The sea

This afternoon I went surfing with my step dad, Mark, and my friend, Phil. The ocean was extremely beautiful, in a dark way. The sky was clouded over and the sea was deep, dark blue, but very clear. I paddled out on my long board, shoulder muscles aching but refreshed by the cold water.

As soon as I got out into the line up, a peaking wave came toward me, it's white water opaque and it's body dark blue. I rode it in, the water rushing under me as I tried to balance on the board. Paddling back out through the slightly foggy afternoon light, I thought about how many people have died in this ocean, how many millions have had the life crushed out of them, or how many burnt carcasses scattered.

At first this thought scared me a little. But that feeling quickly passed, and was replaced with thoughts of how the ocean was like a soup of endless death and life. Human death, animal death, and mostly animal life. It brought new meaning to the ocean, for me at least. What I once thought of as a childhood friend, an entity that always brought me joy, changed at that moment to something more holistic and pure.

The ocean has seen the Earth from the very beginning--even before Pangaea. It has seen me since the very beginning, and my mother before me. It encapsulates an unlimited amount of death as well as life. It kills but also brings forth life. It damages but also creates. It is the essence of duality.

This reminded me of duende, something DJ Nocturna told me about. Duende is a form of spiritual awareness popularized by Nick Cave. All that has black light has duende or all that has black sound has duende. It is the enigmatic yearning of the soul.

It is said that duende is felt when the self is imperiled and pushes against its limit, when death is possible. At this, I think of myself being pushed under the water by a dark and ominous wave. Pushed under so far that I don't know which way is up or down. Inside me there is black and outside me there is black, and my human body is no longer there. Nothing is real, nothing exists, but my mind and the swirling power of the ocean. My lungs burn and my mind screams for oxygen. I fight for life.

Here is duende. I feel it rush through my veins, fulling my insatiable yearning for life. I grasp and pull my way to the surface. As the blinding light reaches my eyes, I know that I am alive.

My kitty came back!

Ringo, the kitty that came mysteriously in the night, and disappeared the next morning, came back to me! We are now best buds. Here's a picture:

Back from the big headed three figures to the comfortable twos

So I'm happily settling into my normal blog hit number--a very low one which I won't disclose. After all the hype about Students 2.0, I got this HUGE influx of people coming to my blog (most likely thinking it said something coherent). But alas, I am back to the norm of next to no one. Which strangely, I prefer. I mean, it's nice to get comments (WHICH I LOVE), but I like being semi-private with my blog. This is obviously top secret material that I'm posting on the web. Duh.

In other news, I am the proud owner of three roach motels. I just set them up in my room last night and I already have 3 huge ones in the Closet Motel, 2 medium sized ones in the Under the Full Window Seat Motel, and 4 little ones in the Beneath the Princess's Bed Motel. I think they like my room because I have an enormous sweet tooth which I indulge in at my desk. So they have quite the food store. I also think there is some type of war between the Daddy Long Leg spiders and the ants vs the roaches. Though the roaches tend to win the battle, in the end they lose the war. It's like the frickin' National Geographics in my room.

I also think I might have a rat, because the New Zealand chocolate my cousin gave me had these weird little bite holes in it when I woke up yesterday. My grandma said that it could be the roaches. Who knows? I live amongst the creepy crawlers. My room is really cute and otherwise relatively clean though. Seriously. Though my closet looks like a tornado hit it, the rest of my room is good.

Wow, I should really stop talking about that now. It's grossing me out.

To end this with a good note, the surf is up today, and the wind is low. That means glassy waves for me. Yay.

But on the downside it is freezing cold outside (like 65 degrees F). Burrrr-ito.

Busy busy busy (like a really smart bee)

It's been a whirlwind of family (some good, some bad--as usual), of presents, of blah blah blah. One thing it's not been is homework and studying. But that can come the night before school starts, as is my Christmas break tradition.

I just had a really fun time last night/this morning being French with my friend Emily (or Amélie as she's become for our French day, while I was Veronique). We watched Delicatessen, Amélie, Harold and Maude, and Two Days in Paris.

