unpublished, unedited. (06)

i want to swim. i want to bathe in sunlight. i want to read more often. i want to eat funnel cake for breakfast. i want to eat breakfast for dinner. i want to get lost in a book store. i want to smile at strangers. i want to sit in the grass and play scrabble. i want to watch foreign films without needing subtitles. i want to sew a dress while wearing nothing. i want to sleep naked. i want my room to be filled with sunlight. i want the sky to be cloudy. i want tea and sweaters to keep me warm. i want your body to keep me warm. i want to hear music everywhere. i want to wear a skirt everyday. i want to drive with bare feet. i want to see with my eyes closed. i want to settle and wander all at once. i want windblown hair that makes its own decision of what it sees fit. i want to fall in love in every city. i want to fall in love with every city. i want to rise before the sun. i want to sleep until the moon appears. i want to ride a bicycle through empty sidewalks. i want to be invisible and wander unseen. i want to be uninhibited. i want to exist in an environment without disturbing it. i want to make breakfast wearing only underwear. i want to own no makeup. i want to feel naked fully clothed. i want to feel music. i want the music to drown out my voice. i want my voice to drown out the music. i want to dance. i want to be submerged in a pile of books. i want to be submerged in bath water that never grows cold. i want another language to replace my own. i want to remain in love. i want to remain in bed with him an hour longer every morning. i want the sun roof open and the windows down. i want the sun in my eyes. i want an orgasm to last for days. i want my heart to race only for love and never for fear. i want to understand my own beauty without someone to translate it to me. i want to learn from literature and experience. i want to play in the snow and not lose the feeling in my fingers. i want a fireplace in every room. i want a movie to feel just as new as the first time i saw it. i want to revisit my childhood for one day. i want to simply want a shower, never need one. i want to my perception, reflection, and pictures to be the same.

(This was written on 6/13/09)

unpublished, unedited. (05)

i've been meaning to write, but on some days the state of mind i'm in does not permit it. on the days where i'm exhausted, i try not to write, because i begin to feel false feelings of stress and sadness caused by the lack of sleep.

however, i did just take a four hour nap, which has been way more than overdue.

lover and i move into our new place on friday, and i think i'm so excited that i have to force myself to not be excited, or else i'll start i will find it even more difficult to sleep at night! everyone else of course rolls their eyes in horror when i tell them we've chosen the 2nd story unit, but frankly, i'd rather be the one

(This was written on 5/27/09.)

unpublished, unedited. (04)

i hate to lie, but i had been asked to. throughout my explanation which seemed to last for hours, i began to wish that everyone simply told the truth. and as that thought began to manifest itself deeper, it was instantly cut off by the realization that the world would fall apart if the truth was ever told.

children would be moved to tears by the truth that there never was a santa claus, relationships founded upon lies would shatter, the line between criminals and politicians would be severely blurred. sheer panic would ensue upon revealing the truth of what the government has known all along about nuclear warfare, aliens, and september 11th. it would save the lives of many, but claim the lives of most.

(This was written on 4/22/09.)

unpublished, unedited. (03)

i feel very small when i venture out. i forget that there is a world outside of my window. at times i forget that anyone can even see me it all, so i sometimes think out loud and watch people as though they can't see me.

i've been awfully impatient since i haven't heard from my employer, if i can call them that. i never feel that it is official that i'm employed until i'm walking to my car after the first day. and then, once i get my paycheck.

(This was written on 10/29/08.)

unpublished, unedited. (02)

i'm discouraged by the way my mind deciphers fear. my mind is so conscious of dangers and disappointments. it will not let me pretend that the sinking feeling in my stomach does not exist. in the past week i've felt so many emotional extremes of happiness and sadness that i'm now almost entirely conscious of every thought i have. my mind doesn't wander very far, because i find it even when




(This was written on 7/16/08.)

unpublished, unedited. (01)

i suppose i suddenly imagined my struggles as a sea. while barely being able to stay afloat the water, i found fear in not knowing how soon i would tire from the waves moving me away from what i was pursuing. what could prevent me from drowning in such a beautiful thing? in the midst of fighting to survive, the rules had suddenly changed. just as i was barely able to tread water any longer, i was suddenly asked to climb the sea.

-- an impossible thought. i would have to teach my mind to adjust to an idea that seems purely unthinkable. i'm being asked to survive, and i don't know how.

(This was written on 7/1/08.)

c’est la vie.

i want to talk about realistic writing expectations, and how i don’t have any. i bite off more than i can chew, or adversely find underwhelming writing tasks to pursue. i edit, re-edit, and edit again just to be able to type a paragraph now, and by the time i'm ready to publish, i feel drained. i need to come back down to earth.

which leads me to a very strange announcement: i decided i’m writing a book. i know that doesn’t seem to add up at all, does it? but i really am writing a book, and i am not going to get excited about it. i’m actually giddy about it, to be honest. but if i get excited, i’ll love it too much, and the love will rush it and smother it to death. i need to work slowly. i need to put all of my thoughts back together again. i have to relive so much of my life to write these pages. i cannot hold myself to expectations or deadlines. if this takes me years to write, then c’est la vie. it will simply be done whenever i finish it.

so maybe i shouldn’t call it a book? maybe i should call it a creative writing project. whatever it should be called, it’s happening. and it isn’t being typed either! it’s already begun in notebooks that are scattered around my room (which may prove to be a fatal mistake later). but it’s better to write on paper for now at least, because when i type, it’s too tempting to hit the backspace.

so what is the book about?

love.