feliz navidad

やり損←

となるのか
we will see

simple girls

i ought to do things make art create sick ass things photograph sunlight and beautiful profiles commit to my own art blog photoscape fim practice colors

why do i only feel this way at 3:42am

so you see, i said there's something about being tired and delusional with your brain crashing

how come i never feel this way when i have more energy

not that i ever have particularly any

but still i am inspired by people like stephany alves and adara and erika altosaar and all their painfully beautiful works

and still excite over music like passion pit and radiohead and tycho...

today was a good day...

saw good friends...

truly good friends...

i wish they went to school closer to me

i have some pocket money now, trying to decide whether to buy nail polish online or not...i'm so stingy i've calculated shippings costs and how many polishes i need to buy for it to be worth buying online rather than retail

my brain is crashing but i will keep typing until even my fingers get too tired...

i want to take pictures

film and all but i don't know why but it's hard for me to get into it

it appeals to me so, i have all the equipment but i'm never super into it... odd...

i just need a photo buddy i think, yep that's the cure

and i want to make art

so badly

but do i have any talent

that is the question

i don't know i guess i'll just find out

damn son

damn............

i don't really like today

i'm not in a very good mood right now
here's my rant that i can't dump on anyone

i hate that i'm sick and that my nose is stuffy and runny at the same time
i hate that i'm sleepy
i hate that my jaw is still sore and i can't eat real food
i hate that i don't have my own room to shut myself into and have the slightest bit of privacy
i hate that when i do something nice it backfires on me
i hate that i still have to take care of the most whiny, demanding two year old who is also sick
i hate that my mom went to eat out with her friends for me to take care of moody ren
i hate that ren screams and cries and is impatient with everything
i hate that ren never listens to anyone
i hate that ren can't play by himself and i always have to be with him
i hate that i have to ask my mom sweetly if i can hang out with my friends for a bit
i hate that my mom gets mad at me for my occasional hanging out with my friends anyway
i hate looking at facebook pictures of my friends being happy with their family/friends and thinking do they really deserve that
i hate that my feet are cold right now
i hate that i don't have insurance and can't drive
i hate that i don't have any time for myself
i hate that i don't know how to make myself feel better
i hate that it's only about the 5th day home and i already feel like i can't make it
i hate that home is not a respite for me
i hate that i can't cry right now
i hate that he won't do anything
i hate that she and he can't get along
i hate that she is sad
i hate that HE's so far away


i hate that my mind is going
i hate home
i hate this place where i have to be on my toes 24/7
i need someone to hold me and tell me everything will be okay
promise me everything will me okay
i hate that i don't have anyone to depend on to do that for me

do you still?

haha
yes.

but perhaps I glorify it and I want to believe in something I know might not be true.

buttercup

random girls asking for hair bands

art fucks my eyes and music fucks my ears

ART IS SEX IN MY EYES AND MUSIC IS SEX IN MY EARS

drawing people who do not want to be drawn

WHAT I WROTE THAT IN MY MOLESKIN WHOA
I NEED TO MAKE ART WOW.

i can see far from here

i have a question

there's something about being partially delusional and fucking tired
and listening to music like amy seeley and radiohead

and then browsing weird artwork
like, weird artwork

and then you feel like you're high
except not

and then you snap out of it like nothing happened
why is that?

2NE1

YABE！！！！！！！！

・・・・・・いぇーぶ

っておい！
違う。

やばい！！！！！
ああああああ
片思い来たー(・∀・)
と
か
ね←

digital wave

There are times when I turn my heart into stone. There seems to be no other way. And at times I fear myself, my capabilities, my loss of control over them. My view blurs: Is this how Insanity devours the soul? I feel myself slipping into the abyss of insanity. But no matter; the state of the mind is not of the question here. I needed focus. I sought peace.


Peace took the form of an ironic blessing. I stumbled upon a particular painting, a blend of warm colors gracing through the strokes, as if to preserve the painter's transient effervescence. My eyes were glazed by the work; all action halted around me. There was something so pure, so gentle and calming to the soul, and yet strikingly compelling... And without warning, Leo's genuine laughter seeped in through the crack under the door, and filled my ears. So much that it almost hurt. Tears stroked my burning cheeks.


