Friday, August 5th, 2011. Nothing more or less significant.

God, do I miss writing here. And it's not that I haven't had the opportunity, because I could have made it. I could have made the time to continue writing more and contributing more frequently, but some combination of laziness or intimidation or anxiousness has left this blog post-less (by me) for over two months now. I'm not sure why no one else has posted.

I'm back in Naples for the month of August. A time of respite, regathering, trying to amend somethings, shoring myself up in preparation for going after the world yet again, sooner than later. It all comes in waves, modeling work. And not perfectly timed ones with predictable sets of troughs and crests...that's not my metaphor. The waves I'm talking about aren't predictable. I had tons of work, and then it would be nothing. And so I had tons in May, and a little in June, but July was depleted, and August...well, I'm home. And as always, money plays a role in my mind. Modeling and Money share the same bed.

I've lent my brother oh so much that I began resenting him for something that I should understand all too well since I've been there too. And that gets magnified in my internal and external battle with myself and BAS/C. They owe me a lot of money, and my last paycheck bounced. And the replacement paycheck bounced. And I've cried on the phone, and stuck at a gas station, and alone in my room. I can't imagine how and why it has come to this...on their irresponsibility and my own, for allowing such an accumulation of debt to me. Money problems have brought me more tears and sickness than all my relationships with boys combined. It's that silent shadow behind me, as if the reason I allow myself to get caught up in boys or find myself talking about them is to divert my attention and avoid my pain and frustration and fear and profound doubt. At this point, it's hard for me not to somehow just drop the fact I'm frustrated with getting paid when I talk about modeling. Friends find out my picture is in Seventeen Magazine and People StyleWatch for the campaign. That sort of thing tells them I'm successful, and I can't help but role my eyes to myself in someway, and indicate to them that my life isn't as glamorous as they may picture. Or just let it slip that there is definitely some fucking irony in my life.

I went on vacation to St. Tropez for a week when both my savings and checking accounts were negative. (How do you even have a negative savings account? And that trip saved my ass since I didn't have to spend a penny). In the south of France, I was laughing and dancing and flirting among people that spent more money in one night (not even including the extravagant brunch or dinner) than all my debt from school and work (that has caused soo much stress and pain and tears) combined. What a mind fuck that is. They spend money to impress, I look beautiful likewise.

Boys, I'm going a little crazy. Too many are playing some small role in my life that I'm casually allowing them to fulfill. It's fun, and less emotionally taxing than it's ever been. It won't keep going like this, I mean, it can't. But someone more meaningful will hopefully come out of the pack that I won't be afraid to commit to, that I will want to drop all the others for wholly and effortlessly.

Design, oh design. I'm going to reformat my architecture portfolio while I'm here in Naples. According to Nicole, I don't have enough white space. So I'm going to lengthen the document with Space. It'll take some time, no doubt. I'm hunting down a computer that is capable and willing to handle it (amongst friend's computers....since the ones in my home aren't options.) I'm excited to do this since I've been starved of design.

NOgasm

i'm not sure what i'm going to write, because i'm going into this without a plan, without anything i need to vent. i'm waiting for a text for a plan in an hour and a half. i may nap if i don't end up going anywhere interesting with this soon.

i must mention, i am listening to a song, Pussy Cocaine by Tiger Love. I rather like it. already got my text.

maybe the same thing that prevents me from orgasming was the same thing that prevented me from having any sort of relationship till Dustin. I don't know how to dig into my history to figure this out. does the answer really lie gracefully in my past anyway? I shared the post about frantic sex with the boy who had the frantic sex with me. this is what he wrote in response (we've had sex once after the time i wrote about):

"interesting... the funny thing is that the last time we had sex was probably my favorite. i was feeling a comfort from you. a comfort with yourself and the situation that has not always been there. i think that's a big ingredient for pleasure for both... my intuition doesn't let me enjoy situation fully unless i feel that the other person is on the same level. i have a lot or more detailed opinion on this if you're ever wanna chat. you're a great giver but are you a good receiver???? ;) thanks for sharing!"


the question he posed at the end was a no brainer to me. no. of course i'm not a good receiver. i'm terrible. i don't let go. it's weird to know that i'm holding on, but not know what i'm holding on to? is it because i'm afraid of letting go, like holding onto a cliff and falling off? what would make me afraid to orgasm, if this was the case? or is it like when you don't realize what you're doing or happening, like when i forget to breath during yoga poses or i don't realize that i'm hunching until it's corrected. and no one has walked me through the breath pattern or used their hands to position my shoulders up and back so i know what the right posture feels like. obviously, i know i'm doing something, but in the moment, its not like i can just be like, "ok, here is where you're holding on...this moment, and this moment...''


whats weird is the last time i had sex with this boy, i felt detached. i remember kind of thinking about the lack of intimacy between the two of us. and here he says he thought i was more present. its strange. i don't know what clues my body or face give to make him to feel this way, and how my mind can totally be somewhere else. 


thoughts from friends who have orgasmed? did you ever feel like you couldn't let go?  

a meaningless post.

