happy people don't complain (too often.)

I guess there is no self-truth to be avoided, I've been a lonely cat quite most my life. And I'm not complaining about it either. To be honest, I at times find peace in solitude. I'm not like completely anti-social or anything, I do have friends, only a few whom I consider to be actual. I'm very family-oriented, and I adore spending as much time with my family as possible. but I've never had that certain friendship, that certain connection with another human being. At least, I've never had such feeling of it. I feel much more connected to the words of Federico Garcia Lorca and Thomas Merton than I probably ever have with people I've known half my life. I've never truly had that one group of friends to build endless memories with and share extraordinary dreams with, or even just that one friend that I could go to with all my angst rants, silliness, bizarre ideas, and joy. I've never been able to open up and give my all to someone, or perhaps I've been able, but it just hasn't happened. The right person hasn't come along, but odd enough I'm still hopeful. Either it be a friendship, or a relationship...I want it. I want to share my thoughts, heart, and soul with another just as I want that someone to equally share their thoughts, heart, and soul with me as well. I have so much more to offer than I put forth on display, as non-sensed as that may sound. I'd let down all my barriers for the right person, without hesitation I thoroughly and genuinely would. From experienced observation, many people just use each other out of selfishness...they get bored, they want fun, they want somebody to talk to, so they phone up the same ol' person, or the next available contact to fill-up that minor disturbing void. They title it "friendship" but the majority of the time it's complete bullshit. I know that sounds a bit harsh, and I'm not really one to openly state such matters, but it's true. And I just can't follow that, I don't want to be a part of that. If I invite someone for a chat-over-coffee, it's cos I sincerely want just that, I want to see that person and have an actual conversation. I want to hear as much from them just as much as I want to share with them. If I invite someone to go with me to a party, it's because I genuinely want to have a good time with that person, not just for the mundane reason of not wanting to arrive alone. Sometimes I come off rather stand-offish, stuck-up even...but it's not that, it's just--it's difficult to explain. It's everything but that...it's rather simple actually. I just want sincerity. Sincerity is really all I ask for. And I'm not insinuating that I'm some sort of angelic gal, for in caught-up moments I too have shared moments of dishonesty and misleading gossip, but it's not something I'd do intentionally. I could never purposely hurt someone, be disloyal, dishonest...I could never use somebody for my own self-revolved reasons. And I don't plan on it, the more distance from that, the better. but I don't always want to be a one man wolf pack either (yes, hangover reference.) I'm just in hope for that true life-changing friendship/relationship...I'm diligently and patiently waiting for it. I know God has it all planned out and arranged. And I'm both anxious and excited for that day to come in bloom. And the day it does, all of these things (things being a sum-up of many dealt with aspects) will have been, will be worth it.
 That much I know.

That much I have to hold onto for now. 

Women are so kick-ass. 

O b s e s s i o n s .

Is it healthy? normal? natural? alright? significant? pointless? We all have one at some point in out lives. In some cases, many. Either it be with an object (those pair of Doc Martens you spent half your paycheck on, that Fleetwood-Mac record you bargained at the flea-market, etc.) or in deeper connotation, emotion-driven obsessions. You know, like that one almost-embarrassing-to-tell obsession you had over that one guy from your third period English class your junior year in high school, or that one strange obsession you had over that one quiet ivory-skinned girl with the faded blue hair that you'd encounter on your weekly visits to the public library. You don't know why, or how, but it's there. That deep interest, acknowledgment, the continual thought-revolve over that object, that person, that feeling. It's there. More present than the clouds above you. How do obsessions start their ignition of taking place in our lives, where do they derive from? Interests, emotions, beliefs, obsessions...their come-and-go formations are so tangible, and so out of reach at the same time. but does that even matter? One doesn't necessarily know the exact day, minute, and second that one falls in love with another, but we know that it was in-between those days, minutes, and seconds that lead you there. You can't quite recall the reason why you stopped believing in saints, or why you stopped writing of specific topics, it just happened, and that's what it is. I guess the same goes for these secretive, much too loud, world-renounced obsessions? Where I end and you begin...both equally bound to the static of obsession. It's 1:15 AM, I'm obsessed with the time of night. I'm obsessed with words, and sounds. I'm obsessed with the thought of many things...life, death, dreams, time, love. I'm obsessed with how a mass amount of complexity can be withheld by a simple organ-ed structure. I'm obsessed with red lipstick and my currently thrifted Marc by Marc Jacobs monster truck tee. It's 1:26 AM, and I'm both resoundingly and antonymous-ly obsessed.

