Born For Leaving

I just realized that this year I am barely anything more than a glorified freshman, and next year I will be a senior. Like, I am legitimately graduating in the Spring of 2014. Pretty impressive, if I say so myself, that I am graduating in just five years with credits from five different schools.

I get jealous of people who stay in one place. I remember during the drag show, when the MC was asking how many shows people had gone to, and my friends K and H held up six fingers. SIX. Can you imagine doing something six years in a row??? Being near one place for six years?

I guess I have that with camp, so I can't really complain. But I do sometimes wish I had more of that in the real world, as well. I mean, I've been in the CU Boulder queer community since 2009, and I only held up two. a mere two. and 2009 was a long time ago.

I continue to have this torn relationship with the idea of "home". I moved for the first time when I was seven. Funny thing is, that's actually not that early in life. I mean, so many people move at two and four and stuff, and my first time was at seven. Yet, even before then, I am not sure I called Khabarovsk "home". I know when I was just a toddler, whenever a plane would pass overhead, I would point to it and say "someday, you will take me to America". I always knew I was going to leave. and when i was watching the election i still took everything that happened in washington state personally because that's "one of my homes".

Yes, I guess I was born for change. I was born for leaving. I get so restless, so bored with stillness, but then I wonder how much of it is actually fear of the unknown. Stillness is such an unknown for me.

I guess I am lonely. Lonely because I have so few close friendships at this age. Lonely because those i do are far away, or sporadic. Lonely because the ones i have close by are still developing. and maybe lonely, too, because i am jealous, because people have closer friends then me.

and i am scared because i finally learned how to make friends in college, and i graduate in 18 months.

i need to prepare. i need to get ready for that big change. and sometimes this process is hard.

it's not always easy or fun, but i was born for leaving.

The Shore

When you are on a ferry, the first few yards go quickly. You can't take your eyes off the land. The shore backs away so fast, then seems to slow down. You take a moment to glance around. You get distracted. You look the other way. Then, you look back. And it's gone, hidden behind the horizon.

I just reached that point. I'd been looking forward for so long, that I hadn't glanced back since my freshmen year. But something - a new 17-year-old friend, to be exact - made me look back. And I saw that I couldn't see it anymore. Highschool fell behind the horizon.

In retrospect. I really do miss it. There was a degree of stability to being in one place five days a week for eight hours a day. There was something nice about most of the people you know being surrounded by the same campus. It was easy to fall into a rhythm, easy to develop a pattern. Easy to make new friends through old friends.

It's funny to think how young you are in highschool, discovering those very mature things like sex and drugs and which academic pursuits interest you most. But, the whole time you are still a child, and so much of highschool feels like a game looking back. Like dressing up for school dances, decorating cars, doing drugs, it was all like childhood play.

I can't quiet swallow it, looking back, to see what a difference three years make in life. It's so far away I don't know the person I was then anymore. And that scares me.

I Must Be Getting Old

Picture this. I'm at the airport, picking up my grandma, and things aren't going as smoothly as I wish, so I call my mom to complain. Do you see it? There I am, sitting in my car, talking on the phone, flailing my hands around in dramatic gestures of frustration.

And a child walks by. She must have been about nine or ten, and she was walking behind the mom, pushing her cart, passing in front of my car. She looks at me and then...

Flails her arms around. Like I was just doing, she teases me.

So I smile. and she smiles back, kindly.

I must be getting old.

Last night, at the hookah bar, i ran into an old acquaintance.

George
from Georgia.

In middle school, one of my friends was the only oboe in the band.
(I haven't spoken her since middle school, but I still remember her name: Noel.)
Then, George came
from Georgia.
and George played oboe, so my friend was bumped to second oboe.
Every time i see George
from Georgia.
i think of this story.

We're all growing up.

Home, Revisited

The title has two meanings.

"who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes" - Allen Ginsberg, Howl

I came home for Thanksgiving break. Home. Funny how I can now say that word, and know what it means. It's a bizarre feeling, really, to have a hometown. To miss one place more than any other, to look over the city and know it's where I belong. To rediscover it each time I return, but each time to feel like it's the place I left my heart. Denver is my city, my home.

I walked the streets each day, smiling.  I wandered down sidewalks, through bookstores and coffee shops, looking up and West to remind me I'm just where I belong.  On Thanksgiving, the streets were deserted, and I could stand in the middle of roads.  I met a kind homeless man, spoke to him about Autumn and life.  I visited a community space with Denver's Zine Library. I visited a radical pizza shop, and I had a sandwich at Paris on the Platte.  The Platte passed beneath me, caught my tears like a lover, and reminded me that I'm alive.  I spoke of philosophy and history at Stella's, cigarette smoke like a cloud on my lips, and I never wanted to leave.

Still, I couldn't live in Denver today.  I love the streets, the coffee shops, the people, the places, but the place where my parents live is not my home.  In the months after I moved out, my bedroom was turned into a nursery, its red and black walls were repainted in baby green.  It wasn't a huge loss: I'd only lived in this bedroom two years; but it was a big symbol.  One day, I fell asleep in front of the TV. I woke up, went up stairs, opened my bedroom door - and remembered that I don't live there anymore.  My mother laughed at me as I stumbled downstairs into the guest bedroom.

DC is an interesting place. There really isn't anyone from DC. You meet people that are from San Francisco, Denver, Chicago, Pullman, New York City, London, Tokyo; you don't meet many who are from DC.  Everyone here is in passing, coming through for a few years, then leaving.  Oh, and there are those who call DC home.  Young folk who find life and hope in the city.  In the end, they, too, move along.  I watch autumn fall over DC, the trees turn red, then brown, then fall.  The sun turned to rain and clouds.  I know DC as a local.  I know it well as I wander the streets each weekend, my heart beats quicker because I know I love it, but I can't call it "home".  Not in the same way I call Denver home, and not in the same way I call Khabarovsk, Pullman, Chicagoland, Palo Alto, and Boulder home.  Everything's in passing.

I hope Chicagoland can be my home.  I'm afraid because I'll be living fairly far from the city, and because the ChiTown just isn't the friendliest place to live.  But I know there are so many amazing people there, I know the culture and the places are phenomenal, and I believe I'll find my place there.

