“A man who has committed a mistake and doesn’t correct it, is committing another mistake.”
we’re all taking the same steps.. they’re foolish now.
We’ve been had.. you say it’s over. Sometimes I’m just happy I’m older.
...Somehow it got easy to laugh out loud.
When the world is crashing down, I will throw it on my back for you..
When you’re paralyzed and bound, I’ll be waging war, my love.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map
You’ll stay alone forever if you wait for the right time—what are you hoping for? I’m here and now; I’m ready, holding on tight; don’t give away the end—the one thing that stays mine.
The song’s been cited before. But particular songs have a way of showing up on a random playlist when you’re ready to hear them; or at least you stop skipping through once you hear a right song.
ICWA thing tomorrow. Gilmore Girls is actually a damn cute show. it’s reaffirmed whenever i watch it. funny and sweet. however predictable. i’d thought i could eat all the sashimi. maybe i could have if i hadn’t also ordered the sesame chicken meal with rice and soup and sushi on top of it all. come to think of it, that meal (sans the sashimi boat—cuz that’s some $25) is a really good lunch special. it is. my computer’s not in my hands tonight. how sad. not terribly horribly sad. but noticeable. and notable. and unpreferable. i didn’t get chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream tonight. or any ice cream at all. i need a dress for the office party thing in a couple weeks… what to ramble on about first… needing a dress? or party thing upcoming.. or couple weeks coming up so quickly and then time to up and go far away…. much supposed to be done before going. much would be nice to be done before going. haven’t planned what i’ll do there. make it up along the way; the usual plan.. that whole retreat idea that was suggested a long time ago probably would have been very healthy for me. i knew that. why subject oneself to discomfort, however knowledgeable of the beneficial properties? unfortunately i’m much better at the offering advice than the living it. what a common trait. anything particularly to be needing and taking advice about lately? nothing drastic. or dramatic. just the usual, underlying, constant and persisting basics of character and habit. well aware. it’s good when the sun’s out. when i can feel warmth. at the moment, feeling cold. not cold cold. but i know my feet and toes are cold, even though i’m wearing socks, and this leather jacket i’m wearing isn’t convincing me that my back isn’t cold… and all day i’ve avoided the cozy feeling of my bed and blankets because i’ve been fully dreading that sensation (however brief) of the cold blankets and bed touching me all over…. i know they heat up with my body warmth… eventually… but eventually is entirely too long to be extra colder than i already i am. oy. have i been complaining a lot lately? seems like it a bit… which is a bit disconcerting becuase i’m not feeling unhappy… maybe slightly uncomfortable with the cold and stuff… but not freezing nor unhealthy, nor particularly irked or stressed. if i am disturbed at all then, what is it by? is it distress or is it restlessness? if it’s restlessness, is it from wanting to move or from expectation of something to move and anticipation of my own necessary reaction? all things are revealed in time. i’m intrigued by that sentiment. i’d like to lay out a whole bunch of sentiments and assertions and predictions and observations and discuss them with worthwhile persons. ‘wonder if i’ll get to that this winter. good things in good time. good gracious my mother’s birthday is coming up. and then bahbe’s. and christmas and i’ll already be gone.. and for Kong-Kong.. ooh i’m going to get to spend time with my cousins (some of them) and uncles and aunts… ‘wonder if i’ve grown out of (rather, if they’ve grown out of) the Alicson-the-wild-American-one conception. i’ve always found it terribly ironic. i’m increasingly less offended by it though. Alicson the wild one. heh. how high on the list of “last things in the world Alicson would be called, ever”... but the words “zany” and “silly Asian girl” would’ve been way way up there too. i guess i have my moments. i think my phone’s beeping. that’s up on my bed. my cold bed. my cold bed with the blankets and pillows that do eventually warm up if i give them half a chance. sleeping with freshly clothes-dryer-tossed sheets… that’s the way to go. happy thoughts. tomorrow should be sunny. ..high of 49°F!? goodnight.
It often seems a shame to sleep, when I can dream just as well, awake.
