I definitely have my own thoughts, but they aren’t particularly new or unique. It’s as if all the thought’s I can’t seem to articulate, someone has already eloquently, poetically, or succinctly expressed. Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of those people. Coincidentally, after completing this first paragraph, I rediscovered the following quote in “Self Reliance:”
“Else, to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time […]” (McQuade 538).
Emerson’s writing sometimes invokes thoughts that are completely new to me, while at other times, (like now,) he says exactly what I’ve already been thinking about but struggle to complete. What’s phenomenal though, is that I relate to what he is saying so much; it’s as if I’ve joined some exclusive “thought-club” that transcends time or space. Emerson, of coarse, already knew this too.
“We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity.” (McQuade 545).
Here, he is acknowledging this idea that we, as people, are all a part of something much greater, this “immense intelligence,” which supplies us with everything we need to do our part. This larger thing could also be a nation, such as this one, that Americans were just beginning to understand after the Revolutionary War in the mid-nineteenth century.
At this time, the people had just achieved political independence, but were still, on many levels, culturally and intellectually dependent on Europe. This discrepancy between being recognized as a nation and actually being a nation caused Americans to have a profound and heightened desire for identity. Transcendentalism emerged from this desire for identity and in protest to the social and religious climate (Reuben). In a letter to President Martin Van Buren on the removal of Cherokee Indians, Ralph Waldo Emerson sought to appeal to the president through this lack of national identity. Emerson argued that if Van Buren sanctified Cherokee removal, “ […] the name of this nation, hitherto the sweet omen of religion and liberty, will stink to the world.” At such a critical time in the nation’s history, this decision of Cherokee removal would have a much greater magnitude beyond this group of people and their parcel of land; it had the potential to create a (shameful) national identity.
Similarly, one of the main themes within Transcendentalism dealt with the scale and plurality of an idea; that what is true for an individual is true for multiple individuals or a group of them.
“To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart, is true for all men, —that is genius.” (McQuade 538).
Applying this concept of plurality, Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay “Self Reliance” speaks about an individual’s ”self-reliance” and that of a nation’s. So with this idea, on the larger scale of the United States, Emerson was saying that the country had everything (“immense intelligence”) –land, resources, labor, will power, and ability—to build a self-reliant nation.
………………………………………………………………
It’s difficult to describe the sheer level of optimism and energy inherent in “Self Reliance.” Each sentence is like a seed, packed with this magnificent potential, far exceeding its parts or even the sum of its parts. Likewise, this idea of potential applies to “Self Reliance” in its entirety. When you read the words, a garden explodes to life in your head. Plants take root subconsciously and flowers open up before you, fruits ripen when you’re hungry. And when you explore, see, smell, and feel this garden, you awaken your sense of Self. Your spirit and ego dance.
“Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world.” (McQuade 540).
The world will support you when you trust yourself. Not in the sense that it will be there when you fall or stumble or need it, but in a much greater sense. Things will come together and start happening externally that will not merely justify—but amplify—your initial trust in your own prerogatives.
“Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.” (McQuade 539).
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
typing talk
Sweetheart sweet sweet heart. I do hope that today was your day and every following day is your day. I can say for a fact I am sure you fell in piss with grace! As for me, I would have plopped (head first) in the piss and given birth to a tantrum the size of a three year-old.
I’ve been getting cheekier and cheekier with customers – I have figured out the fact that I work for Mom&Pop – they ain’t gonna fire unless I do something real crazy like strip and streak. Which, I most definitely thought of – however, I think it is funnier in my mind than in real life. Anyways, this one lady finished her meal and went outside to the valet. She came back in and sat down in the lovely hand carved seating area. She looked at me and said, “I have to wait.” I smiled and said, “Ok.” She then said “If I have to wait for your valet that means your valet is not good.” I said, “I am sure they are doing their best.” She said “Well I don’t think their best is good enough, I have to wait.” I said, “Well you have the whole waiting space to yourself since you are the only one who has to wait.” Then – this is the thriller – for some odd odd odd reason I decided to give a creepy dead smile. It felt so awesome. I even creeped myself out. She looked at me and said “I think I can wait outside.” And I kept smiling.
Why thank you dear acting classes. I can now accomplish the creepster in a movie.
Sometimes I wonder about why we are alive. I keep thinking what is the ultimate point. I know, I know it is the journey. Yet, I can’t seem to comprehend it. I keep feeling and thinking like my life is leading up to something and I shall be ready for it! But, then I am like no you fool – your life is right now – the moment. Is it supposed to be that confusing. What I also wonder is why doesn’t anyone talk about this? Everyone seems to have accepted life and I understand why and their reasonings – but in the back of their mind, don’t they wonder why their life matters? You’re going to die anyways. I’m not depressed or anything – actually far from it – way on the other side contemplating the reason for life.
