Sunday, May 22, 2011

Doomsday & Poetry

Judgment day has come and gone, yet we are all still here. It must be because we're all sinners. We will all suffer in torment for the next 5 months. Bring it on, End of Days! You may have Jesus on your side, but I got plenty of canned goods and appropriate end-of-days clothing, as suggested by religious sanctions. yeaaa.

On another note, here's some just-for-fun descriptive poetry (they're not exactly new material but I can barely think right now so no new writing).

My heart lies with Nantasket Beach. I grew up on a small peninsula just south of Boston. Everywhere you look there's ocean. My backyard was sand. I miss it. Cheers to home....



NANTASKET BEACH

Without notice the sun dashes
in to hiding, protected by a throng
of pewter clouds extending across
the encompassing sky. Droplets begin
pelting down, warning everyone to flee.
Almost instantly every towel, boombox,
shovel, and sunscreen are tossed into straw
bags, raced to the parking lot, and retired
to the trunk. Standing on my porch I feel
my hair curling from the thick moisture. The slightest
breeze tingles my fried summer skin, sending
shivers through every limb. The taste
of rain mixed with seaweed-infested air wafts
toward shore, overwhelming the atmosphere.
Thunder echoes and I count the seconds before
the yellow-white rays jolt
out of the clouds. Lightning
glistens over the ferocious waves.
Absolutely enthralled by its shock,
I soak up the storm before, without notice, it
disappears into the horizon.

This is my favorite part of summer-
Crowds disappear and finally the beach
takes a break. As the sun sets
the sky radiates vibrant pink-red-purple
beams, as though it was blushing.
The pitter-patter of the waves cradle
me to sleep as darkness blankets
every dune.


http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-ash1/v255/12/75/32002076/n32002076_30885746_4304.jpg?dl=1
__________________________________________Nantasket Sunrise___
Here's another silly one (at least the ladies will giggle):


THE BEST PLACE TO CURE A FLUSTERED
HEART IS, OF COURSE, THE SHOE DEPARTMENT.

Aisles upon aisles of flats, straps, boots, everything
from classy to chintzy, striking to humdrum. Carelessly
wandering up and down rows, trying on pairs
as I please. Some slip on easily but pinch, some fit perfectly
but are unsightly, others too small, too plain, too costly.
I’ve been known to give into jazzy shoes, the ones that show
off my legs but leave blisters in the morning. Typical.

Check-out time and I find myself choosing between
classic New Balance sneakers and stunning Steve Madden heels.
Tennis shoes are practical and reliable. Unlike the open toe
high heeled kicks, I could wear runner’s shoes
everyday and let them accommodate every curve and arch
of my fragile feet, lending all the support I need. Pumps
aren’t exactly comfortable, but damn are they sexy. Tango
straps, my favorite color, and a dent in my wallet.
They call my name. I call their name.
They make me forget the last pair of heels I owned
that resulted in crutches. I try them on back and forth,
sneakers and pumps, debating.

How could I possibly choose between the man who
lovingly treats me with concern and the guy
who carelessly sets ablaze my desire?
I’ve come to get away but suddenly
I’m back where I started.
___________________________________________
I try different types of poetry just for fun (clearly amateur but who cares).. more to come.

K thanks for reading :)

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Can't Knock It Til You Try It?

Every once in a while you’ve gotta surprise yourself and try something out of the ordinary, something you thought you’d never do. Maybe a tattoo was a little drastic but hey, what can I say? There was an eerie air last Friday the 13th and the wind caught hold of my sails.

A tall ship? A pirate ship? I don’t even know, I picked it off a wall of select $13 Friday the 13th special at Chimera Tattoo and Body Art Studio(a rad tat shop in Santa Cruz). It was packed. Everyone was so excited I felt like I had to be a part of it. I wasn’t originally going to get a tattoo; I was just there to support my roommates. I don’t like the idea of putting random symbols on your body unless you’ve thought about it (for my body, no judgment to others). Even as I was filling out the consent forms I was like yeaaa probably not gonna do it for real. 


When I saw the ship I thought it was badass. I like the idea of adventure and exploration. I am part Nordic so there is a little pirate in my blood. And I guess it’s always been a little fantasy of mine to sail the open seas forever. Dunno, I may be placing meaning where there is none. It will always be a reminder of my time in Santa Cruz. And, look, it kinda seems like it’s sailing around my ankle, following the nautical star like a true sailor.


My nautical star is the only other tattoo I have, and it took me years to do it. I’m glad I branched out, though. However, I think I’m done getting inked. The boat on my ankle hurt wayyyyy wayyy more than the star on the top of the foot. It’s still sore. My Achilles tendon is my Achilles Heel!

Monday, May 16, 2011

Rene Descartes..a Stoner?

I take philosophy very seriously but I can’t help but wonder, How many of these guys were on drugs? The thought tickles me. Is there any evidence? Through own personal interest I have come across some individuals who are potentially the most famous stoners in history.

“I think, therefore, I am.” We’ve all heard it before. This famous philosophy was proposed by the French mathematician/scientist/philosopher Renee Descartes in the 1600s. But doesn’t it sound a little too familiar? Like maybe a stoner friend came up with it while sinking into the couch, eating Doritos, and tokin on some kush?

