it would be nice if it could reach you.

this was written on august 22.

there's something so beautiful about staying up until morning. just being outside when i'm this tired, on my balcony, i really can't get it right with words. probably because i'm tired, probably because i don't fully understand nor really do i want to right this moment. but i don't know. it physically feels beautiful. the cold, bright morning air on my skin. maybe it's so beautiful because i'm so tired, i don't have the energy to resist so much, to question so much. i'm too tired to do anything but feel, and i love that. i love it. i always feel like i should bring music with me when i go out on my balcony, but no song, out of 6000+, will do the moment justice. i've tried. i've settled, but it never really properly got the moment right, you know? in these moments, i don't feel beautiful. i don't have any opinions about myself actually, except for how small i am. how big the world is, the sky, life. my biggest desire at this point in time is to be outside, not standing on my caged balcony. to lie down in the middle of a park on grass. to just see only the sky. to see how big and beautiful it really is. to put myself in the right place. that i'm not allowed to wallow in so much self-pity. not allowed to feel so sad and insure and ugly and needy all the time. i really want to feel these moments on my back. laying down because just standing up is making me even more tired. it kind of makes me wish i was a morning person. well, it's not that i'm not a morning person; i just hate waking up no matter what time of day. i think these are the moments i like myself most. because i think that i think beautifully. a little pretentious, but i think i'm okay with that. today i finally put in words my third goal in life: to genuinely feel beautiful. and moments like this, i feel it mentally and emotionally, beautiful. pretentious. but if feeling even a little bit beautiful means i have to feel a little bit pretentious, i'll take it because i'm going to take every moment i feel good about myself, as long as the moments exist.

it's strange, isn't it, that i'm not alone.

I CAN'T WRITE. a week or two ago, i've decided to try to write a poem or something everyday, and everything is super cliché, overdone CRAP. i want to punch myself.

the picture has nothing to do with my mini-rant. they're just two of my favourite people EVER right now.

i have nothing to say that anyone wants to hear. bye.

this is the summer time.

long time, no talk. my summer was supposed to be a french film, hollywood classics thing, but ended up into this johnny's entertainment japanese thing. what?

boys featured above are the boys of NEWS. l-r: tomohisa yamashita (yamapi), ryo nishikido, takahisa masuda (massu), yuya tegoshi, keichiro koyama, shigeaki kato (shige). if i removed my emotional bias towards them, i would say they're music is entirely that image of j-pop some westerners have. and so? maybe they are that j-pop, full of ghey, you can't really be that happy all the time can you? boy band, but i don't care! fuck your musical snobbery! i am enjoying this and i intend to enjoy as long as i want to! plus, i am convinced yamapi and ryo are some of the most beautiful men in the world as of this minute. try to convince me other wise.

i geeked it out way too hard. i've never claimed to do anything else though.

hey blogspot, i'll try to use you more.

because of the sadness.

i like watching movies, not only for the entertainment for however long that movie is, but for the moments immediately after. the ones that leave you feeling all weird and thoughtful and meaningful. the ones that make you want to make something beautiful, to say something beautiful. the ones that make you do stupid shit because at the time, you thought it was beautiful and you didn't care. the ones that, when you think about them later, make you feel like you're an idiot.



i'm pretty sure this is one of those moments. and i know i'll probably feel like an idiot later on today, but that's okay. because right now i feel like this moment is kind of beautiful.

i definitely recommend seeing THE UNITED STATES OF LELAND. ryan gosling, always an A+. yes, even breaker high.

you know that i could use somebody.

long time, no blog. sorry? since my last post, i've been crazy obsessed by a handful of boys called KINGS OF LEON who are, in my opinion, pretty fucking spectacular.

that is all.

should've never left you broken.

i know i'm not supposed to believe in brand names and stuff, but that doesn't take away from the fact that marc fucking jacobs is the real shiz-nizzle.

i love history!

when leonardo da vinci and giovanni pico della mirandola coincide.

The picture above, from Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks, is a justly famous study of human proportion. However, in Renaissance terms it expresses much of what Pico is arguing about the capability of humanity to encompass the whole of creation. In Renaissance mathematics and in Neoplatonism, the square in geometry represents the terrestrial world and the circle represents the celestial world, while the triangle represents the divine world. The circle and square in da Vinci's drawing represents more than the mathematics of drawing a human figure, they represent how the human being encompasses in its reach the whole of the terrestrial and celestial worlds. - Richard Hooker

i will be your guardian.

from one of my all-time favourite movies, cashback:

i read once about a woman whose secret fantasy was to have an affair with an artist. she thought he would really see her. he would see every curve, every line, every indentation and love them because they were part of the beauty that made her unique.

all of us are done for.

like usual, i am awake at a two in the morning doing what i always do: revelling in greatness and wondering two things.

