H24703

evan steven wilson

looking up

Y11332

gengis khan

sweeper

warmth

L57141

a friendly face

a nation's pride

by heart

joseph gordon-levitt

ashumi and kim

Love Is...

Love is
in the moments we share,
with me here
and you there.

It's everywhere.
In our care
for ourselves and for each other,
for our father and for our mother.

It's in our hopes
and in our dreams,
and even though
it may not seem,

It's in our failures
and in our tragedies
through others' support
and through their sympathies.

And through the built
strength and character.
These are the experiences
that allow you to mature,

And allow you to relate
to others' problems,
and be there when they need you
to help them solve them.

Love is feeling sadness.
Love is feeling anger.
Love will make a person
that much stronger.

Love is feeling peaceful.
Love is feeling content.
Love allows a person
to fully experience every event.

Love is to exist,
and Love is to assist.
Love is to live,
and Love is to give.

Love is in our homes.
Love is in our beds.
Existing in our hearts,
and existing in our heads.

Love is friendship.
Love is equality.
Love is tolerance,
and Love is in the ability...

for You to be You
and Me to be Me.

Love is wisdom
taken from experience.
Love is knowledge
gained from resonance.

Love is in our connection
and in our reflection,
in the mirror or on the street,
even if we never meet.

Love is present
in any single moment.

Love in happiness.
Love in strife.
Love is Emotion.
Love is Life.

Love is to care,
and love is to share,
with me here
and you there.

joseph gordon-levitt

Rejection

Prelude:

It is always those tumultuous times which inspire one to write. But really, it is humorous because my whole life is definitely not one happy story. It's actually far from that: Across the world, across the galaxy, across the universe. Maybe too tumultuous makes you numb, or more likely, in denial. You don't want to go near that. Oh, no. You want to stay as far away from that issue as possible. If you were to dig deeper into that - or even to move a step closer - your whole world would fall to pieces. So instead, you focus on other, more trivial, but for some subconscious reasons, more stressful issues. A lesser stress to distract you from the major stress.

But because I don't want to indulge, contemplate, or even give a second thought about my real fear, I am going to focus this paper on one of those lesser fears. So minor in comparison, but sometimes it seems just as painful. I can dig real deep, pick at this scab until it bleeds. The other, on the other hand, is an explosive lodged inside of me. Pressure (or more so, ignorance) is the only thing preventing it from going off. If any slight movement is made, or if it is touched in any way, my heart would explode or collapse. So we'll steer clear from that issue.

Rejection:

"The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears."  - John Steinbeck, East of Eden

That nine letter word is not only feared by children, but by men and women alike.  It may be more hurtful to women because many do not take it lightly.  We dwell on it, and it leaves a permanent scar on our hearts that we can pick at, or that might flare up at any given point if irritated.  It could just be 'one of those days' that causes irritation, or worse, we might bump into an ex (assuming he was the one who broke up with us, of course).  And in today's online-social-networking society, it's even worse.  That scar can become inflamed without even a lift of our finger.  An ex's change of relationship status from 'single' to 'in a relationship' or even to just 'it's complicated', will bring us to tears, or at least have us walking with a heavier step.  And there's no way to avoid it.  You log on and bam: there it is staring you in the face.  I guess some online programs have made clever ways to avoid certain people, but they will still show up in a photo on the side of your homepage.  Hell, even exes who don't have an Internet persona will stillshow up looking smug with their new girlfriend in a photo.  It is a small world, especially when you confine it to a single website.  

It is just upsetting that now, not only do you have to worry about bumping into and ex in the physical world, but you have to worry about bumping into them in the cyber world.  And what are you supposed to do?  Deactivate your account?  Deactivate your life?  But then he might think that you are pathetic.  Six months after breaking up, and you're still hurt?  No.  You cannot take that option.  You cannot show him that you are weak.  You cannot surrender like that.  

But this paper isn't about online networking programs.  Although that is what inspired me to write it.  That dreadful ex (if you can call him that), that boy that I was never able to win over, who I was so, so grateful that he didn't have a facebook, recently made my nightmare come true and joined facebook and added me as a friend.  And what else was I to do but accept.  I do eventually want to be friends after all (if I can ever get over the rejection).  And I don't want to let him know that after half a year, I'm still bothered.  I want to seem strong and perfectly fine (as we all do).  But that brought me to my major dilemma.  How long do we have to keep trying to impress those who rejected us?

I am guilty of, after having accepted his friend request, going through my facebook photos and deleting the ones that were not so great.  I do want him to remember me fondly, right?  But, NO!  I shouldn't have to cater to that bullshit.  Who cares!  (I care.)  But I shouldn't!  (But I do.)  I stopped myself after deleting five photos and forced myself to step away from the computer.  He spent a year with me.  If he didn't like me in that time, it's not like a polished facebook profile is going to change is mind.  (But maybe it will.  Maybe it will at least remind him of what he missed out on.)

Seriously though:  How long will this constant need or want to impress an ex go on?  I'm not sure, but judging how my mom suddenly got all perky and touchy-feely with my step dad when she met up with my real dad after 20 years of divorce, judging from that, something tells me it will be a while.  And... 20 years!?!...  it will be the rest of my life.

