moana
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2006 12 January :: 11.45pm
Dear Hero,
Today was the debut of my disenchantment with reality. Today, Hero, I fell in love with your life and I forgot my own, so that it seemed almost irrelevant. The drama just seemed to dissipate. The confetti stories and the shredded remains and the 'what's what' of what's real and what's not just fluttered away. It was the most awesome thing; you lead my mind into calm insanity. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I couldn't blink, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even think. Hero, today I felt more in touch with God than I've felt in years. Hero, today I fell in love with you.
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cowboy67
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2006 9 January :: 7.50pm
it's always funny until it happens to you
i hate helen keller jokes. i don't even know how to express the anger that rages inside me whenever i hear some insensitive, unappreciateive, ignorant dumbfuck say something stupid about her, and then let out belligerent laughter at his/her own self-perceived genius.
do you know anything about anything except what MTV spoon-feeds you from the moment you wake up until the moment you get drunk off your ass, screw a random person, and puke all over a public bathroom?
since you allow everyone else to do all the thinking for you, i think i'll jump at the opportunity to make you look even more like the asshole that you are.
this woman that you like to sneer at, this human being (that's right folks, the same exact thing as you are, imagine that!) that you de-humanize with your degrading insults, has more guts, more brains, and more compassion than your sorry piece-of-shit ass ever will. do you have any concept of what it might be like to be handicapped? could it be possible for you to think for 5 seconds about how difficult, frustrating, and sad it would be to live in this world, in this american society especially, with a handicap? she could not hear or see! do you even understand what that means in terms of existence? can you fathom how amazing it is that she was able to learn things, to communicate, and to become an educated, intelligent person when she couldn't see or hear a language? have you any idea of how important language is for simply THINKING, let alone expressing thoughts and understanding those of others? do you even care that you were so fortunate as to be born with eyes and ears, and not only that, but with ones that function properly? you ungrateful idiots. helen keller is fucking amazing. she is someone you should kneel to and admire! you will never be 1/100,000,000,000 of the person she was.
as both a feminist and socialist (two of the hottest things ever, in my opinion), she wrote to a british suffragist in 1911, saying: Our democracy is but a name. We vote? What does that mean? It means we choose between two bodies of real, though not avowed, autocrats. We choose between tweedledum and tweedledee...
You ask for votes for women. What good can votes do when ten-elevenths of the land of Great Britain belongs to 200,000 and only one-eleventh to the rest of the 40,000,000? Have your men with their millions of votes freed themselves from this injustice?
once her political position became public, the brooklyn eagle newspaper stated that "her mistakes spring out of the manifest limitations of her development." she responded by writing an editorial in the new york call (because the brooklyn eagle would not publish it in theirs):Oh, ridiculous Brooklyn Eagle! What an ungallant bird it is! Socially blind and deaf, it defends an intolerable system, a system that is the cause of much of the physical blindness and deafness which we are trying to prevent... The Eagle and I are at war. I hate the system which it represents... When it fights back, let it fight fair... It is not fair fighting or good argument to remind me and others that I cannot see or hear. I can read. I can read all the socialist books I have time for in English, German and French. If the editor of the Brooklyn Eagle should read some of them, he might be a wiser man, and make a better newspaper. If I ever contribute to the Socialist movement the book that I sometimes dream of, I know what I shall name it: Industrial Blindess and Social Deafness.
obviously, keller has much more integrity when responding to idiots than i do, and that is why i have so much respect for her. helen keller gets my vote for miss america.
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moana
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2006 9 January :: 2.37am
:: Music: The Pillows - Crazy Sunshine
I'm leaving on Friday the thirteenth. I hope it's not bad mojo, but I'm just anxious to get back home.
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cowboy67
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2006 5 January :: 3.33am
i'm home!
5 comments |
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moana
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2006 5 January :: 3.34am
So shoot me.
I'll still love you.
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moana
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2006 4 January :: 1.52am
My life, my life, my love, my life.
My life, my work, my work, my work.
My life, my dreams, my life, my life.
My life, my life, my life, my life.
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moana
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2006 1 January :: 2.12pm
Curtains on a pretty sucky year. Curtains on what promises to be a better year.
Happy New Year! ^-^
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cowboy67
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2005 24 December :: 3.59pm
click
2 comments |
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moana
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2005 23 December :: 10.54pm
:: Mood: shocked
:: Music: Deathcab for Cutie - A Movie Script Ending
I really see you upside down.
What am I waiting for?
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cowboy67
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2005 23 December :: 2.02pm
this is hilarious and sad at the same time
this is how one is accepted into american culture.
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cowboy67
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2005 21 December :: 7.20pm
the invitation
it doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
i want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
it doesn't interest me how old you are.
i want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
it doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
i want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
i want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
i want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.
it doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
i want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
if you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
i want to know if you can see beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
and if you can source your own life
from its presence.
i want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"yes."
it doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
i want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
it doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
i want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
it doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
i want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
i want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
written by: oriah mountain dreamer
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cowboy67
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2005 20 December :: 3.24pm
i wasn't born to follow.