1. what it would be like to be intimate (not just sexually — get that mind out of the gutter!) with a great.

2. what it would be like to be great.

but seriously, what does it mean to "be great"? i'm not very good at explaining things, especially the ones that maybe aren't meant to be, the ones that inspire people to explain them creatively. (am i making sense?)

which basically means i want to be chris martin's best friend. but some fellow name steven or something is chris martin's best friend. so i guess that option is out the window. NEED A NEW CAREER PATH.

(here is a good time as any to randomly note that yesterday, i made a new image folder just for coldplay.)


also, another question: why are we, the youth, in such a hurry to "grow up"? adulthood means responsibility in very basic terms, and isn't that what most youths reject? fuck yes i'm afraid of responsibility, it isn't the reason i'm not in a hurry to grow up. not entirely, at least.

i'm a great hypocrite. here i sit waiting for the day i turn eighteen. i guess part of the rush is being able to do things i can't (ie. drinking in public places although to be honest, drinking isn't fun for me. it's really just gross. WHAT UP HARRY POTTER!).

another part about rushing into adulthood is also escaping the label of the "teenager." i'm not going to lie, i really dislike being in public places at certain times of the day. which basically means the mall at lunch and after school.

i don't like generalizations of people who share something common. judgement happens, i get that. but you don't need to sneer at me because i'm a teenager. please, keep it to yourself.

maybe i'm just sensitive or maybe i care too much (if that is possible?). i don't know. but i really don't like the stereotype of a teenager: arrogant, irresponsible, non-respecting, almost anarchist, etc.

i know i'm not alone in this judgement thing and i know i'm a hypocrite sometimes. it annoys that i am, but it's innately human, so i'm a little bit comforted. plus the fact that i admit to it makes it just the tiniest bit justifiable in my eyes. self-centric or egoistic or selfish or vain or something? MAYBE. probably.

FUCKING CONTRADICTIONS.


do i sound cliché or what?! i really am a teen, aren't it? "I HATE LABELS," and "WE'RE NOT ALL LIKE THAT," and "i don't know," and "OH MY JESUS CHRIST WALKING ON WATER HARRY POTTER."

haha, i probably just got two people to read this just to say: "WHAT THE FUCK. YOU WROTE ALL THAT ONLY TO CONTRADICT YOURSELF?" and my reply is, "YES. YES I DID."

i'm also going to say that, "WAIT. NO. this contradiction is not the only reason i wrote today. my purpose was to be a good coldplay fanatic." i think i've succeeded.

i would also like to add that as much as dote upon chris martin, i think guy berryman, will champion and jonny buckland are equally as fabulous. in fact, i think will champion's viva la vida scarf is my favourite tour accessory or uniform or piece of clothing or whatnot from any band or musician. kind of EVER.

that is all.

i'm begging you for mercy.

i would just like to say coldplay is the fucking bomb diggity.

we weren't enough for each other.

today i share one of my all-time favourite poems. it is The Unfinished Suicides of My High School Sweetheart by Shira Erlichman.

For Jake

We were platonic high school sweethearts that fucked in the front seat
without touching and with our eyes open the whole time.
Our questions locked at the genitals like children to bicycles.
Our distant tongues sparked like forks dreaming of sockets.
We were virgin high school sweethearts that fucked with the seatbelts on
and the headlights blazing, daring passing drivers to stop and peek,
challenging cops to pull over beside us and question how safe our conversation was.

We theorized about masturbation, weed, (and the combination), football players,
our parents, Bone Thugs’ rapping techniques,
and what percentage of wrong was it to think of someone else while getting head.

We could achieve orgiastic ecstasy on a pile of purple sweatpants.
Our bodies fit together without being in one another.
We were music.
We were honest.
And that is something World Leaders are too scared to touch.
And we got angry. We got scared.
And we weren’t enough for each other.
And we were lovers.

It’s true: you were a man and I was a woman and the birds didn’t care,
and the bees stung the both of us,
but the level of intimacy made slobbering couples at school seem like
they had the attention spans of goldfish.
We were Red Rock meets blue sky of Arizona boldness,
depth of mountains the color of dried blood.

You told me you wanted to die.
Parked outside my parents’ house, asked what kept me living.
I told you my brother’s name but you only had sisters.

You said it would be easy.
One acquaintance away from getting a gun.
Knew someone who knew someone.
You were inches from releasing your feet from under the rope around your neck
and I was there, and I wasn’t.
You were scattered to red needles across the sheet of your chest
and you were only a decision away from a vertical slice
that opened the drawers of blood inside you until you were empty.

