don't stand so close to me

i'm reading an oddly awesome beautiful strange book called, and i do have a hard time remembering the title, 'extremely loud & incredibly close'
he writes like i want to and there are pictures and blank pages and it feels like the inside of my head at times. which can be a little disconcerting.
but.
i.
kind.
of.
like.
it.
sooooo.... there was a sentence that i stole from it. because this seems to be the theme for the last few years, no, pretty much my whole life. this is what i'm trying to learn...
'you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness'

and as much as i think i'm trying not to protect myself i am still protecting myself with a fierceness that defies all true love and lovingness.

sometimes i feel so on the edge of letting go, but then i don't want to fall apart. i use the excuse that i don't know the right thing to do, but that's just an excuse. so what if i make a mistake, it's not the end of the world, right? it might do me some good! exclamation point taken.

posty mcposterson

gads,
i have nothing to say. it's been like this all day. awkward.
ness.
nothing.
ness.
i guess i'll go back to the pro tools session i was working on.
for now.
so long.

Risk

By Ten Shekel Shirt

It all began with a risk...
Cause Your desire is for this

To be loved and to love
it's what everything is all about

I'm allowed to live to make the Maker smile
I vow to give the best years of my life

Life's meant to be like a kiss
Cause intimacy is bliss

To be loved and to love
it's what everything is all about

jesus time

"Prayer allows a place for me to bring my doubts and complaints--in sum, my ignorance--and subject them to the blinding light of a reality I cannot comprehend but can haltingly learn to trust. Prayer is personal, and my doubts take on a different cast as I get to know the Person to whom I bring them."

-- I can't remember where I read this, but it's oh so good.

realization

i graduate in nine weeks.
i'm scurrrrr d...

sans culottes

sans heart
sans love
sans dreams

sans hope?

there was a straining and pulling of the will
the impossible happened
it didn't work out as planned

alone, still alone

moved on
no explanations
no goodbye

just alone, still alone

was it just recreation
or merely sublimation
lose the will to die

alone, still alone

too late

i can't make up for lost blogs...
i've done a lot and seen a lot since last year. i don't know where to start.
we stayed at a sketchy motel in tijuana that would make a good horror film set. i worked on a couple of tv shows and an indie feature film, ndymovie.com
shot some stuff. finishing up my senior thesis film. graduating in september. missing my niece because i never spend time with anyone anymore.
missing camping and rafting and hiking. we have a whole month off school this summer. i'm going to cram in as much outside goodness as i can. come with me!
still a procrastinator. panicking at the last minute.
i finally had to watch pulp fiction - i had to analyze it for 'aesthetics in the digital realm' class. metacinema, neo noir, blah blah blah. it wasn't as bad as i thought it would be.
having roommate troubles, always. is it me?
tired of going to church. i'm thinking about trying imago again.
i need to pray. i feel like it's too late. still procrastinating. afraid of losing it. i know i have nothing worth holding onto anyway. why do we love our filth? i just want to be left alone, numb and useless. but not really. i just want to love and be loved. but it's too hard.

forcible compensation

i don't know what that means. i just know i hate being forced to write. i hate having to write. and people giving me due dates and it has to... i'm tired of thinking about it. i am tired of being a procrastinator. i'm tired of being tired and sad.

i want to quit everything - again. maybe it wouldn't be so bad if i felt like someone actually cared about me or what i do or don't do. i know i hide myself away, but i can't take anymore rejection. sometimes i wish i would just offer myself up as a sacrifice to be discarded to see if i could handle it or what would become of me.

i play the victim all too often. poor pitiful nothing.

i know the truth and i hide from it. if i don't look up maybe it won't see me. i'm afraid. i want to feel safe. somewhere. i'll hide under my covers and burrow my face in my pillows, but maybe there's spiders in there.

my head hurts from scrunching up my face. from trying not to cry. from crying. from wishing there was some human connection and not just desperate techno ramblings and searching for validation on the world wide web.

i sigh. heavily. and tell myself to get back to work. that is all i have for now. and the beastie boys in sounds from way out.

insouciance

i don't really have anything to say. i'm just trying to avoid editing the smithee project.
i need to go charge my phone and take my laundry over to heather's. maybe someday we will be able to do laundry at home. but not yet. we have a new roommate moving in, but i haven't seen her yet. i mean since she got a key and stuff. we'll need to have game night soon. maybe spring break?

this is the freaking boringest blog ever.
sorry.

