what you will find.

Please take the skin off my body, it doesn't need to be there. Pull and cut and burn and then, be happy for me to be raw and bleeding. Pull off each finger, short and not slim, chewed already to the cuticle, to the bone, to the marrow and then, be happy for me, I cannot call out. Pull fire to my elbows, smell the burning flesh and then, be happy for me to lose the receptors, though of course they were never created in me at all. Pull a rusty nail to my ankle and dig, scar, tear open the scars, repeat and then, be happy for me I was of course not perfect as you say. Pull a crowbar on my rib cage and open me up, let my organs flow out, bright red, grey, warm, alive and then, be happy for me, the blood in my eyes and mind keeps me warm.

I say that you can have these things because they are just things to me, everyone knows that. You know that. You will give them to you today tomorrow and yesterday. You pick up my heart, and it isn't the same as anything you've beheld before. Your smile fades and confusion sets in. You compare it with the parts of hearts you keep in your pocket. It isn't the same as those beautiful fractions you've taken from others, no. My heart is different. I am different. Compare it to your own, if you like. I know you want them to be the same, and we both know they can't be. My heart has the color of coals burning at the Pit of the deepest end, of eyes at midnight in a quiet alley. In your hands it feels icy and sharp, like a diamond of the sky. Cry out in disgust, burn me for it's obscenity, and for my part in making it that way. You've taken my skin, my fingers, my elbows and ankles, and then, the organs from my chest. But you can't take a piece of my heart. And sometimes I wish you could. Please be happy for me, though I know it will be hard. If you need to be angry, I understand that too well, better.

The Hours

Is there a distinction between living and staying alive? Maybe staying alive is the act of persisting for others. And living is only for you. But god says, Good says, to live for others. But staying alive in a breath sounds tormenting. How can you live for others when all they really want is to see you happy? Is happy breathing even so it hurts to?

And men. Is it possible that men and women aren't made of the same material? Did woman come from man? As in the bible? As in the Stories? His mind doesn't have any idea what comes into her's. Is the first man and Woman the same story? He couldn't have known even then because he doesn't now.

I think perhaps my favorite character is Sally. Because she does understand. Because she is of course a She. And only half of us can. Can it really even be an us? Different material and all?

I'm the hero of the story, don't need to be saved

I am me.. and i won't change for anyone.

Food & Beverages
The best dish? something with eggplant, asparagus, onion, spicy, and.. a filler.. rice?
Best dessert? vegan dessert section at Whole Foods!
Best Beverage? diet coke with grenadene
Best alcoholic beverage? whiskey on the rocks
Do you use butter on your bread? absolutely not.
Pick & mix candy or finished bags? pick and mix!
Best soup? homemade.. spicy being the only stipulation
Favorite ice cream? lemon sorbet

Shopping Habits
How much do you shop for each month? I'm poor. $10 average?
Do you have more shoes than clothes? I wish! In general, my lack of shoes ruin my outfit. (and not in the cute, going barefoot sense)
Favorite garment? currently, my faux fur vest.
Favorite color on clothes? based on everything I own: grey and black. in my dream world: deep red, olive, and mustard.
Favorite hairstyle? wild, curly, natural, obnoxious. current dream: long and blonde
Best pattern? lace. is that a pattern?
Best accessory? pearls (fake, of course.)
Garments you hate? "material" ripped from an innocent animal.

Work & Education
Do you work or study? most of my life is dedicated to study, but am currently a full timer at my research lab :)
What do you want to be wen you grow up? a doctor
Do you enjoy your job/education? I love love love my job. my education? sucks. most of the time. it's hard. I only wish I would be happy doing anything else. I would drop out in a heartbeat.
Is salary more important? I want to be a doctor, so it is nearly impossible to convince people otherwise, but I really don't care about salary at all. I'm a hippie-wannabe.

Random
Do you have children? I wish.
Is infidelity okay? yes. but I also don't believe in marriage.. so..
Do you love someone? my family and friends.
Does the family mean much to you? everything. family. means. everything.
Best climate? I love this question. rain and 60 degrees (Seattle)
Home party or pub? I am.. 19. so home party.. but I'm inexperienced.

uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe

I'm basically just trying my best not to panic at this point. I've uncovered a reality about life (I mean, what else is new..) That's just it! I just stunned myself after writing the words out loud! The reality I discovered is that nothing IS new! I just woke up to the tune that someone else woke up to yesterday. And I just had the same thought that someone across the world had last week. And my stomach made the same noise that my great great great aunt's made last century! Nothing is different! What's the point anyways?