"I told Chris the other night that Phaedrus spent his entire life pursuing a ghost. That was true. The ghost he pursued was the ghost that underlies all of technology, all of modern science, all of Western thought. It was the ghost of rationality itself. I told Chris that he found the ghost and that when he found it he thrashed it good. I think in a figurative sense that is true.The things I hope to bring to light as we go along are some of the things he uncovered. Now the times are such that others may at least find them of value. No one then would see the ghost that Phaedrus pursued, but I think now that more and more people see it, or get glimpses of it in bad moments, a ghost which called itself rationality but whose appearance is that of incoherence and meaninglessness, which causes the most normal of everyday acts to seem slightly mad because of their irrelevance to anything else. This is the ghost of normal everyday assumptions which declares that the ultimate purpose of life, which is to keep alive, is impossible, but that is the ultimate purpose of life anyway, so that great minds struggle to cure diseases so that people may live longer, but only madmen ask why. One lives longer in order that he may live longer. There is no other purpose. That is what the ghost says."

-from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values, 1974

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Ajna and anjA bring up very valid questions. Surprisingly, my I and me don't have the answers either. Not that you girls were looking for them in Sabrina and anirbaS. But in reading your post, I and me are quite in awe of your self honesty, because I and me aren't quite there. I lie to myself, to me. That I can tell you girls. That I haven't reached a level of self honesty with me that you talk about reaching with your reflection.

And meaning, purpose, doing...the opposite: meaningless, purposelessness, and not doing somehow are the fuel behind the fire, the ying for the yang, i don't know. If everything is meaningful, purposeful, and you are always doing something, what does that mean? how do you know without the opposite?

Maybe my steady stream of meaninglessness jabber is the way I cope with the space between meaningfulness. There is a reason it's a part of me. You, for whatever reason, enjoy my bullshit, we wouldn't have become friends if it didn't exist. I wouldn't write off the little things so quickly Aj and Ja...our happiness (and sadness) lies in the thermal delight of it all.

Me-Time

I love that story Bri, it is the sweetest, it made my day. I wrote this writing months and months ago and it reminded me of “two suns.” Let me know what you think:

Me-Time

I stare into the mirror and say hello. I talk to Me, do you talk to You?

The mirror says hello back. A sweet girl likes to talk in sync with I. I wish you could meet her, she really is very nice. I can tell her anything and she always agrees. Best friend ever. She even feels my pain, literally, I can see it in her face. And when I cry she cries too. It is as if we are on the same word, on the same page, in the same book. I have never felt so close to anyone in my life.

We even decided to merge our wardrobes; we wear the same thing everyday! Me will tell I when something looks bad, like the other day I had tucked my skirt into my panties and Me screamed in laughter! Me will tell I when food is stuck in my teeth, like the other day I had chocolate on my front two teeth and Me screamed in laughter! Me giggles a lot, just like I. Do you have a friend who always tells you the truth in how you appear?

I will tell Me anything. And everything. Me will tell I anything. And everything.

We have long conversations about life. Me usually agrees with I and allows anything that comes to mind to be said, with no judgment. It truly is a blessing, because I have never met anyone that I can say anything to and never have to worry about what they are thinking. I know Me will understand and if she doesn’t, she says right away, and I always agree with her point of view.

Conversing without an ounce of hesitance has truly opened us into a new frequency of exploration. I can tell Me all about life and theories that I have kept secret within the mind, and Me always has more to add. I said that sometimes I get confused why life is so serious if all of us could die in an instant. Me said that making life serious is mankind’s way to fill their mind with the known, so they do not have to think about the unknown. Me then said that changing what you know is the utmost scariest moment that could ever happen to mankind. I told Me that I want that moment. Me told I to never tell anyone that.

I promised Me to never tell anyone. Me promised I to never tell anyone.