Hier soir, nous avons mangé un baguette avec fromage et des croissants. Pendant "Harold et Maude", j'ai dormi. Je ne suis pas bien à vu un film trop tard de nuit. Mais, Amélie a vu ce film. C'est trés bien. Nous vêtus en habits français (beaucoup de noir) et bu du café pour le petit déjeuner.

Translation: Last night, we ate a baguette with cheese, and croissants. During Harold and Maude, I slept. I am not very good at watching films late at night. But Emily watched this film. It's really good. We then dressed up in French clothes (lots of black) and drank coffee for breakfast.

Right now I'm going through the horrible/fun (I'm a masochist) process of picking out my classes for next year. The actual picking out part is fun, probably because all of the descriptions sound incredibly good. The bad part is talking it over with my dad. I try not to do this often but he insists. So I usually lead him into a small fallacy, because he doesn't support anything art or writing related. He wants me to be a doctor. But c'est la vie, non? Anyways, my mom is usually cool with whatever I want to take, so that's good. It's for my senior year, so beaucoup d'art classes for me. And also tons of English/Philosophy classes.

Here's what I want to take (if I could apply for a time turner à la Hermione in Prisoner of Azkaban):

AP Art
Life Drawing
World Lit
Yoga
Character Portrayals
Fiction and Film
AP French
Religions of the World
Anthropology
Comprehensive Musicianship for the Guitar
Identity and Culture
Arts and Letters
AP Environmental Science (again--I already took it in Soph year)
etc
etc

Notice there are no math classes! Well, I've found some interesting math classes to take, regardless. I'm going to take Money Management and the Elements of Design.

Wish me luck!

Expenses, expenses...

- $4,000 for my study abroad trip to France this summer
- $900 for my new digital SLR to take pictures on the trip


and that's it. So I only need $4,900. Anyone feel generous?

I need to go pet baby Jesus's cow, à la Magical Thinking by Augusten Boroughs.

I want it so bad, it's driving me mad

I want to go to France so badly this summer, buy a metro card, and travel to all my French family's houses. I want to sit in a café and drink coffee. I want to look at paintings, go to clubs, discover a new part of myself.

Right now the only thing that I know about my future is that I'm going to travel all over the world. Like in the book the Alchemist, I'm going to travel where God (or my heart) tells me to. Not on some holy messianic journey, but a treasure hunt. I'll hunt for the answer to life, the universe and everything. So long and thanks for all the fish, I'll say.

No but seriously, I feel that it's something I must do. And write. I must write.

I'll start with Europe, and I'll end...who knows?

What would you do if I sang out a tune?

I admit that I have secret dreams of what I could do if I had the time/talent/etc. One of these secret dreams is being the lead singer to a rock band. Any type of rock...new wave, punk, alternative, grunge, metal, goth...

I recently was looking at the movie show times for Juno (which isn't playing in Hawaii yet, grrr), and I saw an advertisement. An advertisement for lead vocals, preferably female for a goth/punk band. The little girl in me who believes in miracles started cartwheeling.

So, despite the fact that my voice isn't incredible, and my look isn't typical "goth", I called the number and left a message. Later, the lead guitarist called me back and we talked for a while. He told me that his influences were goth/punk, but that the band wasn't necessarily going to be that type of music. He told me that finding the vocalist was one of the most important parts about creating a band. He told me that if I were the lead vocalist, I'd have to have definite stage presences. I told him that I wasn't typical "goth" (I have long blonde hair). I told him that I had some formal vocal training in high school. I told him that this would be my first real band experience.

Could this be it? Could I be the next Shirly Manson or P.J. Harvey? Realistically no, I'm telling myself. But I could have a hell of a fun time.

This is my mantra: you are doing this to push your boundaries, and even if you don't get in the band, you will still have had the experience of TRYING OUT. You will hound yourself forever if you don't try, because that if will constantly eat you away.

I'm so excited every time I think about it though.

I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT SO MANY THINGS!! I HAVE TO CAPITALIZE IT!

