i have completely stopped living


oh god, where are you now

i should not have done what i just did

and i'm terribly glad i did it

[my head hurts...badly
and i need some sleep]


the one thing i'm missing

(is in your eyes.)

i am in the christmas spirit for real for the first time since i was maybe eight. i feel it, despite the rain, despite...whatever it is that was pressing down on me. it is here, i know what christmas is...and not jesus christmas even, just that feeling of goodwill towards men and all of that. maybe it's the sufjan christmas music, which is better than the pop remakes that only made me angry. maybe it is the family, the sense of something to come back to. maybe the fact that i feel warm, even when the wind is blowing my ears to a bright red. or this sense of sureness. (which even i can't explain)

coming home today from this thing i had to do at church, my mom and i saw a homeless guy. all he had was a meijer bag and the clothes on his back. so we went to valueland, bought some scarves and gloves (he had no gloves! in december!) and a sweatshirt for him, and came back to give it to him. mom had stuff in our trunk, too, from her work (she works at a non-profit agency) and we told him to take whatever he might need. he's staying at a shelter tonight, and good thing, too because i don't know what i would have done if he hadn't had a place to go.

he had a voice cut out for radio, and very friendly eyes.
and a subdued smile.
it's so sad.

why is his life like that? i wonder. i doubt he was a drug addict with all his money wasted or a criminal or anything. he was just...another guy, down on his luck. and why? why does this happen?
and why am i sitting here on a computer, food filling my fridge, a family surrounding me...when this man was huddled for warmth on the library steps, gloveless and waiting until he could go to the shelter?
i am so selfish...because i am not going to sell all of my worldly goods to help others. no, i am not, and...i am selfish for it. but it's not like i could.

and here is where i get spun into circles of guilt, reality, hopes, and sadness.

i want to save every homeless man with a soft smile and a radio voice. but i can't.

p.s. i love "redford (for yia-yia and pappou)" by sufjan stevens more than a lot of things. listen to it, and close your eyes. that's me singing to you. not the voices, either, but the piano. and the feeling that wells up inside you with every turn...that's me singing to you.

(i am so silly. such a silly romantic, in a way. but not romantic in the way that everyone thinks, with candles and stuff. with weird things, like my postscript, and feeling connected to the world, and feeling like songs are soundtrack music and my life is a movie)

i am fucking in love with the song "eyes" by rogue wave, thanks to heroes. i can't stop listening to it, it's in my head.
i mean, i liked it before and thought it was good and listened to it several times, but now it brings up images.

i can't stop typing apparently. but it is here i am cutting myself off.


(i couldn't tell)

i cried this morning

it was wonderful

i had a bad day, and a good day

(as good of a day as you can when you cry before you even get to seven o'clock)

life is going to kick my ass

i am ok with that

i am in a down stage - i just came off an up so it is all karma and a circle - and i am expecting up to happen again around the end of january

cycles cycles patterns cycles

it all comes back into itself

this is what we call acceptence.


nothing really important, i guess

"i was living the american dream.
it was america's dream, not mine."
[that is what i am scared of growing up to be]
{that is what i know i can't allow myself to be}
there is no snow and i am scrooge

maybe i could have, but i never will now. and that...is a relief. (esoteric, cryptic, and positively as it was meant to be...just for me)


and as silly as i feel, it fascinates me.


fine. really. fine.

i feel so clear-headed right now, and so happy.

something in my life, and i'm not sure what, is just going decidedly well. something has cleared up in my head, something has resolved its conflicts, mended its ends. i have closure over this non-descript problem in my life. and maybe it's because several things hit me at once and i got through all of them. maybe because i'm losing the baggage of people and ideas i don't need.

maybe because i know who i am.
and i'm finally unafraid to stand up for myself...mostly.

i know my failings, and i am willing to admit to them and attempt to fix them.
i know my strong points, and although i will always avoid getting egotistical, i am going to stop putting myself down.
i know me.

all of the puzzle pieces are finally beginning to fit together, and although it's not the picture i expected, it's a nice one.

and it will grow on me.

i only need a few more pieces, and i feel like they may just be right around the corner for me.


maybe you should cry.

i was thinking about crying, and how weird people are about it. and this is what i got from myself.

i didn't cry at my last night of band camp or senior fallout. i didn't cry at my last tree performance. i didn't cry at any senior lasts yet.

i didn't cry when my parents got divorced, or when we moved out of our old house. or any of our moves, i think.

i did, however, cry at one point this summer watching c-span and hearing about a woman who got "innocent by reason of insanity" after killing her three children. cried hard. i was devastated. and each time they flashed pictures of those kids, especially the baby, it just got worse.

i cried a little singing "go tell it on the mountain" during class one day for choir.

i've been close to tears many a time for no good reason, really, other than the fact that a song or a piece of artwork or something has hit me. and why? why not for my own life and for my lasts and for the firsts i didn't want to happen or those unexpected plot twists?

and i think it's because life is art, and art is life. we are alive to create and breathe and make art. aren't we? isn't that what it all comes down to? and that's what gets me.


nick drake made me dangerous

i wonder why life is worth living, why i bother.
i've always struggled with this question, why i keep going, why i get up in the morning, why i don't just lay around and do nothing.

why don't i just kill myself?

wouldn't everything just fall into place, be easier?

oh, and i know there are a million reasons to live, and i'm not going to die until i see the seven wonders of the world, believe me; but still.

suicide and the idea of it has always fascinated me and always will.

it's just that i'm afraid of death.

and maybe that suicide just looks like giving up, doesn't it? like the person has decided that all of the great things aren't worth the little problems. and maybe they aren't, but one never knows. one never knows when what's really worth it may pop up. or if it's sitting right in front of one and one cannot see it. (they're right there.)

(and also, fuck college, fuck jobs, fuck living for anything other than for LIFE. i want to be a hippie, i want to sing and be free, i want to live in a society where everything correlates into itself. but i'm not, really, in the way i want it to work. and i'm silly for wanting it.)