On Dependence

"Whenever you talk about happiness," says my therapist, "you talk about other people."

I bite my lip, dig my fingers into my thigh. He is right, so I am planning my retort carefully. How could I not, I think? They all say that. That you have to depend on yourself, but what does that even mean? Try depending on yourself when you are alone. They don't know what it's like.

***


The morning after, I woke up at 5:30 with a void that felt as large as the darkness outside my window. At 6, I got in my car and broke through it with my headlights. Between tears, I tried counting what I missed about yesterday. It all came back to orgasms.

and sometimes kisses.

***


"I'm happy"

That's what I think every time I drive home. Happiness is a feeling as foreign to me as the voiced uvular fricative. Pink, in my google calendar, stands for fun events. Parties and hang-outs. My calendar looks pink these days. I have friends.

"I am happy"

***

I don't think I realized how much I depended on hir.

That's what the mountain roads told me as the sun rose over the horizon.

It was a lie.

I did know. I knew just how much happiness I found in hir orgasms. I knew just how stable they kept me as I once more battled a life transition. I knew just how they kept me in check, kept me looking forward. I depended. And dependence, dependence is scary.

"We can't be sleeping together forever," I told myself after the first time.

"Forever," I repeated. That's the scariest word I ever thought.

***

"I'm happy," I thought driving home, less than a week after. There was still a void in my throat, but I was still happy, which felt odd. I didn't know why.

"Whenever you talk about happiness, you talk about other people." I don't remember my defense, or what he said next. All I remember is those words. How can I not depends on others when loneliness is what has made me the saddest in my life?

***

"MY HAPPINESS," I am shouting over the whiskey to my reflection, "CANNOT BE MEASURED IN SOMEONE ELSE'S ORGASMS."

But I don't believe me. And I wonder. Who else do I depend on?

Other people. Happiness.

I Might Be In Love

I might be in love. Is this love?

I wonder not because of how strongly it overwhelms my senses, but because of how subtle it is. So easy to forget for weeks or months until it slips back into my mind - you slip back into my mind, and I wonder - I might be in love. Is this what love's like for me? Always in the background, like elevator music, but I can always fall back on you when love crosses my mind.

Or maybe its not. Perhaps this is just another incident of a romantic interest that one day will easily be exchanged for another.

I'm not the type to brood on my solitude. I'm either happy with where things are, or too distracted with the sorrow of having few friends. Love and romantic loneliness seldom cross my mind. But when it does slip through the cracks, I can't help but wonder - am I in love?

Until it again slips my mind.

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

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.

D:

I would like to tell the world that I am less than happy by googling "heartbreak" and blogging the first image I find pretty.

First Kiss

I still remember the place where I had my very first kiss. I remember it exactly. I could go there today and sit right there, I could point out where he sat and where I sat.  I could tell you just what the March weather was like, I can remember the very texture of the California air. I could describe just how I felt, how nervous I was and how happy. I could trace my steps to the bus afterward, spreading my arms as if to hug the sky.  I could trace my emotions for the next few days, the memory still burning fresh in my heart. I used to come back to that place all the time, I would sit and think, and time and space would bend, filling me with that very sensation, that freedom, that magic. It's amazing how powerful a place can be.

Then time passed. There was a space between me and him, I was miles and roads and states from that place.  I moved on, and so did my heart.  I grew up, I changed, I became someone I never imagined I'd ever become.  There probably isn't a cell left in my body that was there the day we kissed.  I came back to that spot once, years later.  I knew what I should feel and I knew what I wanted to feel, but I didn't feel it. It's as if the memory belonged to someone else, to someone that wasn't me. I could have sat anywhere else in the world, any other town would have been just as strange.  I miss you. I miss that moment.

Everything is transitory. There is no self.

but I will always love you

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.

:D

I would like to tell the world that I am happy by googling "heart love" and blogging the first image I find pretty.

Story of my life.

"The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person." -- Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

Loneliness

(There are a lot of parantheticals in this post.)

Often, I feel lonely. I crave a friend for the night, and I crave a lover for the week.