I apologize. Truth: I go through an existential crisis at least once a month. Today's trigger: The X-Files, season 6, episode: Field Trip. I tried to find something to capture the magic on youtube, but of course nothing could. Or tried. Although there was a Scully/Moulder tribute to Death Cab's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," but if you don't watch the show, you probably wouldn't understand the genius there.


Anyways.

Scully struggles a bit with existentialism when she's high on 'shrooms (context, I realize, but really.) I identified strongly with it. I mean, what am I doing here? The same thing over and over again. And when the very very very annoying girls talk in my English class about eating peanut butter with everything. And the weird combinations they've heard or tried. Honey. Mac and Cheese. Root beer floats. Who the fuck cares? I am being critical, yes. But I feel I can because I have had the conversation before. And so have they. Like a million times. And yet they have it again. So maybe it isn't peanut butter. So maybe it isn't food. It's still all the fucking same.

Is this what depression is? I find nothing interesting. Nothing is new. I feel indifferent. Towards everything. Everyone. I have no desire to speak to anyone. To do anything. To study anything. To be anywhere. Because I've done everything. I don't want to pretend to be excited about a conversation I've had a million times before. BEcause they are all the same. The only thought I believe to be truly genuine to me is the this rambling of thoughts. Because now I can't possibly imagine how to continue to live. Because my entire life (now that I've came across this realization) will be fake. It has to be. Because I know in my heart that it's happened before. But if this thought is truly genuine, then it can't be genuine because someone must have had the thought before. And the human race still exists. So someone has not only realized this, but survived this. I can survive, right? I can forget that nothing in all the world matters.

I wish I could go back to yesterday when I thought about today and tomorrow like they hadn't already happened.

It was a simple time.

I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave

Run. Sunset. Home to E. River Rd to Lake St bridge to W. River Rd to Franklin Ave bridge to home. I feel as though I've been running consistently enough to be in shape at this point.. but I still walk. I don't really mind. Yeah, I'd rather prefer that I didn't have to. And maybe I don't have to, but I do. And I probably still will for another month or so. Really like, whatever. Sorry, the point: I got to the Lake st Bridge and walked because I always do. I usually turn off my ipod while I walk, to maybe hear myself think better, but today the song "Somewhere Only We Know," came on. I always associate this song with Grey's Anatomy Season.. 2 or so when it is still a good show and the love-square between Meredith and Derek and their associated others is lovely and sad. The song is about having one last "hurrah" or something in a relationship perhaps or more likely a love, at least this is what Grey's interpretation is. My heart spoke to me about religion, about my relationship with God. And, I felt at peace. And, I felt that the peace might make me jump off the bridge. And, it didn't make me afraid. I don't know what it means. I obviously didn't take it to mean enough to jump off the bridge. I took it more to mean that I shouldn't be afraid of a deeper devotion to my faith. I do have it, though I find ways to dismiss it. Anyways, that's all =) Here's Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know": I walked across an empty land / I knew the pathway like the back of my hand / I felt the earth beneath my feet / Sat by the river and it made me complete / Oh simple thing where have you gone / I'm getting old and I need something to rely on / So tell me when you're gonna let me in / I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin ... And if you have a minute why don't we go / Talk about it somewhere only we know? / This could be the end of everything / So why don't we go / Somewhere only we know?

the pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves

Yesterday I stepped outside for my run and quickly regretted bringing along my iPod: it was going to rain. The air was thick. It smelled like wet and cold and flowers and spring and happy. I love the rain more than any weather in all my experiences. Especially cold rain. Yes, on a day-to-day I need some sun, some heat (notice I didn't say do I ever need snow. hint. hint.) But a cold rain, or better yet the point right before it is going to rain when the air is thick and it smells something like what I imagine heaven to smell like. Or better yet when it is a relentless thunderstorm... just makes me internally happy like not many things can do. It never did rain. And I figured it was my fault because I had been stressed about my ipod. My roommate tells me I have something her psychology professor describes (I forget the name.. something about complex, compulsatory, control.. something) about thinking you have control over things you don't actually have control over. Like the weather. Or A-Rod dropping dead tonight.. But I anyways feel guilty for (maybe) denying the population of Minneapolis of the beauty that is precipitation.