"Much Madness is Divinest Sense?" are you crazy or a genius?

things to be considered: The Avalanches "Frontier Psychiatrist" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLrnkK2YEcE&ob=av2n
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Much of my time in Santa Cruz is spent people watching. Amidst a sea of both crazies and geniuses (mainly crazies hahahah) , it is hard to decipher who is what (people surprise you with really amazing thoughts). If you judge them on how different or outside the norm they are, then all of Santa Cruz is crazy. However this is not true and there is lots of amazing talent here. Over time I have learned to make more keen observations, yet I am still frequently surprised. I could elaborate on this subject for quite some time, but today is about my friend Tom. I work as a barista at a hippie coffee shop where Bob Marley plays on repeat and customers range from well-to-dos to hobos. [It seems like a contradiction, yes, but then again who can resist a hippie speed ball (espresso+weed)?] Many ridiculous/ interesting scenarios occur on a daily basis. Tom came in every day to order his half light-roast half dark-roast organic coffee (which [sidenote] he sweetened with honey. never seen anyone else do that..random..). He was tall and thin, about 55 years old. Every day Tom wore black jeans, a decent button-up shirt with his long-ish gray hair in a ponytail tucked under a crimson beret (sort of a typical look.. he was a mesh of a writer/painter). He would sit outside smoking hand-rolled cigarettes while hand-writing his manuscripts which (from what i saw) was half poetry and half a cultural manifesto. I like Tom; We had many intellectual discussions about life, truth, and human existence (if you didn't already know, i'm a big dork). He's an advocate of the old way of the world, tradition, and form. He gave me some of his work/notes a few times. I won't give my opinion too much because I see where he is coming from but I am just not a huge fan of that style. However I do think it is important to keep it alive. Here is a sonnet thingy from his notes (a social commentary on a historical account. themes on imagery versus truth, manipulation and control, objectification, and criticism of American capitalism.. just the usual afternoon for Tom. he was no genius, but he was very observant and creative):

THEY DIDN'T HANG GERONIMO

They didn't hang Geronimo
But they put him in captivity
Shipped him off on a train
To a land far away.

No bullet could kill Geronimo
So they made him a commodity
Tiger of the human race
To his dyin' day.

Yeah, they'd throng to see Geronimo
When they'd get him as a novelty
At an expo or fair
Or to head a parade.

The fiercest of foes, Geronimo
It piqued their curiosity
To see the wildest Indian
That God ever made.

They wanted a piece of Geronimo
So they made him a celebrity
He died with ten grand in the bank
From the profit that he made.

He got the lasting fame, Geronimo
And later on in history
Paratroopers yelled his name
When they jumped out of a plane.

They didn't hang Geronimo.

By Tom R.

One day Tom showed up in half biker half hippie cloths looking whacked out of his mind but also extremely happy. He said was engaged to the daughter of a Native American Chief and he would be moving to a reservation in Arizona as soon as possible. I asked about his get-up and general attitude, and how different he seemed today. He responded, "Ohh yes, Alice, I'm just letting my true colors show." Unlike his usual cool nature, Tom was a whirlwind and left without saying anything. I heard he came back the next day twice as weird, asked for a free coffee, left and never returned.

What do I make of this scenario? His words rang truth to me but his quick turn around sings crazy man. Can you be both? Yes, but where is the line? Van Gogh ripped his own ear off in a fit of madness yet his work is amazing. Is it as Emily Dickinson suggests, that "Much Madness is Divinest Sense"? If 'crazy' only means far enough outside the norm that those who are 'normal' don't get it, then who amongst those people actually have insight? What is the difference in being different and being delusional. I can't be quick to assume either position, not here. Just another day in Santa Cruz.

crazy sandiegans

Just got back from San Diego.. it's crazy down there. Don't get me wrong, I like (maybe even love) crazy from time to time but daaang.. It is party central down there. Every night and even in the daytime there are parties or bumpin clubs. My first night down I was greeted with a party bus which brought me downtown to nightclub Fluxx. Most of the nightclubs are filled with E heads, House music, and hott people everywhere (for my personal preference wayy too maintained it was kinda unattractive. peeps were obsessed with appearance). The slopes down there will freeze your face off, so I've been told. I felt like everyone should just have a binky in their mouth and turn the city into a rave. Bouncers literally check your eyes to see if your pupils are dilated.
            The weather is probably the best in the country and the beaches are absolutely beautiful. There's great surf if you can man up. The people are super friendly but be careful, they're flaky (not everyone obv.. I had good& bad experiences). They'll walk into your house without knowing you and grab a beer from your fridge. As east coasters we were like, 'and who the fuck are you?'. They didn't think it was weird at all. It kinda felt like a free-for-all and people were just grabbing whatever they felt entitled to. Almost everyone recognized me and my friends as Boston girls (because of our sass mouths, go figure). A cool thing about them was they were all pretty social and I did not see many awkward people. To match the locals I bought a brightly colored pair of wayfarer sunglasses and wore them in the sun. and in the shade. and in the nightclub. and really never took them off. You know, when in Rome..I was stoked on it for suuure.(also LMFAOs Party Rock Anthem def grew on me while I was there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQ6zr6kCPj8&ob=av2e )
          The trip was great for me because I got to reunite with my best friends, and we always tear it up. I love them so much!
          Sooo.. if you're young and want to have a crazy time in the sun, San Diego is great. yup.

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.

__________________________________________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 :)

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 13^th 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 13^th 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!

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.

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!