Tuesday, September 27, 2005
my creative juices have been sapped for awhile -- work drains so much out of me -- it's not physical or mental labor, it's really the lack thereof that kills. then i've been so focused on male matters since my last significant relationship...
i feel eviscerated -- hollowed out -- like wind is blowing through my insides, nothing substantial or solid left standing within. it's a shabby metaphor, but fitting nonetheless. i most want to WRITE. a poem, or book of poems, and a novel, or novellas. i want to perform, as well. i want to mesmerize an audience with something - a trick, a note held high to the rafters where it wavers like heat in the distance on an excruciating day and blisters those who dare to listen, anything that will capture their attention. i long for recognition and fame. i lust after success, drama, a fulfilled life always a bit out of reach.
i have words, but nowhere to place them. in my upturned palm. a cup of tea or quarters filled to the brim. i have thoughts, with nowhere to plug them in. they are listless confetti, blinking christmas lights proclaiming their luminescence but lacking in luster. or. or.
frustration is and probably always will be the name of my game. i think it is a common, recurrent theme for many, yet somehow that is no consolation for me. for i am Different, with a capital D.
the other night riding the 1 train home to my peaceless abode in queens i stared with apprehension and, frankly, disgust, at the fellow members of the homo sapiens who rode with me. discerning their distinctly ape-like features really jarred me. i picked out two men who least resembled our primate relatives, and they quelled me enough to not scream out in earnest. sometimes i feel so intense inside, like atomic energy will come shooting out of me if i don't reign it in. sometimes i am so desperate for sympathy or understanding, a little nod of "yes, i know what you're feeling".
i don't have a pat way of ending this post. so adieu for now.
i feel eviscerated -- hollowed out -- like wind is blowing through my insides, nothing substantial or solid left standing within. it's a shabby metaphor, but fitting nonetheless. i most want to WRITE. a poem, or book of poems, and a novel, or novellas. i want to perform, as well. i want to mesmerize an audience with something - a trick, a note held high to the rafters where it wavers like heat in the distance on an excruciating day and blisters those who dare to listen, anything that will capture their attention. i long for recognition and fame. i lust after success, drama, a fulfilled life always a bit out of reach.
i have words, but nowhere to place them. in my upturned palm. a cup of tea or quarters filled to the brim. i have thoughts, with nowhere to plug them in. they are listless confetti, blinking christmas lights proclaiming their luminescence but lacking in luster. or. or.
frustration is and probably always will be the name of my game. i think it is a common, recurrent theme for many, yet somehow that is no consolation for me. for i am Different, with a capital D.
the other night riding the 1 train home to my peaceless abode in queens i stared with apprehension and, frankly, disgust, at the fellow members of the homo sapiens who rode with me. discerning their distinctly ape-like features really jarred me. i picked out two men who least resembled our primate relatives, and they quelled me enough to not scream out in earnest. sometimes i feel so intense inside, like atomic energy will come shooting out of me if i don't reign it in. sometimes i am so desperate for sympathy or understanding, a little nod of "yes, i know what you're feeling".
i don't have a pat way of ending this post. so adieu for now.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
books on my reading list:
proust, vols.3 and beyond
madame bovary
ulysses
portrait of the artist as a young man
brideshead revisited
war and peace
the growth of the soil
the red and the black
satanic verses
history of western philosophy
turgenev (er, forgot the title)
those are just my priorities. the backlog stretches for years. even if i spent the rest of my life JUST reading (no eating, sleeping, talking, walking, etc) i would still not be halfway done. this is both tragic and beautiful.
proust, vols.3 and beyond
madame bovary
ulysses
portrait of the artist as a young man
brideshead revisited
war and peace
the growth of the soil
the red and the black
satanic verses
history of western philosophy
turgenev (er, forgot the title)
those are just my priorities. the backlog stretches for years. even if i spent the rest of my life JUST reading (no eating, sleeping, talking, walking, etc) i would still not be halfway done. this is both tragic and beautiful.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
strange days, these days. i'd go into detail, but i'm not sure who's reading this. yes, self-censorship equals self-protection, unfortunately.
i'll just say this: boys, or men, or males, or whatever term you wish to use for the xy chromosome are not much more than bundles of hormones. three isolated incidents this week correlate that fact.
to top it off, i had a dream in which one of my exes proposed to me on the 7 train. but the ring was ugly so i started crying! hahaha. it was a hideous ring, and i doubt that anyone in real life would buy such a thing or offer it as a token of undying love and devotion. it was a block of metal (no, not gold, like sheet metal) with tiny, almost microscopic sized diamonds stuck haphazardly into it. uuuugly.
