Like a piece of Bubblegum

sweet at first but doesn't last that long. (Jojo lyric from Boy Without A Heart)


So I'm on the east coast where I used to live with one of my best friends, it's surreal how time passes and then you fall back into place, it's quite beautiful. We came to PA where she went to school to spend NYE with her college friends and I'm excited but a bit nervous, I feel extremely colored (LOL, seriously though) and I'm hoping it's a fantastic time, I shall believe it will be. I think I'm feeling all thinky and shit because its that time (of course, take a trip, get the dot, which is stupid because It makes you more not urself and angry right? no i shan't believe that and will have a amazing time!!!) haha life. Missin love and shit, aching physically maybe a little in the head, wanting to be hugged every second (that's usually not me all the time), i dunno, periods can suck a dick. This post is laced with a bit of sarcastic depression with this melancholy fuck shit mood i'm in. I'm quite the eloquent speaker if you can't tell.


I wrote a lot on the plane ride over here that will prove that and will post those soon when we get back to her place where my computer is later this weekend. Anyways, I truly hope everyone's New Years is fantastic and spent the way each person wants to, hopefully with loved ones and peace of mind. I miss my Bey#8


Stay fierce and lovely.


-Sasha

A Duet with Groban

Merry Christmas!

      Do you want to know something funny?  Obviously, today is not a true celebration of the birth date of Jesus of Nazareth; I think most scholars agree that he was born sometime in April, most likely the 17th.  I know someone who I guess shares his birthday with Christ, and it's  unsettling if I think of it that way.  I want to think that Christ is better than that.

      I'm wearing this particular Sephora lipstick that is amazing!  I underestimated this tube of lipstick because it isn't typically the type of lipstick I do use--I like matte natural shades, mostly from Elizabeth Arden, MAC, and Revlon (surprisingly).  However, the holidays warrant more festive makeup and festive eating habits, and I have not been in any way, shape, or form an exception to this; I am gorging on my fair share of cookies and tamales, and the red lipstick guarantees that I complete these gluttonous tasks with the utmost style.  But this is also highly problematic because no one wants red smeared across the face (unless you're my step-niece, she's been begging me to smooch her so she can look like a rosy Rudolph).  This lipstick from the regular Sephora line does the job--I've been eating and drinking all day and I have yet the need for an application.  I would recommend it; I don't remember the exact shade, but it's a rosy, deep red with a cool tonality to it. 

      I just started some stencil work for my older brother and am thinking of selling him the finished piece--he got everyone gifts except me and my stepmom (but she specifically asked for none, and I'm a bit perplexed about why I am excluded; I hate when my brothers both get jealous of me) so I think it only reasonable to sell him my work.  Am I terrible? 

     

My mom is kind of terrible.  Every year, it's tradition for my little brother, mom, and I to visit one of the RV parks here in town; the old folks usually flock in from northern states and Canada to escape the cold, and they turn the entire park into a Winter Wonderland, complete with a plethora of lights, ornaments, music and real-life Santa Clauses!  I have a complex, a paranoia of sorts:  I cannot tolerate meeting people I don't know in a private setting.  It HAS to be in public because then I have a fear that they'll murder me and justify to the police that it was only self-defense in their home.  It's a set up.  So when my mother got off the car at a mobile home near the far end, knocked on the door, and then proceeded to gather up my little brother and I, I of course freaked.  Apparently, the old couple in there was willing to meet us for some strange reason.  They were Canadians.  The old man, Moe, made me stifle a laugh as he said, "Tell us a bit a-BOOT yourselves, eh?"  They were sweet, but I couldn't believe we were spending Christmas Eve with a strange, elderly couple from Toronto.  Life's full of syrupy maple leaves, eh?

"M", the guy I've been talking about, sent me a picture of himself with his twin brother wearing gaudy, terrible holiday sweaters.  I might have to take a hiatus from talking to him, that shit cray.  I love gaudy sweaters--I had at least three Cosby sweaters in high school!  But holiday sweaters, for whatever reason, make me twitch with disapproval. 

An interesting development:  I found out that my older brother suffers from an eating disorder!  Nobody noticed it but I am able to find out the causation for an action, and this has been years coming.  My brother works out, but still eats terribly--it's the stuff of legend, he's a terrible eater!  He can eat a LOT.  And he readily admits that he does, but he has no intentions of stopping.  He stays in shape by working out, but I also realized that he consumes inappropriate amounts of PRUNE JUICE.  He's obsessed with the stuff, and I never noticed the severity until I opened up the refrigerator to my dad's kitchen and saw three huge containers of prune juice; no one needs that much prune juice, ever (at least chilling in the fridge at the same time).  It also has inordinate amounts of potassium in one serving alone, and he gulps that shit down!  So, in a nutshell: my older brother binges.  He eats more than three people combined and flushes it out with prune juice.  He's in his early/mid-twenties, he doesn't need the assistance of prune juice, for Christ's sake!

