rina
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2007 26 April :: 10.38pm
:: Mood: relaxed
:: Music: knockin' on heaven's door (instr.)
italia and back again.
life is at the kind of hectic level where every new hour feels like a year.
by the end of this week i'll have aged a century.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 8 March :: 1.11am
:: Mood: calm
:: Music: when soul meets body - rose polenzani
i cannot guess what we'll discover.
i love the way sleep smells when you've just woken up from a nap: it's like warmth and comfort wrapped into a new, glowing sensation.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 6 March :: 11.27pm
:: Mood: peaceful
:: Music: dead to the world - royksopp
cinematic expressions of inner self-loathing if there are no mirrors to smash
she breathes. pauses.
cloth brushes against her calves calmly,
and clouds are building and boiling over the water.
wind scoops up the fabric of her skirt,
sways and twirls it, an invisible semaphore,
signaling to the tiny faint stars half-erased by the imminent rain.
the dull, greasy feel of a night storm is creeping up under her sleeves,
smearing her cheeks.
she closes her eyes, gathers her karma, and prays for lightning.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 28 February :: 9.20pm
:: Mood: busy
:: Music: beautiful never - mstu
confirmations/revelations
you don't know what you're doing here, really, or if it'll change anything. the sky above villengarde is bright, cloudless; different from how you left it. you can imagine factories smudging black against the skyline, the mirage fade-out of heat swelling over fields.
it's just green now.
the sun blazes down and you squint upwards, right hand covering your forehead as the other rests comfortably on your hip.
this is new. different.
you stare up so long that you feel like you aren't grounded, just seconds from floating up and away, away, away.
away, away, away. into the blue.
above even this you know its all just black, full of swirling gases and cosmic dust and stars waiting to die. but you still stare, almost longingly (re: desperately), and inside you know its an illusion of perfection.
(freedom hangs like heaven over everyone).
why? you ask, and you think you feel a breeze.
you try asking again, but there's no reply. the banana palms sway to themselves, casting intricate shadows on the grass below, potassium-rich and silent.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 27 February :: 3.50pm
:: Mood: contemplative
:: Music: torchwood
extreme ways to break your arm
later he'll blame it on the alcohol he hasn't been drinking and the hysteria he's never given in to and his own weakness for late twentieth-century science fiction films, which is legitimate, if illaudable.
long coats and too many guns and waking up from your own death - hell, a guy's allowed to identify, right? he's flying, he's out of his depth, he's alice down the fucking rabbit hole.
and as the air resistance becomes a painful crushing force against his ribcage he wonders, insanely, if the concrete will turn to rubber and bounce him upwards.
it doesn't.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 27 February :: 3.06am
:: Mood: pensive
i'm really sort of strange, and i think that's okay.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 25 February :: 1.27am
:: Mood: mellow
:: Music: les jours tristes - yann tiersen
(excuses)
we are not
wild as the wind, she says,
but constricted
to the distance between
passing glances (sighs).
i am struck by the inspiration to write in the simplest of situations: walking back from the kitchen, putting on socks, brushing my teeth.
i need the complete works of edna st. vincent millay, sylvia plath, john keats, and emily dickinson.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 19 February :: 11.20pm
:: Mood: weird
:: Music: a bit of fry and laurie
it's odd to have your name used so casually between strangers. sharing something that's just a word, but is really the whole of your being, something that describes you, is you, but simultaneously is just a way of identification.
i want to know if every other person with my name shares my traits, or my ambitions, or my strange tendencies. if we have friends with the same names, if we like the same books, wear the same clothes.
imagine if we didn't have names for things. words made up to express something we feel, even though they're mostly inadequate and they push emotions into little restrictive sentences. it's all so strange.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 14 February :: 12.02am
:: Mood: resigned
:: Music: cotton wool - lamb
and i could stay there (make my home there)
alone, again, but it isn't a new sensation.