If I were religious, would I call this salvation? Perhaps, but I coined it, essentially, an odd semblance of art: an endeavor that I believe to be truly all-embracing. I feel strongly that all factions of passionate expression falls under the umbrella of "art." I guard this with evasive justification.


I began to take more notice of the ubiquity of beauty. Often, it lurks among the more rudimentary objects within close reach. Note that I use the term "close" quite literally, even, as close as your clothing. Take, for instance, the gradient water marks left after washing a spot of paint off of a shirt. Why I felt the need to lunge for my camera and snap a few, I perhaps will never know.


We kid ourselves if we assume aesthetics as an intricate butterfly in a jar that you close the lid on and leave for display; aesthetic flows. At one second it rings so true that you can almost taste it, and then it's gone by the time you try to analyze its deeper meaning. But why should that matter if we have felt it with our soul?


Leo's presence has taught me to cherish it. An ideology I realized only quite recently: a vestige of the wabi-sabi principles of the Japanese culture that I was born and raised in. Odd coincidence, that this blends so effortlessly into the holistic health of the human spirit, which constitutes of not only corporeal, bodily health, but also of the more spiritual aspects of well being, and ultimately, the health of the mind.

randomly bolded and red letters? i don't know what you're talking about.

I feel too much and I am probably depressed.

"be myself"
right-o haha.
























.............................fuck, i don't know.

08 back bone

A few days ago I cut up a shirt and used childhood flame's tutorial for a pleasure principle copy shirt :) the result is quite nice, I think, contrary to my mom's opinion. hehe.

07 rose salve

I am completely and utterly in love with these shoes by no.6. Either of these will be mine.

04 fuck yeah photography

ALRIGHT WE'RE SHOOTING WE'RE STATING TOMORROW, YEAH?

As spring finally gave way to summer last year, my family and I went strawberry picking. It was one of the highest points in my life.

.....At least psychologically it was. 


I didn't know I could ever feel that good. 


Nothing seemed even potentially able to go wrong. 






Living never felt so fucking good.

I remember sitting on a bare part of the strawberry field, letting the sun kiss my cheekbones, the grass prickling gently against my calves. And smiling. Smiling, gently, like one of those things that you can't help but let turn your cheeks rosy and your entire skin radiant with love. Like one of those things that, you know you should be in denial of because life just can't be that good. Too good to be true, but can' t help but bask in the hope that maybe it's all true. Maybe it's all too real that, you just can't believe it. I thought maybe I could enjoy the moment, which perhaps is false and is too presumptuous for my own good. Why the fuck not?

Because I couldn't catch myself when I fell. I kept clawing at the lost hope. It's like drug addiction. Seeing things. Dreaming shit. Turning to escapist resorts.

I've still never worn the forest green polish on my nails. Except on my toes, but that doesn't count because they just looked black to me anyway from so far away.

So fucking far.

I think I loved you.

03 film grain

Today was not much of an eventful day. Spent most of it grazing the kitchen for something to eat, taking head shots of myself to submit to college, reading the nutrition textbook, and browsing my dad's film scans. Which was probably the highlight of the day. So I loaded a Pentax with Fujifilm 400. 50mm 1.7f lens. Let's see how this goes.

I've developed an unhealthy relationship with food. The problem is the guilt I feel when I eat something I "shouldn't," a habit of judging my food choices, or so my nutrition professor warns. "I don't judge people on what they eat!" she says with a pointed finger in the air. Well. Actually the problem is that I lack the drive to pursue some type of hobby, with a passion. I have loads of things I'd love to do, I just never get the rush of motivation I need to accomplish them. Apparently my threshold is quite high. Frankly, I blame my toddler brother and my family situation. It's difficult to openly enjoy an activity when my mother sighs bitterly at her exhausting maternal responsibilities. Maybe it's just my convenient excuse. I don't know, I suppose it could be both.

So one of those things is clothing, shoes, adorning myself with jewelry. Collectively "fashion," as many may agree, but I despite the term. It wraps up everything so easily and too plainly that I find myself wrinkling my nose at its every utterance. I feel like it's a lot more than can be squished into a seven-letter word. Something more fluid, I suppose. Yes, fluidity, like cascading drapery and graceful silhouettes.

Like art.

harman/kardon

(target lace top, denim shorts from japan, cathy jean wedges, f21 bag, kenneth cole watch, vintage rings)