College will be the death(rebirth) of me

When the smell of rot leaked out from between your teeth and the floorboards, i knew something was up.
"Sarah, believe me, i want you to be an artist"
there are wiry grey hairs sprouting from her scalp and covering her cataract eyes. I want to be taken seriously. I look down at my fingers and they are fat stumps, my cheeks are swelling and growing rosier. I am a child in her eyes.
"even though i may not understand all the time, i appreciate your passion and i think it's what you were born to do."
I want to curl up in the warmth. my head is swollen and my neck is weak. I have to support myself with my feeble arms. She looks down on me and her bones are showing, they never have before. One, Two, Three, three again? fuck.
"you can make it in the big city, i believe in you."
There is the sound of coffin-makers in the distance, banging the rich dark wood of her final home into the familiar shape that beckons the kiss of death. My arms and legs curl inward, my stomach sprouts the cord that gave me life, pulsing and blue.
"I know that this means a lot to you. and i know you don't care for money or a big house like i do. I just want you to know that this isn't a lucrative business and you have to know what you're getting yourself into."
She is stepping into the box, smoothing the satin inlay with her spider fingers and fixing her white dress over her knobby knees. I am bug eyed and tiny, i can no longer speak.
"besides, what does it matter? we are all just maggots and worms in the end."
she kisses me goodnight.

Paradigm Shift

For the first time in my life, i really am standing at a significant turning point. In two months, i apply to art school for college. In 5 months, i (hopefully) get in and make a down payment. I go to prom, i graduate, i go on The Great Trip to California with Jim and have the time of my life. In ten moths i leave this town, my family, Jim. I listen to the Strokes and think of him. I see an eagles jersey on the street and think of home. I will listen to music and cry alone in my twin sized bed where i'm sure many people have fucked and felt nothing. I will walk down dark alleys very late at night in the city and feel very afraid, or, i will hope for someone to come along and take my life as i've been to afraid to all those jaded times before. I'll see all my old favorite bands in new venues and feel the same way i did in Philly, or in my car, or in your arms when we sang to each other. I will have my house in the Pacific Northwest, it will smell of cedar and have a tin roof. I will be painting then too-- but i wonder if it'll still be your reflection i'll see in the strokes of wet paint. 

I wonder if i will ever bleach my hair like i want to. I wonder if i'll even be happy in the city during college, or if i should just follow you down south like i know a small part of each of us wishes. I wonder what will happen when i come home for summers and i drive by your house and someone else is waiting for you in the driveway. I wonder if my friends will ever forget the horrible things i did when i was young. I wonder if i will ever forget the people who have broken my heart in past years, or if they'll forever be reserved in the mini-hell i created for them. Is it possible that one day will be my last day in Philadelphia? will my favorite diner go bankrupt or my favorite book store get boarded up with the new wave of EBooks being just too irresistible?

 Will i ever hate art and what it's done to me? What i've done to myself???

Current Stat(us)

This month has brought upon me a paradigm shift.
If i have to write one more fucking college essay i will kill someone, literally. i feel like doing all this preliminary work to apply to schools I most likely won't make it into is a true test of my patience (which is wearing thin, for friends, parents, and especially myself.)
Please don't ever clean out your car. I love seeing little pieces of your life slapped into the backseat. its very poetic, if you can write it down in the right way.
New York City is very intimidating-- i cant do it by myself.
I'm so ready for you and what we have ahead of us. He makes me feel very alive, somewhere in between the sheets in his bed and our sweaty palms on car rides home, i found myself in the noise.
I get very dizzy when i think about you sinking down between my legs. I love the feeling of your hair and the smell of the crook of your neck.
"i was thinking about maybe applying to NYU"
Colleges are emailing me non stop and i cant help but feel as though its false flattery-- like most other things in my life.
except this, being your aforementioned girl.
train ride home from the city, i will try to tell you i will choke on fear
perfume of romance, tu-lip(s) petals jammed into my mouth and growing from bruised collars
10 months.
10 months.
i really like you too
$8 and 5 condoms because we didn't use the last few
Maybe college wont work out, i can come live at your house
you're all i need but i'm pretty sure my parents will never see, ah, let it be.
because you are water twelve feet deep and i am boots made of concrete
"is it weird that i really enjoyed that?"
10 months
colleges are asking for my permanence, but i left it all in the grooves of your vinyls and the space between your eyes.