The thoughts that I would take to bed with me always escape; my dreams are of things much different, yet I wake up to find them there again. Always there, always remembering me.
i have often forgotten lately, as if an early memory loss of sorts has found me: what i know, what i feel, who i am, what the world is, what it is to me, and who i am to him and them and him and her and them and him and me again. every now and again a moment finds me and i remember, and i know. are glimpses enough to see all the way through, or at least to make it to the same end? and of all the beautiful scenes and paths and lives, all of which may or may not be mine, in time, am i sure of these? am i content to pull the weight my way and know each choice was mine and made? to swim in choice or stand in will; which is more honest? which is real? if i am convincing enough, why should it matter if i feel something undefined, that could stay unrecognized? are the truest things ever, really?
i want to get back into writing mode.
you know, i never really loved writing. i.. well, it’s a bit complex/twisted, actually. of course i love writing… i’ve always written.. i’ve most always kept notebooks around me and composed and kept journal entries.. a language developed so i could keep up my writting habit with safetyand open secrecy.. writing works as an outlet, as a record keeper, as communication, as display. it can be a chore, it can be magic.
i’m not even describing writing’s place in history.. the fact the invention of written record defines our lifestyles in most every way. that’s all beside the point in this discussion.
i guess it’s not really a discussion though. i’m writing and no one’s here and people may read but doesn’t mean they’ll write back.. so it could be a discussion if a dialogue begins it, but until then it’s just an entry.. and at this point, it’s rather a ramble.
and if the ramble’s begun, it’s on a roll to continue. when was the last time i had a good ramble? probably not long ago.. but no reason to kick the habit now. i said i wanted to get back into writing mode, right? what does that mean? who knows. i don’t know. but if writing’s what i wanted to do, then rambling is a perfect means towards that end.
the key to having something written is to write it. if you get stuck, then just write something else. write until what you were looking for reveals itself. aha. maybe that’s what i’m to write about; that’s what ‘Operation: Writing Mode’ is about.. maybe. i really didn’t have a definition at the start of this. i wanted to write something and so i began… and in five paragraphs i’ve found the/a goal.
beautiful. okay. so this is my plan, anyway… writing. writing writing. as if designing and scribbling and planning hadn’t been enough. missing something. a constant outlet. a habit neglected. goodness this is a ramble.
i’d like to set my own record right now for ramblingest ramble about writing (i’m sure i’ve done something like this before), but it really is way past my preferred bedtime now (how times have changed) so i’m going to wrap this up.
but i’m glad for this exercise and i hope i’ll get better about it. weird and choppy, but masterpieces are allowed to begin this way.
every step remains and more and more
and each to climb
but none inclined
and more and more is slipped and left
and left behind
round and round and down and down
and no one’s hand but mine
i’m up late again. i don’t think i should be… i was sitting here a little bit and wondering what kind of mood i’m in. i’m not sure.
Twain seems rather unhappy today. really unhappy. won’t even pretend to fight with Rhine and Abra. Those two, on the other hand, are all over the place. Maybe they ate all of Twain’s energy.
What kind of mood am i in?
i suppose this is the type of thing that i might be able to contemplate—or at least fall asleep doing so—from the blankety-goodness of my bed. and that would be the healthy and sensible thing to be doing anyway..
old habits die really hard. or not at all.
Abra’s soooo awake today. And Rhine keeps wanting to start something. maybe Twain will be okay tomorrow. He was the wellest of them all, for the whole beginning, and til now.
things change/fluctuate/rise and decline.
heh. it occurs to me that this might be one of those types of entries i was talking about earlier today in an email… where it seems like there’s absolutely no substance or information, and it seems entirely pointless to have written and as if there were nothing to have written of anyway. but then months/years/whenever later, when i come back across this, i’ll realize it does reveal something about my character/personality/thinking-style… and very much does it reveal my mood, after all.
good enough for me. goodnight.
I’m back from my walk with Dad.
I began this post as a reply back to Mark’s comment from the previous entry, but it turned out considerably more rambly than i’d expected.
While reading Mark’s reply I ate a yummy apple that we picked up on the way home from Pennsylvania yesterday. Somehow, that feels relevant in a way.
