words.

i watched the curious case of benjamin button tonight, and for the first time in a while, i was left speechless. once the credits rolled, i said, "whoa, that was intense," and that was the extent of my verbal reaction until my mom and i got home. i sat thinking about the film for a long time; everything about it was a fantasy, from the story line to the cinematography, so idealistic, but so emotinally real and hopeful that i came to wonder if living life that freely would ever be possible for me- sailing in the florida keys, moving to india, making love in a duplex all day and all night. when i realized it would never happen, i got angry, even more frustrated with the binds of our society. as jerry rubin says, the people who drop out of school have dropped into life. FUCK our education system and the years we spend studying things we'll never apply, but i still succumb to its soul-sucking gravitational pull for fear of falling under. if only my dad who abandoned me at birth owned an affluent button-making company and died leaving me everything..

but in any case, i now want to work in a convalescent home, and it was a beautiful film, so you should go see it.


on another note..

it's a love/hate relationship with words. i love to write and articulate the inner workings of my semi-twisted mind, but sometimes, what i feel is simply too grand to be encapsulated in a combination of letters and symbols that somehow make sense. i'm in the process of writing an essay for my application to SVA, and at 177 words, i'm stuck, yet have barely even begun. in 500 words or less, i'm supposed to explain my reasons for pursuing undergraduate study in the visual arts. excuse me, but how do i even start!? like this, i guess:

The idea that a single decision can determine the entire course of your life has always fascinated me. It’s a lot of pressure, really, thinking that letting a pedestrian cross first, forgetting your keys, or setting your watch five minutes fast can result in a direction you never once intended. But then there is also the saying that everything happens for a reason, as well as the comforting philosophy that wherever you are is exactly where you need to be at that moment. Supposedly, you inevitably end up in the same place, regardless of the path you choose to get you there, but it’s the journey that makes your final destination that much more worthwhile. Whatever I choose to believe to make the concept of life easier than a struggle, a series of fortunate events has led me to precisely where I am now – filling out art school applications in hopes that my passion, eye, and learned skills are enough to get me to where I want to be, on a new path with a new destination.

so there's that, but what now? i need to communicate how i came to discover my passion, how it grew, and how i broke away from every path my parents set out in front of me. i need to express the fact that nothing makes me feel as fulfilled as exercising my creative mind, showing others my vision, and channeling the lessons i've learned from life through a medium others can understand. it's impossible to share with admissions the magnitude of my love for art in a mere 500 words. "a picture is worth a thousand words," and if i sent them 500 pictures, even that may not suffice.

i exaggerate, but really, can't i just give them a hug and say that's why?

progress.

so far, this winter break has been absolutely amazing. it's essentially been an expanded version of our epic weekends, in that we do it every day. i've done a little bit of art school application work, but for the most part, i've simply been recharging and reconnecting. i live life as a vampire almost every day, sleeping when the sun rises and not leaving the house until it's dark outside. i've rediscovered my first love and old friends. i dancedancedanced to fake blood and schmoozed with designer drugs. i bounced to la riots and danced on top of booths to steve aoki. we smoked bowls overlooking my glittering city, and rang in jlee's 21st at the crosby with grilled cheese, sweet potato fries, and the greatest sundae known to man. we leave for san francisco tomorrow night and will celebrate NYE with benny benassi, mark farina, dirty south, and moby.

new year's resolution:
take better care of myself - i mean that in terms of health, hygiene, and appearance. my muscles have deteriorated, and although i've only gained 4 pounds, it's 4 pounds of pure, unadulterated marijuana-induced indulgence. it's time to run miles and obtain wealth through health. i'm enrolling in a cycling/spinning class and will house session at culture shock every monday night. i'm gonna floss, take multi-vitamins daily, adjust my sleeping pattern, and eat my fruits and veggies... that's the plan, anyway.