this week the image of myself as an attractive, sexy human being has been bolstered, but my faith in romantic love has definitely dwindled. the biological need to propagate for sure is one of the strongest natural instincts, but, still, i believe the ability to reach beyond that in everyday life is much nobler. anyone, anything that lives can reproduce itself, but to be able to create -- and i mean to think of great ideas and actualize them -- is what separates us from our almost identical genetic forebears. i am sick of the sex-driven scene. i am sick of feeling like a piece of meat. i refuse to let others pigeon hole me into a pair of breasts, an ass, and a vagina. hello, there is gray matter between my ears. i have feelings, damnit. i want to be taken seriously, i need romancing and the hope that happiness is tangibly near.
i'll just say this: boys, or men, or males, or whatever term you wish to use for the xy chromosome are not much more than bundles of hormones. three isolated incidents this week correlate that fact.
to top it off, i had a dream in which one of my exes proposed to me on the 7 train. but the ring was ugly so i started crying! hahaha. it was a hideous ring, and i doubt that anyone in real life would buy such a thing or offer it as a token of undying love and devotion. it was a block of metal (no, not gold, like sheet metal) with tiny, almost microscopic sized diamonds stuck haphazardly into it. uuuugly.
this week the image of myself as an attractive, sexy human being has been bolstered, but my faith in romantic love has definitely dwindled. the biological need to propagate for sure is one of the strongest natural instincts, but, still, i believe the ability to reach beyond that in everyday life is much nobler. anyone, anything that lives can reproduce itself, but to be able to create -- and i mean to think of great ideas and actualize them -- is what separates us from our almost identical genetic forebears. i am sick of the sex-driven scene. i am sick of feeling like a piece of meat. i refuse to let others pigeon hole me into a pair of breasts, an ass, and a vagina. hello, there is gray matter between my ears. i have feelings, damnit. i want to be taken seriously, i need romancing and the hope that happiness is tangibly near.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
ciara's manifesto, part I.
in talking with a friend, i found it irresistable and indeed mandatory to write a manual on good dating etiquette for modern times, and, necessarily, centered around my own views. in recent experience, i've found many men lacking in the etiquette department -- and by lacking, i mean they don't have any whatsoever.
i will probably come back and revise or make more eloquent some of the finer points detailed below.
but for now...
"before the date"
do not write a generic, run of the mill description of yourself and expect others to find you interesting. think of a compelling post title and an equally intriguing but not overwhelming description of who you are and what you wish to find in a date.
do not lie -- about your age, your height, your weight, your intelligence level, your sense of humor, your marital status, or your favorite bands. lies only breed more lies, and you will get caught at some point. shit will go down, to borrow from street speak.
do not attach a false picture of yourself, or your penis. though, sometimes, the penis is more attractive than any other part on your body including your face, and that's saying a lot as penises are pretty damn fugly.
do spell check/grammar check before sending a message. no one likes a dummy. except, well, dummies. similarly, "u wanna" "want 2 go 2 the" "wha's ^" "lol" and other atrocities will not be tolerated. if you are over the age of 21, that is no longer acceptable. nor is it cute.
more to be tacked on.
"during the date"
the napkin next to your plate is there for a reason. use it.
a fork is not to be held like a shovel, believe it or not.
if you talk with your mouth full and spew a piece of food at me, i will spew back. be warned.
i do not want to hear about your last four, or ten, girlfriends/wives/one night stands.
i do not want to hear your self inflated ego talking about how great you are -- unless you are truly great, as in a nobel or pulitzer prize winner.
i DO want to know you, flaws and all. just don't be a psychopath, please. i've had enough crazy in my coffee to last me several pots, or pots over several lifetimes.
again, much more to come. this is only the tip of the iceberg.
"after the date"
you may wait up to two days to call/write to say what a great time you had and make plans for another. any more than that is pushing the boundary towards apathetic, and no girl wants that. three days is okay, but not ideal, four days, forget about it.
pick up the damn phone! i'm a modern girl and know how to use my cell phone, but i will not make the first call. call me a traditionalist, but this is your move, guys. after that i will have no problem calling you, rest assured. guys who only communicate through email or text messages are either trying to play it too cool or simply don't care very much. neither of which is a good sign.
if you say, "i had fun; let's do this again", then fucking MEAN it. don't say it to "be nice" because lying through gritted teeth is never nice. niceness is a shoddy concept. it really doesn't exist. people can be kind, forgiving, accomodating, polite, generous, and other favorable adjectives that fit here, but not nice. nice is bland, it amounts to nothing. think of this the next time you utter those unforgivable words: "we should get together again" and have no intention of ever following through. that is misleading and altogether cruel rather than nice.
