7 dic 2002
Happiness is a decision.
I've decided this, and even if it's silly or a lie I'm giving to myself, I'll make it true. I hear Barbara's voice (though I'm not sure how this is possible; I've never actually heard it) , everyone can make up their own myths, but they can't always live them.
I will be so strong, I will live my own myth.
My bedroom walls are candy striped, thank you Sara B., my love; castled, sunned, thank you me; purple & blue, thank you me again, yes I know I am lovely. They are collaged, covered with the paintings and drawings and photos of my friends. And maps, and the Beatles and Ani, and my favorite photo ever, this shattered glass in front of a wine glass, it's truly beautiful, and a little ripped, but that's because it travelled over an ocean to get to my wall.
But the point is that on the striped wall, one day I got sick of all the colour, and one day I got sick of all my friend's eyes smiling from the photos, so I took down all the photos, and put up black paper over the rainbows. Then black fabric, just because I had it. Then words, because I hide in them, even if they are true. Or not.
On the black paper, I wrote very small,
one chance
(i find myself wanting joy...)
much much later, i put some of my collages on top of the paper, and put my friend's photos back up. But the wall is not so festive these days as it once was.
So why want joy? Why not just pretend to have it? The people I know who profess happy are just pretending anyway.
I meant to come on here & write a normal blog entry, all "so I went to the mall the other day, because my sister is a shopping ho, and saw Tony & Danny (not together) & it was alright. I miss Danny. He was my first secular friend, and is a truly funny guy. I think he works too much these days, but I don't really know. Then I went home, failed at doing my physics homework, then went to school, then rocked out, then slept some more." I'm not so good at this. Life is not so much tangible these days.
"man nostalgic for four years ago" yay for the onion.
"sunrise tantalize, evil eyes hypnotize" yay for the poisonwood bible.
"this means everlasting life, their taking in knowlege of you, and the one whom you sent forth" yay for the "real" bible.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? READING THE BIBLE??" yay for my father, who truly would rather have a pot smokin' daughter than a christian daughter.
(those are the phrases in my mynd right now. we should all cast a vote for the coolest. email me, armelleumay@care2.com)
¶ 17:17
I've decided this, and even if it's silly or a lie I'm giving to myself, I'll make it true. I hear Barbara's voice (though I'm not sure how this is possible; I've never actually heard it) , everyone can make up their own myths, but they can't always live them.
I will be so strong, I will live my own myth.
My bedroom walls are candy striped, thank you Sara B., my love; castled, sunned, thank you me; purple & blue, thank you me again, yes I know I am lovely. They are collaged, covered with the paintings and drawings and photos of my friends. And maps, and the Beatles and Ani, and my favorite photo ever, this shattered glass in front of a wine glass, it's truly beautiful, and a little ripped, but that's because it travelled over an ocean to get to my wall.
But the point is that on the striped wall, one day I got sick of all the colour, and one day I got sick of all my friend's eyes smiling from the photos, so I took down all the photos, and put up black paper over the rainbows. Then black fabric, just because I had it. Then words, because I hide in them, even if they are true. Or not.
On the black paper, I wrote very small,
one chance
(i find myself wanting joy...)
much much later, i put some of my collages on top of the paper, and put my friend's photos back up. But the wall is not so festive these days as it once was.
So why want joy? Why not just pretend to have it? The people I know who profess happy are just pretending anyway.
I meant to come on here & write a normal blog entry, all "so I went to the mall the other day, because my sister is a shopping ho, and saw Tony & Danny (not together) & it was alright. I miss Danny. He was my first secular friend, and is a truly funny guy. I think he works too much these days, but I don't really know. Then I went home, failed at doing my physics homework, then went to school, then rocked out, then slept some more." I'm not so good at this. Life is not so much tangible these days.
"man nostalgic for four years ago" yay for the onion.
"sunrise tantalize, evil eyes hypnotize" yay for the poisonwood bible.
"this means everlasting life, their taking in knowlege of you, and the one whom you sent forth" yay for the "real" bible.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? READING THE BIBLE??" yay for my father, who truly would rather have a pot smokin' daughter than a christian daughter.
(those are the phrases in my mynd right now. we should all cast a vote for the coolest. email me, armelleumay@care2.com)
¶ 17:17