"Girl Crushez" how my peer-goddesses got me through high school

When i first met Brigid, she was dating my older ( and totally rad) cousin, Ryan. I was ten. She was 15. She took me to flea markets and taught me how to shoot a camera. She was my first girl crush, i found myself ALWAYS asking Ryan to hang out. i must've been pretty fucking annoying to a 17 year old boy trying to score with his totally beautiful girl, but i didn't care. Brig made me feel welcome, even though i totally cramped her bohemian style with my pre-pubescent voice and lavender crocs. On my 14th birthday, she wrote me a note. i was heading into my freshman year of high school, and she wrote me a handwritten, 2 page long letter about how much high school fucking sucks; and she was right.

During my sophomore year, i had a long-distance admiration/obsession with another girl, Emily. she was a great artist, had the most beautiful hair, and always wore a Fleet Foxes crop top. I never spoke to her, or even met her, but i loved her anyway. i looked forward to seeing her everyday, i took the long route to class to see what great outfit she was wearing that day. i used to feel really weird about this secret admiration, but i came to realize, i wasn't alone. not only was i not alone, but I was the admiration of someone's eye too.

During my junior  year of highschool, i made a great friend, Bailey. we had absolutely nothing in common, but we made it work anyway. actually, its still pretty fucking weird that we're close. she'd talk to me about taylor swift and i'd talk about artists i was following but for some reason, things always still worked. She told me she thought i was the coolest thing, like somehow wearing Black Flag t shirts and reading Rookie Mag made me special or individual. It was a weird concept to grapple with, especially when i realized i was Bailey's Brigid, or Emily or Hazel Cills (another long-term girl crush).
At first, i was flattered. i think admiration from anyone your age is a pretty rad thing to receive every once in a while. But the more i thought about it- the more uncomfortable it made me. I was no where near as beautiful as Brigid, as graceful as Emily or as kick-ass as Hazel. I was--me; i ate pb&j sandwiches everyday and i read a lot of Jane Austen and built sets for my school musicals. I felt like a nobody, but on someone's eyes i was great, and you know what, that's pretty fucking cool.
As i started to come to terms with my new found follower, i realized that being admired wasn't the worst thing. i was scared because i had spent so much of my high school career hiding in the library, eating lunch with my English teacher, and i never thought people noticed me. I was also oddly intimidated by the comment, because all of the women i admired i thought were pseudo-goddesses, and i could never be on their "level", whatever that means.
As i've grown older and learned more and more about myself and my passions, I'm not nearly as insecure as i was. I've started zining, and blogging more actively and writing music. I still actively follow some of my old girl crushes on tumblr, twitter etc, and i even visit Brigid at college sometimes too. Growing into a femme fatale with other cool gals as my inspiration has been a really great experience and i highly recommend finding a totallllllly rad chick in your school or on the inter-web to fangirl to yourself over. and who knows, maybe one day you'll cross paths. Girl crushes are the fucking bomb, and you may even be someone's special long-distance gal. 

(Untitled)