i need to stop now, but i will be back. and gone will be my cordial tone -- i'm fucking taking up arms and baby better watch his back. or any piece of exposed flesh. i am mad, and i am justified.
in talking with a friend, i found it irresistable and indeed mandatory to write a manual on good dating etiquette for modern times, and, necessarily, centered around my own views. in recent experience, i've found many men lacking in the etiquette department -- and by lacking, i mean they don't have any whatsoever.
i will probably come back and revise or make more eloquent some of the finer points detailed below.
but for now...
"before the date"
do not write a generic, run of the mill description of yourself and expect others to find you interesting. think of a compelling post title and an equally intriguing but not overwhelming description of who you are and what you wish to find in a date.
do not lie -- about your age, your height, your weight, your intelligence level, your sense of humor, your marital status, or your favorite bands. lies only breed more lies, and you will get caught at some point. shit will go down, to borrow from street speak.
do not attach a false picture of yourself, or your penis. though, sometimes, the penis is more attractive than any other part on your body including your face, and that's saying a lot as penises are pretty damn fugly.
do spell check/grammar check before sending a message. no one likes a dummy. except, well, dummies. similarly, "u wanna" "want 2 go 2 the" "wha's ^" "lol" and other atrocities will not be tolerated. if you are over the age of 21, that is no longer acceptable. nor is it cute.
more to be tacked on.
"during the date"
the napkin next to your plate is there for a reason. use it.
a fork is not to be held like a shovel, believe it or not.
if you talk with your mouth full and spew a piece of food at me, i will spew back. be warned.
i do not want to hear about your last four, or ten, girlfriends/wives/one night stands.
i do not want to hear your self inflated ego talking about how great you are -- unless you are truly great, as in a nobel or pulitzer prize winner.
i DO want to know you, flaws and all. just don't be a psychopath, please. i've had enough crazy in my coffee to last me several pots, or pots over several lifetimes.
again, much more to come. this is only the tip of the iceberg.
"after the date"
you may wait up to two days to call/write to say what a great time you had and make plans for another. any more than that is pushing the boundary towards apathetic, and no girl wants that. three days is okay, but not ideal, four days, forget about it.
pick up the damn phone! i'm a modern girl and know how to use my cell phone, but i will not make the first call. call me a traditionalist, but this is your move, guys. after that i will have no problem calling you, rest assured. guys who only communicate through email or text messages are either trying to play it too cool or simply don't care very much. neither of which is a good sign.
if you say, "i had fun; let's do this again", then fucking MEAN it. don't say it to "be nice" because lying through gritted teeth is never nice. niceness is a shoddy concept. it really doesn't exist. people can be kind, forgiving, accomodating, polite, generous, and other favorable adjectives that fit here, but not nice. nice is bland, it amounts to nothing. think of this the next time you utter those unforgivable words: "we should get together again" and have no intention of ever following through. that is misleading and altogether cruel rather than nice.
i need to stop now, but i will be back. and gone will be my cordial tone -- i'm fucking taking up arms and baby better watch his back. or any piece of exposed flesh. i am mad, and i am justified.
i have felt really unsettled by events of late. hurricane katrina's aftermath has been horrific and i am only a bystander or third party witness. i fight the urge to run away into pacific pastures, away from earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis, droughts, famine, disease, terrorist attacks, and the thoughts in my own head. be rid of everything, all earthly possessions and desires, and live as an ascetic. in combination with reading the book mentioned below, i feel a pernicious sense of meaningless for my puny existence. this should reinforce the "carpe diem" attitude logically, but anyhow has had the opposite effect on me: i find myself withering, shrinking back, trying to squeeze atoms out of my body and back out into the universe.
i also am quite desperate to find a guy to settle down with, even though it's somewhat ridiculous and i'm still young. i don't harbor any grand illusions of finding my soulmate (which is a silly notion regardless); i'd be content to find someone i'm attracted to, find intelligent, who is kind and caring, and believes the same of me. with that out of the way, it would be one less thing to worry about. any volunteers?
i also am quite desperate to find a guy to settle down with, even though it's somewhat ridiculous and i'm still young. i don't harbor any grand illusions of finding my soulmate (which is a silly notion regardless); i'd be content to find someone i'm attracted to, find intelligent, who is kind and caring, and believes the same of me. with that out of the way, it would be one less thing to worry about. any volunteers?