How could I possibly accuse Descartes, arguably the most important philosopher of modern era, of being a stoner? Let’s think about his world for a minute. Descartes spent much of his time in France and Holland. Many of his theories were about mind and body duality as well as the connection between geometry and algebra. He was born after the religious wars into a time period that was leaving the old ways of the world behind. New intellectual trends were taking over legal areas, politics, science, and philosophy. Tobacco was introduced into Europe in the mid 1500’s, gaining popularity among intellects and bohemians. You know that picture in your head of the writer who chain smokes? This is where it began. Descartes was a smoker. Smoking somehow stimulated these writers, and was described as a panacea for its medicinal properties. Although tobacco is somewhat stimulating, is it really a panacea, a cure-all? What is usually left out of history books is the coinciding rise in popularity of the use of hashish in Europe at this time. Marijuana’s medical properties and psychoactive ingredients were discovered in China in 2737 BC. From there, it spread to India and North Africa, where it was used recreationally (because Muslims couldn’t drink alcohol). The Middle East loved hashish (along with opium) and furthered the trend westward. Its alternative uses as fiber and hemp helped spread the marijuana plant. By 500 AD, hemp was introduced to Europe and quickly adopted for its medical purposes. By the 1600s in Europe, marijuana had been around and its uses spread to a wider population. Marijuana was smoked by Europeans as a spliff by crumbling up the hash and mixing it with tobacco. Cigarettes during this time were often made with both tobacco and hashish, which better explains why they were called a panacea (weed makes you feel good). In fact, by the time tobacco and marijuana came to the Americas, they were grown in fields alongside each other (including in Jamestown).

So, is it possible that Rene Descartes was smoking a doobie when he came up with ideas on modern philosophy? I think the answer is yes, it is very possible. It is known that he was a cigarette smoker influenced by the intellectual crowd during a time when tobacco and marijuana were often mixed. Yes, there is some information that has got to be missing and no, there is no concrete proof. But is it that hard to believe?

If anyone wants references, lemme know. I prefer to keep them out so maybe someday I can send a legit writing sample to High Times Magazine and have a dream job.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

santa cruz v nyc

hmm stay in santa cruz/ west coast for school? or go home and start in the fall
santa cruz...
pros-
has the best bud
good weather
the beach
the mountains
liberal

cons-
liberal
has way too much dubstep
has way too many hippie hobos
and not enough pizza.

NYC
pros-
close to home/ family
city life
people are motivated
pizza yummy

cons-
too busy
rent$
gettin flipped the bird

hmmm what to do what to do..

A New Blog? Go Away, Lymin

I made a blog! I’m no stickler for grammar or punctuation but more concerned with ideas and the flow of words. My inspiration to start a blog? I’ve been silent for 8 months unable to communicate. I need to express myself for my own sake and maybe I can be helpful (or at least amusing) to others.


I know what it feels like to lose my mind. A place where memories fade and thoughts slip away as soon as you conceive them. Chronic Lyme Disease has infected my world. During these times I feel like a helpless child lost in an unfamiliar town, trying desperately to retrace my steps but find myself stumbling through dark alleys. I’m lost in my own head. Recollection is like shuffling through a room of unorganized files looking for one specific piece of paper. I get distracted or frustrated and almost never reach my goal. It strips you of everything you love because all you know is this vegetable state of mind. (the best way to describe it is Alzheimer’s, and people with lyme disease are frequently misdiagnosed as such.)

Almost all the way through my recovery and my brain has only just started to work again. I am feeling better and the fatigue is lifting. However, in this more conscious state of mind pain has a whole new meaning. I can feel the rheumatoid arthritis come in bouts where my knees and back will feel like grinding metal. The muscle aches are a fuzzy pain throughout my body that makes every movement feel like I have just run a marathon and pushed too hard. There are literally hundreds of symptoms, from anxiety to vision/hearing impairments or having bags under my eyes. The worst are the intracranial pressure (a different kind of headache) which make my head throb for a week to months at a time. The pain from this is intense and a constant distraction.

I have had to fight for my life since I was 8. There is not much information on Lyme Disease, and even most MDs are very unaware of the condition or how it works.  This is why I was not diagnosed or treated until I was 10. By that time the bacteria had exponentially multiplied and completely took over my body and I was severely ill. What I didn’t know was that treatment would make my symptoms worse and the antibiotic medication would have adverse effects that are as bad as the disease. But the only other option was dying, so I took it. I picture a war between antibiotic and lyme bacteria, and if either is winning my body is worn out. Lyme disease stole a large portion of my childhood. Age 8 to 14 I do not remember. I did not learn much during those years and did not retain facts or social skills. In my heart that place holds a lost little girl in pain and believing that was who I was, that was my existence. In the recovery years ages 14 to 17, I went from being extremely slow to being moved up to AP courses and athletic. When the disease went into remission the first time, life became so easy and I floated through. All of a sudden I was smart when I had thought for so long I was dumb. It was a very strange experience but I was very grateful in the end.

I am so thankful to finally be able to form thoughts and communicate again. Lyme disease makes me mentally and physically slow so I have immense trouble taking care of my responsibilities and can’t be social the way I’d like to. Emotionally it has been extremely difficult, especially when I know the world will give me no slack. I am currently surrounded by people who do not know me as anything but what I am now. I do not have Lyme written all over my face like other diseases, and people do not see how sick I really am. 

The disease is strange and the severity frequently changes. It is so strange that it’s hard to explain (especially since I have a neurological disorder) and I find myself arguing with the world. I don’t want to do that anymore and I want to be in a place where I don’t care, but it hurts when people think I am being lazy or weird. It’s impossible to ask the world to be understanding when we live in a society where if you are not productive you are not valuable. But there are people in this world with real issues and many of them are ignored. I do not blame people and I do not want to come across as negative. I simply would like to educate others about a condition that is brushed under the rug and hidden. Lyme is constantly and purposely ignored by health care companies- but that is another political discussion best addressed by the documentary film Under Our Skin. Being given a disease also has taught me so much and given me a different perspective- but that is also another discussion for another day.

I have been sick for a year and a half and will be healthy again in 4 months if recovery stays on track. So excited :) !

 Future blogs will be more lighthearted, I promise!