If you are going to die – why be so worried about life? I am a walking and talking hypocrite of all of this, but my hands have a mind of their own. It is like when I start writing they start speaking of all the moments in my head that never voiced out of my mouth. Oh lovely ten fingers – how I do love you and your minds!
I talk to myself a lot. And I mean a lot. I find some comfort in it. I don’t even care if it is crazy – it is fun. I do my monologues for myself. I have figured that if I can’t perform first for myself then I can’t truthfully perform for anyone else. The love of my performance must conceive within me.
I’ve been getting cheekier and cheekier with customers – I have figured out the fact that I work for Mom&Pop – they ain’t gonna fire unless I do something real crazy like strip and streak. Which, I most definitely thought of – however, I think it is funnier in my mind than in real life. Anyways, this one lady finished her meal and went outside to the valet. She came back in and sat down in the lovely hand carved seating area. She looked at me and said, “I have to wait.” I smiled and said, “Ok.” She then said “If I have to wait for your valet that means your valet is not good.” I said, “I am sure they are doing their best.” She said “Well I don’t think their best is good enough, I have to wait.” I said, “Well you have the whole waiting space to yourself since you are the only one who has to wait.” Then – this is the thriller – for some odd odd odd reason I decided to give a creepy dead smile. It felt so awesome. I even creeped myself out. She looked at me and said “I think I can wait outside.” And I kept smiling.
Why thank you dear acting classes. I can now accomplish the creepster in a movie.
Sometimes I wonder about why we are alive. I keep thinking what is the ultimate point. I know, I know it is the journey. Yet, I can’t seem to comprehend it. I keep feeling and thinking like my life is leading up to something and I shall be ready for it! But, then I am like no you fool – your life is right now – the moment. Is it supposed to be that confusing. What I also wonder is why doesn’t anyone talk about this? Everyone seems to have accepted life and I understand why and their reasonings – but in the back of their mind, don’t they wonder why their life matters? You’re going to die anyways. I’m not depressed or anything – actually far from it – way on the other side contemplating the reason for life.
If you are going to die – why be so worried about life? I am a walking and talking hypocrite of all of this, but my hands have a mind of their own. It is like when I start writing they start speaking of all the moments in my head that never voiced out of my mouth. Oh lovely ten fingers – how I do love you and your minds!
I talk to myself a lot. And I mean a lot. I find some comfort in it. I don’t even care if it is crazy – it is fun. I do my monologues for myself. I have figured that if I can’t perform first for myself then I can’t truthfully perform for anyone else. The love of my performance must conceive within me.
Friday, March 26, 2010
today isn't my day.
all these little things keep going wrong and i'm past the annoyed part and angry part and on to the self-pity, 'i give up!' stage. my arms are too tired to throw them up in the air with the exclamation. it's nothing really big, well something huge looming in the background, but that's not the foreground. the foreground is what is making me just want to curl up and be hugged by anyone or anything.
I drove to the library to rent a movie they didn't have, and since I got there 5 minutes before they closed, I didn't have time to peruse for a new selection. Then I decided I'd knock my english out today at Barnes and Noble, so I'd stop by home and snag my computer. On my way out, I was reading a text, walking down the stairs and boom! I slipped and fell--hard--on our wood floor. Salad had peed (within the past 10 minutes of the crash) a fucking giant lake, so I, like a cartoon or one of those tv moments, totally slipped and fell. Except it wasn't one those moments. I laid there on the floor in shock and aching, cursing. Luckily I have a good case for my netbook, since that was in my paws when I fell too. The floor was full of Salad hair. I'm wearing black. I therefore managed a whole new fur coat over my pants and sweater and computer case, in addition to pee all over my feet and ankles (I fell forward, not totally in the piss). I don't get why she pees in the house, we take her out more than ever and it's like she's getting untrained. Diego had walked her less than an hour earlier.
When I was informally modeling earlier, I had two little bruises on my leg and looked at them wondering how I managed to do that and hoped that I wouldn't get anymore while they went away, so my legs would look good for modeling. Not the case, it's 45 minutes later and my knee still aches. I don't think I'll escape the evidence of my fall. Sorry legs, sorry modeling....you are beaten.
The background today is that today is the day, four years ago, my dad had a heart attack.
I'm at B&N, starting to tear up now that I let those words and thought out of me. It's like it didn't hit me til I keep reading them an staring at 'heart attack' on the page. I forgot my English book. In the flurry of the fall, I forgot what I was on my way to do. And I forgot my mouse, an essential comfort whenever I'm on my computer.
I just....
i don't know. need to breath, go home and hug my mom. and do some english. and architectural theory too.