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moana
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2005 20 December :: 2.51am
:: Music: Gorillaz - Green World
Don't desert me now.
The thing about me is, you have to get past a lot. You have a lot of defense mechanisms you have to get through, and a lot of protests and contradictions. I rarely come right out and ask for help, when it matters anyway, and a lot of the time, right after I do, I'll yell at you for helping me. You have to get past the brutal sense of humor, the pretentious indignation, the hostility and then, the tears. Some layers are omissions of facts and other layers are just downright lies. Some layers are truthful to the bone, some layers are just for show. And deep down, when you can get past the big hair, the glasses, the odd clothes and the sneakers, when you can get past the jittery stance and the gait and the high-pitched squealing voice, when you can get past the book-smart talk about nothing at all and the contemptuous snort at everything that is important, then there’s me. A little sad, a little happy, a little brave, and very scared.
The mismatched earrings, the autographed shoes, the childish whine, the chalk-stained jeans, the odd-sounding laugh, the charming enthusiasm, the nerd and the bimbo, the cheerleader and the loner, the musician and the mathematician, if you can get past that, it’d be great.
But if you could get past all that and still like me, still consider me a friend, still consider me a loved one, a family member or whatever it is I am to you now, then that’d just make it all irrelevant, wouldn't it?
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moana
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2005 18 December :: 1.59am
aaaaaaaaaaaaand semester
Done. Over. Through. Oh yes.
I'm gonna miss my new people though, those that aren't coming abck. Rodell, Marz and Lydia, for one thing. Rodell especially. My gay boyfriend.
I guess that's all there is to it, then.
By this time tomorrow I'll be back in Kuwait.
I'll see you then.
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moana
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2005 17 December :: 2.29am
I just left the A building. It's 2:30 in the morning.
I am so screwed.
I did a 100x140cm self-portrait, a 50x70 self-portrait and an A2 reproduction of a charcoal portrait. Between 3pm and 2am. I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm covered in charcoal and bird shit, and I'm cranky.
I hate freehand drawing.
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cowboy67
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2005 15 December :: 3.11am
happy birthday, big boy!
from all of us gladiators, we wish you the best and hope you have a great day! happy 23rd, joe!
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cowboy67
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2005 14 December :: 3.45pm
"There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is; nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urge that motivates you. Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."
Martha Graham
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moana
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2005 14 December :: 10.19pm
:: Music: Suede
Intensive care.
Only twice in my life have I ever said to my mother, "I will never forgive you." At the beginning of my senior year, when it was time to join MUN, to write up the research, to hand in the summer assignments, my mother said to me, "You can't do MUN anymore."
I didn't argue with her. She said that MUN was taking time away from my studies, that it was a distraction that I didn't need. I didn't argue with her. I just said to her, "I will never forgive you for this."
It hit a nerve, because I had said it once before.
Up until the seventh grade, I took French and Art as my electives at the same time. I loved art, and once upon a time, I loved French. But art was everything to me. I held onto a childhood dream of being an artist. When I was in first grade I told my teacher, "I want to be an artist." When seventh grade came around, I could no longer take two electives at the same time, and I had to make a choice.
My mother made the choice for me. I took French. But right before I gave in, I said to her, "I will never forgive you for this."
That was a long time ago, and I've grown into a different person. I love the academics, I love science and math, I love literature and history. Art was not a part of my life, art surrounded me as part of the environment. I had abandoned art as a passion. And now, here I am, doing it all over again, falling in love with it all over again, learning to be exceptional at it all over again.
I think in a parallel universe, there's a me that took art throughout her life, took art in seventh grade, eighth grade, high school and so on, and then went to college and became an engineer.
I think in a parallel universe, there's a me that found herself disoriented and confused, frustrated and angry, the bottom of the food chain after being the top of the peer group. There's a me that discovered or rediscovered a love for something that she didn't think she could ever incorporate into her life, or her plans for the future.
I think this me from the parallel universe and the me you all know have at least that much in common.
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moana
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2005 13 December :: 3.41am
I deserve to be with someone that can make me happy.
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moana
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2005 12 December :: 10.55pm
:: Music: The Breeders - Do You Love Me Now
Do you think of me like I dream of you?
I haven't slept since Friday. If I don't get some sleep tonight, the shakes will start. I don't like the shakes.
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cowboy67
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2005 10 December :: 4.25pm
a rush and a push and the land is ours
they said, "there's too much caffeine in your bloodstream and a lack of real spice in your life."
i said, "leave me alone, because i'm alright, dad."
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moana
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2005 8 December :: 1.16pm
:: Music: music
When and if I finish this portrait, and when and if it turns out the way I want it to, then I will finally put my insecurity to sleep and admit that yes, I am an artist. Happy now, Rose Nose?
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cowboy67
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2005 8 December :: 2.34am
don't lie to me.
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