open your eyes

“What if the magnificence of who we are was no longer held captive by the fear of decision? Between two choices, whichever choice you make will be the right one made. The path you are on, you cannot fall off no matter how hard you try. So call this the year of no mistakes. The year of the heavy sword, but stronger hands. The year where we are no longer stuck in the street but found somewhere between the asphalt and the moon. Inside a sheath of arrows turning itself into wind. 

-Anis Mojgani
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A golden oldie from way back in the day when I was first getting into music.

hum.

gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous

 The problem with being at the top of the mountain is you can only go down.  The view literally cannot get better for me right now… not without a total loss of control (but now I’m just being obscure).  I would tell anyone the details of my “troubled past” (as he calls it)  but I am so hesitant to put it out there on the internet.

Things are really freaking good and this just can’t last.  What kinda sorcery would let me be this happy forever?

the farthest thing from poison

half of moving on is knowing you will. Once the possibility exists in your mind, the rest is comparatively easy.  I believe in the impermanence of everything, especially sadness. It’s what’s kept me alive through the winters. Ice and ice and ice and ice, even snowblind I still believe in sun. I have a postal-service commitment to waking up every morning until I no longer have to force myself. Until the sun ignites my the fog in my veins.  Until my skies are cleared for takeoff.

Hope is knowing I will always always always achieve happiness again,  no matter the situation in the meantime.

My roommate’s birthday was this Saturday.  So here’s the most chill Chinese song that I have ever heard.http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/9ei1PUmDz98&source=uds

What Does the Fox Say?

I have to write a 4-6 page piece of nonfiction for my creative writing class.

Was thinking of doing a series of vignettes on my old people (working at a nursing home blah blah blah etc.) but she specified that there HAD TO BE A PLOT which kinda shoots that down.

Other option: write about my skeletons, write about going crazy.  (and have people know this about me.)  I made this mistake last year in poetry class, first poem had to be a personal poem.  She read mine in front of the whole class, and I understood  on a very deep level the word “mortification”.

I could write about Thailand but that just feels like bragging.

I could write about men.  But that is just too overdone.  And given current circumstances, also looks a lot like bragging.

meh.  Might just skip class Tuesday and stay home and hash it out.

speaking of being happy, speaking of men, speaking of beautiful moments that songs remind me about….

I know… you already know this one… but this blog is for me not for you.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of Ylvis, but you will have soon, so allow me to introduce you if you haven’t already met. One of the few songs that my roommate will dance to without being forced which marks it as a very worthy song indeed.

everything is up in the air crazy
watching things wide-eyed to see where they will land

anything I do changes everything, the whole course of things and I am a blindfolded child.  Lashing out at a rat-poison filled pinata.  What do I do?

standing at the edge of this abyss screaming

I DON’T KNOW.