But, when someone asks me where I am from, I can now confidently answer:

Denver.

Are you afriad?

A month from now, I will be twenty years old, unemployed, unenrolled, and residing in Chicagoland, where I haven't lived since I was ten years old.  I am so afraid.  I don't know what I am doing with my life, or why.  I am terrified I'll never get a degree, that I'll lose my way and never have a home, but I have nothing to lose.  I have no choice.

It's going to be a long, cold winter in Chicago, with mounds of snow that I'll make into a slide like I did when I was a child.  There will be clouds in the sky each day, and I know I'll be sad, I know I'll cry a lot, I know I'll be alone and lonely, but I'll make it through the winter alive.

There's a genderqueer support group in the Chicagoland area that I'll visit. I'll try to get involved with Food not Bombs, find some friends to dumpster dive with, so I can free myself from the confines of store shelves, and maybe I'll find my way at last.  I'll get involved with activism in the city, learn how to do activism outside a college campus, perhaps make some change in the world, perhaps I'll find a community, reach out, hold hands, perhaps, at last, I will be brave. Perhaps I'll transition, and maybe my stepdad will support me, because he's the only hope I have.  I can't wait to get to know him again.  I'll learn how to cook, how to sew, how to live.  It'll all work out.

I'll find a job, save up some money, maybe I'll travel in non-standard ways, and I dream of the places I'll go someday, but I know there are places I cannot stay today.  I will find a place I belong, someday.  Today, I have a month to find the courage I need to grow up at last.



Yesterday, I went on Omegle just so I could ask a friend if they were afraid. They were seventeen, graduating highschool in June, and they told me they weren't afraid.  I said they were very brave.  They were probably telling the truth, but I think they were lying.


The day before, I sent a text to a stranger just to tell them I love them.  It took me six tries not to get a landline.  They said their name was Mat, and they said it was their birthday.  They were probably lying, but I think they were telling the truth.

Update

I barely posted at all this summer, and I haven't posted anything since moving to DC and starting school at a new institution, so it's time for an update.

I always struggle in a new place. Within a day of moving here, I felt like I was always alone, while others were already spending time with friends, going out, and having fun.  It was the same feeling I had a year ago when starting CU: I spent at least two months crying almost daily and resisting a depressive relapse.  It was the same feeling I had four years ago, my sophomore year of highschool, when I moved to Colorado and struggled with the most severe and longest-lasting episode of adjustment depression of my life. It was the same feeling of loneliness, helplessness, incompetence.  I began to wonder how many times I'd have to feel this way, whether there would ever come a day when I'd be comfortable talking to someone I don't yet know. I began to wonder: "why me?"; what can I do differently, and why does it never work?; no matter how much I try, I'm still alone, and other are not.  I began to get jealous. I felt bitter towards everyone around me. I began to hate humanity, and I began to hate God.

Then, slowly, things began to clear up. I still feel like I don't have quite as many acquaintances as others, I still have nothing to do on weekend nights, and I still eat most of my meals alone, but things are better. My floor is amazing, and I've begun hanging out with the people on my floor. I've met people at the dining hall and in my classes. I've even spent time with people I met on the internet. I initiated conversations with people I don't know and approached people I've already met. I still have a long way to go, I have a long way to go even to catch up to where 90% of people around me are, but I've made a much better start than I did last year, and I feel much better.

I love this school. I couldn't have possibly made a better decision in transferring. There is much more of a sense of community. Half my floor, for example, are people who lived on this floor last year! Everyone on my floor is so nice, and we spend a lot of time together. We have meals together, we study together, we have floor-soccer and other floor events, and not only do people actually come, but almost everyone comes!  The school is smaller, so the sense of community goes beyond just the floor. At lunch today, I ran into someone on the way to the dining hall, I ran into two kids from my floor and two people from my philosophy class while getting food, I ran into three people I know on the way out of the dining room.

The people here are really, really cool.  Everyone has awesome dreams and goals, and it's really inspirational to live in an environment with such amazing people.  Everyone here cares about the world and what's going on.  The lobby has free newspapers which run out because so many people read them.  In the floor lobby, our TV is usually turned to CNN.  We discuss politics, passionately, arguing into the middle of the night.  For fun, we go out to "the mall" and see the monuments.

The classes are much smaller and the professors are very accessible. I'm also thinking of changing my major. Although I love philosophy, without the linguistics minor, it doesn't quiet mean as much to me.  I am going to try to get an interdisciplinary studies major, in which I write my own curriculum. I want to major in oppression, combining women's studies, sociology, international relations, and government.  This will give me an amazing opportunity to learn about everything I care about. By expanding outside women's studies, I will be able to learn about oppression other than sexism(s), and I will be able to take many classes with some of AUs best departments!

Washington DC is so cool. It's such a fun, progressive city. I've found some really cool bookstores and coffee shops, and I've yet to go out clubbing, but when I do, I know it will be great.

Although I know this is perfect, I miss CU.  I miss Gather, I miss QI, I miss my friends, I miss discussing kink in RL, I miss Alex writing sweet things on my whiteboard, I miss the flatirons, I miss the good weather and lack of mosquitoes, I miss Tracks, I miss the parties, I miss so much.

<3

First Memories

My frist memory takes place on the day I turned three years old.  My family got me candy-covered gum, which I was very excitedly enjoying. Then, for a reason unclear outside a three-year-olds mind, I didn't want it anymore: I wanted it back in the package, exactly thesame as it was before I took it. I cried as my father molded it back into the shape it once used to be, but I'd eaten the candy, and the gum was a different texture and color than it was before.  It was then I realized that change is irreverseable, and once something happens, you can't always undo it. And so I cried.

My second memory takes place that same year. I learned tying shoelaces by tying strings around chairs, so I was working on it in my dream (in sepia tones, for some reason). I woke up that morning and realized that in my dreams, I don't see from my own eyes, but rather, I see myself doing things from the outside.

My third memory is not too long after the other two. I woke up one morning, crawled out of bed, and walked down my hallway. At the end of the hallway, the bathroom door was open, and my mom stood there in her nightgown, brushing her teeth. At that moment I realized how special morning are, how different they feel from any other time in the day.

