Free Bird in Borrowed Nests

My mind is narrated these days, not unlike Guy Madden's "Brand Upon the Brain." A mysterious voice echoing the haunting utterings of the film's repeating lines: "Secretssss... secretsss!" And "The past... the past..."
Not gonna lie: it's fucking exhausting. (side note: I am slightly appalled to notice that spellcheck did not correct "gonna")

I entered 2009 with such purpose, such ambition, and even more direction than I've had in my entire adult life. So empowered. But, as I near my 25th birthday, I've felt a dwindling of my inside force. I've let my Id take control of me one too many times to feel in control and balanced, in so doing I've given certain others power over me, in my own mind.

I started the year such a free spirit, but I've sabataged my efforts by attempting to tether myself to someone or something I sometimes mistakingly feel I need. But the realization is, that would never make me happy, and instant gratification is just that: it only gratifies for that one tiny instant. It punches a hole inside of you that wasn't there before, and now the hole will ever grow, like a tear in a sofa cushion, and need to be filled unless you can transcend it. Only then can the hole self-mend.

I am restless, pacing, only in cages I've built myself.
But on the other hand, even a free spirit gets weary, and needs a place to land, a nest to crash into.
Now. Where was I?
Ah, yes. Moving on...

Vocabulary For My Continuum

Due to recent work projects involving much internet research, primarily through such sites as thefreedictionary.com and wikipedia, plus some definition-heavy book art by my mentor, I have become something of a vocabulary enthusiast. That's right, the joke about one being so nerdy he or she reads the dictionary for fun? Yes sir, I have been browsing the online dictionaries for entertainment. Well, infotainment... and inspiration.

Add to all of this that I have recently begun talking with an artist I admire who is also a psychoanalyst. Ever interested in psychology, sociology, anthropology and other people-related ologies, I have become increasingly sensitive to our delicate ties to one another, and the delicate threads that bind ourselves and our lives together.

Hating math, I nonetheless enjoy graphing things in certain ways. Pie charts, venn diagrams, continuums...
Implementing all of the above with my natural predisposition to overanalyze myself and my surroundings, I've come up with a continuum of vocabulary I feel holds relevance.

Address-->progress-->undress-->regress-->ingress-->aggress-->digress-->redress.

Sweet-Ass!

Oh, what? Coke doesn't make douches? Well you may want to inform the manufacturers of the cups at Pick-Up Stix. Last night, the coldest, rainiest of California nights, my crotch received a nice wash of the very cold, fizzy beverage thanks to flimsy lid and even flimsier paper cup. One minute I'm picking up my drink about to get out of the car, and the next minute I'm sitting hip deep in soda. Good thing I had a change of pants at my mom's house. Oh wait, I didn't. Talk about re-contextualizing the term sweet-ass.
Upon looking at my last post, I am wondering whether there may be some kind of container jinx on my life right now, because I'm seeing a theme...

Thoughts on Biodegradable Plastics

Biodegradeable plastics are a good thing, don't get me wrong. I'm all about creating things to better the earth and keeping our planet a nice home for all sentient beings.
But I do have one complaint. If my organic mineral liquid foundation is housed in a container of biodegradeable plastic, can it please wait to biodegrade until AFTER I am finished with it?

A Humbling Experience

It's amazing what kinds of wisdom you can learn on the street, if you are open. Or in this case, even if you aren't open. My good friend and I were taking the pup for a very long walk to the park. On our way back we were about to cross paths with a bum, who was walking in the opposite direction. Now for someone who believes herself to be full of compassion, I felt that very knee-jerk reaction that one gets upon crossing paths with a "less fortunate." That metal struggle of, do I look away? Do I smile then look away? Dare I make eye contact? Please, please don't ask me for anything. I don't have any money...

Right before, and actually during said internal conflict occured, Kim and I had been joking and smiling and laughing. It was a lovely day, after all. The bum smiled at us, and burst out something to the effect of he saw our smiles, or ourselves from a block back and wished he'd had sunglasses. "Beautiful!" He said, "Thank you for that!" and clasped his hands together and did a kind of funny little bow from the knees. I felt a humble little smile grow from the inside and find its way across my face and bowed back, equally awkwardly, "No thank you!" And we proceeded to pass each other with other little bows and head bobs.

The fellow was still babbling appreciative compliments at our backs as we kept walking, and I couldn't help but laugh at this impish, smiling man who made me smile and asked for nothing in return. I was instantly humbled. What can I give to others even when I feel I have very little for even myself? Can I at least offer a simple moment of recognition? A smile? a simple compliment?