You said you weren't afraid to die.

It's been a while since I did any substantial blogging, and I feel like I should. So I shall. I'm tired and in an odd mood, so it will jump all over the place and might turn out really cliche and poorly poetic, but I don't give a shit and you shouldn't either. It's what that poorly poetic cliche is saying about me that matters. So, on with it.

One point I'd like to make right away - I think I've changed since the start of the summer. Something fundamental has shifted in me, specifically since I got back from Satori (more on that experience later). I feel... not older, but more mature. And much more restless. I feel intensely narcissistic in the sense that I no longer want to focus on family chores and taking care of things I've been taking on for years. I want to focus on myself. On my development, my personal relationships, my seperation from childhood and entrance into independence. I've been feeling that sneak up on me for a while, but after a week of basically living on my own, doing what I wanted... I came back and the sensation had really settled into place. I'm on the very brink of being ready to move out on my own and sustain myself. I can't wait.

I'm working on specifying what I want to do with my life. This is part of that shift. I know that I want to work in music, film, and literature. Now I have to figure out exactly what aspects of those walks of life I want to include in my future.
Music for me is wide open. I know I like to sing. I have a notion of wanting to write and perform songs. To write songs, one usually needs to play an instrument, so I'm working on guitar and piano, attempting to find a passion in one of those.
Film is narrowed down a bit more. I want to act... not sure which genres attract me the most yet, but I'm intrigued by dramatic roles. I also think I'd make a good director, and feel a draw to that. I have to figure out... I have to figure out how to make these things happen in my life.
With literature... it's very vague so far. I want to write. That much I know. I want to write poetry, lyrics, short stories and novels. I go through spaces of time where I'm very self motivated in this endevour, writing all the time about anything and anything, and then I go through periods of severe self doubt. I can't make myself put a pen to paper, no matter how strong the need grows in me.

I picked up the novel I was writing when I was fourteen and cringed at the terror of it. The poor writing, character development, plot points, all of it just screamed amateur. I had a long discussion about this with Wilford who was the one who inspired me to write in the first place, and he reminded me that this revulsion I feel towards my earlier work means I've developed and am now (hopefully) better. Also, I was fourteen. I was allowed to write about fantastical knights and gypsies who fell in love on the riverbank in an imaginary land of ignorant kings, puerre princes and evil-minded queens overseeing questing knights in training and improbable wars. Still, I don't think I'll be able to look at that and laugh until I'm about thirty, and there's more distance between me and that 'awful evidence of naivety', as I put it.


Satori. How can I explain it? It is heaven. It is home. Monica is the best roommate ever. I can't even begin to enumerate the fun stuff that happened. If you were there, you know. If you weren't, you wouldn't understand. There was drama... things I don't need to go into, but the overall experience was incredible. Just know that after this year, I had the worst case of PSD ever. I didn't sleep in my bed for three or four days. I stayed on the couch. Somehow it made me feel like I didn't really live here, I was just visiting until I could go to my real home in Spokane. Of course, that's not going to work for 350-odd days, so I returned to my bed.

It's been one week. That realization is making the PSD return in towering waves. That place, those people... they mean so much to me. As I was telling Rachel right before my sobbing fit on Friday night... it's sacred. A home for all those that don't fit in elsewhere. No one is discriminated against. No one is pushed out. There are little mini cliques, but nothing too severe. For me, Satori has helped shape who I am in a major way. I've gone from super shy homeschooled freak who dressed like a Mormon to a more outgoing, happy, social person who doesn't need to label myself to 'fit in', I can be myself and not worry that I'll be looked down on or judged for it mostly because of how I'm treated there. I've encountered nowhere else in the world like that. I'll be very sad when I'm too old to go if I'm not allowed back as a CIT. But judging by my relationship with Mike and the... erm... status? I have in the camp, that won't be a problem.

Random thing I've come to realize - I sleep better when snuggling. That is not in any way sexual, just a need for human contact. The warmth of another human being and the intimacy of touch is very soothing. This can come in the form of anyone from my little brother to Monica. Doesn't matter.

Another note. My youngest sister is no longer living with us. She's living with her dad in Jersey, most likely full time now.
The peace is nice, but I think I'm going to miss her intensely eventually.
Her birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks.
I wish I could be there.