Adult Friendships

In January, I travelled for a short weekend to Chicagoland for my mother's baby shower.  There, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen in years.  I attended Palo Alto High with her, and we were rather close that year.  I'd seen her once since, when I returned to visit California in Spring 08.  Now, she was going to college at Northwestern, and so she showed me the way around beautiful Evanston and introduced me to her University.  It was wonderful to finally see someone I hadn't seen in so long, in a place so different than anywhere we've seen each other before.  It struck a chord inside me.  I can travel wherever I want now, I thought, and there will be someone there for me to say hello to.  You see, those are the perks of adult friendships.

Adult friendships aren't based on daily attachments, on the gossip of everyday life, on weekend parties. They're based on love.  On nightly cuddles, or bimonthly dinners, or that occasional trip to the hookah bar to discuss the world's inevitable collapse.  Adult friendships can overcome anything. They stay strong through struggles and challenges, always there to pick you up when you're ready.  They overcome distance, both the literal kind, where stretches of road lie between one friend and the next, and the kind brought on by too many slots filled in a schedule, so few hours free that you may as well be lightyears away. Adult friendships wait at the end of the phoneline and at the end of the week, with patient understanding.  Adult friendships mean that if we haven't spoken in years, I can call you this morning, and we'd fall into each other's arms as if we were lovers just the day before.

My highschool friendhips have faded away and fallen apart.  My adult friendships have remained, and new ones formed from the dust.  I've reached a new phase in my life, I've found a new path in the world, and I've discovered a new kind of friendship

and a new kind of romance.

In Transition

I've suddenly and very unexpectedly found myself in transition.  My whole life is in flux, and I'm not entirely sure just where I am headed.  I'm leaving it up to faith, praying nightly, and I'm prepared to never give up, despite the challenges that I see burning just over the horizon, their heat already burning my skin.

After recently coming out as genderqueer, I've begun a genderqueer transition (what does that even mean?).  I've come out as genderqueer to all my closest friends, and I'm beginning to do so more publicly and openly; I've adopted the genderqueer pronouns ze/zan, and I'm starting to ask people to use them in most situations; I made myself a binder and purchased men's clothes in hopes of experimenting with a male and/or androgynous gender presentation and perhaps living part-time in a male gender role (is that even possible?).  I am very uncertain about where this transition already went, where it's now going, or how "far" it will go in the future. In fact, I am scared this whole thing will be a huge failure. However, at this time, I don't know, and I am leaving it all up to fate, ready to see where it does and doesn't go as I embark on an amazing journey.

I am transitioning spatially - ie moving.  I'm not quiet sure where or when, but I know I am ready to find a place of my own and to call it home.  Within the next year, I will pack up my life and go somewhere else.  This also means transitioning to a new level of independence, as the distance will mean that the place I call home will no longer be in the same state as the place my family currently calls home.  I am scared, but I am ready.  Much of this, too, is left up to destiny, also known as the admissions counselors at the universities to which I am applying to transfer.

I am transitioning out of two romantic relationships, one of which recently pummeled into heartbreak, and the other is disintegrating due to distance.  Both of these have been very important, and they've had a huge influence on my life.  They've also been filled with new experiences, especially sexually, that taught me a lot about myself, my identity (especially asexuality), and my relationships.  I am unsure where my love life will take me from here, if anywhere, so it's all up to chance.

I am transitioning out of a very interesting time of self-exploration, self-discovery, and coming-out to a place where I am comfortable living with a queer sexual and romantic orientation that I've come to understand really well.  Alongside my gender identity, I've realized that I reached a point where none of my future relationships will be as hetero-normative as those in the past: until recently, I identified primarily as a woman and partnered primarily (almost exclusively) with men.  I am also transitioning out of a very life-changing year that opened up my mind to many new perspectives and completely changed my view of much of the world.  I am learning how to live my life as the person I've become and the person I am becoming.  This transitioning out of a period of transition really goes to show how transition never really begins, and never ends. So, here I am, in transition.

You want something that's constant,
And I only wanted to be me.
But. Watch.
Even the stars above,
Things that seem still
Are still changing.

-- Still, Ben Folds

Sometimes I forget life itself isn't just a phase.

I am scared. Absolutely terrified, really. Sometimes, I forget to breathe, because I am petrified of going on, frightened of continuing. This is real. That's the hardest thing to believe, the hardest concept to swallow. This isn't some tale in a fantasy novel, this isn't a daydream I will soon wake up from. This is my life, my one and only reality. And the things I am doing now will stay with me for ever.

Sometimes, I feel I've gone too deep. I've learned too much about the world, and I've learned too much about myself. I'm declaring absolutes now.  I mean, I am always open to fluidity and to change, but certain things just won't change. Or, at least, I can't go back.  I know my body, my mind, my heart too well now.  Everything has been restructured.  I know this is right, but I wish it just wasn't... forever.

I'm hiding in a bubble. I feel safe in that bubble, safe to share myself with others, safe to change and evolve, safe to believe in the world. Oh, and we know pain in this bubble, we know difficulty. We know just what we're facing. Or do we? We look outside in disbelief. We know too much.

I go home, and my mother cries because she's scared for me. I tell her not to cry, I tell her there's nothing to be scared of. I beg her to just love me. She tells me I don't understand. My sister throws around transphobic and homophobic slurs and makes sexist and racist remarks that, to me, are inherently wrong, why would anyone ever say that, isn't it common sense? But to her, it's no big deal. She laughs at me when I tell her it's wrong. She ignores me when I beg her to rethink. I'm the only one asking her to think a little differently. To the rest of the world, she's right on.

To the rest of the world, We're mutants. We are queer, We are trans, We are feminist, We are liberal, We are young. Some of these things, We'll outgrow. Some of these things are forever. I don't want this bubble to pop, I don't want to grow up. I don't want these things to be forever. I want to be what my mother calls "normal", and I want the same for all my friends. But it's too late. It was too late from the day We were born, destined to, one day, look in Our souls and see something deviant.

I am afraid of loneliness, that We'll never find our place. I am afraid of apathy, of people judging and othering Us, laughing at Our struggles, erasing Our efforts, ignoring Our successes. I am afraid of hate, which, with apathy around, can never die. I am afraid of slurs and fists, of knives and weapons, I am afraid that We will suffer and hurt and die. I am afraid of murder.