I drove to the library to rent a movie they didn't have, and since I got there 5 minutes before they closed, I didn't have time to peruse for a new selection. Then I decided I'd knock my english out today at Barnes and Noble, so I'd stop by home and snag my computer. On my way out, I was reading a text, walking down the stairs and boom! I slipped and fell--hard--on our wood floor. Salad had peed (within the past 10 minutes of the crash) a fucking giant lake, so I, like a cartoon or one of those tv moments, totally slipped and fell. Except it wasn't one those moments. I laid there on the floor in shock and aching, cursing. Luckily I have a good case for my netbook, since that was in my paws when I fell too. The floor was full of Salad hair. I'm wearing black. I therefore managed a whole new fur coat over my pants and sweater and computer case, in addition to pee all over my feet and ankles (I fell forward, not totally in the piss). I don't get why she pees in the house, we take her out more than ever and it's like she's getting untrained. Diego had walked her less than an hour earlier.
When I was informally modeling earlier, I had two little bruises on my leg and looked at them wondering how I managed to do that and hoped that I wouldn't get anymore while they went away, so my legs would look good for modeling. Not the case, it's 45 minutes later and my knee still aches. I don't think I'll escape the evidence of my fall. Sorry legs, sorry modeling....you are beaten.
The background today is that today is the day, four years ago, my dad had a heart attack.
I'm at B&N, starting to tear up now that I let those words and thought out of me. It's like it didn't hit me til I keep reading them an staring at 'heart attack' on the page. I forgot my English book. In the flurry of the fall, I forgot what I was on my way to do. And I forgot my mouse, an essential comfort whenever I'm on my computer.
I just....
i don't know. need to breath, go home and hug my mom. and do some english. and architectural theory too.
Monday, March 15, 2010
walk the walk like a pussy
I wrote this while waiting 2 hours to walk for 20 seconds:
Relax. Think of chocolate. Keep your chin down and let everyone know that you have a secret and if they pick you, maybe, just maybe, you’ll divulge. This means have a small flirty smile, twinkle in the eye. HHMmmmm…goat cheese, chocolate and coconut gelato, chai tea, indika. Keep your chin down, you’re not above them or looking up. Roll your shoulders up and back, it should feel like something: a little soar but upright and relaxed. Keep your arms relaxed. This is the way your body was made to stand, this is the way you were built to look. Walk forward, lead with your hips. It’s a little weird, right? That’s what it should be. You’re going forward, you have purpose, and your feet are carrying you and the million dollar gown you got on. And it looks INCREDIBLE ON YOU! It fit’s you like a glove. You are meant to for it; the dress was made for you. Your steps aren’t too slow but not too fast. Your hips sway back and forth back and forth. This feels slightly awkward too, like overkill. But it’s not. It looks good and it looks right. You are displaying movement and fluidity. Your face is intelligent and flirty. You are crazy confident because this isn’t an audition, there is no question that you should be or will be cast. You are just doing what you were meant to do. Always do. And it always works! Just be confident. Pretend you are the only model in the room and you know what to do.
'Sad Sad City' blasted in my mind, I was pumped, but not pumped enough. Something was missing, I didn't get cast, again. Brittney, this girl, was in the show with me and cast for both castings. I need to be like Brittney. It takes time, energy, and there is a learning curve. I'm curving away. Hmm. Tomorrow, 2 more chances to walk the walk like a pussy.
Relax. Think of chocolate. Keep your chin down and let everyone know that you have a secret and if they pick you, maybe, just maybe, you’ll divulge. This means have a small flirty smile, twinkle in the eye. HHMmmmm…goat cheese, chocolate and coconut gelato, chai tea, indika. Keep your chin down, you’re not above them or looking up. Roll your shoulders up and back, it should feel like something: a little soar but upright and relaxed. Keep your arms relaxed. This is the way your body was made to stand, this is the way you were built to look. Walk forward, lead with your hips. It’s a little weird, right? That’s what it should be. You’re going forward, you have purpose, and your feet are carrying you and the million dollar gown you got on. And it looks INCREDIBLE ON YOU! It fit’s you like a glove. You are meant to for it; the dress was made for you. Your steps aren’t too slow but not too fast. Your hips sway back and forth back and forth. This feels slightly awkward too, like overkill. But it’s not. It looks good and it looks right. You are displaying movement and fluidity. Your face is intelligent and flirty. You are crazy confident because this isn’t an audition, there is no question that you should be or will be cast. You are just doing what you were meant to do. Always do. And it always works! Just be confident. Pretend you are the only model in the room and you know what to do.