She's going to look so different the next time I see her.


Anyway. It's late. I haven't included everything I wanted to say. and not many will even read this. I feel better now though. I needed to write something, and I guess a blog about my... wierd life is better than nothing. I'm not going to read over this and edit it, because I just don't care right now. If you read this, comment it so I know you did, ok?
<3

~ Salsa.

*insert random, pertinent lyric that sounds oddly deep and cool*

I worry about liking people too much.
I really do.
I worry about getting to attached, because I've been left so many times.
Just when I feel like I can really truly be myself with someone... they leave.
I'm not talking about romantic relationships. I'm just talking about everyday people, friends, people I talk to.
It has happened over and over and over again.

I especially have trouble trusting guys. Opening up to them.
I've lost so many of them, starting with three, count them THREE brothers.
Lies, court cases, mistakes, tears, yelling, gone.
It's happened over and over again throughout the years.

It happened again just this past September.
I had JUST started to feel like I could open up to him... I had been making a conscious effort to get over my ridiculous fears of trusting people. Just a few weeks earlier, I had sat with him on the beach, telling him how I was making myself talk to him about things. Personal, important things. About my past, about myself, about him. I told him that I was finally starting to feel like I could trust him, be honest with him, talk to him in a real way.
I sat there, picking up handfuls of sand and letting it trickle through my fingers, allowing myself to smile and laugh at the things he did.
Everyone else loved him. Everyone else trusted him. Everyone else was sure he'd stick around.

Everyone else was wrong. Completely and seriously wrong.

He screwed us over more than anyone else ever has.
Effing con man thug criminal A$$.

I feel though, or rather I sincerely hope, that all of this loss, all of this betrayal, all of these so called lapses of judgement will not create permanent damage.
I learn from it all.
I find it extremely hard to trust people,
but I'm working on it.
I really am.
I worry that I tell people too much too quickly... I think I do, in an effort to make myself to believe that they are trustworthy.
That habit needs to be tamed
but I need to start thinking better of the rest of the human race.

If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...

Blogging is something that never really made much sense to me. Have we really gone so far as to need to type our deepest darkest secrets on an impersonal screen, hoping that some sympathetic person at the other end will understand, will be surprised, or maybe will be impacted or inspired in some way? Will care enough to respond with a brief comment of solidarity? Since when do we not talk to people face to face?

I think blogging is easier than having a conversation for some people, because you can't see the other persons face. Our society can no longer stand the intimacy of looking into another pair of human eyes. We prefer fingers on keyboards. Stereotypical faces created with with numbers and punctuation. People depend on earphones and drumbeats to feel. Sitting down with someone and spilling your guts about feelings, any sort of feelings, is seen as weird, taboo, psychotic. Why? This situation needs to be remedied. So I challenge you - find someone that you don't talk to all that often. Sit with them during your lunch period, and talk to them. Really talk to them. Tell them what is going on inside your heart and mind. Ask them how their day has been, and don't settle for "I just was bored in class". Reach out. Touch someone on an emotional level. Get away from your computer screen. Turn off your iPod. Let go of all of your crutches and be human again.

It's one of the hardest things you will ever do.

So lyke

I have no idea what to say.

WASL is ridiculous.
I was the first one finished today
it's so stupid.

I'm not looking forward to math and sci in april.

Korilicious has a blog.
Nice.
He actually calls himself Korilicious on it
which makes me happy.

I haven't written anything
non-school related
in so long
which makes me sad.

I have had to get up at 6
for two mornings in a row now
which makes me tired.

I have lots of homework to do
which makes me scared.

I'm going to Andy's show on Saturday
for which I am very excited.

Goodbye, everyone who doesn't read this, and doesn't even know it exists. :)

For now.

I collapse when you cry
I hurt when you hurt.
I fear you're in pain
I can only try
to help
somehow
I don't know what I'm doing
or whether it does any good
My words
don't come out right
I'm too far away
to offer you my shoulder
fingers to keys
thoughts late at night
are all
I have
to give.

For now.

I like blogs.

I can't think of anything else right now.

Except that I have to go write some poetry for English.

And do some synthetic division in Algebra

Because we are kindergartners again, but we play with imaginary numbers instead of imaginary friends.

How complex. (Hardy har har)