No Self

Buddhism has been on my mind a lot lately. I'd been curious about it for a long time, and finally studied it in my East Asia Religions class. Two Buddhist concepts that have been on my mind a lot are transience and no-self.  Transience is the concept of impermanence, that nothing ever stays the way it is now.  No-self is the concept that there is no single thing that makes you yourself.  Imagine, for instance, a chair. A chair is made of many smaller parts, so what makes it a chair? There is no single part that makes it a chair. Rather, we recognize this combination of parts (none of which are a chair on their own) as a chair.

"He knows no one shines forever. They change with the weather." - On The Arrow, AFI

One Buddhist meditation is to imagine oneself at five years old, now, and at sixty years old. Is there anything in common between these three people?  The three have completely different thoughts, perspectives, priorities, ideas, voice, appearance, and they are not even made up of the same physical matter. There's no single thread tying the three together.   Thus, there's nothing that makes us us. There is no self.

"You want something that's constant, and I only wanted to be me. But watch, even the stars above, things that seem still are still changing." - Still, Ben Folds

I have always been a terribly nostalgic person. I've always missed moments of the past, missed the people I used to be close to and the places I got to know. What I miss more than anything else is the way I felt in those moments. Looking back, you can never feel that way again. Especially love.  I like to say that once you've loved someone, you will love them forever. That's a complete and utter lie. While some people from my past still bring up feelings within me, I've forgotten many of them. Even the very important ones, such as my first kiss, my first love, my first boyfriend no longer make me swoon. It's amazing that someone who changed my life so much and made me feel so many emotions has now disappeared completely into the fog of my memories. I know that someday this will happen with the present. Perhaps that's even scarier than the thought of this moment never happening again or the prospect of missing someone. It's terrifying to think that there might be a time when I will no longer miss today, when this moment will be so far off, that I won't even know how to miss it. I will literally be a different person than I am today.

"And the waves crashing around me, the sand slips out to see.  And the winds that blow remind me of what has been and what can never be." - The Lighthouse's Tale, Nickel Creek

As I pack up, I think about how this has been the most life-changing year since freshman year of highschool.  This year, I also had the most significant romantic encounter since I was fourteen.  I am grateful for the ways I've changed, and I know the things I've learned will stay with me for the rest of my life.  Still, it sometimes shocks me to look back a year and think about how different I was then.  This really hit me on 420; a year ago, that would have been all that I ever wanted: marijuana was a huge part of my life, and pot culture was filled with hope and community. I've grown distant from this, and it was strange to walk through Norlin Quad, knowing how happy I should be, how happy I would have been, but, really, I didn't care. I am a completely different person than I once was, and the things that fill me with joy now are not the same as the things that filled me with joy then.  Looking around was like looking at the person I used to be from the outside. I am someone else now.

 Rate of Change
 I'm running out of Fridays.
Of course, they'll never be gone
Completely. But Fridays now
Are the Fridays of my life.

Recycle bins fill with beer cans
Flattened by the perpendicular force
Of name-brand sneakers
On the feet of drunk friends.

Gutters collect the butts and filters
Of Newports, Blacks, Camels, and PTs.
Puffs of smoke dissintegrate
And disappear into memories.

My memory is overflowing
With today. The present
Will soon be left behind
And I'll be searching again.

Soon I will scream and laugh
Making more memories to share
And to lose. Soon this and that
Will be the past and time will be fresh.

But I am scared. Not of vodka
Or of ashes, but that I'll sit
Someday alone and I will miss
The rum and chronic of today.

-- from my journal, 04.24.09

I've completely rethought my political perspective.  I've gone 180 on issues such as undocumented immigrants, affirmative action, racism, and colorblind ideology. I've begun identifying strongly as a feminist, and this has become a major part of myself and my identity.  I've also began exploring other forms of marginalization, oppression, and privilege that exist in our society.  I read Peggy McIntosh's "Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack" - like, really read it - and began to acknowledge my own privilege. I've also become familiar with standpoint theory, which is such a simple, common-sense concept, but it has completely altered how I perceive academic literature, and changed how I participate in discussions about marginalized groups that I am not a part of, especially if members of that group are present in the discussion.  Most significantly, I've completely restructured my perspective on what gender and sex is.  I've become sensitive to the gendering of children, biological essentialism, gendered spaces, cissexism, cissupremacy, and how fucking transphobic this fucking world is, and I've overcome more internalized cissexism that I ever thought was possible or necessary (it is very very necessary).  I can't seem to go ten minutes without thinking how patriarchy and sexism pervade our society by creating hetero- and cis-normativity and homophobia and transphobia.  My priorities have also changed significantly, with marijuana dropping off the radar completely, replaced with a dedication to combat oppression, specifically sexism and cissexism.  I've also become even more passionate about and involved in things that concerned me a year ago, such as gay rights.  I've come out three times as three different identities, and begun actively exploring myself, labels, and the way society impacts how I see myself.


So that's where I am at the moment. I'll be somebody else tomorrow, and in an hour. As scary as change is, I have no choice but to embrace it. And embrace it, I will.

Regrets.

For a long time, I honestly believed I had no regrets.  However, recently, I began to realize that this really is not true, it just took me a little growing up before I realized that I should have done some things differently. Here are my regrets.

1. Not participating in theater in high school.  If I could re-live high school, I would do tech, because the theater community is not only intelligent, hard working, mature, and dedicated, but they are also very close and fun.

2. Taking French rather than Spanish.  Although I am very glad I can speak limited French, I wish I took Spanish, instead, because I find it to be the most beautiful language, and I feel like knowing Spanish would be more beneficial than French.

3. Living in a single this year (freshman year of college).  I'm missing out on a very important experience, and the single makes me lonely.

I ran in the rain.

I took off my shoes and my sweater, I wanted to take off my shirt because it's legal here in Boulder, but I chickened out and didn't. I ran with a smile, feeling free and liberated, because Colorado is thirsty, and I'm thirsty here in Colorado. Although I love our sunny days, I love our beautiful mountains, I've never felt so at home, but I've never felt so thirsty. And I remember skinny dipping in the summer, a mountain lake, a real lake, and how I drank it with my mind so I wouldn't be thirsty. And I ran in the rain, quenching my thirst, each item of cloth on my body wet as the blood in my veins.  It's never enough here. Then, I remembered that first winter back from California. That first snowflake, and how I ran outside and stood there, in love.