goal for 2009:
get myself where i need to be. art school, art school, art school - that's where i need to be. i need to be amongst ambitious, challenging, inspiring characters, and i need to reach my full potential. i know it's there; i know it's in me; i just need to bring it out.

i have enough good memories to last someone a lifetime, so come 2009, i'm getting my head back in the game. i'm going to get my "be free" tattoo to mark the life-changing year that was 2008 and to remind myself of everything i've learned. it will be (believe it or not) a substance-free january, so i can feel what it's like to be rid of all these chemicals and be left with nothing but my own.

i'm starting a new project called "LIVE YOUR VISION." it was inspired by a painting we saw hanging in the crosby, and it will start with a performance art piece on hippie hill in san francisco. i envision a community, much like those embodied by PLUR, and i seek to recreate it amongst those who already live by the mindset. it will involve paint, our bodies, and several feet of butcher paper. no brushes.

get rrrready, sf.

Portfolio Prospectives.

today was an interesting day. i woke up at 1pm to a text from my so-called "first love" to go see a movie. i facebooked/myspaced for 2 hours, showered and got ready around 3, chatted with my aunt and cousin for a bit, then headed out in the rain to meet up. i have to admit that i was a bit of a nervous pervous, seeing as though we hadn't hung out in three years, and our last run-in at comic con found me with butterflies in my stomach, despite the fact that i was with a guy i was presently talking to. they say that the first love never dies, and i will have to admit that maybe they're right. it felt the same, still comfortable, and i felt like i was in a strange time warp. he took me to this park near our high school where we used to fuck in the back seat of my car. we caught up, and decided we're still pretty much the same people, except i'm a "hooligan," and he drives. ;) i'll refrain from all the "rekindling an old flame" bullshit, cuz i'm not sure if it's even headed in that direction anyhow. updates later, i'm sure.

in other news, i'm meeting up with my high school photography teacher tomorrow morning, so she can help me build my portfolio. which leads me to the purpose of this post. portfolio prospectives (click on the images to see them larger)-


"OBJECTS"- this was a performance art piece created for my VIS2 class. it was inspired by a laura mulvey quote that said something about how analyzing beauty destroys it and a filmmaker who took 60's porn clips and covered all of the naked females with nailpolish, creating the illusion of males fucking an amorphous blob. its purpose was to test the limits of female sexuality. i surveyed several people via myspace bulletins asking people to name random objects that would never remind them of sex. i accumulated the best suggestions, and fashioned them in lengerie form. the idea was, if an almost naked female adorned herself in nonsexual objects, would you still think of sex? i sought to create outfits so ridiculous they were no longer sexy.


"NAKED PROJECT"- another one for my VIS2 class, we had to be "naked," in whatever way to chose to interpret the term. i chose to interpret it literally, and somewhat connected to my "OBJECTS" project, i sought to present my body as an object on a pedestal (because my friend once told me to "put the pussy on a pedestal"). i played off those cheesy black bar censors seen on television and magazines. in the heart of hillcrest, i dressed myself in nothing but black painted cardboard and stood atop of a bus stop bench. the reactions i received ranged from strange looks, to looking away, to screams and honks. it's funny that plenty of people love looking at naked bodies, but it all depends on context. in a situation so blatantly public, people feel as though they're not supposed to. i guess being a voyeur is a private, secretive act.


"UNTITLED STICKER PROJECT"- i was given a sticker novel project to do in my COMT108 class. the rules were simple- write on stickers and post them somewhere. because i have an affinity for sex and controversial topics, i decided to write about deceivingly sexual situations. i wanted to prove a point as well, that human sexuality is conditioned in us as we grow up. thus, i posted the stickers in a children's park. if a child were to read any of the stickers (except for maybe the one that blatantly says "sex"), they would think nothing of it, but if one of their parents were to read it, they would most likely try to shield their child's mind from becoming corrupt. the last "SEX" sticker on the drinking fountain was placed there mostly for fun, but also partly because if you think about it, drinking from a water fountain is quite sexual- c'mon.. water squirts, someone drinks (and swallows) it, and there is also the possibility of consuming the saliva of the preceding thirsty individual. i also just like the word "sex."


