be too vocal about it. It's awkward telling the person you sleep next to every night that most days you wake up at 6am for a few hours, wondering if it's possible to will this back into your head: "this is not happening again, no, no, no, please no." Secret? It's not possible. At least, not if this week has taught me anything.

Perhaps it's a passing phase. It wouldn't be the first time. It's slipped back a few times and then left just as quickly. But, then again, maybe it's not. Maybe it was those few years of waking up feeling this strange 'rested' emotion was in fact the phase. I suppose we'll see.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Now What?

I wrote a musical. Chris wrote the music. It's a comedy musical about a guy who graduates and moves back home and then meets up with a bunch of his high school friends, who, sure enough, aren't doing anything either.

 I'm really proud of it. It's funny, it's creative, it's unique and it's a solid piece of work. It's nice to have something to be proud of when there's been so much these last 7 months that have made me question everything about myself.

 I think about my progress in the last 7 months and I wonder if it's enough. Am I on schedule to become my own self soon? Or am I far more behind than I thought? It's extremely hard to tell most days. Some days I think about how well composed I can stay when talking about it and think that I've come really far, and then other days the smallest thing will make me take 2 big steps back and it makes me insecure as to if there's really been any progress at all.

 7 weeks until graduation. I suppose that should scare me, but I honestly just want to get it over with.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Unexpected Turns

In the last year and a half, my life plans have changed more times than I could count on two hands. I guess if anything, this has led me to just trust myself and my abilities and know that no matter where I end up, it'll turn out just fine. So many people around me are just completely terrified of what happens after that dreaded graduation day, and I guess at this point, I'm just ready to accept it for what it is.

Chris and I have a few options on the table right now. It's funny that a lot of people seem to think there's more weight to our relationship now that we're engaged, but I guess to us it doesn't feel terribly different. It's wonderful and I love that we're engaged now, but I guess since we've thought we'd end up together in the end after only months of dating, this is more just making it official for everyone else. I can't wait to marry Chris, though. I don't know if it'll be a small wedding or just us, family and a courthouse, but no matter what we decide on, it'll be one of the best days of my life.

As far as next year is concerned, we're weighing our options. We have some possibilities lined up in Los Angeles, but we're also considering moving back to San Diego or (this must sound random) moving to Austin, Texas. Those are the 3 main possibilities in regards to next year. The biggest frustration is that money has to come into play in so many aspects. The realities of both of us coming from either low-income (myself) or working class (Chris') families has never been so blatantly clear than when we're trying to figure out what we're going to do next year. There wouldn't be as much stress if we didn't know that failing or picking the 'wrong' option meant not having a financial backup plan.

Overall, I'm still utterly thrilled to be graduating this Spring. It's going to be a very busy quarter, but I'm sure I'll do my best to appreciate the time I have left. Right now, though, I'm done with Winter finals, so I'm just ready to spend spring break in San Diego! It'll be nice to have more than a few days to relax and not have to worry about what's coming next.