List of things that are making my heart beat and a smile stretch on my face:

1. Christmas eve tomorrow!
2. Audition for my lead singer position
3. Christmas day after tomorrow!
4. Having the "Le Aprés Midi de Francais" with my friend. (We're going to dress up as French people, go out on the town speaking only French, watch French movies, listen to French music, and eat French food)
5. Having the second Interview with a DJ (this time with one of my all time favorites--death rock, 80’s, gothic, industrial, ethereal, darkwave spinner DJ Nocturna)
6. Surfing with Elisha, Christian, Becs, and Mark
7. Tye Dying New Years Eve with fellow Beatle, Ringo (I am John Lennon in my group of friends).
8. Hanging out with Elisha! One of the coolest cousins ever.

Great. There are 8 things for 2008.

Interview with a DJ

Today I interviewed a KTUH DJ for my newspaper article. Should be interesting, I suppose. The funniest part was when I wanted to take a picture of her for the column. "Noooo!" She shrieked. She is photogenically challenged, she explained. There was a reason she decided to become a radio DJ.

Realistically though, she was pretty, smart, and all around a good sport for putting up with my nonsensical questions. Yay for Element of Surprise (that's her show--you can get it streamed at ktuh.org on Sunday nights Hawaii time).

One thing interesting that she mentioned in her interview was how music has changed for her since it's become her somewhat job (they don't get paid very much at all). She told me that she started listening to music differently when she KNEW that she had to find new bands/good songs to spin.

I feel like since I've become a music snob the same thing has happened. I have an affinity for the obscure, and it upsets me when a band becomes "popular". I like my bands raw, new, and uncut. (That's how I like my guys, too. Not). Example: Fiest. I used to love her stuff when I felt like I was in the minority listening to it. Now I see it on iPod commercials, and GOSSIP GIRLS (!!!). What the blooming 'ell? Um, cockney accent, sorry.

Anyways, regardless of Gossip Girls, the O.C., and Grey's Anatomy making my nice, obscure(ish) bands popular, I still love them.

But it could just be all in my head, you know. I think it's me just being an elitist with my list of bands that no one has heard of, from various corners of the globe.

Much love to all you fellow music fiends!

Unfiltered

She had yellow, wrinkled skin now. It was strange for her to feel Death so close. The barriers she had left behind years ago allowed her to accept Death. Instead of constantly blocking it out, she breathed it in with every flick of the lighter, or hiss of the match, and cigarette burning, took a deep breath. Youth and Death and her met side by side, each made up of flickering memories.

Lying on the hospital bed
(20-19-18-17-16-15-14-13-12-11-10-9-now 2 days left)
she could remember when her skin was silky pale--like the star light, and her eyes a sharp contrast of black on white.

The first time she was in love,
she was going with her friends to see a boy's band play. Her boy. The boy she had known from afar since she turned into a women; when her innate feminine had given her grace and softness and smell and attraction. Watching him in the darkened room, with sweat and something all over her body,

his gaze into her eyes felt like heat; and his voice into her ears felt like liquid.

She didn't feel the overbearing warmth of the club until he placed his hands on his guitar strings and the room stopping moving. She stumbled outside to the stair case that lead to the parking lot out back. Here the air was cold and fresh, like the breath of the moon. Black and white dots sparkled her vision as the blood rushed back into her body. She didn't see him come out onto the landing until

he was inches from her face, until

he had snaked his hand around her waist, so d el i cate ly,

and pulled his genuinely male body towards her. It happened in an instant, when
his
lips
touched
hers
and his strange adrenaline poured into her. He tasted like her favorite book--Wuthering Heights--smelled if it were smoldering in Helios's fire. Smokey, passionate. His lips were dry and hers were wet. After words, their bodies still spoke and spoke until nothing was left to say, and she smelled like his gently smoldering cigarette.

When she had to go away that fall for school, she missed his taste, and she craved it like chocolate. She remembered how he used to blow smoke into the night air out back on the stair case after he had played a set; how it had looked like his spirit rising into heaven.

When she came back home for winter, she learned that he had followed his smoke up into the night sky. He was gone, but she was not alone. She had found his scent, she had found him.

She delicately took a deep breath of gray heat and let his spirit drift into her and then out her open mouth. It floated into the ceiling, as she lay in the hot bath. His firey smoke made her lips feel like gold.

She breathed him now, and when she stopped, her mouth tasted like he smelled if he were with her now. If his sweat and warmth could envelope her like that first time. If his music could swim in her ears and if her eyes could feel heat.