there is no good way to begin an essay like this one. there is no good way to begin anything really, there is just a small (or sometimes, very large) bundle of feelings in someones' gut and they vomit up all of these thoughts and feelings and write about them on their blog or in their diary or on a wall in spray paint somewhere. i did not have a wall, any money for spray paint, or a diary. but i do have a blog. so here it is.
I don't want to feel like everything i do is less than valuable. i don't like feeling that my tiny speck of a life on this earth is trivial and banal and stupid and hollow. i want to make art and take photos and i have all these great ideas in my head and visions and words to say in meter but i don't know how. i want someone to brush my hair and braid it into cornrows even though it's much too short and there would be little pieces sticking out everywhere. i want that person to make art too, and read and eat junk food without feeling bad after and see their breath inside a tent on a fall morning. i miss feeling young. i feel so old and decrepit already and i'm only seventeen. i feel like my soul has aged so much faster than my body; that if i were to peel away my soft curves and full head of hair i'd be frail and riddled with spider veins. where has my youth gone? i think i lost it somewhere between my first diet and the last Nancy Drew novella. wait, no, fuck no, Nancy Drew are novels, they are dignified and right.
 i want to make art and make other people feel things.
i want someone to look at my photographs, and feel the same things i felt when i first saw Gustav Klimt's, The Kiss. that would make me valuable. that would make me happy. that would make my hair grow faster and back ache less when i'm on my period. i want someone to appreciate me. i want to be a virgin again. i want to get drunk and tell someone i love them and start crying in their arms. i want my best friend to call me up sometime, so i don't have to. i don't want to be in love. i want validity. i crave happiness and fulfillment and honesty. i want to live in a city with no money and only a jar of mustard and celery in the fridge. i miss the time where i was more than "what college will you be attending?" and "really... art as a major?". art is invaluable. people are invaluable.
i think artists are the most honest people, they paint and capture reality as they see it. everyone else just walks around and assumes that what they perceive is correct and just and true. i feel like being an artist i have a big responsibility to say something with my art. sometimes art is just... art. sometimes its meaningless and hollow like a lot of people in this world. and thats okay, i think, because if everything were heavy and large and round they'd be hard to swallow and lots of people would choke and die on their own self enlightenment. i think that's very much a reality for a lot of people. i very much believe that i am one of those people.

Medianeras "Buenos Aires in times of virtual love"

Medianeras, (Sidewalls) was a film about the unlikely romance of two neighbors brought together through technology, Where's Waldo books, and mannequins. Directed by Gustavo Taretto, the story of two damaged souls and their lives in Buenos Aires pulls at your heartstrings.
The film opens with scenes from Buenos Aires, narrated in Spanish by Martin, the young web designer in love with technology. Martin talks about the city, his apartment, the hierarchy that the city is built upon and how clearly it can be seen. Martin's only vice in the world is the internet, internet dating, online shopping, porn; he has been consumed by the almighty World Wide Web. Next door, Mariana is a young architect making ends meet by designing store front displays. In between cigarettes, Mariana searches her Where's Waldo book, desperate to solve the only puzzle that has evaded her since she was 14- the city.

Throughout the movie, you see parallels between the two and beg at the screen for them to meet. although it never happens until the end, the do chat online through an anonymous chatting service. Medianeras is kept interesting through not only the plot, but also the monologues, the attention to the city, cartoons, dynamic characters, and stories told by the two. The sweet, satisfying ending ties the film together perfectly with good feelings all around. this was my first Argentinian movie, the first of what i'm sure will be many more.

Blackfish

"A mesmerizing psychological thriller with a killer whale at its centre, Blackfish is the first film since Grizzly Man to show how nature can get revenge on man when pushed to its limits."

Blackfish opened my eyes to the inhumanities and atrocities of something I'd enjoyed my whole life; Sea World. When I was very young, my mother and father took me to Sea World to see Tilikum, the resident orca known for being a bright and happy whale with the cute floppy fin. Seeing him is one of my earliest memories; being blown away by the size and magic of such a whale was an experience that really can't be recreated. It sparked a lot of passion in me, and since then I've been infatuated with the sea, taking on surfing and scuba diving as I grew older. Blackfish raised the veil of magic I had enjoyed, and exposed the ugly truth behind whale entertainment and SeaWorld's concern for animal welfare.The film, directed and produced by Gabriela Cowperthwaite, focused on the life of Tilikum. The film begins with the capturing of baby Tilikum from the shores of Washington state. Taken from his pod as a baby, Tilikum lived his entire life as a 'show whale', first in a local aquarium and then SeaWorld, Florida. Interviews with trainers, managers and admirers of the whale slowly expose Tilikum's fall from grace, as one deadly incident after another become more and more of a problem for SeaWorld and it's image. As Tilikum transforms from a gebtle baby orca to a frustrated bull whale, SeaWorld kept the killings quiet, blaming trainers for the accidents, not the whale. SeaWorld shamelessly defended itself against the accusations the whale shows were unsafe to keep profits high. Blachfish exposed the scandal behind the whale attacks, and SeaWorld's concern for profit over the lives of trainers.The film was thought-provoking and eye opening. For a documentary style film it was longer, but kept interesting with varied topics and interviews. I recommend this to anyone with a passion for animal welfare or a love of the seas.