how everything keeps fitting together and the way things turn to dust are intriguing, at best. but i'm adopting a new policy.
how things were, or are, is no longer the point. ahead of me it feels like a gauzy fabric is wrapped around future packaging; a fog, the kind that drifts and smoothes over the long grasses of fields and leaves dew in its wake.
hopefully, about now, transpiration/condensation/evaporation is still in effect.
i'm not waiting. i'm memorizing the shape of things to come.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 29 January :: 10.44pm
:: Mood: busy
:: Music: a promise to return - bear mccreary
transposition
she is unsure how to begin, and tries, inexpertly, to bring all the pieces together, finding how mapped hearts can draw lines from one place and tangle in another. strings, crossing paths, and then forever expelled in the opposite direction.
she is too young to feel this old, and she sighs, and the dim light from the windows are making the room glow at the edges.
2 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 21 January :: 11.02pm
:: Mood: sick
:: Music: you gotta feel it - spoon
it's a long way home
sneezing with a thermometer in your mouth = uncool.
(i am not dependable. these responsibilities of mine give me both purpose and the ability to fail.)
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 16 January :: 9.42pm
:: Mood: sore
:: Music: sun, sun, sun - the elected
postcards from the beach
she stands quietly (fidgeting, fingers curling against the hem of her shirt) and listens to the breeze rushing by. she thinks it might be like a whisper against her skin (cliched/overrated/underused), like fingertips trailing across her cheekbones, and rippling against her clothes like a lover's careful touch.
the sand is whipped from the ground, and the crashing of waves is like cymbals, heralding a coming storm, a coming end, a coming something. (her ears are ringing; there were fireworks the night before).
she is waiting (forever waiting, the kind that makes her chest ache with the force of it) and she is accepting (not really) and she is understanding (impossible). she is calm.
(her heart is pounding.)
maybe. maybe, but lost, but hope is still within her. (just this once, just this once, just this once.)
she breathes, and the cold rushes in, crushing her lungs, inflating her doubt. (i thought you'd come this time).
the wind wraps around her slowly and she leans into it, feeling for something that is not meant to be.
(maybe next year, she decides.)
i love you, she says into the air, and she closes her eyes against the salty breath of the sea.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 10 January :: 11.20pm
:: Mood: grateful
:: Music: closing in - imogen heap
i hope that you make it
life is good.
it's hectic and frustrating and stressful, causes loss of sleep and gain in exhaustion, perpetually stays a lightyear ahead of where you ought to be, and is continually full of surprises.
and it's good. i've had more work this week than almost any other, but i have laughed more in the past few days than i did in the past two months.
i accept the trade-off, life. thank you.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 4 January :: 9.39pm
:: Mood: anxious
:: Music: leave the earth behind you and take a walk in the sunshine - ballboy
are you happy, with your life?
i am more popular with people thousands of miles away!
in other news, i am already itching for summer. i'm going to try to stay in sweden for as long as humanly possible, because i have been aching desperately for it.
(jag längtar efter blå himmel, och gröna skogg, och att känna helt perfekt.)
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2007 4 January :: 2.37am
:: Mood: unsurprised
:: Music: eight flew over, one was destroyed - mew
you want to see what lies can set you free
it always seems to happen this way.
the only difference is i'm not going to waste any time on it.
(i don't really have many friends. closeness is belied by selfishness.)
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 25 December :: 1.36pm
:: Mood: content
:: Music: gollum's song - howard shore
merry christmas, guys. :)
1 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 14 December :: 4.57pm
:: Mood: surprised
:: Music: young bride - midlake
WHAT IS GOING ON?
i created a deviantart account not fifteen minutes ago. i uploaded three of my most recent pieces (two vectors and a sketch i did in class) and i've already got 3 favorites! within ten or so minutes!
the universe is imploding, i swear to fucking god.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 10 December :: 6.00pm
:: Music: satin chic - goldfrapp
there is life, and there is love, and i think i'm just beginning to understand that.