Now her eyes were numb, like the rest of her. All her whites were yellow and she wasn't silk, more like the bark on the trees, closer to the ground, closer to Death. Her heart wasn't frozen, just slowly

dying

like the tree outside her window--
poisoned.

When the doctors showed her the x-ray, while she was lying on the whitest sheets she had ever seen, she looked at the black spots. They said it was the smoke, though

she knew it was his smell. The parts of his spirit that didn't escape into the sky.
Those parts that her body had snatched and kept. The parts that didn't elegantly exude their presence from her delicate, wet mouth.

And in the end, she knew that when her and Death stood together at last, none of her spirit would remain, and she would finally float into the night sky too.




disclaimer: this is fiction

She loves Julia, yeah yeah yeah

One good thing about the Beatles is the parental bonding that occurs because of them.

Yesterday night, when my dad was driving me home from some social event (Girl Fest bbq on the beach), I was playing the Beatles on my iPod and singing along really loudly, as usual. "MICHELLE, MA BELLE, THESE ARE WORDS THAT GO TOGETHER WELL!"

My dad then started singing along, off key. It was sweet. I decided to employ my split ear bud thingies and share the Beatles with the Old One. We ended up singing together all the way home. Sometimes I feared for my safety when the ear bud would fall and my dad would swerve widly into oncoming traffic, but that is le price I have to pay for the Beatles.

Later the next day, my grandma and I were driving to her house, and I put the Beatles on the radio with my iTrip. My iTrip had been missing for a really long time, but I just found it in my cat's hidding place. I think Sydders (the siamese) thought it was some sort of offspring of his. He's been feeling very fatherly recently.

ANYWAYS, my grandma told me the story of the how she used to listen to the Beatles when she was taking care of my oldest uncle. She told me how whenever he heard the song, "She loves Julia," he would get up and dance. "Cute!" I said, slightly confused. Did she mean the song "Julia," written about Yoko Ono? I played that song and immediatly my grandma said that it wasn't the right song. Which one could it be?

On shuffle, it switched to "She loves you, yeah yeah yeah" and my grandma shrieked.
All these years she thought they meant, "She loves Julia, yeah yeah yeah". Cute, right?

So the moral of this story is: if you want bonding action, play the Beatles.

Love you all.

Up too late again.

And blasting the Beatles once more. Heyyy Jude.

I've been thinking about stuff recently, like my blog, and the internet, and things much to complicated for my pretty little head. Yes, that was a some sexist humor there.

Currently reading and highly recommend:
and also,
I was lucky enough to see the latter (Mindy Nettifee) read her poetry live. Her voice, her words, herself, I LOVE HER.

Teaser...

The Year You Thought You Were Dying

was a really great year.

you ate licorice on the beach in January,
swam rum sauced in the icy Pacific
wearing only blue rubber flippers
and your grandfather’s dog tags
and for the first time, it felt good to be cold,
it felt good to be so cold it hurt.

you doted on pigeons and stray cats.
you ate honey peanuts in the park
and re-watched every movie that ever made you
cry, including Steve Martin’s The Jerk.
you tattooed your entire body in Pablo Neruda
translations and cherry blossoms.

you blew all your money on comfortable shoes
and one of those mattresses made from NASA space foam.
you slept the sleep of assassins and kings—remorseless.

you bought chocolate bars from all the kids who came
to your door and stock-piled them in your broom closet.
you left them in your will to THE SECRETARIES,
every last one of them.

you volunteered at the local senior center playing bingo.
when you won you forced to whole room to take shots of
Welch’s grape juice and sing the national anthem.

and you spent time with your favorite lover.
you let him get close.
secret suicide note, nonsense alibi close.
shampoo scent dissection close.

close enough to memorize your tells,
hand you your ass at pillow poker,
make your defenses look like the silly decoupage
of paper angels and Victorian roses that they were.
close enough that your laughter
punched him with mint gum puffs.
close enough that his sighs drove circles
in the parking lots of your sighs,
close enough to measure your ribcage
in wrists, your palms in lips.

so close, you didn't even notice
your heart speed up, then stop,
when he kissed you so hard,
when the new year's ball dropped down.