Point of views are much too intriguing.
Especially those displayed on You-Tube.

"This song makes me feel like I am a jellyfish floating in a murky green ocean. 

Just floating peacefully...Until a man catches me and uses my poison to irritate his nips. 
Mmmm, he likes the pain that I inflict upon him 
And indeed I enjoy being the catalyst of such pain. 
He moans in ecstasy as my slimy film covers his abdomen 
And I squirm in delight in the thought of him dying because of my grotesque body mechanics. 
Die you ignorant sailor. When he is dead---I melt into the Earth."

- shogun1556.

Will you marry me when you are seventy? You'd have nothing to lose. 

I'm not a lesb, but if there were ever such opportunity,
I'd marry Laura Marling in a heart-beat.

All of this. All of this, I want.

So, I was going through my time-capsule of a diary, 

and I came across this poem I'd written during my senior year in high school.

Not too shabby, I'd say.

"I'm waiting to know you, 

wanting to show you,

hesitating to hold you...

Oh, hidden face.


Attentive for your words,

indulgent for your thoughts,

suppressed by your sweet charm,

Much too far away.


Oh, I think you're great!

but you wander, as I wait...

the clock begins to synchronize a melodious pace.


I don't mind if dusk turns to dawn,

while April turns to May.

It doesn't phase me-

time, change, life...

diligent I remain.



Yet all in all,

I can't retrieve to question,

an answer that isn't mine to claim.

Steady going,

Steady come,

Why

Must

Love

Delay?"

note(s) to self.

One: Buy a new camera.

Two: take pictures of everything, capture your youth!

Three: talk to more people, give more 'high fives'.

Four: get more involved in church and school activities.

Five: dye your hair blue, or orange. go hair wild!

Six: fall in love. get heartbroken. have a romance, or two.

Seven: go to every desired concert as much as possible!
(starting off with: Cut Copy, Cults, RADIOHEAD, Laura Marling, etc.)

Eight: Buy a new-old record player!

Nine: roadtrip around California, starting off with San Francisco.

Ten: Do things that make Y-O-U  h a p p y.

Deux of my current modern style icons include:

Alexa Chung (of course) et Mademoiselle Pandora.

Not only are they lovely, hip, eccentric, and intelligent,

they are both incredibly bad-ass. (and British.)

Save the last dance.

The Dance 

"I have sent you my invitation,
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
Don’t jump up and shout, “Yes, this is what I want! Let’s do it!”
Just stand up quietly and dance with me.

"Show me how you follow your deepest desires,
spiraling down into the ache within the ache,
and I will show you how I reach inward and open outward
to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, every day.

"Don’t tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart.
Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when
you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.

Tell me a story of who you are,
and see who I am in the stories I live.
And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.

Don’t tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day.
Show me you can risk being completely at peace,
truly okay with the way things are right now in this moment,
and again in the next and the next and the next. . .

I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring.
Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall,
the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will.
What carries you to the other side of that wall, to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?

And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that
help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently
loving those we once loved out loud.

Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance,
the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart.
And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet and the stars overhead make
my heart whole again and again.

Show me how you take care of business
without letting business determine who you are.
When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout that soul’s desires have
too high a price, let us remind each other that it is never about the money.

Show me how you offer to your people and the world
the stories and the songs
you want our children’s children to remember.
And I will show you how I struggle not to change the world,
but to love it.

Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude,
knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging.
Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words,
holding neither against me at the end of the day.

And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest
intentions has died away on the wind,
dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale
of the breath that is breathing us all into being,
not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.

Don’t say, 'Yes!'

Just take my hand and dance with me."

- Oriah, Mountain Dreamer.

I want a relationship just like this.

You're spilling sentiment like drops of rain
Your faint lips purring like a cat
I feel uneasy but not neglected
A matter of life, a midnight drive.

You please the trees with your lost mind
Your eyes like fields of estranged signs
This silence will never take you home.

And you cannot sleep, neither can I
Sleep will not come, my tongue turns dry
Hold me tenderly, make me cry
Life remains diligent underneath these crimsoned eyes.

Invierno taps among the dashboard
Impatient time passing us by
Our limbs gradually shred to pieces
Ruminative starry night.

let your heart

listen for you.