Love. That's really what it's all about. That's why I wanted to cry today, but couldn't until the drops landed in my eyes and I was getting a little bit scared because of the lightning, and I was walking faster, but I couldn't see, couldn't open my eyes because of the raindrops hiding there but it felt so right, like I was finally crying. It's strange, I never once cried without first smiling, never once smiled without first shedding a tear, a cause and effect that happens so instantly it all blurs into one until it's all the same thing. Joy and sorrow, is there even a difference? A mountain lake, a snow flake, I miss here while I stand on this soil, I miss California, and I miss New York although I've never even been there. It's never right, it's never enough. But Colorado, I love you.

Why do I love? I know, in the end, it's a conscious decision to turn a spark into wildfire, to let go and to fall. So much I sacrifice, so many chances I take just for a kiss from somebody I love only to feel empty until I kiss them again.  Yet I still do, always, thinking ahead to when it will all end, a forest, deceased. It took so long for it to grow, and now it's gone. Have you ever seen a burned down forest? Don't tell me to look at the positive - to think of the plants that only grow in ashes and the future that will eventually come - until you've seen a burned down forest with your own eyes, a burned down forest you once used to love. I have.

And I forgot that rain makes me depressed.

Life Takes Decisions

My mother teases me for not making up my mind.  She tells me how she graduated highschool at 16, and went on straight to med school. She tells me how, by the time she was my age, she was already deciding on her speciality as a doctor.  I can't even imagine that.  At sixteen, I literally had no limitations on my interests. Physics or literature? Performance music or primary education? It all seemed like a viable option.  Upon entering college, I'd realized that my interests focus in the humanities, and began zooming in. Even now - nineteen years old, second semester in college, and a sophomore if you take a look at my credits - I can't even decide what to major in, I can't even decide if I even like this university.

But life, it takes decisions, and it's time I start making decisions, too. Last Thursday, I declared a Linguistics minor. The day after tomorrow, I'm declaring a Philosophy major, and then going on to find out about the Cognitive Science certificate program.  I'd considered a philosophy major since before I started college, I knew I'd do it as either a major or a minor, but deciding on a major seemed impossible: so many credits in one discipline! So many credits not in a variety of other disciplines! So much I would have to sacrifice for a philosophy major. I had to be sure, and it's the Cogntivie Science certificate program - restricted to Philosophy majors, among others - that served as my final push: Philosophy major it is; it's worth it.  I love this feeling - I am on track, I know what I am doing.  It feels so right, it feels great to make decisions pertaining to my life.

I'm on a roll with making decisions now, and I suddenly found myself rolling into new territory. I'm filling out transfer applications.  I am considering leaving CU. Maybe it's the recent rainy weather, or the fact that, due to my birth control, I've been bleeding heavily for more than a week straight, but I've been feeling depressed, lonely, and out of place. I really don't like CU or Boulder. I need to get out of here.

I settled for CU when I was selecting colleges. It's not like I didn't try. I'd been looking since tenth grade, but I didn't know what to look for. I didn't know what I'd major in, I didn't know whether I wanted in or out of state, I didn't know whether I wanted a city or a town. I knew I wanted a place that's bigger than my highschool of 4000, which did cut many colleges out of the picture, but not enough. I toured universities around Colorado and the Bay Area - a place that's very special to me, very close to my heart - but none of them seemed just quiet right. My counselor wasn't much help, either. His only suggestion was the University of Oregon. I am well acquainted with and absolutely adore Oregon and the Pacific North West, but I'm so glad I didn't go there. Even Boulder, just twenty minutes away from Denver, is too small for my taste, and, in a little rainy town in Oregon, I would have gone insane. In the end, I applied to three public Colorado Universities: CU Denver, CSU, and CU Boulder.  Boulder was my top choice, lying near the upper bounds of a "good match".  I got into all three. Even before I started college, I already began thinking about where I want to transfer.

I can't do this small town thing. I find myself dreaming of cities, of highrises and lights, of strange blocks and public buses.  Every time I go down to Denver, my heart starts to beat a little faster. I crave a city life, I'm begging to get to know it's every street, it's every turn. I crave to live, to really live, and I feel like I can't live here in Boulder.

I don't like CU. I hate how there is no diversity. I hate how everyone is white, and either from Colorado, California, Chicago, or New York.  I hate how everyone is rich and spoiled. I hate how no one cares, how they all think they are these cool hippies just because they smoke weed and wear overpriced "bohemian" clothes. I've found myself saying the same things I used to say when I was in highschool.  My sister told me I need to branch out more (of course, by that she means I need fewer queer friends, but that's beside the point), and I told her that I have no where to branch out, that I don't like the vast majority of people at CU, that I don't get along with most of the people here, and thus I have much fewer options. I've been saying that people don't care, and that they're too alike. In fact, this is just like Creek. I see Creek kids everywhere. I can't seem to get away from them. I don't know what to do. I feel trapped. A few weeks ago, I went to march for higher education down in Denver. It took off from Auraria campus - CU Denver, Metro State, and Community College of Denver. Midday on Wednesday, I looked around the campus, and I though, I love it here. I want to be here, the people here look real. Sure, they're still all white, but at least they resemble actual individuals, not like those in Boulder.  When I was waiting for acceptance letters, I was secretly hoping CU would reject me. Then, I would go to CU Denver, and I liked it there more.

I am currently applying to New York University, Washington University in St. Louis, and Denver University. The first two will be really hard to get into, and, if I do get in, I'll have to find some time to visit them before making a decision. I am fairly certain I'll get into DU, but I'm not sure if I'll accept of I do. I doubt my problems with CU will be successfully remedied in DU, except, perhaps, the part where I really want to live in a city. If I don't succeed this semester, I've got a few schools in mind that I'll apply to next year. University of Washington (ok, I know that, here I am, whining about the rain, and then considering life in Seattle, but I really love Washington state, it's one of those places I can already call home), Tufts, and Stanford (now I'm just getting ridiculous; however, I never took a risk when I first applied for colleges, and I want to take one now, I want rejection letters, please).