Overall, throughout my life, I haven't been especially successful in the field of love.  My longest relationship was also my first, spanning six months March 2006 - September 2006, and I ended it because I moved. I was fifteen years old. My next one was about two to three months in the fall of 2007. (I've had a hard time calculating how long this one actually lasted. For a long time, I considered it three months long, simply because that's how long it felt. Recently, I tried to count the exact number of weeks we were together, it seems closer to two months or perhaps even a month and a half, half the length I anticipated. I even discussed this with my ex, and he also guessed it was about three to four months and was surprised when he realized it was actually a lot shorter. Strange how these things work.) I ended that one as well, because my feelings had changed. My last relationship was also my shortest, and lasted a month in the spring of 2008. I don't remember who ended this one, but it was a rough, immature relationship that meant very little to me.

As you can see, there's a trend: downward spiral, eventually leading to a long, lonely span of two consecutive single years.

However, in those years, my love life hasn't been entirely dormant. I've loved and been loved, though it was always different people. (I use a very vague definition of love, for I've yet to figure out what love really is).  I've learned a lot, and I've experienced intimacy, butterflies, and heartbreak. I've gone on dates. I've had casual sex with many men. (I've had very good experiences with casual sex. It always came at the right time in my life, and it was always enjoyable, entertaining, and comforting.  Casual sex seldom created a backlash for me, for I've never felt emotionally threatened by it, and I continue to have good relationships with the men I've slept with; it did, though, cause a problems between me and my gal friends. Silly girls. However, perhaps because I am asexual, I never got much out of it sexually or romantically.)

Somewhat recently, as I was getting to know a new friend, she asked me about my past relationships. "I ask because I think a person's exes tell the most about the person," she told me. That really got me thinking. I disagree, and I really don't feel like my exes say very much about me at all. In fact, I feel that my past has been dictated much more by chance than by choice. (Personally, I decided that the single factor I believe tells the most about a person is their childhood.)  In fact, I often feel ashamed talking about my romantic past, because my best relationship happened when I was just a child (fifteen years old!).  I'm so much older now, and still I look back to that first boyfriend when I think about what I want out of my love life.

Love is arbitrary, random, and illogical. I posted a facebook status on January 13 at 1:16PM (yes, I did just scroll way back on my wall to find it) that went like this:

"Some have lovers and still feel alone. To some, it doesn't matter, somehow. Some are perfect yet lonely, we all wonder why. Some go from one to the next and hate their life and others envy them. Some are heartbroken because they know love, and some are crying because they've never known heartbreak. Some are lucky and happy for years to come while some people fall for the wrong guy at the wrong time over and over again.

I loved this status, and felt that it really captured how I see romance. There really is no reason that things work for some and not for others, and that's just something we have to live with.
 
I've always lived by the philosophy of "Someone will come along eventually." It's worked well for me in the past: it's really kept me optimistic and prevented me from experiencing the I'll-be-single-forever phobia, which I personally find really frustrating. However, recently I've rethought this perspective. I've been following an asexual blog called a sexy beast.  Often, this blog discusses ideas such as singlehood and loneliness. One quote that really got me thinking was this:

In our culture, there is always hope that a single person will marry, regardless of the situation. "Don't worry, you'll find someone." But will we? Asking that question can feel like staring into a cultural abyss. If I was "holding out hope" for doing anything else that has the same odds of two asexuals marrying, I'd be called crazy. But when it comes to romance, it seems, no odds are too small. (here)

Naturally, some people have a much smaller dating pool than others. Theoretically speaking, I probably have a larger potential dating pool than most: I am panromantic, and thus not restricted by gender; I am comfortable with both monogamous and polyamorous relationships; I am a sexually active gray-a sexual, open to a relationship with any level of sex and physical intimacy from very little to very much (although, I'd never had a relationship with both sex and emotional intimacy at the same time, and I'm unsure how I would feel in such a relationship or whether I would be comfortable). In fact, it would appear that there are almost no restrictions on who I am willing to date.  Still, I don't think the calculated dating pool alone can determine the chance someone has at getting hitched. After all, if love is as random as I just suggest it is, then anyone could find themselves single long-term.  I don't consider myself someone who has been single long-term, and I think my love life is more active and healthy than many people's.  Still, as a potential relationship comes to an end, I am cautious to look forward and say "someday, another one will come along".  I mean, what if it doesn't? And, although this may seem very depressing, I find this perspective no less cheerful than the one I held before.