"I believe in manicures. 
I believe in primping at leisure and wearing lipstick. 
I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. 
I believe in kissing, kissing a lot.
 I believe in being strong 
when everything seems to be going wrong. 
I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. 
I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles." 

- Audrey Hepburn

nights are so long, always too short.
Oh, nights.

Have your cup of tea, and get over it, honey.

"I think I'm more comfortable 
in my voice than in my skin."

- lykke li.

 

I've never considered smoking a joint,

but if ever I did, It'd be with these two studs. 

If you stare intently and appreciatively 
at the star lite night above you,

there is a chance, this slight possibility,

that the heavens will unfold before your eyes.

And I never want to forget:
the late night walks alongside my mum...

and the way she'd tell me tales about the greatness of God.

Of how He knows the name to every single star...

And I never want to forget
how at that moment

I longed for nothing more than to be one.

If I were a song,

I'd want to sound as pretty as this.

Here today, gone tomorrow

"Things disappear.

Sometimes things disappear as a result of an accident.

Sometimes neglect causes things to disappear.

Sometimes things are intentionally made to disappear...

but there's a chance most things don't disappear, they simply transform.

When things are transformed beyond recognition they are said to have disappeared."

So, he's in love with someone special in his many-the-miles away from here life.

I can live with that. I guess I have to.

Trois ans plus tard, 

I am still irrevocably obsessed with you.

Dearest N Y L O N, thou art my truest love.

la vit en blanche et noir,

has always seemed much more exquise.

Kiss me conspicuously underneath the mango tree.

This song breaks my heart every time I listen to it, 

and I guess in some odd way, 

that's what makes me love it that much more.

Well, my current status of life--

I guess it could be summed up in one simple word: change.

It kind of makes the inside of my stomach feel warm just thinking about it, how much change is currently taking place, and how much inevitable change is on its way. I often have those cinematic moments where I visualize myself standing still in a scene of ever-revolving life. You know, the one where everything and everyone is in inexplicable evolve, and you're in the center of it all reflecting on the time passing you by. I'm officially unemployed, I'm officially going to live one of my dreams of visiting New York (the two-way aero-plane tickets have been purchased!), there's less than two months before fall semester is over, there's a possibility that I'll be a bank tailor starting this upcoming new year (and the whole process of being interviewed and etc. terrifies the shit out of me), I have what I guess can be considered a "date" this Thursday (and it means quite a bit cos' I haven't been on one of those for far too long), my desire for starting my journalism career is taking it's toll on me, and I'm just ready to start taking some action. I've been partying quite a bit these past weeks, I had my first actual "drunk" experience and I enjoyed it, but I'm over it. My realization on the truth of matters is expanding, and it's getting clearer everyday that I really don't give a shit if I fit in or stand out. I want to live a prosperous life, I want to be a follower of God. I want to do good, and I want to be happy. I want to follow my somewhat obscure dreams, and I don't want to waste whatever time it is that I have on this fleeting earth weeping and wondering, and hoping without faith. I'm not sure where this path that I'm on is leading me, but I know it's leading me to where I'm destined to be. I know I may not make it to be a legend, and chances are historians will leave my name out of ten pound weighing books, but I genuinely don't care. The right people will come into my life when I need them, I'll fall irrevocably in love with the greatest man imaginable when I least expect it, the right doors will open up when they're destined to, and this world will spin madly on but everything will be just fine. I know God has a humble amount of special plans intended for me, and I'm excited for the journey of reaching them. I'm scared, nervous, anxious, stready, ready, and exited. This is the kind of feeling to live for. More than ever, I'm set forth on living. Living to be alive!

And her dark brown eyes spoke loud and precise,

Chanson du jour.

I get nervous when I see him,

It makes me anxious when I don't.

Knowing this makes me a bit unsettled.

Especially because he has no idea;

and possibly never will.

just, because.

So, as the whole world and their grandmamajoe's know, Beavis and Butt-head is finally coming back to television! I am beyond excited! I remember watching back-to-back episodes with my older sister as a kid. After several episode re-inactments, both of us eventually mastered the inevitable "huhhh huhh huh's," and "eh heh heh's." Beavis and Butt-head is just a classic, man. And with great luck, I was able to get a hold of one of their 1994 Rolling Stone College Special edition issues. I randomly decided to visit a local bookshop a few minutes away from home, and to my surprise, it was vintage magazine heaven! There I was finger-flipping through some issues of Rolling Stones when *heavenly sound effect* Beavis and Butt-head! Of course I had to bring it back home with me, regardless the fact that my room is starting to look more and more like a museum with all my hoarded findings. But, c'mon. How could anyone resist such a find? An even sweeter bonus, the store owner (which was super adorable, let me tell you. An about 70-something year old Italian women that held quite the conversation about her passion for vintage readings and trio music) apparently "digged" my personality and only ended up charging me two bucks for it. It will definitely be a hand-me-down to my children one day (whenever/if ever I have any.) Heck, I'll make sure to have children just to have my mini capsule of cool 1990's handed-down.