Now, don't get me wrong, sometimes this rejection can fuel and motivate women to do amazing things.  It can motivate them to travel, volunteer, and do all those things they've always wanted to do in their life.  And all it took to inspire them to take action was mixing rejection with the need for self-validation, and add a little vengeance and a little bit of 'This would show them!' mentality.  We often hate to admit that this component is there, and maybe it is just more of an afterthought- a "if he could only see me now!", delivered after the actions are taken, but either way, part of it is there.

I'm sure there's a way to break out of this.  To stop trying to impress them.  To stop trying to make them think that you are better off now then you were with them.  To let them see that you are only human.  The only solution I've thought of where I could find myself being OK with that dreaded ex, is to find someone equally good or better than him.  Sigh: but that's still trying to impress him or out do him.  Maybe there is no solution.  Maybe we just have to deal with this weakness of ours and accept it, like we have come to accept so many others.  Maybe, if you keep obsessing and fine tuning your online profile, maybe then you will earn the status of: "The one that got away."  Maybe.

Playlist

It'll all work out:

As I stepped out into the dark night,
the cold air drew my warm blood to the surface.
The clovers under my feet bent their stems temporarily
to bear my weight.

As frozen droplets of mist melted under my toes,
thousands of piercing diamond eyes peered at me through the black sky,
winking occasionally.

A deep breath in and a sigh of beauty exhaled.

I scanned the sky for the big dipper:
That giant spoon that is always trying to scoop up the north star.
Although he will never catch her,
he does help those less celestial beings locate that
always steady glowing presence.

And tonight,
they gave me my sense of direction.

As I my eyes traced from the dipper's edge
straight to the north star,
I turned and began my journey.

Sorry or Please:

My feet landed at a steady pace
to the beat of an imaginary drum.

The wind whipped through the trees,
whistling through the puckered leaves,
and crickets rubbed their wings to sing.

The night was playing its daily soundtrack.
The one mockingbird, getting to an early start,
was the star of the show.

As I took long strides, my hips swayed from side to side.
I warmed up as I walked
further and further away.
The circulation in my body flowed faster,
keeping up with my pace.

What began as a slow walk, crescendoed to a swift walk.
And then the swift walk took off
into a sprint. Soon,
I was running as fast as I could.

But the Regrets Are Killing Me:

Tears streamed from my eyes and streaked the side of my face.
Some flew off, while others made their way
into the crevices of my ears and into the abyss
of my black hair.

What was I running from?
From my thoughts?
From Death?
From Life?

Dirt collected in my toes,
huddled with broken pieces of various flora.

Mixed emotions filled my mind.
Fragments of memories every time I closed my eyes to wipe the tears.

My heart pounded and my breath was heavy,
but I kept running.

The north star had given me a sense of geographical direction, but why couldn't she direct my mind?
Go North thoughts!
Head towards a better place.

Or maybe it's West?
Just go in some linear direction!
Just move away from this!

We Would Fall Against the Tide:

And then I stopped.
My body could take no more.
Out of breath, I hunched over,
and my arms used my legs as support.

Now my eyes were pointed down at the ground
at my soiled feet.

My tears went strait to the earth.
I could not stop.
I continuously produced several drops of rain
for select square inches of grass.

My legs eventually billowed,
and I was soon on the cold ground.
The blades welcomed my skin with soft,
chilling touches,
while other weeds annoyingly poked at me,
trying as hard as they could to get me
to stand up.

But I was not moving.

Hopeless and confused,
I curled into myself.

Eventually, I ran out of tears.
The breathing calmed,
my heart slowed,
and all that was left
was a quite quivering of my lips:
from the cold or from the crying?
who could tell.

And there,
somewhere closer to the north pole,
balled up
with eyes swollen from the thousand of saline tears that had forced themselves out,
then and there...
I fell asleep accepting.

leaves

male model

zackary quinto

sam riley

model

hayden panettiere

roxy

An Ode to the Austin Elite

You were what you were.
A pile full of fashionable clothes
and the fake people who wore them.
A pile full of bullshit.

Alcohol, Drugs, Dancing and Sex.
Acquaintances, Small talk, Banter and Lies.

Out door Out lets
filled with beautiful scenesters.

And hipsters pretending to be hikers,
and hipsters pretending to be hippies,
and hipsters pretending to be whores,
and hipsters pretending.

In door In tercourse
filled with emotionless intimacy.

And loners pretending to be lovers,
and loners pretending to be larkers,
and loners pretending to be loathers,
and loners pretending.

Full of facade.
Full of deceit.
Lacking the genuine.
Lacking the truth.

Always trying to be someone else.
Never trying to be them self.

Trying to be cool,
by being cold,
by being weird,
by being different.
But ultimately becoming the same.
I could find more variety
in an American Apparel.

Now don't get me wrong,
stripped of all these illusions
I am sure there is Someone real,
Someone inside who can actually feel.

But the Austin Elite
have definitely left their mark on me,
a constant reminder of how not to be.

A constant reminder to be honest and true,
and most importantly to always just be you.

nathan herman

shane joaquin jimenez

Lost but Always Found

Lost loves come, but never go.
How they evolve, no one knows.

A wink and a shake of hands,
who would have guessed you would be that man.

The one who lets me know there is hope out there.
The one who's memory saves me from complete despair.

And although those brief moments are in the past,
the fond feelings we cherish will always last.

And although we now have both moved on,
the love we shared has never gone.

Lost loves will always linger in the heart,
no matter how long in time or how far apart.