It's a bit very scary, but I know this is right. If I'm having these thoughts after one year, I'll never make it through my entirely undergraduate career alive. Most of all, if I go any of these places, I'll miss Colorado - the mountains, the skies, the whether, the cities and towns, the culture and people. But I'm a nomad at heart. I've lived four years in a row in Colorado now - longer than anywhere else since I was seven. I need to move on in this world.

"The Sorrow is Sacred"

There's one thing about myself I've never understood, a personality trait that never quiet made sense to me. Why is that I get so much pleasure out of being miserable? Whenever something sad happens in my life, I snatch the sadness and hold it close, doing my best not to let go, not to let it squirm free of my fierce grip.  I don't move on, I don't look forward to the future, but I dwell, as long as I possibly can, on whatever most recently broke my heart. I feel so content crying, sobbing, and wearing dark make-up, that I fear that next step: I fear once again facing happiness.

There was a time in my life that I identified solely with my depression. I was never a particularly happy child. I was serious when I was kid, and very realistic. As I began growing up, I developed an affinity for tales of death and sorrow. I loved reading books that made me cry, and I loved reading realistic poetry about suffering.  I began writing poetry when I was in eight grade, and, right away, I focused on sadness. Something about the grimness of life always appealed to me. I wasn't much fond of life in general, and seldom saw past that which was not well with the world. I thought I was a realist who saw the truth clearer than most.

Then, at the age of 15, as I began my sophomore year of highschool, I experienced heartbreak, loneliness, and depression like I never had before. My whole life changed that year as I dove into despair with no way out. I wore only black with thick eyeliner, and each day, I was crying for help, asking for someone to notice me. The only thing that made me me, the one thing I understood about myself was that I was miserable.

After I overcame depression, I was lost. I didn't know where to go. I was no longer in misery, and I was much more optimistic (also, realistic) than I ever was before.  I had no direction on life, no identity, no understanding of who I am or what I think of the world. I had more questions than ever before, and I was very confused. Every once in a while, I'd still dwell on sadness, and I chased after heartbreak. It made me feel complete and human like nothing else could. But, as I grew up, it got more difficult. I cried less often, and fewer things could bring me to tears (thus, I was really surprised recently when Kozol's Savage Inequalities made me weep). I'd become a realist: a real realist, someone who knows good and bad, not the pubescent emo "realist" I once was. As I grew older, I learned that things are transient and impermanent, and that life goes on regardless.  I've begun praying and following the principle of wu-wei, and I've found it easier to get over things, to move on, and to enjoy life.

Then why does this make me feel lost? I am honestly disappointed when I notice myself getting over something or someone. I feel trapped when I can't cry. I feel confused when I am moving on.  What am I supposed to do when logic, instinct, and desire tells me to suffer, yet I feel fine? It would be a lie to say that I enjoy feeling sad. That's an oxymoron.  It's no fun to cry, to suffer, to feel torn, empty, desperate, hopeless. I don't enjoy being weak, unable to move, unable to focus, to study, to get out of bed in the morning. There's nothing pleasant about torture, nothing good about being miserable. Only these are all sensations I understand. But feeling fine, feeling neither optimistic nor pessimistic, neither regretting what happened nor looking forward to what will happen: what is that? This is everything I want, everything I've worked to feel, This is my goal and destination, and I should feel amazing; yet, somehow, I am just not happy. I miss my sacred sorrow.

"I know the sorrow is sacred,

And I'll never break you

I'll softly save you."

-- On the Arrow by AFI

I've changed so much since August.

2006

What has been the most influential year in your life?
Although 2009 is definitely up there (probably second), 2006 gets the prize. Interestingly, there are a lot of parallels between 2006 and 2009, mostly the fact that I moved over the summer.
This is a post I wrote for my MySpace blog to celebrate 2007.
And here's the first picture I took in 2007, barely after midnight on January 1.

Whether you read this or not (it's mostly a bunch of inside jokes you won't actually understand), tell me, 
What was the most influential year of your life, and why?

As the year comes to an end, I sit back and remember everything that had happened.  So much has changed, so much will never be thesame, so much is over.  And yet everything moves us forward, every laugh, every smile, every tear, every frown.  It is with tears in my eyes that I remember everything that has happened, but with hope in my heart.  As we move forward, remember the years that passed.  Remember how they beat you down, broke you appart, shattered you to pieces.  Remember how they picked you up, put you back together, mended you, and threw you out to love once again.  Each year, we change.  Each year we shift, life shifts.  Each year makes.  Never forget the years of your past, even as you move through the years of the future.

2006 changed me a lot.  There is a lot I will never forget about this year, and here it all is.

I remember hanging out "at that one place at the bench" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat" "Ohh, you mean that one place at the bench under the tree?" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat." "Ohh, you mean that one place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages?" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat" "Ohh, you mean thato ne place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages between thet Foreign Language and Math departements?" ... etc.   ... ... ... Yup, that one place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages between teh Foreign language and Math departements and by the library where the special ed kids stalked us and there was that puddle over there behind which  there was that bench where those girls who all had thesame color and length except that one girl with brown hair and sometimes Madame walks by and we all shrivel up in fear.  lol I remember when we were jumping on that bench until it nearly broke.  I remember all the great times we had there, times that will stay in my heart forever.  I will never forget that bench, and I hope everyone who sat with me there will never forget me.

<3

I remember the classes I had.  I remember first period, with the two Jennifers and Shadini ^^  I remember suffering through running, and everything else we did.  And yet, we had so much fun together!  Second period science.  Soooo many friends in that class!  We had so much fun!  Especially with Mrs. Motoyama!  Third period orchestra.  I loved cutting the last little bit of that class with Kim ^^ :-P.  Fourth period Math.  Our class was so split, boys on one side, girls on the other :-P!  Fifth period English.  Our class was the best!  Sixth: French.  It was soooo boring, but luckily I had Kim there to help me feel better.  Especially when me made fun of Saade’s cleavage :-P.  7^th: World History!  That was an awesome class, Mr. Rapaport was awesome!  I loved making the video, my first WMM experience.  If it wasn’t for it, I wouldn’t be as much of a dork now :-P.