I've also been thinking a lot about how media perceptions of relationships impact my loneliness. I have no doubt that our culture really pushes us to get in a relationship. Love is constructed as important, essential, even, often, as the meaning of life.  If this were not the case, I doubt most of us would feel as lonely being single, although we would still experience some romantic frustration. (What if our culture didn't have a concept of romantic relationships?) Interestingly, I often measure my romantic success not from my personal feelings, but from the way I would imagine it would appear from the outside. For example, one reason I've found casual sex satisfying is because it's made me feel less unwanted and undateable, and made me more certain that I am not entirely alone. I analyze these situations entirely from the outside, as if I were someone else looking in. I have no doubt that a big factor concerning how I experience loneliness is society's pressure not to be alone.

Whenever I feel lonely, platonic loneliness and romantic loneliness tend to happen side by side. Platonic loneliness is the more powerful by the two, and it has the most control over how lonely I feel in general.  Except in cases of heartbreak, if I feel platonically content, I do not experience romantic loneliness, and, if I do, it's brief and insignificant. Likewise, whenever I feel platonically isolated, I always get romantically lonely and desperate. Not only is friendship a lot more important to me than romance, but friendship also influences my love life, for, when I have more friends, I meet more people, get to know more people, and am thus more likely to get close to more people. Platonic loneliness kills me so much and makes me very jealous of other people. I wonder whether my friendships are as plentiful, as close, as intense. In fact, ever since I became interested in friendship, this has become a constant stressor for me. I compare myself to others constantly and I am always trying to measure my platonic success. Every little thing someone tells me, every time I spend a night with someone or get invited to a party, every time someone texts me or comments on my status, I throw a little party with myself. Every time I spend a night alone or realize that someone is texting more often that I am, I feel empty and lost. This social insecurity, I believe, is mostly a result of my childhood and my autistic tendencies.

As I've grown, loneliness has become constant. Although, at times, it's very stressful and painful, most of the time, it's just a fact of life that doesn't bother me. After all, loneliness itself really means nothing until we lend it meaning. Besides, once I stop counting and weighing things out and just listen to my heart, I can tell, I'm really not doing so bad.

Why I love the queer community.

Saturday night, Alex and I went to the Red Party, a party hosted by Boulder Pride (evidence pic; don't I look queer?).  We were perhaps the only ones under the age of 30 at the entire party (although we ran into Lynnette there, and that was especially exciting).  It was a really great party, themed after the Seven Decadent Sins, dominated by older lesbians. And it was amazing. Old gay people are probably my favorite people ever. There were so many cute couples, dancing and having fun like no one else, and it was really inspirational and powerful.

And it really got me thinking: all these people - at least ten years older than myself, and many much older than that - all these people have lived through so much, seen so much. Imagine the homophobia that must have existed ten years ago, when some of these people were in college. How about twenty years ago. Thirty. Imagine how much they must have seen, how much they must have endured.  Yet here they are, today, dancing. Dancing for love.

So here's why I love the queer community:
1. It's a culture of activism. It's a group of people fighting, acting, bringing about change. And it really works. Sure, it takes time, but we've made so many strides, and we keep moving forward!
2. It's a culture of having fun. Of making the most of life. It's a culture where, as you make these strides, you party. Party with the one you love.
3. It's a culture of love. Love is what we fight for, love is what matters.
4. It's a culture of being yourself. And not just being yourself, but being proud that you're you.

Someday, I'm going to be one of those amazing, crazy old queers.

Valentine's Day

Secretly, I love Valentine's Day. Pretty strange, huh, to enjoy a holiday devoted entirely to the commercialization of love. Still, I love it: not because of what Valentine's Day is about, not even because of the chocolate, really, but all because the time of year. Right around February 14th my winter blues begin to turn into spring fever.

Valentine's Day 2006 was the last and only time I had an actual Valentine. The boy who would later become my boyfriend brought me a rose, a card, and chocolate. To tell you the truth, I've always been rather uncomfortable with such expressions of affection, but, on the other hand, that was the first time someone had honestly admitted their feelings for me, so I always smile when I remember that.