The cutest things you will ever see.



then later...




Damn that one legged Heather Mills. Paul and Linda were adorable. Not to mention John and Yoko.

Just FYI, the Beatles were going through their "gurus in drag" phase. No worries. Though the resemble Jesus, they are still up there on the Hot List.

OMG, IT'S BEEN SO LONG!

not.

Hello again. Miss me?

I doubt it.

I have joined the twitterdom. Whatever.

This inspired me.

I should be sleeping

but my brain has flown out of its skull and has now proceeded to elude my butterfly net. My room is messy, piles of books everywhere and jewelry scattered on my desk. I can't even find my new kitten.

It's the first day of break from school for Christmas. Or something. If that makes sense, which I doubt it does (brain has ran away to join the circus, on trampolines and its name is Henry, and it's a lot of explanation kids, don't worry about it--remember?). I think I've finally given in to the yummy commercialism-consumerism-etc that surround Christmas like the hard candy coating of an M&M. In fact, it's much like those grocery stores that we always here about. Zen, you know? Stacks and stacks of perishable foods, laundry detergent, vegetables, wine, frozen pizza, and people roaming the aisles. It makes me feel good to know that whenever I feel like making a sandwich out of pixie stix and bologna on white, there is a place I can go that will supply my fix. (anybody catch the reference?)

Like Allen Ginsberg:
"I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys."

I can totally see Walt Whitman there, with a big red grocery cart (or maybe a plastic basket?).

This reminds me of Christmas because--why does it remind me of Christmas? why? brain, give me a hint...oh, yes,-- because of the same type of bounty consumerist hype that surrounds the holidays. It just fits in with everything that Christmas means to me. It's zen almost. It's what I've been raised on. The deliciousness of cheesy slogans and the over done songs. The red and green. The sales. The candy and bake goods stuffed down the throat. The rain (in Hawaii that's all we get). The Christmas specials. The time put on hold. The stop motion animation of Jack Frost. Santa Claus. The night before. The day of. The consequential depression and bloating after.

It all just makes it better. Who cares if I forgot what Jesus actually said? Who cares if I don't remember the message? This is a pagan holiday, first and foremost, before all of those Jesus shenanigans. Not that I think Jesus is bad or anything (hello, brain? where are you? come backkkk...). We are meant to be together with our families and just do some good old fashioned partying. With eggnog.

It's just that this is our culture, whether you like it or not. We are dominated by consumerism--it's an instinct deeply ingrained in our DNA. We love cheesy slogans, excuses to max out our credit cards, and something so resolutely merry, holding on to all it is and was despite the climate of back stabbing/ divorcing/ ruthless capitalistic philosophies/ child molesting priests/ hypocrisy that is rampant in any modern country.

It annoys me when people spout the "what has Christmas become? It should be called Consumer-us" speech. Yeah, it obviously has become a bit more $$, but would the tradition of Christmas really still be around if it wasn't? And isn't it kind of flattering to Jesus and Mary and the whole gang?

Mon dieu, nothing that has come out of my mouth/fingers tonight is sane. Just like me, as you know, if you've read any of my previous posts. But that is who I am, fools. On a hill. This is just me being tired and wanting to write. So if you don't like it, I honestly do not care.

For my sisters

Sister, I can’t hear you crying
Sister, I can’t see your tears
Where have you gone, sister?

Have they stolen your
innocence from that hidden
room where we used to play?
Have they stolen it from
your PB&J virginity?

No, it was one thrust at a time on the dirty bed
where a clock ticked in the corner
because your time= their $

Oh but your innocence is free now, my child
It flew home in the night without you,
while the moon blinked its surprise
and the stars had a twinkle in their eye

You were cargo, little sister
for the worst kind of man
You saved yourself, little sister
and for that you are a woman

Making my cyber-reality, making my life

Let's be honest. I have no technological skills whatsoever. In fact, I just got internet connection a year ago. Yes, I can edit a movie in Final Cut, and do some reasonably cool damage on a picture in Photoshop. But do I know how to design anything on the internet? That's a big no. Do I even know how to network a blog correctly? No. Hacking (or whatever you call it)? No. HTML? No. Java? Yes please, with some milk.

