Friday, September 24, 2010


I am a moody little thing at times. And call it narcissistic if you must, but I am my favorite person to spend time with. I'm convinced that at least 40% of my life thus far has been spent alone. Any of my friends can tell you I am very difficult to get a hold of at times. I become easily overwhelmed by others demands of my time- be it on the phone, in person or even through text. Email is a whole different story. Good luck. If I spend(t) any lengthy period(s) of time with you, consider yourself deeply loved.

It's not that I don't enjoy people. I do. Utterly. Interacting with others nearly always excites me. Even "bad" or difficult interactions are appreciated because people have always intrigued me. And it's not that I have this high and mighty perception of myself. Two things (can) happen. #1 If I'm really enjoying myself or whomever I'm with, I invest myself in that/them almost 100%. It would almost be sinful in my eyes to allow that moment to be interrupted by my either my thoughts about something else, or by another being wanting my time/attention. #2 If I am forced to interact with people, whether it's at work, or going out to some event I feel obligated to attend, 9 times out of 10 I am devoured. Bombarded from every angle by people I know and those I don't. Spilling their guts, telling me their story, what they're feeling, what they want, what they hate...blah blah blah. Which is, completely fucking draining. I want to not care. I want disconnect. My disconnect now is quite literally shutting the world out because I have yet to learn how to do so in person.

See, I'm like a little girl. Easy to please and always distracted by pretty shiny things and animals. Walking around, every few seconds something or someone moves me. Be it the architecture of building, an ironic sign, the way someone smiles, the feeling of the wind on my skin, the way the sun is beaming through the clouds, the sparkle in your eyes, the smell of rain, the reflections in a window, or the color of her blouse. That's just walking down the street.

When people tell me their stories. *sigh* I can't even explain the ways in which I involve myself. I feel their pain. Like FEEL it. My mind observes everything: their tone, mannerisms, sighs, laughs. EVERYTHING. And it becomes a sort of mental game to figure out what's really going on. Because while people spill their guts, they also lie to themselves. (I do it too) So it becomes a game of "what is reality?" I act as a sponge and soak up all their lies, truths, delusions, words, sighs, mannerisms, perceptions and most importantly energy. Tell me that doesn't sound draining. They feel better. Me, overwhelmed. But I do it to myself. If I didn't allow myself to become so emotionally invested to the point where I'm thinking about these people's situations long after they've shared, I'd be good. You spill yourself and feel better. I gain inspiration and amusement.

It's all a balancing act.

This summer has been so different because for the first time in my life, I've severely put people into categories. May sound fucked up. It is what it is. If you noticed, my description of walking down the street was different than it was with interacting with people. It was light, airy, dreamy, inspirational and positive. People, while intriguing tend to have a more draining effect. Because the emotions I invest are sympathetic, worry, intrigue. People have a lot of fucking issues. Myself included. But I made a conscious decision sometime within the last 6 months to categorize people. There are those that give light and life, and those that take it. Of course there's also varying categories within those 2 simplistic ones.

Both are absolutely needed. All of us have life to give. It's our duty. But again, it's about balance. For me, this summer has been all about taking. Taking in the breeze as it wildly whips my hair about, feeling the rain drip down my skin, allowing the suns rays to kiss my skin with fire and warmth. And the people I've actively chosen to spend my days with, give me themselves. Because they have themselves to give...if not fully, more so than what I'm accustomed to. And so I take, pieces of their light, which gives me life. And in doing so, it makes life so much easier and less draining to give what I can give of myself to them.

A stark contrast to my "norm" prior to moving. And all of a sudden I find myself re-connecting with those that were never forgotten, the ones that stole pieces of me years ago that I couldn't forget if I tried. Surrounded by people giving me so much of themselves and sharing so much of their light, I am bright, blissful and ready to give my own to anyone who needs it. Even the vampires that drain me. Because I never have to look too far anymore for someone else to recharge me.

Thursday, September 23, 2010


So. much. to. say.
and I cant.


the words to verbalize.

-Perhaps that's why I feel like I've been incessantly tweeting & updating on Facebook. An attempt to force it all out. That also may be why I started this blog?


My 6th grade English teacher ingrained in our brains that whenever writer's block occurs, keep writing. Even if it's nonsense. Get it out and break through. Here goes.