Talking with my Dad always restores my general faith in the world. Not that I ever really give up.. but I do fume myself into a good bit of narrow-mindedness and carelessness. It’s usually pretty conscious and deliberate, but my father manages to convince me to be nicer and relax more, anyway.
I kind of said it earlier but I’ll say again: I love hearing good thoughts from good people.. and I love when people contemplate out loud—even often when I disagree with those contemplations. In this case, Mark, I thoroughly agree with what you’ve said.
I do often wish that I could take snapshots of my conversations with my father and share them with others.. that’s only partly because my Dad’s the most reasonable and intelligent man alive. More than anything it’s cuz very big and very small things, and very general and very specific things can get talked about openly and with serenity and passion, yet without offense.
However, if you ever were to hear a snapshot of a conversation between my father and I, much of it would be of my whining and bigoted accusations of certain groups and types of people and beliefs and practices.. Truthfully, it’s much more a talking style than my true beliefs. I can only talk so candidly and unabashedly with extremely few individuals..and that’s with trust in them that they know and trust me to be more reasonable than I often assert.
This has become a bit more of self-explanation than observation on today’s election results and the influencing factors and subsequent reactions.. Maybe it’s informative anyway.
One thing back on topic that I will say, is that I don’t think a 52-49% split or anything near that is ever a good thing for an organization. I realize that getting a two-thirds majority out of a country is pretty next to not-happening, but it’s pretty amazing (and somehow I feel that it’s not totally reasonable and not the most secure or best of situations) that everyone could accept a decision that a clear nearly-50% of the people firmly oppose.
My father reminds me that we were in Gettysburg yesterday. Our great great great great great (I tried calculating it out.. I think that’s about right) uncles fought and many died for this country in complete division. I guess today wasn’t so dramatic, in the greater scheme of things.
And the stars will keep shining and the trees will keep growing (until Bush completely kills our environment and atmosphere, anyway) and the results of this election may be of little interest to our grandchildren in history classes 40some years from now. But it does still matter.
it seems to me that a girl can better manage rejection or direct negative confrontation than she can being avoided/neglected/ignored. while a guy can better manage being avoided/neglected/ignored than he can being outright rejected or negatively confronted.
!
fine! ..but they really are pretty fish.
wait, i get to talk about them just a little bit first…
okay, i brought Twain in the big bowl up to my room today… seems he’s begun a little bit of a bubblenest too. :)
and Abra had been in the smallest bowl and it seemed to me that a) he’s slightly larger than Rhine, so maybe they should switch homes, and b) Abra’s current bowl was the dirties of the three so it was time for water-changing and cleaning. so i did both of those. Abra now seems tens more active and swimmy, and Rhine is up and about much too.
okay okay. that’s that on the fish.
i did finish Children of the Mind. maybe i should get back to Catcher in the Rye. maybe.
watched most of the season premiere of West Wing today. but i came in late, so a sukosh confus-ed. and i didn’t watch the second half of last season… twas depressing. used to be so good and on track. now it seems in every episode people are on their deathbeds or being blown up or losing their temper… it’s all so volatile.. which makes some sense for some of it.. but it all seems extra drama-fied. still educational tho, i guess. so many things to watch on Wednesdays!
ok, re: other things…
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i’m distracted now. well.. i dunno. thoughts are there but not stuff i want to write out here. that’s really the thing about this whole thing. but hey i can talk about the fish cuz… well.. i don’t think they’ll mind.
but if talking about family, or… people or my personal endeavors and random and focused thoughts…
in theory i love the idea of online journaling. really. really really.
but then there’s everything that really can’t be told the world over, or at least can’t be heard by certains..
doesn’t mean the whole thing stops.
after all, this recurring theme maybe be old and boring but it’s text and it’s in my space so no badness.
and always else.
listening to: Sun Yan Zi singing That I Would Be Good:
“that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all-knowing
that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you”
***
“i need not to need, or else a love of intuition—someone who reaches out to my weakness and won’t let go…”
...
glimpses are not enough. glimpses will never be enough.
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