N.E.R.D.

doesn't stand for anything. i was just trying to be a cool nerd... i like oxymorons. except when they are principled in an unprincipled manner. mostly i blog on myspace. why? because people refuse to use my email and send me messages on that blasted addicting site that i try to stay off of. but then someone sends me a message and i have to see what it is.
soooo i got all "a"'s this term... my art history teacher recommended that i become an art history tutor. i don't know what i would do. hit them on the head with the 12 pound textbook and say remember this!? i did get an a- in digi doc, but if i got a 4.0 what would i have to look forward to?

mouse hand

i'm pretty sure my hand will either fall off or become bionic. i'm getting mouse hand. i'm not as smart as erik and his wacom tablet use.
spring break started today at 9am. word!
now i just have to edit two weddings and find a place to live. and my brother came home from iraq today, but i won't see him till saturday.
senior shorts were tonight. and erik's music video...kudos.
there were a few things that i enjoyed.
i might make it out of last term with all a's - i know i have an a in production planning, i'm pretty sure i got a's in dvp and sound design and i'm hoping i get one in creative writing. that would be sweet...
in a little over a week i'm starting non-linear editing, sound mixing, art history, and digital documentary. what what!
time for bed

mr. pibb + red vines = crazy delicious

whoa! it's almost week four of my fifth term at aipd. i am a real pro now! i can laugh at all of the kids dragging the portfolios with stupid tiny wheels around the halls and being crushed in the elevator. i don't corrupt my files like i used to. i back things up, sometimes. people call my name when i enter a room. it's money, baby!
for all of my fans... here's my fall term schedule:

fundamentals of acting - sam hull
intro to editing - john campbell
intermediate camera and lighting - dan ackerman (dear friend lavalier is in this class, we rock!)
fundamentals of scriptwriting.

maybe that's why i'm busy?

facsimilie heart

precious temptation

i hold you in my heart

unattainable

captivated

you have me but i

can't have you

caught in this mess

this abyss

you are silent as i

pour out of my depths

and give you what is mine

what is dear.

uncomfortable

unsure

of what it's worth

unrequited

heard it before

same song different verse

sing the chorus backwards

i'll lie and say it doesn't hurt.

to be or not to.

"Are we live? Are we on?" The cameraman nodded sharply. "I’m Alexis Weaver from Channel 8 News and we are live from the front steps of the Braithwaite Corporation. This is breaking news. Stay tuned and we will have all of the up to the minute details for you." Alexis dropped her arm holding the expensive microphone. She pushed her way to the front door trying to get a better look at what was going on. She had to get a good angle on this story. Her future in the news business depended on it. In desperation she shoved her way through the melee. There was nothing to see. Not yet anyway. She ran back to her position, ready for the camera to roll. She gave the usual non-specific details to the anchor back at the station firing off questions at her. "Yes we are waiting for details, no we haven’t seen the person in question, yes you are a pompous idiot!" that’s what she felt like saying anyway.

The air came abuzz with the noise of the crowd. "Someone’s coming out!" came a shout from the top of the concrete steps. All of the reporters and photographers jockeyed for position. Alexis grabbed Al, her cameraman, and pushed as far to the front as she could get in the sea of humanity. The ruthless point of an elbow nearly knocked the wind out of her. She straightened, grim determination etched on her pretty features. This was her chance to prove herself. A man in a dark suit, his striped tie disheveled, pushed his way through the heavy glass doors. "We have no comment at this time." he said. Then he smiled and waved for the cameras as he hurriedly retreated and shut the mammoth doors behind him. A clamor of disappointment washed through the mob. Alexis was afraid of losing her ground, but her need for oxygen won out. She moved a few steps away from the teeming hot mass and inhaled fresh air as if she were getting ready for a deep-sea dive. Al asked her how she was doing and she produced a wan smile for his benefit. "I’ve been better. I wish we at least knew what all this craziness was about!" She had been listening intently to the hushed conversations swirling around her, but they all seemed about as clueless as she did.

After about forty-five minutes of standing around and intermittent bantering with the anchors at the station Alexis was about ready to throw in the towel job or no job. She had promised her niece that she would go to her schools play tonight and if something didn’t break soon she was going to be late or miss it altogether. She could feel her blood pressure rising and had to step away. She told Al to call her on her cell if he saw or heard any commotion, even the smallest stir. She walked around to the back of the building where the parking lot was and sat on the curb. She put her head between her knees and played with some loose gravel that was scattered on the cracked cement. She heard a door open, but held her position. A man’s voice interrupted her reverie, "Are you okay?" he said. Alexis looked up to see a man with a file box filled with picture frames and random office supplies. "Uh, yes. Thanks… Do you happen to know what all the commotion out front is about?" she said hopefully. The man grimaced. "Yeah, that’s why I’m headed out the back door." Alexis snatched her cell phone from her pocket and pressed the speed dial number for Al. "Al, I’m in the parking lot behind the building. Get over here now!" She slid her phone back into her pocket. "Hi, I’m Alexis Weaver from channel 8 news and it would mean a lot to me if you would let me interview you." The man looked like he was about to bolt as Al rounded the corner with his camera gear. He hesitated, " I guess… well, I’m fired so what can they do to me now?"