Please,

don't make me like you.

One - fifty (two)

1. Birds


2. Hands


3. Tea


4. Letters


5. Words


6. Dreams


7. The number Seven


8. Commas ,


9. Periods.


10. Radiohead


11. Nirvana


12. Camera Obscura


13. (Parenthesis)

14. parler dans français

15. hablar en español

16. secret crushes


17. unspoken-about-kisses


18. Zooey Deschannel


19. How I Met Your Mother


20. When will I ever meet your mother?


21. Questions?


22. Questions without answers.


23. Mysteries


24. Mysterious people


25. Odd people


26. Quiet people who listen to their I-pods 24/7


27. Denny's. cos' it's open 24/7.


28. The color blue:


29. like the sky,


30. and the sea.


31. not making sense to others,


32. but making sense to myself.


33. when others make no sense to me,


34. at all,


35. I become much more intrigued.


36. fancy words


37. worn-out shoes


39. skipping numbers


38. and making up for it afterwards


40. Old books that no one reads


41. Exposed diaries


42. watermelon,


43. with lemon.


44. faces,


45. freckles,


46. freckles on faces.


47. believing


48. that


49. everything will somehow


50. fall into place,


51. no matter what.


52. Oh, and Ending things in even numbers.

Have you ever,

been so happy 
that you could just die
and it wouldn't even matter?

"I'm alone on a bicycle for two."

Where is my mind?

So, I'm currently listening to a song called "Where is my mind" by the Pixels (hence the title of this post) and I thought to myself, hmm...what a good freaking question. I am literally like a mind on a stick (okay, not literally) and yes, that doesn't really make much sense. but the point here is, I am a non-stop thinker. I think way too much, of everything, and I mean everything. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Right now, I'm still in that what-the-hell-am-I-even-doing-here/ what's my purpose sort of phase. The more I grow, the more and more distant the answer to that question seems to get. I'm a college gal, I work, I'm in my last year of teenage-hood, and it all seems so obscure. Things used to seem so much simpler as a kid. I could have been a librarian, or a rock star, I could have been a freaking astronaut--and now, I feel so limited. But still, I want it. I want it all. It's like, fuck. I want to be a radio dj, and I want people to listen to real freaking music. I want to open a record store in the heart of a busy city, and forever carry on the talents of Thom Yorke, Bjork, and the Raconteurs. I want to write for fucking magazines, and reach out to all the odd, pigeon-toed, crooked smile underdogs. I want to learn how to paint, and make beautiful art pieces that my future grandchildren can hang in their early-twenties apartments. I want to learn how to play every single instrument possible, and make sweet passionate music. I want to be a chef, an actress, a fashion designer, a lover, a giver, a traveler, a maker--"I want to be one of these things first". and perhaps the trip that I'll (hopefuly, fingers-crossed) be taking to Boston this December will help me start it off.

One day, I'll give it up.

give it all up, and buy a one-way train ticket to the city of Chicago.

Twenty years from now,
I don't want to say the same.

No one knows where she comes from
Maybe she's a devil in disguise
I can tell by looking in her eyes.

Little miss strange
Little miss strange.

I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field.



Love is so melancholic. 

Carousels twirl all around exited youth.
I do not mind
at all.
We’re tonight in a world full of thrills—it can come carry me up,
far above
it all.

It’s a long way down
from here
to the sound.
Watch the faces
go ‘round—
to the stars
then the ground.

Ferris wheels carried us away
not so long ago.
Times I’ve betrayed.
Where would we be now if I had taken your hand?
Well the years they pass by slow
don’t they?

It’s a long way down
from here
to the sound.
Watch the faces
go ‘round—
to the stars
then the ground.

haven't you heard?
some things don't need descriptions.

film du jour.

