Since when has five minutes to midnight been "late" in my book? I guess since the last couple of nights... I've been staying up and not going to bed at the same time as my husband so that I can indulge a bit online.
[Of the late, I've gotten a request from one of my closest friends: embrace my Asian-ness... whatever that means. LOL. I guess I'm not "Asian enough"? Like the way I look doesn't already represent to which culture I subscribe...? Maybe I should throw more peace signs up in pictures... Haha...]
I've been looking at this website called Soompi in the past couple of weeks. It's a pop-culture magazine site based out of Korea, but it's pretty much universal. The members are of all cultures, and I guess that's what really drew me. So yeah. I guess this is sort of an experiment in getting in touch with my inner (and outer, I guess, since I can't really help it... lol) Asian. I've been trying to follow fashion and makeup trends, which is freaking out my mom since I'd never really taken any interest in this stuff before. LOL. Rob seems to like it, though... but then again, his entire family AND his longtime friends will all tell you that he's always been into nerdy Asian girls. Harrr harrr.... makes me a perfect fit for him, no? lol. ^___^
So in my late-night escapades, I've found that cosmetology (makeup, hair) has a really strange magnetic effect. At least on me. See... the thing about me is that I thrive on change! And even if it's just superficial, any sort of change is symbolic of unbridled freedom to me. I'd love to be able to liken myself to a chameleon... hmm... but that wouldn't be any fun, would it?
'Cause a chameleon assimilates to its surroundings.
I want to transport myself-- or someone else-- to a realm of infinite aesthetic possibilities. And MAN, just to able to make someone feel beautiful, if even for just a quick instant, would be SUPER rewarding.
I really wish I had a sister or someone who was willing to let me experiment on her. ^_^ Rob already lets me cut his hair!! lol... Hmm..........
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
stream of consciousness - sunday, aug. 8, 2010
[This is me going back a couple of days. I haven't really written anything else lately, so forgive the messiness of the following blog. In short... this is going to be ridiculous.]
How do I hold this down without the lines to define where the thoughts are supposed to go? The words are lost in translation, it's hard to define this miscommunication. The meaning pulls away from discovery without a clue for near and future recovery. I've got the string wrapped tight around my finger; I've got my grip on a really weak memory.
Shadowboxing, desperately clinging to hope. Trying hard to lose grip before.....
[NOTE: There's a really big gap here where I just write a string of obscenities before I get to the next thought.... I'll leave those out for sanity's sake, yours and mine.]
Uninspired tired unmotivated
colorful picture, no longer holds fascination
someone has robbed me of excitement?
The delivery is a bit shaky, like I'm new again. I used to be so good at recording thoughts on paper. I miss the days when I felt fulfilled by poetry. Absolutely zero. That's how many pieces of inspiration there is moving inside this fucking shell.
Shell! An empty shell, wishing, hoping, praying, but coming up with nothing fast. Coming up short at every turn because nothing is moving. Nothing is stirring. Nothing. Nothing. But please say something because my heart is so full of vivid thoughts of promises unfulfilled.
All there is... is noise. The momentum has died and so quickly. It's like the train willingly derailed itself! (Trying to desperately dive back into myself but I am finally devoid of dreams.) I have nothing to hope for anymore! Nightmares.
[In hindsight... this next bit scares me.]
Nightmares quickly coming true in broad daylight. Empty playgrounds. Silence and dull wakefulness, like the remaining ash after everything has burned down. We are the only storytellers left in a world where the listeners have lent their ears to the fire. The children are yet unborn who will be fully awakened with new and eager hearts, and when they rise, we will all give way to a generation alive with a fire that doesn't destroy but instead creates hope and instills inspiration. Am I holding out for a future that won't arrive in my lifetime? Will I be destroyed and become part of the rubble? I need your arms to hold me up so I don't burn away. I need your heart to hold me up so I don't burn away.
How do I hold this down without the lines to define where the thoughts are supposed to go? The words are lost in translation, it's hard to define this miscommunication. The meaning pulls away from discovery without a clue for near and future recovery. I've got the string wrapped tight around my finger; I've got my grip on a really weak memory.
Shadowboxing, desperately clinging to hope. Trying hard to lose grip before.....
[NOTE: There's a really big gap here where I just write a string of obscenities before I get to the next thought.... I'll leave those out for sanity's sake, yours and mine.]
Uninspired tired unmotivated
colorful picture, no longer holds fascination
someone has robbed me of excitement?
The delivery is a bit shaky, like I'm new again. I used to be so good at recording thoughts on paper. I miss the days when I felt fulfilled by poetry. Absolutely zero. That's how many pieces of inspiration there is moving inside this fucking shell.
Shell! An empty shell, wishing, hoping, praying, but coming up with nothing fast. Coming up short at every turn because nothing is moving. Nothing is stirring. Nothing. Nothing. But please say something because my heart is so full of vivid thoughts of promises unfulfilled.
All there is... is noise. The momentum has died and so quickly. It's like the train willingly derailed itself! (Trying to desperately dive back into myself but I am finally devoid of dreams.) I have nothing to hope for anymore! Nightmares.
[In hindsight... this next bit scares me.]
Nightmares quickly coming true in broad daylight. Empty playgrounds. Silence and dull wakefulness, like the remaining ash after everything has burned down. We are the only storytellers left in a world where the listeners have lent their ears to the fire. The children are yet unborn who will be fully awakened with new and eager hearts, and when they rise, we will all give way to a generation alive with a fire that doesn't destroy but instead creates hope and instills inspiration. Am I holding out for a future that won't arrive in my lifetime? Will I be destroyed and become part of the rubble? I need your arms to hold me up so I don't burn away. I need your heart to hold me up so I don't burn away.
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