2 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 10 December :: 2.07am
:: Mood: amused
:: Music: green wing
i feel i must warn you, you've just kissed a sick-y mouth.
i've watched so much that it's come to the point where every thought in my head is said in a rather london-type accent. (it happens to range from billie piper to tasmin greig, depending how long its been since i've thought of either doctor who or green wing).
and it's not even the fact that its english accent in my head, its the fact that i can now somewhat distinguish certain dialects.
london, for example, has a habit of exchanging their th's with f's, while the more northern accent is better at dropping consonants near the end of words. leeds is a bit broader, really, and manchester has a bit of scottish since it's so close to scotland (obviously).
i also use more british-type turns of phrase which i feel almost accustomed to. and when mentioning if something's gone a bit pear-shaped, normally folk just give an arch of their brow and ignore me.
odd, really.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 9 December :: 10.56pm
:: Mood: perfect
:: Music: gorecki - lamb
if i should die this very moment, i wouldn't fear
i feel the most free when i am covered in paint.
especially when it is in the most impossible places:
behind my right ear, on the soft skin under my knee, the uneven edge of my tooth.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 27 November :: 12.01am
:: Mood: calm
:: Music: summer in the city - regina spektor
vanity, not love, has been my folly.
five things you may or may not know about me;
01. whenever i sneeze, i automatically think of the way chlorine smells, and sometimes its so overwhelming it feels as if i've swallowed pool water.
02. every time i read the book pride and prejudice by jane austen, it gets continually harder and harder for me to put down. this is accompanied by an irrational happiness and a warmth that radiates from my chest.
03. being involved in the doctor who/torchwood fandom is more important to me than schoolwork. i wish this weren't true, but i honestly put off all my ap euro so i could sit and start my own tw comm, the torchwood music project.
04. my preference in company changes according to how well i fake happiness in my first class of the day. if it goes over well, i end up having a decent day despite the work load. if someone sees through it, i remain detatched and hardly speak to anyone for the rest of the day.
05. i keep an entire folder of internet bookmarks entitled 'things that make me feel awesome.' these are random occurences throughout the internet in which i am either mentioned in a pleasant way, praised for something i've done (mostly having to do with art/writing), or contains information of any kind about the carina nebula.
1 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 13 November :: 10.20pm
:: Mood: infuriated
a;sldk
fuck.
i have this seething rage sitting inside my chest, and its traveling up my throat, waiting for some kind of sound to follow it out into the air.
i don't even have words to describe it. its just this hot, angry thing taking residence within me and i want to fucking tear someone's eyes out.
everything i make comes out distorted and disgusting. i have some sort of cancer thats killing anything i come into contact with.
ASDLKFJZXCIWfSDFJLASD245CMKASROIFOJAISDMFLASD.
1 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 17 October :: 12.26am
:: Mood: hurt
:: Music: the shape of things - bear mccreary
when the bad moon in your heart sings
i am losing a tooth, and the way it pushes through my gums, it mostly feels like life. it is a continuous ache, and the pain goes mostly unheeded, but i've discovered that blood is bitter on tongues.
this may or may not account for the preoccupation i've had with mouths as of late. how some of my questions are chased with a nervous laugh or two. how i can feel words kept hidden behind my teeth when i most want them heard. how i might have a fondness of lopsided smiles.
i often find myself feeling used or unoriginal.
i am convinced, however, that the way homemade apple cider warms your chest and tastes like autumn; it is the only way october should be spent.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 26 September :: 12.03am
:: Mood: loved
:: Music: the winner is - mychael danna/devotchka
listen to this.
feel better. live happier. love unashamedly.
tell me if it makes any difference for you. i cannot imagine how these waves might reverberate in another's ears because the beats are in accordance with my heart and each tone created i can feel to my toes.