Well, that's it for today.  I could write more about love and life, but I need to cool down on that aspect of my life...it's hard sometimes, but it's not entirely important.  I'm, in all honesty, bored here at home.  There's nothing to do except the daily rounds with family and a minute amount of friends that didn't alienate me with their betrayal, but whatever.

Speaking of which, I met up with six of best high school girlfriends for our annual holiday potluck and I forgot how much I missed those girls.  Sasha, you need to meet my Cloudy One.  I think you two are soul mates.

-Bey #8

A Backwards Attraction

Ah, how I hate this keyboard!

        It's the holiday season, and for students without job obligations that usually is code for going back home (wherever home may be).  

        It's interesting, even at an older age I still feel the aggravated effects of being a divorced child.  Last night was spent here at my dad's house, and tonight will be at my mom's.  It is such a compromise that I never seemed to get over because I feel like I have failed an obligation of sorts--to appease both parents equally; it will never happen fully, and it is a reality I have been unable to face since the age of four. 

         My hometown has been treating me decently--it is not at all the same as where I typically live, in the city; here, everyone talks to me in Spanish.  I am often bewildered--it is not at all something I remembered to happen so frequently.  I feel so dumb, and at the same time a slight conceit comes over me; no, I do not want to talk to you in Spanish, no matter how close we may be to the border.  I will succumb to it eventually, but it's disheartening.  I feel so disconnected because I guess I forgot how things work at home. 

        I have yet to start on some of my art.  I was going to work out, but it's drizzling.  Instead, I read and write.  I talk with my family, and that's the best part.  My father and I were talking about how things used to be when he was a child, and since I'm a filmy we discussed the different cinemas that existed in this area--he spoke about one in particular that was a hub for Mexican movie stars. The glamor! 

        I remember a couple of cinemas growing up--one in particular was structured very eerily; it was partitioned to keep separate the whites from the Mexicans.  They're all gone now (not the whites or Mexicans; I meant to say the theaters).  It breaks my heart, the shift from an art-appreciative culture to one that is fueled by fast-food stores and Cinemarks.  Someone, pass me the ipecac!  

        My dad even mentioned how across from one of the theaters was a Greek restaurant owned by a Greek family for whites only.  That made my stomach hurt; I know and don't know.  

Now, I guess we can address the title of this post.  

        Yesterday I received a text from someone I have been talking to--in fact, we have been talking for a while now.  Since before Thanksgiving, I believe.  It has been a short while, I suppose.  Either way, I am perplexed by the entire situation and I hate that this is a cycle that is constant and always happening!     

       Whenever I am least interested in relationships is when someone will come my way and things just...click.  

        I am, to be honest, a workaholic.  I put my work in front of many personal obligations.  I suppose it is a defense mechanism of sorts and men are not, in my experience, very used to it.  Every man I have ever dated has feigned acceptance with the line, "I love an ambitious, hard-working girl."  Actually, no, no you don't.  I could backtrack all the men that have said that and the narrative is always the same--at the end, they complain that I never make time for them and things dissolve.  Men, don't lie to yourselves.  I don't know, maybe I'm more work-oriented than any girl you have ever met, but it always seems to be the problem.  Always.  Always.  Always.  I'm also not a romantic.

Anyway, so that's the exposition, the set-up. 

     I was minding my own business and then this guy comes along--he is, to be honest, older.  I'm not in ageism, so it was not a problem for me or him.  It did not start romantically IN THE LEAST, but here we are again.  In his words, "I was sucked into your vortex and I have no intent of coming out of it."

        Make me barf.  Well, honesty can be the best policy.  I just feel so dishonest.  

I have someone in my bed every night and deep down I think he does too.  Despite everything, I'm trying to break free from my quotidian trends.  I visited a good friend of mine who dabbles in tarot readings and I asked her to practice on me.  We did a love reading, and it basically read that I am resigned to stay the same.  Only once did it read that I would meet someone older who would, despite the romance that would develop, somehow give me betterment in my work achievements.  And it happened that way, so I don't know.  I did not want to abide by what the readings said, so I took a leap and accepted a date invitation from "M."  The worst part was that it was the best date of my life--it was incandescently and utterly perfect.  We met up once more before I had to come back home, and I am trying to distance myself from him.  Things have yet to get physical, but I know that it will surely come if I let it.  But the anticipation of seeing each other is annoying me.  I told him I put high priority on my work and he told me, "that's sexy and sexy doesn't faze me."  Once again, hand me the ipecac.  

        I did an animation for a class of mine, and sent him the link.  He called me and told me, "I have to let you know...I watch this video almost constantly.  Knowing that it's yours makes me smile."  I appreciated the comment, but at the same time that video is crazy and I don't know what that says about him.  

        I'm at a war with myself.  Maybe I should re-read The Art of War.