"REVEALING THE APPARATUS"- a project stemmed from the clever idea of my friend ralph, it's relatively self-explanatory. while revealing the apparatus in the medium of film is primarily a bad thing (i.e. a boom mic slip on the edge of a frame, the camera man in the mirror, etc.), i subverted the idea, and revealed the apparatus in a somewhat absurd manner. my VIS165 final project was an extension of this, but in my mind, the original still reigns supreme.


"THE CLOTHESLINE"- my best work seems to have been done for my VIS2 class. another performance art piece involving hierarchies and the class implications of clotheslines. along with roxsan and phil, we strung our unwanted clothes in the heart of an affluent neighborhood in la jolla. performance art is all about context, and we took a lower class symbol out of its element. as expected in uptight la jolla, an angry observer reprimanded us for defacing his property and threatened to call the cops.


"TEXT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF AN IMAGE"- this is the finished version of the VIS164 final project i blogged about a couple weeks back, which looks a lot more impressive in person. it spans about nine feet in length, and is my favorite project to date. once again, i wished to rebel against the assignment and touch on the fact that when text is added to an image, it automatically directs the audience to take in a certain meaning. while that may be the purpose of several works, in the greater sense of an image and the idea that "a picture is worth a thousand words," several interpretations are prevented once text is added. most images are literally blocked by the text, and they depict barriers, starting literally (fences, gates, locks, closed doors) and becoming more metaphorical (sleeping, time, money, the sky as a barrier from the rest of the galaxy). the images within the spaces between words are photos of openings, permission, or allowance, reflecting the opportunities between words, whether in the form of spaces or pauses, to change the direction of a conversation or for someone else to interject. this project also accurately depicts my aesthetic and lifestyle... in a nutshell, of course.

i have to add more, but these are the shoe-ins in my mind so far. brace yourself for an intensely long portfolio prospectives pt. 2 post.

huzzah! gnite.

lucky streak.

yesterday, i woke up at 820 when i was supposed to get to work by 8. i called in saying that i overslept and would be there asap, but decided instead to get back into bed for a few minutes. next thing i know, it's 1030, and my first shift ends at 11. i showed up at 1 for my second shift, and instead of reprimanding me for my negligence, my boss asked me if i was okay. i spent half the work day clearing book drops and delivering shit with my co-working nicole, and the second half in a secret underground world of geisel library getting paid $10.07 an hour to eat free food.

i stayed up til 2 or 3am last night playing drunken/high cranium with the roomies, despite the fact that i had a final project critique this morning at 8am. i told myself that i can wake up in the morning if i know i really need to, but to my surprise, when i opened my eyes, it was 1020. i showed up to my critique over two and a half hours late, and nothing happened. i presented my "TEXT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF AN IMAGE" project, and my professor said it was an excellent use of text and image, and it was really well thought out. in my hustle and bustle to get my stoner ass to school, i left my first project at home, which i was supposed to turn in with my final. i frantically texted my roomies to bring it for me, and roxsan came to my rescue and left it outside of the classroom. to top it off, because i was late, i parked in a 15 min. max parking spot, and arrived right when parking enforcement was assigning tickets. when i returned to my car two hours later to find that it was the only one left, i was ticket-less.



i'm not sure how it's possible for someone to be so lucky, but i'm ever so grateful, and i think it's time for me to stop pulling this risky shit.

stream of consciousness.