Everything on my mind:

life, tomorrow, inhale, work, money, apartment, rent, photos, movement, shape, light, skin, him, content, excitement, curiosity, her, pain, love, strength, weakness, him, old, always, reminisce, obsess, passion, exhale, gratitude, lies, accept, exist, wind, consume, random, suck, freedom, inspired, joyful, doubt, desire, lips, deep, morning, sunday, monkey, abuse, reflect, scent, question, scratch, wind, glow, open, happy, overwhelmed, strategy, survival, creation, travel, beauty, adventure, change, blossom, bliss.

And that about sums it up. Once I can actually put stories or well formulated thoughts to these words, I will. Cosmically speaking, it shouldn't be much longer. *le sigh*

Sunday, September 19, 2010


I imagine most that happen upon this, will somehow because of makeup. I'm unclear on my exact intent regarding starting this blog, aside from documenting my thoughts for myself. Perhaps it's also my near addiction to and adoration of serendipitous transients. Hmm.

I used to write. A lot. Browsing my Livejournal a few months ago, I realized what a different person I had grown into. At the time, I started it simply to vent about Leukemia. Of course it transformed into a ton of other topics and eventually ended up jump starting my career in makeup.

I don't really remember why I stopped writing though. Life? I somewhat wish I had actually written because the past 4 years have been interesting to say the least and I'd love to go back and see just what the hell was going on in my mind. Perhaps it's for the best. This ever overly analytical mind has spent far too much of my life examining the past and dwelling rather than stepping forward.

Today, is new day. While in SF 2 weeks ago, I walked Melody by Harvey Milk's house. The film silently resonated within my being more so than any other had in quite some time. Not because it's about the gay community nor the fight for equal rights. But because his story demonstrates that it's never too late to Live. To hunt down, tackle and capture your dreams, whatever they may be.

Now truthfully, I don't know exactly what my dreams consist of. I've been passionate about so many things in life, it's difficult to choose. Career wise, since I was maybe 7 the desire/goals have gone like this: Veterinarian, Marine Biologist, Dancer, Cardiologist, Middle School Science Teacher, Photographer, and lastly Makeup Artist. I lack focus and my desires continue to change. Yet looking at this list, I've been nearly all of these things, which may be why I never felt the need to pursue them further. No, I have no college degree, but regardless I've been all of these things at some point. I've held and cared for a newborn baby penguin, administered medicine & given sub-cu fluids to the sick ones, weighed and groomed an entire colony of more than 50 animals and performed more necropsies than I would have liked to determine the cause of death. I've fed and studied the behavior of sharks, piranahs, sea lions, sea horses, manta rays, penguins etc. I was never a professional dancer, but after 14 years I think I earned the title regardless. I've taught science (mainly evolutionary concepts and biology) to people ranging in age from 5-60. I shy away at the title of photographer, as I've only taken 2 classes; it's more of a hobby. But I suppose the title fits. Makeup Artist...well, ya know.

So here I am, living in Brooklyn, 2 months away from my 30th birthday. It took me 8 years and several attempts to get here, but I'm here. Finally. Now what? Now. To some degree, I feel like my life has just begun. Everything I described in the previous paragraph seems to be a lifetime ago. So what now?

I was told yesterday, "You don't know who you are." Coming from someone who's known me for almost a decade, forced his words to echo in my brain and tear at my gut. Despite the sting, I disagree. I think we all instinctively know who we are. And it's not about knowing, but rather being. Ditching any and all fears about being, and just doing it. See, most of us, if not all, are born into expectations we did not set for ourselves. And many spend their entire lives trying to fulfill those expectations. But are they yours? If not, why even bother fulfilling them?

The "norm" states to go to school, get a degree, have a career, a mate, a family, a house, a pet and then pretty much die. Do I want this? To some degree, yes. With 30 creeping up on me, my body is telling me I want kids. A pet is easier, and though I love animals, that's too much responsibility at the moment. If I want to pick up tomorrow and hop on a plane to Africa, simply because I want to go, I don't want to have to care for anything or anyone else. A "mate" would be nice, but said person will need to fit with me. Fit, meaning either come and explore the world with me, or be okay with me doing it without you. That's all I want from the "norm" list.

This summer was made of endless days of creation and very little expectation. Which is why I've thrived. So can I answer, "what's next?" In a single word: Freedom.