Valentine's Day 2007 was another life-changing day. I was in a deep bout of depression and self-harm that year, and February 13th, reminiscing on the previous year and the boy that was no longer mine, I had the worst episode of cutting in my entire life. It was that night, as I was recovering from my fit, that it hit me. I was being ridiculous. Now, it's not that I magically turned around and was happy after that moment (some of my saddest poetry was written that year after that day), but it was then that I realized that I need to recover, and I set my intention in the right direction. Thus, I'm especially happy that To Write Love On Her Arms Day always comes right before Valentines Day (February 12th and 13th this year).

I'm expecting a similar turn-around this year. It has been a tough winter, but I can see spring right over the horizon. To my surprise, I'm expecting this to be an amazing weekend, and am in a very optimistic mood.

Salmon, and Humans

Reactions to The Great Salmon Race.

I was on the plane recently, and they were playing The Great Salmon Race on the TV. Have you seen those poor salmon? As if swimming upstream isn't bad enough, every step of the way, there's something trying to kill them. Birds of prey swoop down from above, grabbing the poor fish in their beaks, killing them with their talons. Bears carelessly splash in the waters, bite down onto the fish, and there's lunch. But these salmon keep swimming. They swim through rapids, jumping up small waterfalls, achieving amazing height, but if they leap at the wrong place, at th wrong time, there's a bear waiting for them, hir jaw hanging open. The fish may wiggle and squirm, but there's only one fate. But they keep swimming. Night and day, sun and rain, they swim upstream, swim through foaming waters, swim between sharp rocks, swim under the gaze of predators. At last, they arrive, they lay their eggs in the shallow waters. But it isn't over yet: birds open their jaws and scoop the eggs up, eating them, swallowing the hard work of these salmon. And our beloved salmon die. They've completed their life mission, and slowly their rotting bodies are washed ashore, decomposed, forgotten.

How does a creature evolve to so inconveniently reproduce? Couldn't things have been easier, less painful for salmon? Why not evolve to lay eggs in the sea, or in the downstream waters? Why not change, mutate, become something simpler? Why would evolution create something so complex, so difficult? And, if there's a benevolent God, why would he want the suffering of salmon?

And humans. Why must we love, and feel, and wait, and search? Why so complex, with so much pain, so unwise and inconvenient? No science, no religions can explain love. The only explanation I can think of is that there must be some malevolent deity, looking down at us, and laughing at the suffering of salmon - and humans.

Heartbreak

I don't usually post twice in one day, but I re-read my old poetry, and I really would like to share some of it, as well as some of my past.

The older I've grown, the less and less I cried, to the extent that sometimes, I think it's unhealthy. Although many failed relationships have caused me tears, I haven't experienced true heartbreak since my first heartbreak following the end of my first relationship early sophomore year. That's a good thing, I think.

Heartbreak is a lot like grieving. I had made a logical decision - one of the most logical and best decisions I ever made - to end a relationship that meant a lot to me, knowing it would plunge me into pain. I didn't deal well with it, either, immediately moving on into an involvement with one of the worst guys I had ever met. I learned what it's like to love someone, but not be able to be with them, and I had never felt sadder. Here are some poems I wrote at the time:

Broken hearts
Bleeding palms
On the earth
Where we once loved

Still confused
Who you are
Who am I
What is us?

There were days
I questioned meaning
There were nights
I loved my life

To move on
It takes some bleeding
And believing
Love is far
-- 10.2006

My teacher looks me in the eye,
She’s asking me if I’m alright.
Why do you ask me, oh why?
Homework is stained with tears I cried.

These stains of salt, and drying blood:
Reminders of an ancient love.
So many tears I’ve shed in sorrow.
And even more I’ll shed tomorrow.

You took my heart, and raised it high
I looked at it with bloodshot eye.
And then I threw and crashed it down
I watched it shatter on the ground.

But somehow I do not regret
I learned a lesson in the end.
But it is life, I know it’s tough.
It’s what you get for being in love.