i want to get lost. lost in thought, lost in emotion, lost in feeling, lost in you, lost in love, lost in life. lose track of time, lose track of where i'm going, lose track of my senses, lose sense feeling, lose sense of consciousness, lose sense of anything that could possibly make any sense at all. i want to live nonsense, be nonsense, be anywhere and no where at all. i want to be in two places at once, i want to be everywhere at once. i want to escape my body, crawl out of my skin, crawl out of this hole, and be somewhere else. be free from this being, be free from my past, be free from what's ahead, be free from everything i need, want, and have. i have to be this, that, or something else completely, but i don't want to have to anymore, i don't want to have anything anymore. i just want to be.

i want to keep driving until i don't know where i am and don't know where i'll end up. i want to be somewhere new, and i don't want to know how to get back. i want to get lost and find a new way. a new way of seeing, a new way of thinking, a new way of feeling, a new way of being.

i really just want to get lost. everything is too familiar and too comfortable, and there comes a point when too comfortable becomes uncomfortable.

Revealing the Apparatus

the following is my final project for my vis165 camera techniques class. it stemmed off of a similar project i did back in january, involving that same rain/hose scene, but with different people and a different location. i think it's self-explanatory..

i miss this-

and it hasn't even been a whole week. :(

my take on drugs.

there's a buzz in my head, and i should really be reading about jack smith, but in any case, i'm typing like a mad woman.

as i was about to venture off into experimental film land, i started thinking about drugs.  as an advocate of controversial issues, drugs is one of my favorite topics.  jon lee once told me that i was the first person to get him to realize that drugs aren't bad.  now, i'm not sure if that's something to be proud of (the majority probably thinks it's not), but perhaps i can present you with a different perspective.

i told him that drugs are simply a different way of experiencing your consciousness.  you're still you, just a bit more open and perhaps in a different dimension.  

before i started reading the lyrical vomit of richard foreman, i kind of traveled back in my 16-year old mind and thought, "i've been sober for sixteen years.  i think it's time to feel something else."  

it was new years eve of my 16th year of life when i first drank alcohol.  granted, it was just a tiny bottle of smirnoff ice, but you gotta start small.  then it was the new years eve of following year when i first smoked weed.  it was out of an aluminum bud light can in brad's backyard near the jacuzzi, and granted, i didn't feel anything, because i'm pretty sure i smoked it wrong, but nonetheless, the taste of delectable mary jane smoke filled my mouth.

i told myself it would stop there, that i would never try anything else, but as they say, marijuana is the gateway drug, but (i've used this line before) i do believe it's the gateway to heaven.  that is, if heaven equals shrooms, ecstacy, and adderall.  i probably shouldn't be so candid about this, because to most people, drugs are a big deal, but really, they're not.  jerry rubin once said that the only expert on marijuana is the one who smokes marijuana.  you can talk your shit, if you're one of those people bound to the constructs of society, but i can rise above and say that i see past all of it.  all the institutions, all the prejudice, all the unprecedented religious ideals, all the things we're taught we "should" do or "should" be; i'm free.

the eve of my 20th birthday was my first trip on shrooms, and i entered a new decade through another galaxy.  i lost my ability to distinguish so-called reality from the fabrications of my toxin-ed brain.  new years eve of 2008 was my first trip on ecstacy, and it's been a journey through the universe of emotions since then.  i've felt things most people will never feel.  i don't recall when exactly i first tried adderall, but it was sometime during spring quarter of 2008 writing a paper on the punk rock movement for LTWL120 class, and for a while, it was my favorite drug.  it enabled me to succumb to the institutions and responsibilities i despise.  i called it the "no bullshit drug."

"i've been sober for sixteen years.  i think it's time to feel something else," but much in the same way, too much of any feeling is no good.  your body knows when it's had enough, but your mind keeps wanting more, and it's the balance between the two that keeps you sane.  

the mind is the most powerful thing in the world- some religions even believe that it can heal the body, and although some may attribute it to coincidence, i've willed things to happen without even lifting a finger.  drugs hold the key to open your mind and set it free, and you'll literally find your head in the clouds, but you must never lose sight of the ground.

balance, balance, balance.. it's all about balance.  just like my yaya tells me.