2 stood |
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 21 September :: 11.20pm
:: Mood: sick
:: Music: cue the pulse to begin - burnside project
i can hear all the whispers that have lived a thousand years
when you are sick, you are timeless, and it is both incredibly freeing and severely jarring. this past week has felt epic and miniscule, as if someone has been unweaving the threads of time and then stitching them back together out of sequence.
i am concerned with my lack of motivation towards anything having to do with academia and i keep insisting that its this illness still trapped within my body. and although aching ears and blocked nasal passages and rasping throats may cause sluggishness, i doubt i've been so extremely indifferent since sometime around april.
it is increasingly odd, too, since i finally have a clear idea of what i will be doing with my future and still i refuse to accomplish anything that will hasten me towards any goals.
words have also changed their shape, and sometimes my mouth feels uncomfortable straining over their strange angles as they leave me in a rush of breath.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 17 September :: 9.56pm
two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year
i hate you, sometimes.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 16 September :: 3.24pm
:: Mood: surprised
:: Music: curuncula - psapp
we have only ourselves to blame
for the past few days i have either been experiencing some powerful deja vu, or everyone has gotten incredibly predictable.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 13 September :: 6.40pm
:: Mood: busy
:: Music: wish you were here - rasputina
running over the same old ground
she called us historians once, and i could almost hear myself swelling in pride.
and yesterday while writing an in-class essay on macbeth, i thought the ending result would be terrible because although i love literature, analyzing shakespeare is a different experience all together.
i got an a, however, while the rest of my classmates got d's.
and then i felt selfish and disgusting thinking that i was any good at writing, because the amount of shit i got about it was unbelievable.
i've gained some of my confidence back, though, and i'm going to try and hold onto it the best i can. i have to finish reading the mayor of casterbridge in two days, so i'm going to sit and make myself get through a few chapters tonight.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 1 September :: 10.40pm
:: Mood: drained
not
i am not here, you think. this is not happening.
hospitals are a shitty way to die, you think, and now the smell of formaldehyde is soaking into your clothes so as not to let you forget, and when you look around everything is busy and everything is motionless.
the only thing you can even reason with at the moment is that the walls are too white, too clinical, and you think they should've added a window or wallpaper or something to just cover up the fucking bleak feeling that's seeping through. and that's when you remember that white means death in eastern cultures, and you wish the synapses in your head would stop popping and sparking, because you really think this is the wrong fucking time for trivia.
the chair you're sitting in is made out of the most uncomfortable carpet-like material you've never had the chance to experience and you think its just another way to be distracted from the real issue.
and the real issue is--
no, you think. i am not here, and this is not happening.
you think you remember a story you heard once when you were young, when your mother fed you tales about magic frogs and kisses of life and happy endings, and your fingers are itching to smash something. they all had morals, you think, and the thought causes your stomach to seize up with red-hot rage.
they were all fucking dreams and you feel like hitting the rewind on your life so you can tell your stupid, idealistic, five-year-old self that no, real life is not ponies and castles and cotton candy. real life is--
you still want to smash something.
there's a storm brewing on the edge of your consciousness now, and you're sure if you continue to reject the current reality of the situation --
i am not here. this is not happening. this is not not not not happening.
its a mantra and you've got it fucking down pat. this, you think, is not. happening.
the doctor slips through the door and then shuts it gently, his eyes are staring resolutely forward and you think you can see his chin lift as if he's about to do something he rather wouldn't do. he pseudo-skims a clipboard in his hands and you think he's trying to readjust the look on his face so it will instead become an impenetrable mask of medicine. this is not fucking happening.
his mouth opens and god god god not not not---
"they're going to make it," and oh.
it is.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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rina
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2006 27 August :: 5.19pm
:: Mood: helpless
i am empty.
this is some sort of catharsis, and i am sick of it. i feel emotionally stunted. i keep drinking water to try and fill the void, but it runs deeper than i originally thought and only succeeds in making me nauseous.
canyoustandonyourhead?
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