How could I tell you: you never wear sunglasses and I like that about you.
You look like a muppet and that alone still makes me smile.
You are curious yet patient.
You never make me feel ugly, gendered or crazy and that is huge.
This is friendship I keep in a drawer I will never unhinge
and spill out.

I felt you tremor from across the cup-holder
as a closed door on the left side of your chest rattled,
which must have been frightening
because the days were all empty rooms you waited in,
and the women were laughter that lived outside your walls,
and the men were impossible to be.

Jake, you look at me like I belong only in my skin,
and you ask questions, which is the biggest compliment anyone can receive.

So in the car we’re constantly in, outside our parents’ houses,
I swallow your keys to prove my commitment to finding a new way,
another road, a life you can live with.

come back and haunt me.

i want to know everything. i want to feel everything. i want everything. i'm a greedy tart, aren't i? i can't help it: knowledge is ultimate power. honestly? the thing i want most is to feel. i want to experience anything. everything. good. bad. ugly. fucking life changing.

i'm starting to reach My Time. you know, that time where you go to university, you meet your best friends, you get your career, you meet The One, and all that. that american dream we chase. i chase. i don't know. and, like, i feel that fucking pressure. i feel it. but i don't want to feel THIS. this is the wrong feeling.

there is no "wrong feeling." (sorry for my indecisiveness.) every feeling is some sort of feeling, and all experiences are good. okay, maybe not good, but it's something.

i don't know where i'm getting at. i'm sorry for the incorrect grammar, the improper use of words, and the many, many sentence fragments and all that jazz. we'll call it creative licence. i'm game if you're game.

i guess, you know, c'est la vie.

alright, let me spin you a story written by yours truly. here it goes:

it kind of sucks hard being a victim. you don't choose to be in that situation, you don't choose to be fucked over and all that shit. motherfuckers choose you. and sometimes, those motherfuckers didn't even choose you! sometimes it's just collateral damage they didn't think about. or maybe they did, and didn't care. or something. and that's why you call them motherfuckers. because they are. motherfuckers. not literally, but you know?

as a victim, you start to think things like why me?, and—well that's the main one, and when i really start to think about it, the only one. it's kind of like: fuck my life! why me? i'm a good kid! the Golden Child, even! i get averages of 87% every year, i finish with honours. i don't do drugs, i don't drink (i only did once, i'm sorry okay? OKAY?), i don't smoke. i don't even really GO anywhere to do anything bad. i play volleyball, even captain the team. (you're fucking fantastic, by the way, at least for the team. motherfuckers never came out to see me, not even once.) i tried to give blood, but i was the only one who was able to that day, so gelder had to cancel. i'm a blood donor! or at least a willing blood donor! WHY ME?, right?

but seriously, what the fuck. why me? and then the guilt hits you and it's kind of like, why NOT me? you kind of start to think, like, there are fucking kids in africa! and in cambodia! and brazil! and fucking EVERYWHERE who are starving and homeless and having fucking AIDS and malaria and kwashiorkor and stuff. the stuff that the commercials tell you about and show you videos of to make you basically feel like shit for what you have, make you feel like shit for what you didn't do, but could try help avoiding. that kind of stuff. (you think how you don't eat everyday too, but push that aside because, you know, why NOT me? there are people who have it worse!)

now with why NOT me? floating around, you feel even worse because you STILL feel like shit. what the flying wankery is this noise? feel grateful, you little twirp! why NOT me?, right? wrong! says whatever part of you that controls your subconciousness or whatever the fuck it is. that side is still feeling why me? but your mind is all like, why NOT me? well fucking shit, right? you're kind of like, why (NOT) me? and then you kind of feel stupid because you know it should be why NOT me?, but you still feel why me?

either way, you're either a helpless victim or an ungrateful bitch. fuck you, lose-lose situations! fuck you right up your tight virgin asshole because i still feel like fucking shit! fuck fuck fuck fuck YOU, fuck YOU YOU YOU.

and after that swearing parade, you feel a little better even though you know it was stupid.

but then you go back to feeling like shit. it's a lose-lose situation, you know. but fuck. it. up. the. anus. or vajayjay. whatever you want. or maybe in the mouth because you know, we're kind of freaky and like it all ways. some people, anyway.

now you kind of feel better. well you don't really, but it's like, not personal any more. well it is, but i can't find a better way to explain it. it's like. okay, you just got over the immediate post feeling or whatever, and now you've kind of distanced yourself away from it. now you kind of feel a little lethargic, a little apathetic, even a little amused (at yourself). you still feel stupid and hurt and why (NOT) me, but now it's kind of like why the fuck can i do? NOTHING, YOU LITTLE TWIRP! NOTHING! and you know, you don't feel bitter about that right now. things aren't okay, but it's okay anyway. c'est la vie is such a general fucking statement, but i guess, you know, c'est la vie.