<3

I remember when we got tired of sitting at the bench and decided to move.  Emma, Sylvia, Seung-Yeon, and I went looking for a new place to sit, but we couldn’t decide where.  Finally, Emma said, “Let’s just sit here, my backpack is heavy.”  Thanks to Emma’s backpack, we ended up sitting right outside the English department.  Soooo many inside jokes came out of that!  The dogs: Snuffy, Scummy, Fluffball, Hairball, Sniffy, Flubby, Nairball and the rest of them.  The sexxi names!  They make us orgasm!  Pedagogue!!! It’s a prehistoric animal!  All the times we had by there were amazing, I will never forget them.

<3

I remember this one time we decided to go get coffee when we didn’t have advisory.  EV(sorry I don’t know how to spell her name), Maytal(I spelled this wrong too) and other people (I think maybe Rosemary and maybe Cee-Sing) went.  EV didn’t want a coffee, so she got a hot cocoa.  About a month later, when we didn’t have advisory again, she came up to us and said, “I want a coffee”.  LOL mood-swings? :-P

<3

I remember MadLibs.  Haha that was out best one.  Good times.

<3

Valentine’s Day.  Ian gave me a rose, chocolates, and a card.  That was the first year ever I had a Valentine. I will have other great Valentine’s Days, but none will compare to the one in ’06.

<3

March Second, I think.  The day I got my first boyfriend.  I was so nervous at first, so scared about what would be, what would come, what this would be like.  I learned so much from Ian, everything a first relationship should teach.  No matter what, there’ll always be space in my heart for you.

<3

I remember hanging out after school.  With Miriam, Brandy, Phillip, Jennifer, the many Ians, Dan, and a lot of other people.  I remember when we found that stack of Living Skills papers and I gave them everyone the most appropriate one.  I remember when I accused Dan of having Lesbian porn on his iPod.  Those days were so fun, I will miss them forever.

<3

I remember Annie’s house.  We painted Easter eggs.  Andrew ate a lot.  We had soooo much fun.  Just another day I’ll never forget.

<3

DisneyLand.  I had so much fun.  I remember before we left, that was the longest French class of my life.  Charlie would agree.  I remember the bus ride.  I remember UCLA.  I was hanging out with Anne ^^  It was awesome.  I remember hanging out in Anne’s, Vrinda’s, Grace’s, and Mira’s room.  I remember DisneyLand itself.  The band people ditched me T.T  I had so much fun going behind the scenes, seeing the hidden Mickeys, and finally performing, though no one was really listening.  I remember after dinner when there were about 14 of us, holding onto each other, and going choo-choo style through the crowds.  The fireworks.  Wishing that moment would never end.  Tinkerbell.  When you wish upon a star… I wish this had never come to an end.

<3

The school year ended.  I said goodbye to Paly forever.  It was the most amazing year of my life, the most important year for me.  It will be in my heart, forever.

<3

That day felt so long!  By the end, I looked back, and was shocked to think that it was still the same day I had so enjoyed at school.  We went to a partay.  It was so awesome.  The LIGHT SHOWS that I will never forget.  That is, until the dad of the host got mad because too many people were drinking beer on the streets.  And crashing.  Ohh, boy, were they crashing.  College kids too.  I guess that’s what you’d expect from the Bay Area mountain (more like hill lol) community.  Emma, Rachel, Cody, and I went to Ian’s house.  We watched Batman Begins until 4AM.  Then, Ian’s mom offered that we stay over night.  I called my mom and she freaked out lmao.  That was a fun day.

<3

Summer was fun.  Walking through downtown.  And again.  And again.  Palo Alto was an awesome city because it had that small-city downtown feel, unlike here, where the only downtown is the Denver downtown.  Every time I went to downtown in PA,CA, I was guaranteed to see someone I know on accident.  What a great atmosphere!

<3

I remember going down to SoCal with my family.  It was awesome!  We had fun.  I looked at it as saying goodbye to the west coast.  I will miss it forever.

<3

We moved.  The best part was Death Valley.  It was sooo hott there!  But the stars were beautiful.  And I saw quiet a lot of shooting stars ^^ :).  It was awesome!  And I was a scorpion.  I’ve never seen a scorpion before then, so it was special.  And it was amazing staying in the middle of nowhere!  Someday, when we’re in college, we will take a road trip through there with my friends.  XD

<3

First day of 10^th grade.  Creek was kind of a nightmare.  From the start, I felt like I didn’t belong.  The Coach bags, the jeans mini-skirts, the layered tops, everything made me feel so out of place.  4^th period.  Orchestra.  I saw Basil and Sarah, some of my best friends from back in the 8^th grade ^^.  It was awesome.  6^th period: off.  I was so lucky to see Ian and Kaitlyn right at the start of the period.  Kaitlyn and I had lunch together.  It made me very happy.  We ate Tokyo Joe’s.  I ate it with chopsticks.  We ate it at a bench.  I remember every minute of it.

<3

April is in my orchestra class.  I met her before, at Girl Scouts camp.  She introduced me to some awesome people.  Lisa quickly became one of my closest friends.  We’d spent every orchestra period after we got excused together.  And then she left me.  We still talk a little, but barely.  I miss her so much.  I’ve cried so much because of her.  Sariah.  We became homies.  She showed me Cry Wolf.  Then, she moved.  Left me alone.  So much can change within just a few months.

<3

I remember the day Lisa introduced me to Will.  She led me up to the tree and was trying to explain the drama that was going on around that tree.  Then, we walked up to Will.  We were being horny.  Will said, “I know you.” Me: “I know you too” Will: “I thought you moved to California.” Me: “I came back”.  Quickly, we became friends again.

<3

When I broke up with Ian, I didn’t have feelings for any other guy.  I needed to be single, I needed to be free.  The night I wrote the letter was one of the hardest nights of my life.  I cried, and cried, and cried more.  The next day was one of the best days of my life.  I flirted with every guy, I’m not kidding, EVERY guy, even guys I kinda simply thought were disgusting. 

<3

When I first met Leah, I fell in love with her style, best style I have seen ever.  Each day she came with a new outfit, and she never failed to fascinate me.  Quickly, I saw other great things about her.  She became one of my best friends, and I am very glad I met her.