FUCK!

i've spent the last hour and a half or so tossing and turning in bed, completely uncomfortable and completely anxious.  my clothes wrinkle under me, my comforter wrinkles over me, my head is itchy, and i killed a silverfish on my wall, and i'm pretty sure he's got some homies hangin' around near my pillow- actually, i'm sure of it, cuz those fuckers are sneaky.  the plan was to stop studying at 1230 then fall asleep to dharma bums.  i got sleepy after reading a few pages, but the moment i turned off the lights and tried to sleep, my mind started racing with a million and a half thoughts.  i read a few more pages, got sleepy again, and turned off the lights, but then the cycle continued.  i have to wake up in four hours for work at 8am, but i guess that's what i get for training by internal clock to sleep at 4 and wake up sometime past noon.  thus, i blog.

i was thinking earlier today about how many different things i think about these days now that i lack a love interest.  my four blogs prior to this one contained nothing but petty ramblings about how he's not paying attention to me or how cute and happy we are together.  i just remember how stifling (and pathetic) it was to not even be able to read, because he hadn't called me back.  (here, i use "he" as a general term for any male i've been romantically involved with.)  now my mind wanders to the outer depths of everything, but of course, tonight, the feeling in my stomach leaves me lying awake.

i've been dreaming about them lately.  them ex-boyfriends.  almost every, single one has infected my dreams with "i want you back"s and "what was i thinking"s.  and each desperate plea has been met with smiles and butterflies on my end, concluding with us walking arm-in-arm off to some undisclosed location, happy.  i doubt it's my subconscious revealing my greatest desires, because if that happened, i'm pretty sure i'd be walking with my face in my hands off to some undisclosed location to scream and curse the complications i'd rather live without.  i don't know what it all means, but it's irritating, and maybe it's the fear of having another one of those dreams that's keeping me up tonight.  (actually, i'm pretty sure it's just the fact that i woke up past 1pm today.)  honestly, i'd rather dream about honeydew melon-faced men in trench coats with egg noodle hair and raisin eyes making my mom and i eat vats of corned beef hash.  (true story.)

a random run-on of ramblings.

saturday night in the hometown with a couple andy warhol readings and kerouac's dharma bums, which i will fall asleep to post-blogging.  my mom won't let my pup sleep in my bed with me anymore, because he whines when i'm gone, so i'm stuck seeing him curled up into a sad, little ball on my floor.  thanksgiving weekend was spent 35% with my parents and 65% in carson, as per usual.  my loves, discount center, white spacemen, and answers to my future's yearnings.  

we wandered the city in the early morn', and several epiphanies led me to start a new project called, "TEXT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF AN IMAGE."  my VIS164 photographic strategies class has assigned a "text/image" project as our final, and walking along the streets of carson at 5am led me to realize that, well, text defeats the purpose of an image.  it will be composed of 200 images of barriers (fences, closed doors, closed eyes, lined paper, etc.) taken with my SKLX and printed on 10 separate sheets of 13"x19" photo paper. 

when we assign certain words to a photograph, the viewer is already directed to formulate a certain interpretation.  text restricts the spectator from taking the work in whichever way they please.   it was strange experiencing  the morning the way we did; i noticed how our world is organized into boxes and wondered what it was like when everything was permitted to grow wild.  nature is the only thing that doesn't give a fuck about barriers; i noticed plants growing through and over fences and thought about natural "disasters."  it's kind of amazing in the "land of the free" how hard everyone seems to work to keep others out, so the project is based on that concept, the limitations social conditioning imposes on our sense of self, and my sheer desire for rebellion.  this is what i have so far: 

obviously, i'm still missing "OF AN IMAGE," but i'm getting there (it takes a while).  if you look closely, the photos within the spaces between words portray an openness, permission, or disregard for barriers, representative of the opportunities spaces or moments of silence present to steer a conversation in another direction.

contemplate that while i rest.