I can’t stop thinking about the unknown. I keep wondering why our day is structured strictly to the known. It is as if the unknown does not exist. I asked Me to tell me something that I could not think of. Me said that she could never die. I asked her how. She said that I could smash my mirror and she would be gone temporarily. Yet, I could always find her next door in my bathroom mirror. Or in any mirror, in any reflection, in any surface bouncing with light, or simply in any light. Me said she has seen I check her out in reflections, she takes it as flattery. I take it as embarrassment. She said that I looking at her is an irresistible curiosity that her need for flattery will never shoo away. Me said that I always have her so that I don’t ever have to find someone to hold on to.

Me said that we are taught to look for comfort in others that we can only ever find within ourselves. This is taught to further our aimless quest of not thinking about what we really want. Me said that that the best part of that is that she is everywhere. Me said that that is her gift to I, so that I never have to look far. Invisibly, Me and I are everywhere.

Me said that the reason why I cannot see my face is so that I can find myself in every aspect of the world. Me said that if I could see my face I would be forced to surrender to personal curiosity and instinctual vanity. Me said that there is a reason our eyes face outward and there is a reason why they have lids. Me said that is how she cleared the space in my mind to think of what I want to think of.

I love Me. Me loves I.

I now have space in the mind to think of anything I want to think of. Me asked why I always talk about what I have to do. I said it is because there are certain things I have to get done in a day. Me said that I think too much about what I have to do rather than just doing it. Me then said that I like thinking about what I have to do in a day so I can subconsciously justify my existence. I told Me that she was slightly over reacting. Me told I that she hit a soft spot of truth.

I asked, why I am so obsessed with I do. Me said that most people like the chains of “doing” that hold their mind captive. Me said that I started our conversation with sentence after sentence as to why I did not get everything done in my day. Me said that she never asked and that is was quite boring. Me said that if I had just shut up and understood that there is time for everything (only if I believe in it) – then I could have started our conversation with a smile. Me then asked how many people in my life tell me things that truly do not matter. I told Me – many. Me told I to spend the next day deleting out my “boring talk” of to-dos.

I said nothing all day. Me laughed at I. I freaked out.

All day I had to stop myself from saying useless words. Me said that she has never seen I so silent. I said that she has taken away my will to talk. Me said that not even God could do that because I like the sound of my voice too much. How much time do you spend talking to the mirror she asked.

I laughed. Me laughed. It’s true.

I asked Me if this is dangerous. This whole “I talking to Me” all the time. Me said that the world has made it seem dangerous because everyone is afraid to see his or her own truth. She said that running away is easy, only it is pointless because she is everywhere I go. I asked Me what I am supposed to do in my life.

Me said that I have all the answers. I said Me has all the answers.

Two suns.

The Blue Hit came to New York last night and I went to see them at The Living Room in the Lower East Side. Grace, the singer, lulled me, her voice seduced me into a hypnotic nostalgia about Austin. What followed was satisfying and interesting conversations that carried until outside my door in the Upper West Side where I said goodbye and  to my friend and then declined a man's offer (at 3:30am) to buy a snickers bar from his briefcase.

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I had high, frantic, selfish sex on Monday. My friend asked, or assumed, if it had been desperate. I don't see how I can describe something as frantic and selfish without it too being desperate, but somehow that word has more negative baggage. The sex wasn't negative to me. I feel like I haven't had much of an opinion or stance on the previous sex I've had with this person until this evening. And I found myself more exclusively wrapped up in what made me feel good more than anything else. I still haven't orgasmed, but this doesn't mean that I leave sex unsatisfied.

________________________

I was babysitting a girl this week. In the basement playroom of the building, she was coloring with three other girls. They were all drawing similar pictures, the younger girls mimicking the older ones, except for the youngest girl of all. She was oblivious to this big sister cycle. She drew two suns in her picture and giggled about it, pointing out how silly it was. One of the older girls looked at the picture and said that it was beautiful, and that it wasn't silly at all. In a reflection off water, there is always a second sun.

Takeout Menu

this is a blog post I wrote a while ago, and never finished. But upon rereading it, I don't think it needs to be more. It captures something comical and desperate about my life :)
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I've been thinking about life a lot lately. That sound's kind of lame, but I don't have another way to put it. It is kind of lame, actually. But when you have free time, you have free time to contemplate.