Krótki film o milosci (A Short Film About Love) (1988)

I agree with you, trust me, I do.
I am well aware that I post way too much music videos on here.
But c'mon, can you blame a gal? Music + Videos = love, man!

And talking about love, I think I might just be in love with Beirut.
Correction, I am utterly head-over-Chuck Taylor's for this dude!

He is so charming, too c h a r m i n g ♥

press play >

 

I was fortunate enough to see this lovely band at FYF Fest this year,
and yesss, they are absolutely brilliant live!
It was an intimate, sardine-packed setting, and I loved every lasting minute of it. ♥

c l i c k, click.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/geraldinecampo/5882735672/

My hands are cold.
My nose is cold.
It's 7:25 PM.
I'm sitting at computer 420 (oh, geez) in my schools computer lab,
which happens to be located inside the schools library
(and if you know me, you know how much I love libraries.)
I'm listening to "I might be Wrong" by, yes, you guessed it :
R A D I O H E A D.
The computer lab instructor just announced that the computer lab
will be closing in exactly 15 minutes.
This little scenario that I just described--
the simple moment I happen to point and time be in right now,
I'll never have it again.
No matter how significant or insignificant a moment may be,
you only get it once.
You may come across doing the same thing day after day,
but it will never truly be the same passing twice.
Every-single-second of our lovely little lives are their own. Never ours.

" I will

Lay me down

In a bunker

Underground

I won’t let this happen to my children

Meet the real world coming out of your shell

With white elephants

Sitting ducks

I will

R I S E   U P. "

I'm not trying to sound like a teen here
(although technically I still have a year left of it),
but people could be so damn frustrating, sometimes.
and unfortunately, I happen to be one of them.

not that you asked.

I'm inside my cozy 'negrito' aka my mini black Ford Focus, parked in front of my usual chill spot Starbucks. My black and white baby doll shoes are off, I could feel some crumbs on the sole of my feet (I really need to stop eating drive-thru food in here), my windows are rolled down, there's a noisy motorcycle a few parking spots away from me, my lap-top is starting to feel warm atop my legs, and I'm currently listening to a jam called "Waste" by a band (which I hope you've heard of by now) called 'Foster The People'. They're gonna be in concert at a local-ish theater in a few months, I think I might just have to metro my way to and fro. (oh yes, I just said "to and fro".) Well, I feel absolutely ashamed and guilty of not spending as much time as I feel I should (and genuinely want to) on here. Actually, now that I think of it, I haven't really written much anywhere. Not in my journals, notebooks, work-receipts. Gah! I know, I must stop!
I vow to give more of me to the things I love, and blogging + writing = my two true loves. Speaking of love, how ironic is it that a song called "Love" just started playing right now? Very, right. Speaking of, since we've now shifted on that topic, I've yet to find any "love" compatibility with another. BUT, yes, the big BUT--I'm not worrying about it. As incredible as having a lover may be, I've come to this sort of acceptance that romance just isn't in my cards, at least not at this point and time in my life. Along with this acceptance, I've also concluded a theory. Perhaps, it is possible to be romantically and passionately involved with 'objects', just as it is with humans. So, it's safe to say, I'm absolutely taken. I'm in love with music, and literature, words, dreams, my aspirations, and nature. I always have been. Feelings I've had for certain people have faded, sad to say, but true. Relationships I've had, and friendships--they've lessened, some even to the point of disappearance. This unfortunately is a part of life, it happens--chances are these sort of things will always happen. but I don't fear sorrowfulness, for truly in my heart I believe that God put these 'objects' in life to help complete those hearts who don't necessarily have another heart to rely on. Music is my second heartbeat, poetry is my best friend, nature is my hope, notebooks are my listeners, and my dreams are my reminders to keep moving forward. I may find it someday. That fleshed "soulmate" may appear out of the blue when I least expect it, and I'll be absolutely grateful and appreciative when that day happens--but as for now, I'm still a full-hearted gal. and I'm trying my best, and loving every single little minute of my ever-fleeting relationshiped (if that's even a word?) life.

"To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour."

- William Blake. 

PRESS PLAY > >

His name is Tim, and there's something about him--

this rarity, delightful rarity.

Something so undeniably interesting about him.

The kind of interesting that arouses me to fantasize about how wonderful a conversation with him might be. 

With that put aside, this song has nothing to do with my fleeting thoughts of Tim.
 It's just beautiful, and entrancing.

I hope you like it, too.

"You

 provoked

 me

to

be


lonely.

Words are geographical."