whaddup it's 6:02am

and this is how i feel.

that paper i blogged about several hours ago is fucking me in the butthole with no lube.  deadmau5's "will fail" just came up on my shuffle.  but, a double-dose of addy feels like... ecstacy?

so far, i have an intro and thesis:

Yvonne Rainer’s 1979 film Journeys from Berlin/1971 is what Noel Carroll likes to call a “New Talkie.”  Like other Structural Films, it explores the possibilities and tests the limits of language, but simultaneously seeks to “say something.”  Journeys employs the use of a multiplicity of voices from disparate sources to communicate a single message.  With a lack of traditional narrative structure and linear continuity, Rainer exercises various strategies like repetition and image/word associations, leaving the spectator with something like scattered puzzle pieces.  The result is neither clear-cut nor assertive, but rather an open-ended and ambiguous work of radical juxtaposition that ventures through the “mind of a moralist" and calls for active participation.

i'm smart sometimes, but i can't seem to write anything else.  i would like to conclude with, "FUCK YOU YVONNE RAINER FOR BEING A PRETENTIOUS BITCH!"

....F+?

I AM NOT THIS SMART.

so, take the most ambiguous, self-righteously intelligent experimental film with the most pretentious narrative style i have ever witnessed, and an entirely unintelligible prompt, and you have the situation i am presently stuck in.

read this:

journeys from berlin is a film with many voices from the domestic and public space about rebellion and state.  comment on how the pluralism of various narrative voices in the film function to create an array of information from disparate sources.  think about how these narratives feed off of each other in terms of content and their source (personal, public, etc.)  also comment on the nature of these various voices; such as on screen vs. off-screen, naturalistic vs. theoretical and how they relate to the image.

refrain from addressing these aspects as dichotomies, instead discuss them as multiplicities co-existing to create the unique narrative structure of the film.  avoid solely comparing and contrasting individual voices, but rather focus on their interrelations.

justify noel carroll's comments about rainer's "radical juxtaposition" and "mind of a moralist."

if you suffered through the film as i did, you would think, ok... WHAT!?

putting this off until right now has definitely proved of no benefit to me, and i'm sure putting this off for another four hours won't help me either, but i'm going to anyway.

i'll be back later, cuz i'm gonna be chatty soon. ;)

there's no place like home.

this is my text/image assignment for my camera techniques class.  it plays off of that "WOW MOM" shit people do in pictures, with their hands as the M's and W's, and their mouths as the O's.  the "WOW" is done with a more childish font and a more youthful color; the "MOM" is done with a more mature version of the "WOW" color, and a more sophisticated font.  there are several visual parallels, but well, you can analyze the rest.

and here are more photos for your viewing pleasure-

the teologo residence- my home away from home away from home.

dear divine marijuana force of temptation,

you don't phase me anymore.

it's a crazy world i live in, this world of no marijuana.  i find myself more prosperous in several aspects- my wallet is happy, my head is clear, my belly isn't crying, i can breathe, and well, HOLY SHIT- i find myself doing school work when i simply don't know what to do with myself.  i've pulled myself out of the muck of molasses called laziness, and i do believe i am back to my old self.  granted, i still have an atrocious cough that has my room mates offering me cough medicine and waking up at night, but that will go away soon (i hope).  i feel like a retired war veteran- i've survived the battle between marijuana and my self-control, with all my limbs intact, and i'm not on the corner of la jolla village drive and gilman holding up a cardboard sign that says "SMILE."

i have moved on in life, and i mean that in more ways that one (i mean that in about 6.7 ways).