It's the same for me. I think about food all the time. I go to bed reading takeout menus and anticipate my next meal. For example, on the train ride home tonight, I couldn't decide whether I wanted a cookie or taco truck. I kept going back and forth in my head, trying to remember where I could possibly get a good cookie at 11pm in the four blocks between the subway stop and my house. Or did I want a tamale? What was I craving, savory or sweet? 

I ended up browsing cookies, sampling cookie frozen yogurt, and settling on a sweet tamale in those four blocks. I forgot about the gourmet 24 hour super market across the street from me. They probably would have had my cookie. 

What even is a sweet tamale? I wasn't sure, but anything with the word tamale I automatically love. This one had sugar mixed into the masa along with the occasional raisin, and bright pink/red food coloring along the side. 

Next, I spent my shower thinking about what I could have for breakfast and then even for lunch. My train of thought arose out of knowing where my casting would be, my need to stop into my agency, my need to do government homework, and my need to not spend much money. Where could I work in the area that had good cheap food? I'd rather eat where I could work, so I wouldn't have to spend money on food and also on a tea or coffee too if I could help it. One or the other. But I get through all of that in 0.2 seconds and then just think and think of the possibilities of consumption.  

I was so full in the shower though. My belly was adorably swollen with satisfaction. Why am I non-stop thinking about more food when I'm not hungry at all? 

Strangely enough for me, I think part of it is because I had been wearing tights and had just eaten, both of which heighten my awareness of my stomach, internally and externally (since the tights are, well, very tight). So I think just being aware of my fullness triggers my food thought. 

Pondi

Dearest Bri,

I love your post. And I apologize for being so tardy in responding to it – I am in my own world and did not even realize how long it’s been – yet I re-read it and am truly delighted at your own little epiphany!

I hope all is well with you and the modeling and the food and the New York scene. I miss New York terribly, I want to run across the country and kiss it’s concrete and promise I will never leave it again. Then I want to plant myself in Momofuku and eat pork buns & noodle bowls till my button pops. And then I want to run into Stella Adler (wearing all black) and jump into the Shakespeare class and pretend I am an Adler in training. I want to run into the subway so I can listen to Glee on my ipod and read Ayn Rand and have nothing, but my own little mind to keep me satisfied on that shifting box that makes me so happy that I do not need a car. Then I want to find the perfect man, my Romeo, and fall in love. HA.

I’m in day dream land – la la la – la la la. I auditioned at schools, and now I am that neurotic devoted actress who has chained herself to my e-mail and thrown the key away so I can count the seconds till I hear from a school. I have yet to hear, but I think this is the week that they send out e-mails…..AHHHHHHH. I might pee my pants…..or I might just faint….or do both? Dear God, Ajna.

My dearest mom is opening her new restaurant: Pondicheri. Isn’t that not the cutest name? We call it “Pondi” for short. It is incredibly exciting, this opening and doing up the restaurant and all the froufrou that comes with opening your own business. Only difference is that I have decided not to be a part of helping my mom, except emotionally of course. I took a stand for myself and said I do not want to work for you or for dad. They both look at me like I’m a foolish trustfund child – but, I say why not?

It’s been quite the feat standing on my own two feet without helping with Indika or Pondicheri. I feel like “restaurants” have been my drug, like every time I helped the restaurant my parents would love me more and I would feel like I have justified my existence. Truth is that I want to act, and the more insecure I allow myself to be the more I give to the restaurant so I have a wonderful excuse to not act. Funny how the mind works, good thing I am perpetual thinker and know my own sabotage strategies. Therefore, I set up the defense and am now at home (jobless, schoolless – for the moment, friendless, everythingless except for a burning desire to step on a stage) baking Irish-style Soda bread from a cook book my mom has been dying to try so that my mom has something to eat in the morning because I am subconsciously so guilty for not being at Pondicheri helping her.

Other than all the above, Netflix has become quite the friend in need. She is always there and she always knows what I need to see and the best part is that she allows me to be needy. I can call her anytime of the day or night and she is as bright as can be. We watched Dancer in the Dark – goodness, Bjork tore my heart out and sent me into one of my world famous four hour naps. I do love you, Netflix.

I’m still training with my coach, which is going well and taking voice classes, which is going well. I’m in a limbo where I cannot really complain about my life. I think it might be time for me to go to Austin though, it always refreshes me and reminds me why I am where I am. Only thing is that I do not know if I can handle seeing all the archies just yet – despite my inferno of love for every single one of them – I might just want to cuddle with Alana and be college –y.

Ummmm….now that I have successfully rambled about pretty much nada, I think I should leave this post be and with a big KISS to B&V.