Doing a paper for school back then either meant that I typed them up on my ancient laptop and used my iPod as an external hard drive, or I hand wrote them and transcribed them onto a school computer. It was complicated, and it gave me a headache. I also had to deal with the fact that my laptop had 20 gigs (is that how you spell it?) of hard drive and it was mostly being taken up by music and my films. I was often given the cheery message that my computer was going to crash if I tried to virtually stuff its face any more.

Though my computer situation was frightfully difficult, my real life seemed so simple. Coming home meant I had plenty of time for reading and doing homework. Maybe some extra credit thrown in there. Plus 10 hours of sleep every night. Introduce a beautiful specimen of a computer (my fatty iMac), and time slips so easily from my gentle grasp.

Train of thought: Hmm let's check out youtube. Pimplywimp added another video. Cool, I have to watch that. Myspace? New messages, new commments, new photo commments. Facebook? 5 new notifications. Email? Oh I HAVE to email her back, it's for this club for school. After that I can start my paper. Hmm Word is taking so long to load. I'll check and see who's on AIM.

Hours. I come home at 5:00, I finish my internet to-do list by 7:30. Where has time gone? This type of entertainment was never available to me before. Like a gateway drug, this computer stuff launched me into some unwanted addictions. Speaking of, email check break.

Getting back to writing this post hours later, I am shocked by my point. The internet seems like a tool that can be used for good, and for evil. But has anything changed since that fateful "on" button was pushed?

Yes, it has. Exercising my willpower, I have stopped gratuitous internet usage. Now it's more music/learning/writing centric. I download music nonstop, checking out new bands on wikipedia. I learn interesting facts and make connection using different internet tools. I write in this blog somewhat obsessively, releasing my gibberish into the blogosphere. I explore the world through other people's eyes.

Blatantly obvious from my blog, I am not a techy. I am an aspiring writer/artist/crazy fool who tries to get her words out there through this wonderful thing called a blog, using the huge and dazzling high speed connection to infinity. With my deer eyes in the headlights, I gaze at this new world that I've created for myself, despite my stumbling around complicated technological things. Like Arthus said in his Students 2.0 post, I create this reality. It's mine. My choices are law, and I have veto power on anything (ctrl alt delete, you know?).

Now my question is, if I can piece together my own reality here, why can't I do it in real life?

HDT and Beatles quote

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."--Thoreau

I can't do as long a post as I wish I could today, but I just have to say that the group of people working with me on are the type of people that march to their own drum.

"I used to be mad at my school, the teachers that taught me weren't cool. You're holding me down, turning me around, filling me up with your rules." -- The Beatles

We aren't held down anymore!

Persepolis--a movie?

As I was trying to go to bed, I decided to browse through some movie previews. After watching Atonement, The Music Within, and Martian Child, I came acorss Persepolis. "What?!" I said aloud. Persepolis was the first graphic novel that I actually liked, no, loved. I had first read it in Mr. Maretzki's English 2 class, along with Kite Runner and Breath Eyes Memories. Both Kite Runner and Persepolis served to educate me about the Middle East and it's history, but more importantly they changed my perspective on life, and how I viewed current events. I guess you could call it a face behind the name.

I'm looking forward to seeing this movie.




p.s. I won tickets to see Kite Runner!

To make you jealous.

We are Students 2 oh. We are gonna rock your world.

Video credit: Sean the Bassman

Oh. My. God. I am so excited.

My first birthday is drawing near, and I still can't believe where, and what, this blog has gotten me. I know I don't have a book deal, or even a little fame from blogging. My blog hasn't been on the must read list of blogger.com or targeted in the internet media. But it has given me a voice that I take pride in. Blogging has also helped me evolve and grow through the times in my life people like to call adolescence or "youth", a time that is marked by innocence and joy but that also can be summed up in the word "awkward" and "emotional".

Blogging has also taken me into the Students 2.0 circle, something that I feel so good, and so lucky, to be a part of.

Not to mention the Amazon gift certificate that I won from Fuel My Blog. Thanks!


So please, any and all of the readers out there, check out the launch of Students 2.0. You will be amazed at the group of teenagers-nay, young adults-who are working on it. They are SO talented.