'Sad Sad City' blasted in my mind, I was pumped, but not pumped enough. Something was missing, I didn't get cast, again. Brittney, this girl, was in the show with me and cast for both castings. I need to be like Brittney. It takes time, energy, and there is a learning curve. I'm curving away. Hmm. Tomorrow, 2 more chances to walk the walk like a pussy.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
SHASHASHA ----- RUNWAYS ----- SHASHASHA!!!!!
So ladies,
Last night I was in my first runway show: Custo Barcelona. It was the final show at 9pm in the Miami Fashion Week tent. I had 2 looks. It was super cool, I felt super cool, everything went smoothly. Well, my face was burried in a 12 foot hot pink fur scarf while my ass was hanging out of the ultra ultra black mini skirt, but I don't give a fuck.
I went to another casting today and didn't get it. I didn't own the runway in the casting though, so I'm not shocked. Tomorrow's castings, I will kick butt though because being on the runway is super fun. super fun!
AMNT's casting director contacted me via facebook and via model mayhem asking me to audition for cycle 15. I don't think that is going to happen because she sent me a list of private auditions and the closest one is tuscaloosa, so i don't think i'm going to hop on a plane or take a drive this time around. There's one in Dallas on April 16th...so I'll look at that in the small chance that the flights are super cheap, but I don't think it's going to happen. Hm. I'm flattered though!
Last night I was in my first runway show: Custo Barcelona. It was the final show at 9pm in the Miami Fashion Week tent. I had 2 looks. It was super cool, I felt super cool, everything went smoothly. Well, my face was burried in a 12 foot hot pink fur scarf while my ass was hanging out of the ultra ultra black mini skirt, but I don't give a fuck.
I went to another casting today and didn't get it. I didn't own the runway in the casting though, so I'm not shocked. Tomorrow's castings, I will kick butt though because being on the runway is super fun. super fun!
AMNT's casting director contacted me via facebook and via model mayhem asking me to audition for cycle 15. I don't think that is going to happen because she sent me a list of private auditions and the closest one is tuscaloosa, so i don't think i'm going to hop on a plane or take a drive this time around. There's one in Dallas on April 16th...so I'll look at that in the small chance that the flights are super cheap, but I don't think it's going to happen. Hm. I'm flattered though!
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Projectile my Intestines into a Toilet Bowl Please.
Speaking of fake I.D.'s (in reference to my last post) I proved that I actually deserve one rather than a real one. I puked in my best friend's brothers house - on the floor.
There are a couple of things I do not understand about myself. First one is why the hell do I NEVER throw up in a toilet? (Except for that one time I fell in love with you Sabrina) Also, why did I drink myself silly? And then why did I wake up on her brother's couch with a note from her saying that I looked too peaceful to wake up? She probably didn't want to deal with Miss Puke on Her Face and I wouldn't either! I feel awful for welcoming her to spring break with projectile vomittng the lovely meal her parents cooked for me and then having her clean it up! Ewwwwwwwww.
I have now thrown up on: Sarah's bothers wood floors, Vicky's sink with dishes in it, all over, under, around the Waterford toilet, some rando toilet in a club on 6th street, in an airport trash can (with style, I chose the trash can with the most people around it), in India either in the toilet or the car I can't remember, on Seneca Room number 10's wooden floors. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.
EW. EW. Ewwwww Ajna.
You know you can't go on throw-upping every where you go! I feel like a dog who has to piss on everything to mark his territory, only difference is I have a vagina and I "think" I am as tall as my flippers for feet deceive me - therefore thinking I can hold back a couple of 'em shots. I can't hold back anything. Seriously.
Haha. 24 hours later. I think I am still drunk.
Is that possible?
Might be for a lightweight.
There are a couple of things I do not understand about myself. First one is why the hell do I NEVER throw up in a toilet? (Except for that one time I fell in love with you Sabrina) Also, why did I drink myself silly? And then why did I wake up on her brother's couch with a note from her saying that I looked too peaceful to wake up? She probably didn't want to deal with Miss Puke on Her Face and I wouldn't either! I feel awful for welcoming her to spring break with projectile vomittng the lovely meal her parents cooked for me and then having her clean it up! Ewwwwwwwww.
I have now thrown up on: Sarah's bothers wood floors, Vicky's sink with dishes in it, all over, under, around the Waterford toilet, some rando toilet in a club on 6th street, in an airport trash can (with style, I chose the trash can with the most people around it), in India either in the toilet or the car I can't remember, on Seneca Room number 10's wooden floors. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.
EW. EW. Ewwwww Ajna.
You know you can't go on throw-upping every where you go! I feel like a dog who has to piss on everything to mark his territory, only difference is I have a vagina and I "think" I am as tall as my flippers for feet deceive me - therefore thinking I can hold back a couple of 'em shots. I can't hold back anything. Seriously.
Haha. 24 hours later. I think I am still drunk.
Is that possible?
Might be for a lightweight.
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