Could you forgive me for that year?
Forget we ever were a pair?
We’d built a friendship, new and true.
Pretending I don’t still love you.
-- 02.13.2007

Love

True love. I don't really believe in it, nor do I want to. I'm not really made for love or commitment, I can't imagine ever being in a long-term relationship, a "best friend", a buddy for life. My emotions are just too fluid. Things change all the time. Still, I like to think I've been in love. I've had relationships, infatuations, fantasies that I'll never forget. Three times in my life I met someone who forever changed how I view love, myself, and feelings. Here's my story:

1. I was 15 when I had my first boyfriend. He was my first kiss, the first person other than myself to pleasure me, the first person I fantasized about, the first person to tell me "I love you", the first person I ever told "I love you" to, the first person I went on a date with, the first person to buy me flowers, my first Valentine, and many, many other firsts. We were together almost six months, making him my longest relationship. I was young, and I know that, looking back. Yet this boy forever changed my life. One's first intimacy is always life changing. As is the first time someone returns one's love. But he was also my first break-up, my first heartbreak, the first boy I ever cried over - and, oh, did I cry. It was then, at 15, that I first learned about love, and all it entails.

2. Two years ago, just a few weeks before I turned 17, I met the perfect guy. He was seriously the person I've always looked for, the boy I've always dreamed of. In every way, he was perfect. Attractive, intelligent, articulate, brilliant, wise. He was the kind of guy that blew girls off their feet the moment he met them, but what I felt was something more. We were meant to be together. For a year and a half I loved him, on-and-off. Except for a few brief make-out sessions, we never did get together. Still, I haven't been the same since. I found him, despite how unlikely it was, I found the perfect guy. Everything I had ever imagined came into my life, and I liked him for so long.

3. At 18, shortly after finally getting over number 2, I found someone else that forever changed my life. My desire for her was different than anything else I'd ever experienced. She was the cliche of perfect. She laughed at my jokes, spent time with me, made me feel amazing about myself. We were friends, we had fun together, we got along. It wasn't a desperate affection, either, and being away from her for months now hasn't caused me any heartbreak (though I miss her terribly). I have never been happier to meet a person who changed my life like I know she did. If I am ever to spend my entire life with someone, this is exactly the kind of relationship that I want.

I know, someday, another one will come along. But true love is few and far between. In the meantime, we just keep swimming.

Where's the love?

The older I get, the more I learn, the more vivid my adolescent delusions get.
It seems backwards, doesn't it?
Yet, everything I read, everything I learn, tells me the same thing:
1) Corporations and media rule our mind! They determine how we view the world, they control how we organize what we see. We're brainwashed by society.
2) Corporations and the media are controlled by wealthy heterosexual white males. Unless we conform to their expectations, we'll be happy in the context of our world. Yet, if we conform to what their ways, not only are we selling ourselves out, but we'll still be unhappy if our ascribed characteristics don't conform (heterosexual, white, male, attractive, physically able, etc.).
3) Yet the world is changing, and we are the change! Stay positive, keep looking forward, we'll change the world.

Maybe I'm still young,
but these beliefs these delusions - show no sign of changing.



Where's the Love? by the Black Eyed Peas:

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and the Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Madness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Man, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Chorus:
Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (love)

Where is the love (the love)
Where is the love (the love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin'
in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret (shh, shh), it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Chorus.

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids wanna act like what they see in the cinema

Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love, we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive 'til love is found

Chorus.

http://www.muvids.com/188_video_black_eyed_peas_where_is_the_love
Send "Where Is The Love? (Feat. Justin Timberlake)" Ringtone to your Cell

Mixtapes

Music can capture our hearts in a way nothing else can. Somewhere out there in the world, there's a perfect song for every mood, a perfect tune for any thought, a perfect melody for every tear and smile. Mixtapes capture those perfect songs and put them together. They capture the vast spectrum of emotion that we feel in any given situation; they collect moments and memories; they gather bits and pieces of a single powerful feeling. They're always there for you, there for when you need it.

Someday, one of these playlists will turn into a mixtape
for someone I love.

San Francisco

I miss the San Francisco shoreline. I miss the waters crashing against the rocks, the heavy smell of ocean air, the cold breezes chilling me to the bones. I miss standing by the shore, listening to the soothing sound, feeling safe and free. I miss the love that's always in the air. I miss the dreams that live among the hills, dreams of the past and the future, dreams that are coming true now in the greatest city of them all. I miss Chinatown, Haight-Ashbury, and Golden Gate Park. I miss the city that touched me once, the sea that leaned close and whispered sweetly in my ear. "You don't know me well," it said, "but you're welcome back anytime. I haven't known you long," it added, "but you'll always be mine."

Someday, I will return to the bay.