<3

The basement of West.  So much partying!  Lol.  Spontaneous group humps.  Sitting on each other.  Very very horny badbad things.  Lol.  I remember our ‘rave party’ the most.  It was instead of the pep-rally, a bunch of ‘emo’ ‘scene’ ‘goth’ and ‘stoner’ people partying lol.  Some did the light show thing with the ribbons.  Other things too.  It was just awesome.  And the TECHNO! LOUD LOUD TECHNO THAT SHOOK THE WALLS!  It was soooo awesome.

<3

The day Will hurt me.  It was all a misunderstanding and I took it too hard.  I proved to myself I was weak, that I gave my heart to him though I thought I didn’t.  It taught me a lot about myself, and, in a way, I am happy it happened.  On the other hand, we still can’t seem to get along, and it all started with that.  I hope it will change.  I still care for him a lot, even though now it’s just as a friend.

<3

The hallway.  WE had fun, first there were just few of us, but more and more came.  Finally, they made us leave.

<3

Kyle.  We started hanging out on the hallway.  We had some great days since then.  I remember when you walked around the entire school with me.  Or when we sat in that corner by the wall.  I remember the Hippie Circle.   I remember when we first went to the bridge.  The guys from the Hippie Circle said that there were girls there that didn’t like us near them lol.  That’s how I met Kelsey, and a bunch of other people.

<3

Sarah.  I requested to be her friend on MySpace, mainly because I request anyone I’ve even seen around to be my friend.  Somhow, MySpace turned to real life, and she became one of my best friends.  She’s an amazing person and I’m very glad I met her.

<3

Hannah and the 16^th street mall.  Our best memory ^^.  We had fun.  GoodTimes.  Talking.  That homeless guy lol.  He told us his dog could jump off the roof and not get hurt.  And then he told us he was a drunk.  Lmao that was hilarious.

<3

All these times have passed by, and I will miss them a lot.  For everything that’s changed, and everything that’s stayed the same.  For everything I’ve learned and everything I’ve forgotten.  This is a salute to the old year.  A salute to ’06.  With Love,

♥ SunnySenny <3<3.

Happy New Year.

Childhood

When I was in 9th grade, in English, I read Catcher in the Rye (one of my favorite books of all time). Our assignment was to psychologically diagnose Holden Caulfield. It was a very interesting assignment, and I learned a lot about psychology and coming of age. I would look up conditions on the internet, write down the ones I thought fit, and looked them up in my mom's plentiful medical texts. While doing this assignment, I discovered something I found especially interesting. The chapter on Asperger's syndrome was highlighted, with notes written in the margin. I didn't take me long to realize that the notes were about me. In fact, the highlighted regions described me perfectly, especially as a child.

I learned to speak, read, and write early and quickly, typical of Asperger's syndrome. I'd find little obsessions, passions, and I could amuse myself for hours reading and studying these things; then, I would talk, non-stop, about the things I found interesting, unable to understand that no one else really cared - another typical trait in children with Asperger's syndrom. I was intelligent, independent, quiet, and an overall good kid. But, at times, I would have intense temper tantrums, troubled by change in routine, a new situation, or anything that I didn't understand. Most notably, I struggled with social interaction and non-verbal communication.

It's not that I was a lonely child, but I was very much alone. I'd choose a book over a friend any day. In elementary school, I'd eat alone and spend recess alone, swinging on the swings or playing with my stuffed animals. I had a few friends, but we were never close, and I never really understood them. My teachers were worried. They'd call up my mom, tell her that I don't have any friends. At one point, my elementary school psychologist put me in a room with some girls my age. I played with them for a little while, and then went off to play on my own. She asked me why I wasn't playing with them, and I said that I simply didn't care, I liked to play on my own. My mom never got me diagnosed; she feared that it would interfere with my adult life. It wasn't until highschool that I first made friends who I would spend quality time with, who I hung out with outside of school.

Most of this I learned from my mom, when I asked her about the book. It wasn't really a shock, more like an answer. I quickly became comfortable with the idea, and I felt that the disease explained my personality, childhood, and entire life. Of course, by that time, I had changed a lot since I was a child. My mom explained that she thought I mostly grew out of the disease - that, rarely, children even grow out of autism, and that growing out of Asperger's wasn't particularly shocking.

Armed with the new understanding of who I was, I set out on the social journey known as highschool. Of course, I hadn't changed entirely. I became sensitive to change and to the unknown, and prone to long periods of Adjustment Depression; I still had temper tantrums, as if I was a baby, overwhelmed by things I didn't understand. I remained obsessive, reading about things or fixating on ideas, and would go on rants about them, unable to tell that others weren't interested. I struggled with non-verbal communication, and my mom would often have to point out what was going on, when I simply couldn't know. Mostly, I struggled with social interaction. A lot of it, I blamed on what remained of the disease: difficulty for non-verbal communication, the constant need for verbal feedback to know that people cared about me or the things I was saying. A lot of it, though, I blamed on what the disease did to my childhood. You see, it's when we're young that we learn about people, that we learn what it means to make friends and to love and to care. It's when we're young that we're socialized by our peers, that we become who we'll always be. I grew into myself intellectually, physically, mentally, emotionally as a child. But I never grew into the world socially, and I never learned all those things that now seem like common-sense. Yes, I don't have common sense.

I'd go through stages in highschool, first feeling proud of the independence and non-conformity and maturity I had achieved. Then, I was overcome by the challenge of learning how to make and stay friends. After a while, as I succeeded in some respects but not in others, I grew sad, upset that I couldn't understand others, certain that I would always be lonely.

Highschool was easier than college is. In that social bubble, I could act a role, any role I wanted, and people would accept me as such. College is more difficult. Outside the bubble, people are truly themselves. They're older, more mature, and I simply don't feel like I can keep up. Friendships are closer, more intimate, but based less on day-to-day interaction and superfuntime and more on overcoming life's plentiful challenges and the occasional adult relationship.

And I feel lonely. And I feel scared. And I feel young. And I feel incapable of knowing what's going on, incapable of being close to others. I'm afraid I'll never have friends, though I try. And, if I can't make friends, how can I ever care for someone romantically? I am craving a deeper connection, that I just can't seem to find.