Fucking rock.
You look at me with bloodied face
Smug in that the blood isn't yours.
I find myself winding back for another kick.


Or, alternately..


Your rock face, bloodied.
Smug in that the blood's not yours.
I kick you again.

This is for anyone who has ever "enjoyed" a hard video game.

I seem to be trying to do things that are important to me. I understand that I will not be an ECE working in daycare for the rest of my life, but I am doing it now because that's what I want to do, that's what I'm good at being recently. Maybe I'll be a librarian in 15 years, I have no idea. I won't limit myself to one thing for the rest of my life, because I know that it's too limiting. If, two years later, the things you learned have slipped away, you probably haven't used those pieces of knowledge in that time. Is that fair to say? If that is fair, is most of our education irrelevant? Should we, as a group who doesn't remember facts from two years ago, be concentrating on experiential knowledge instead? Is the fun inherent in learning the theory worth the time and money we spend on it if we never use it? I remember my more important classes, because I live what I've learned. The ECE field is very practical most of the time and so the lessons stay with me. I use English most of the time so my English lessons stay with me, though parts of speech are normally lost as soon as I leave the classroom. (Seriously, I'm going to fail that exam tomorrow.) But ask me to write an essay on this or that and I can draw on what I have learned and cram it all into a few pages with direction and flow, because that's how I always do my work. Though you might not guess it from my journal.

I'm waiting for a quiet moment to write but it is not coming. I don't know why I'm surprised about this. I need a holiday, a chance to get away. Just from home responsibility, not from everything. I didn't go to my internship today and I feel numb about it.

There are things that I like. I like open spaces and tiny little spaces. I like screeching, chaotic loudness and placid calmness. I like shifting lights on the ceiling. I like breaking things. I like to be liked. I like when people show me how good they can be. I like the stupidity in people. I like the simple complexity of the universe. I like defending small things. I like hurting people. I like being right and smug about it. I like being completely wrong and ignorant about it. I like being a hero. I like women. I like truth. I like the internet. There are things that I like, after all.

I keep forgetting everything. My whole life is nearly entirely forgotten. I don't know what to do, how to make things make sense, how to connect my life together in threaded continuity. I wish I could tag experiences, just to recall them. I can't remember anything of my childhood. What was my Kindergarten teacher's name? What did we learn in French class in fifth grade? How did I meet my friend Devin in ninth? Did I ever do anything of importance? Was there ever a great moment in my life that changed it's direction? How can I recall these lost things? 

There are a lot of things I don't know, so I try to remain in a bubble. A closed world of night and coffee. Of pale, flickering light and current experience. The experience itself is not exciting, but it can soak up the water of different-ness. I am homogenizing my life to make it seem as if I can remember it. Making it the same, day-in, day-out, so that when someone asks me what I did, I have an answer.

We Begin at the Beginning

Most of the words which should be reserved for creative expression are given to a community called Statements. This is my art, it's all I can do. There is a sub-culture there and it's ingrown and inbred. There is so much that can be said in a declarative statement but it is also limiting. I often find myself making more than one post at a time in threaded continuity. My chair hurts my back and still I sit and sit and look for the energy to find myself. There is anything and everything but still I am lost and unfinding. That was vague, I'm sorry. I want to erase all these words again. I want to come out of a darkness and find that pinpoint, the X that is supposed to mark the spot. I want to feel out where i am supposed to be going. I can't find it but it's there, soft and fuzzy and waiting for my lecherous, probing, pondering fingers to find it. My camera sits, unused, a symbol of society. A living wish that there was more and more of a wish than alive. I feel frail and lost, making ..

I wish I were lost.