-Bey #8

 

Little Mary is Badd

One of my alllll time favorite songs. ohoooooo break it down, break it down

Oy Oy

To never fuck nobody without tellin' me. 

last night was mad real.

remember when people used to say "thats mad ___" for everything? On the east coast at least.

Welcome to our brains. Virginia Wolfe once said "The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages." Fuck all that. This is breaking free. everyday we are bogged down by perceptions, titles, and bullshit to live up to- it's exhausting and it's fake. I say this as I contemplate how to put my thoughts into words that don't fit something or don't sound cliche, but suck off. 

I'm happy to live in an age where many people are breaking into a bit of rebellion, where we share our opinions, and we are finding people to connect with in mutual realms. 

My alias name is Sasha, perhaps I'll reveal later, it's hard to say (I share some trust issues).

Music is energy, I'll talk about it a lot. 

I am nervous excited to share my thoughts with whoever decides to look at this.

I smile too much. And thats the way, uh huh uh huh, i like it.

Always keep your inner child.

I like to learn about you, and this is a place i'll try to be completely me.

I Have Become the Villian in the Story I Have Written

I'm too disheartened to really write much, but think about it.


  I always feel like the bad guy in my own narrative!  Maybe that's Hollywood's way of making us feel inferior and dirty, a means to drive the star vehicle even faster and more ferociously.  If we can't rely on ourselves, then SURELY we can rely on the characters on-screen!  


Anyway, I'm done with finals and now have a lot of things to mull over.
  I wish I was open enough to divulge even a slight amount of my personal life, but that's my issue with privacy.  Although no one is reading this, the fact that it is floating around in cyberspace means that perhaps one day a girl in Argentina might laugh at my obscenities. Or maybe not. 


 My ontology about the internet is muddled in my own insecurities.  I am the mud at the bottom of the internet's new Jimmy Choos.  Shame on me!


I don't know what to say.




On the flipside, so far As in my classes--woo-hoo!  I'm doubting I'll have anymore, but I'm content where I am.


 I put so much importance on my work that I often forget to include my loved ones in my successes.


Hmm.


-Bey #8





Here's an interesting read:


Style Icons: Then and Now (Stylelist.com)

http://www.stylelist.com/2011/12/12/style-icons-then-and-now-_n_1137813.html#s533386&title=Audrey_Hepburn_In

Sitting Here, Doing Nothing But Aging

Ain't it the truth?

Classes are over.  I looked over my past entry and reminded me of a mind that was far sharper than the one reading it; it's a deplorable thought, thinking that my mind is deteriorating.  With every mistake, I'm surely failing to learn.  

My life is fine.

  It's rather good, but I'm extremely poor and my mind is always turned on to the wrong channel.  My mind wants to watch aimless thoughts come into fruition, but my body wants to munch on a 5-layer burrito from Taco Bell.  It's all a metaphor, but it's truer to life than my own existence.  In a sense, the things that are extant are less convincing than the abstractions of the cranium.  

I'm serious!  It's like knowing you're pretty trashed after the 14th drink, but still taking suicide shots anyway.  I don't think it's any pressure from anyone that makes us do that, I believe it's wanting to get away from life, no matter how good it may be.  

I'm resigned to stay the same, and that's the truth.  I wish I could say, "OMG, my life rocks!"  But I haven't the heart to.  I like thinking about things.  I like understanding that blind bliss is the weakest position anyone can put themselves in.  We often times forget about the banana peel ahead--we eventually tumble to the ground, and only then do we realize that we've been in a monkey cage at the zoo our entire life.  I want to know that the peel is there, and I want to find a way out of the cage.  

I know it all may seem pretentious and overreaching for some sort of intellectual enlightenment, but without that I'm doomed to stay the same.  I don't know why I'm trying to tear from what I am, but I want to be a better person.


-Bey #8

Murch

So never fuck nobody without telling me.

Don't let your consciousness get the best of you--that's my first piece of advice, and I'm the biggest hypocrite you'll ever acquaint yourself with.

Acquaintances never last.

My moniker is Bey, but that's as real as it gets.  But reality is a superimposition, what exactly do we know?

I've learned a lot, but learning is only a reminder of how stupid we are by nature.  Don't let my pessimistic ramblings dissuade you, I'm actually very optimistic.

The title is indicative of life--life is full of interceptions of all kinds.  Does anybody remember that Scorcese movie, "After Hours"?  The main character, Paul, is unable to make back home all night because of interceptions.  I related completely because that's my every single day.  I always feel like I'm unable to make it home, and that's all we all ever want; to find that familiarity, that safe haven.

 Where is my safe haven?  That's what I'm looking for.

Before we start, I have to make a disclaimer:

I'm a Gemini, Judy Garland style.  I don't give a crap if you don't 'believe' in astrology--it's pertinent to the philosophical/religious identities of tons of civilizations, so don't let your own ethnocentricities get in the way of understanding the world.

Anyway, what I meant to say is that I'm two-faced.  I can be a very, very good person.  But, I'm also a terrible human being.

-Bey #8