"This is Alexis Weaver from Channel 8 News and we are live from the back parking lot of the Braithwaite Corporation. I’m interviewing Paul Jones who was terminated just one hour ago for eating two pieces of pizza."

story time, again

He was a young boy from the trailer park about twelve or thirty. He had to grow up too fast anyway just to survive. His parents didn’t usually know where he was because they didn’t care.
He used to take his dad’s guns out for target practice in the woods behind the park. The guns made him feel powerful. One time when he was back there blowing beer cans to smithereens he almost got caught by the owner of the trailer park.
He was a mean old cuss. He lived in a big house down the road around a corner so that he wouldn’t have to see the crooked rows of dilapidated singlewides. He had a boy that was about the same age as the gunslinger from the trailer park. At least the same age in numbers. He had everything he could ask for and more.
It was a Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on any other day either. His dad remembered to lock the gun cabinet last time he used it, but forgot to put the pistol away before he did. But there was no ammo; there would be no smell of gunpowder today. No feel of hot steel burning his palms. He would have to imagine that he was blowing his enemies to small bits.
The boy who had everything just got a little more than everything. His dad gave him a brand new BMX bike for his birthday. The kind that had pegs and shocks and all that stuff the tricked out bikes were guaranteed to have. One of his favorite things to do was to flaunt his good fortune in the face of the park-rats. That’s what his family called the trailer park kids. It was Tuesday and seemed like as good a day as any other to show off his new bike.
The park-rat, expertly handling his dad’s pistol, was skulking through the brush near the river at the edge of the woods behind the trailer park spying on imaginary enemies. A real enemy came into range. He’s riding another new bike. He’s got another new expensive toy. As the shiny bike and moneyed rider came into close range the park-rat jumped out of the brush and aimed his pistol straight at the offender. He shouted at the boy to get off and hand over his bike. The boy did as he was commanded. The park-rat shoved him to the ground and took the beloved bike. He had never even touched anything so nice. Had never been so close to such perfection. He kept one hand on the glistening handlebars and one hand pointing the pistol at the boy on the ground. He got on the bike, cocked the pistol, and started riding away. He turned and pulled the trigger, there wasn’t any ammo in it anyway and he wanted to see the look on the rich boys face. That would be almost as good as having a brand new BMX bike. At least for a minute. A blast of smoke, the gun recoiled, the park-rat fell off of his stolen goods. The bullet just missed the crying boy’s head. The park-rat ran and threw his dad’s pistol into the river and wondered if he could make it to Mexico.

alternate correspondance...

i was thinking about randomness, because i love it, it's like - well i was going to say a favorite cousin, but really i like it better than my favorite cousin so that doesn't really work (don't worry i don't really have a favorite cousin.) but anyway i was thinking that sometimes i feel as though i'm calculating in my randomness and so does that negate the randomness or does that make me clever for masking the fact that i have "gentrified" ,if you will, or branded the randomness? it's almost like a skill that i have nurtured. that's what the doctors told me to say. they say people get a little skittish when you say schizophrenia...
m'kay. weird. i know.

i know, i know - you've all missed me!

so i'm sitting here digitizing footage of a bunch of girls getting pedicures the night before my roomates wedding and i thought i could write a little note to let you all know that i am still alive. and i just got a new 250G external hard drive formatted just for mac and i am so excited!

top five childhood memories, or at least five memories that i remember

i am attemping to make good on the taggedness brought on by mr. laaavvvaaalllleeer. i think that's how its spelled. or maybe its two "l's." anyhow forgive me if the links don't work and if my memories are boring or my shoes smell bad. sometimes they do.

If you don't follow the rules, it's over.

Rules:
Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs.

1. crashmebabyonemoretime
2. emtotheizo
3. reesarick
4. lavalier
5. gretaseacat

5 things that I miss from childhood

1. riding big wheels down the sidewalk and then bicycles and playing CHiPS and arguing over who got to be bonnie because there was two girls in the bicycle gang.

2. my lincoln logs. they were the best toy ever.

3. going to the beach with the swensons, going to the beach with youth group, going to the beach with my family, going to the beach with my invisible friend.

4. one more thing about the beach... family camp at ft. stevens. i miss that a lot.

5. lots of broken wooden spoons... oh wait, i don't miss that. or the being grounded for half of my life. i do miss not having to pay bills and find places to live and not having to work. can someone adopt me, please?!


NEXT UP...


leela
janaki
adam
du-reet

honk if you're elvis

i had to write a poem in 10 minutes that rhymed and had 10 lines about shoes in class yesterday.
please don't be mad at me for posting it. i kind of think it's funny kind of maybe or not. but i wrote it!

my blue shoes
they are not suede
if they were
i would have it made
the buckles aren't shiny
but the soles aren't worn
i haven't had them since the day i was born
the blue so bright
the blue so new
oh blue shoes i think i love you!

i won't post the non-restrictive poem because it's too good - you might cry