The other day I was thinking about cycles. Cycles make up our entire lives. They are one of the few last connections we have to nature. I mean, we can change just about everything about ourselves and our lives and environments, but we can't stop the cycles. Why? Because cycles are important, imperative, the fabric that holds everything in the entire universe together. The sun, the moon, the tides, days, years, life and death, even cells go through a cycle. The breakage of a cycle is cancer at it's core. It's lethal. The allowance of something non stop, non abiding. I was in awe of it. Even my own body follows a natural cycle. It's weird to think it's something we don't control, it just happens. We can tweak it. But it still occurs. Our whole lives revolve around something beginning, happening, and ending. Nature is a strange and mysterious thing my friend and I couldn't help but wonder what it all means and why things all seem to behave in this way.. is it on purpose? or just a mere happenstance? I sure as hell will never know.
Besides letting my mind wander I've been watching the summer wind down and the heat rise up. My room look likes Afghanistan. Getting myself in awkward situations. You know. The usual. The last few weeks I've had some of the best conversations. I've just been on sensory overload and writing up a storm.. I don't know where it's coming from but I definitely am starting to feel my age settle in my bones. I want to stay young at heart but not stay in high school, which sometimes I feel like is the unfortunate setting around me. I just feel besides myself when people give me dirty looks at parties. I really don't get it. Le sigh. I wish I could get out of my head and make some connections. I miss college sometimes, if only for the fact that I was constantly around like minded people, and had something to do, and people all in one place, not spread out like all my friends are now. But I digress. People don't want to talk about this stuff anymore. Hell, no one reads this thing anyway.
I am I am I am
is ringing through my idle brain
synapses firing off again
and again and again and again
wishing I could stop it
no, begging it to halt
to join the brain dead ranks
the zombies that walk among us
yes zombies, but happy none the less
the rawness that I covet
the blindness that I seek
to be a part of them
not apart from them
this humming distance
has begun to shout
I am I am I am
therefore I think
which seems to be the rotting root
of all my petty problems
Application is in.
Check is sent.
Fingers are Crossed.
The more I research. The more excited I get. I really really really am working hard to manifest this move. I'm thankful for what I have. Loving life. And really really imagining myself walking into this new place, box in hand, and smiling through my exhaustion, because let's face it.. moving ain't fun.. specially since I haven't in four years. Accumulation is inevitable. But cleansing is required. So here's to hoping and praying and crossing everything I have.
I'll just paint my eyes real black
I'm serious as a heart attack
And paint my nails real red
and fix my hair like I have bed head
and then it will all be grand
your piano playing an upbeat hand
and all your cards will favor mine
and I'll have a real valentine
cause no one loves natural anymore
all they all want is a trashcan whore
with robotic limbs and porcelain thighs
who inside and out spits lies and more lies
god forbid we all have faults
and if you're not pretty
you better get out
yes if you're not pretty
skip the inside it's out
yes you better be pretty
or your life will be drought
so fucking be pretty
they scream and they shout.
So I broke down and paid a whole 4 dollars to finally get a chance to plunge into "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. I don't remember how I came across the title .. maybe I read a poem by her or something but it's been a book I've wanted for a while. I was hoping to get it before I left for Spain so I could read it there but alas, half.com had other plans for me.. which is fine because I got to read "The Sun Also Rises" and "The Devil wears Prada" both wildly different books while I was abroad. I've only read about a chapter so far but I could tell from the fist line that I am going to love this book.. "It was a queer, sultry, summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York"
Anyways! When I finally got home and opened the thing I was happily surprised to find a newspaper cut out of some kind of poem pasted two pages in with a butterfly sticker. It was in another language that was definitely not english, or german, or spanish, or french, or pretty much anything I could recognize. So I got to work, thinking me being the google master I am I would immediately find it in English. I spent probably 30 minutes trying to figure it out and all I got was that it was in Romanian.. so I translated it..
You go, my baby, back home
You go, my baby, back home,
the wide world, thick world,
but over roads n cross.
Roman you are, or' you go!
When his heart give n second,
when over world rains, pours,
when your bad or good,
you should not forget you were Romanian.
To go on the road honest and true
to your storms in the chest,
and you the ugly and deep,
and not to forget that you are a Romanian.
Earth is round and he n all find a goal.
How many are going, how many remain?
You never forget that you are Romanian.
Under waxes brass,
you have the Tora lumeo mother,
Danube and the Carpathians you,
and the parents, brothers and nephews,
And between all the sacred language!
The trees to be very,
you hills, you Cimpia, and you in the world,
Romania!
Running, flew you want to do,
in the wide world,
at yours, you young, wise, old
and not to forget that you are a Romanian!
It's a little rough but interesting none-the-less. Either way I'm wondering who put it in this particular book and why? Was it sold over and over again, each person just leaving it in there without a passing glance? Did the person who posted it and underlined things give it as a gift to somebody or was it a reminder for themselves? Does it pertain to the novel? Or is just a random place they stuck it until they could pull it out again to show somebody? Lots of crazy unanswered questions.. :/ hmmmppphhh