Quarter-Life Crisis.

have you ever thought to yourself, i am __ years old, what the FUCK have i done with my life?

i am 21, have physiologically been three different people (skin supposedly cycles over a span of 7 years), and would like to think i have evolved, at least a little.  i've fallen in love four times, fallen out of love two times, made some friends, lost some friends, and found some of them again.  i've graduated kindergarten, first grade, second grade, third grade, and so on through high school, and i'm graduating college next quarter.  i've gotten freaknasty schwasted, done a lot of drugs, had my fair share of casual sex and even more servings of intimate sex.  i've contracted nothing, and have survived this far baby-free.  i've learned about the ins-and-outs of the media, stereotypes, and advertising (none of which can i apply in the real world), watched porn in my experimental film class, and stood naked a-top of a bus bench in hillcrest with black-painted cardboard censors over my goodies.  i've met people who inspire me, and people who truly make me happy.  i've also met people who make me wonder what they think about every day (if anything at all), because i swear their brain is simply a waste of a good skull.  i've processed book requests, made boba drinks, created bullshit promotions for an advertising firm, and taught darkroom photography to kids who are probably too young to be exposed to silver nitrate.  i've seen the ocean and a good amount of america, of the world, even.  i've lied i've cheated, i've laughed, i've cried, but really, who the fuck hasn't.  i've gotten through things i thought i'd never get through, and i've half-assed my way through my entire education.

the next chapter will be art school at the age of 22, and art school graduation at the age of 26.  barbara rubin opened up the concept of sexuality to the film empire at the age of 19.  people get nominated for oscar awards at the age of 9.  motherfucking hannah montana is god-knows-how-young, and although i would never trade places with her, she has a fan base bigger than i'll ever have. people change the world before they can even change their minds, and here i am wasting away into the oblivion of old age. sure, i'll have a degree in a few months, but in the social sciences, a degree is just a stupid piece of paper that shows people you've conformed to the institutions of education, spent $80,000, and slaved away, cramming and shitting out information you'll never need. if i turn 30 and i'm still blogging, i'll post my address, and you have permission to put a gun to my head to motivate me.

i guess the way people live now, 21 is the new 16, but seriously, what the FUCK have i done with my life?

Life is Beautiful

...because my friends are.

i don't know if you ever have, but i am quite familiar with smoking myself into sheer delirium. i smoke myself into an uncontrollable food binge, where my stomach screams no, but my mouth screams, "yes! YESS! YEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!" i talk a whole bunch of nonsense, and do funny dances in my kitchen. although i'd like to deny that i'm addicted, i do think that i must come to terms with how much of a hold my babygirl mary jane has on me. no matter how bad she is, i just keep running back. maybe it's like that toxic avenger song, bad girls need love, too?

i learned tonight that although alcohol makes me talk a lot of bullshit, it's severely difficult for me to lie. when it comes to things that matter, i can't be anything but honest with myself and with other people. even if i wish i could feel a certain way, i can't force anything, because i've gotten to this point where i needn't bother myself with unnecessary things i don't want to do. i have often sought to minimize my material life, but have gotten rid of old things only to replace them with new things. but i have succeeded in minimizing my social life and romantic life. as self-righteous as it is, a lot of people simply don't exist to me anymore, but hey, it's easier that way.

i was sober for eight days straight before last night, a life record as of late, and i learned that being sober is just as trippy (if not more so) as being intoxicated. but it's a little more uncomfortable. i have learned that drugs simply make you feel comfortable, they make you not give a fuck, which can be good, but also lead to something really bad. after i smoked weed today, i didn't give a fuck about my photomontage project due on thursday or the mess in my room that has been hangin' out with me for a couple months now. but after a few hours, i got restless and drove my ass to target just for the hell of it.

i realized today that i need to stop thinking about things before i do them. i waste a lot of time considering, "should i do this... or that... or anything at all?" this first entry is a declaration that i will stop thinking and start doing.

"thing to do" #1: lose some damn weight and get my ass into art school. i am unsatisfied, but mary jane keeps seducing me into complacency. after this last bowl to knock me out, it's bye bye, baby boo. i am better off without you. i hope to sing "since i left you, i've found the world so new," and understand.

anjelicapazprojects-- this will be a document of art as life and life as art.