abracadabra

I think most guys know that majority of girls are secretly 90% lesbian when it comes to aesthetics. That's why sex sells often refers to the female form instead of the male and female form. On one hand it's true, yes - girls can look at a photograph and think, "I wish I was that appealing" but also think, "She's really hot." So concludes the impression I get from conversations I have with other girls while I caught a glimpse of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Most of the time, girls just have a more aesthetically pleasing body to look at!

What is more appealing to visualize or draw? A circle or a square?

Which form of perfection is harder to achieve? Perfect circle or perfect square?

Maybe our interest in human figures lie in simply geometry and mathematics. In the end, I believe in maths more than I do in science, although I think both are equally valid, science is still shaky. Math is always one solution. Multiple ways to get there, but one destination. I love the concept of math - but I hate doing it.

There's a really powerful deviant art photograph that I won't directly post here (but here's the link deviant art image) called "power lines" that depicts the feminine form in perfection. In my case, I'm not sexually attracted but merely amazed at how all these Gestalt principles work in the human form. Basically, at it's peak, when it's not over done, excessive or degraded, the human form is really something to look at.

It's like a story. The bare skin might have words or it might not say anything at all, but somehow you can read a story from simply the body itself. It's harder to see that happening on men's body's, but for the most part, I think the female form, no matter the size, really has an individual story because there just so much in the expanse of skin itself.

Skin. The way it seems to curve over the flesh, not like it's one piece, but just a drapery that can change color, size, tone - a curtain that unveils some story underneath.

Is my analysis borderline creepy here? I just find it really fascinating because in art, the female form is used so much. Girls are the subject of advertising, yet also the receivers of the message. More often than not, one of the most beautiful things on earth can be degraded to such distasteful measures like porn or sexual deviantations - suddenly it's not a story anymore but a/n over/used prop.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, girls really are like books. All our lives, we're writing our own story by the way we try to present ourselves.

Mysterious intrigue and descriptive beauty is what attracts a reader.

Sorry for the long post, but here is a reading from Xanga that I adored.

“What if I only wanted her for her body? What if I only wanted to greet her in the morning with my lips and tell her good night the same way?

What if I only wanted wanted to hold her hand as tightly as possible, have her grip in my own and wrap her in my arms. Touch her every corner and curve and tease her until she touched me back.

What if I only wanted her eyes to pierce deeply into my soul and read my mind. Connect with my own eyes and have a private conversation in a code only she can understand. With each passing glance she would know exactly how I feel and I her.

What if I only wanted her for her feet? To walk with me during the hard times and kick away the crap that plagued my being. To stamp down with authority in her own opinions and get a running start surprising me by taking the initiative to jump at any moment she sees fit.What if I only wanted her for her chest? Something I could lay my head on and listen to the measure of her heart, and how much of it beats for me when I’m near. Something to make me remember “if you respect her, you’ll look at her in the eyes when she’s talking to you.”

What if I only wanted her for her backside. Something to sneak up on and wrap my arms around for nothing but the simple pleasure of feeling her against me. Just a subtle way to remind her that through everything “I’ve got her back.”

So, whats wrong if I only wanted her for her body?”

credits

lé carnivalesque

"The future you have tomorrow

won't be the same future you have yesterday."

(Rant, Chuck Palahniuk)

shoot, i forgot where this is from on flickr.

Today in small group we talked about planning for the future.

While I'm not one to go into detailed planning, I also have a very shaky yet lucid way of seeing myself 5, 10 years from now. Of course I'll be working in the film/television industry - unless I make it big as a novelist, which is a bit of the same results, really - which means I'll be all over the world, depending on the project, but I'll also be unemployed, maybe homeless, most of the time. Hopefully that also means I can travel the world on my own, and live kind of like a wanderer that documents travels in Diana F+ photographs, 35mm videos, rough sketches, and writings on crepe napkins - All just good ole' nostalgia pasted into famous moleskins. It'd be nice to imagine my future as drifting as a carnival that travels from place to place, being a show of curiosity and pleasure to whomever it reaches and moves on without regret of the stakes put in the ground.

Although I have thought about how my plans do not include other people. The idea of marriage, family and friends controlling where I live and how I live frightens me as much as it comforts me. Well, family and friends comfort me - marriage scares the creativity out of me - kids, time, husband... I'm quite scared to think that my emotions can be tied down to one being forever. I would never get a divorce, even if the relationship is out of love because I know I can still manage an amicable relationship, but that's another story for another flickr photograph. It's just that, well, I love being freely independent. Maybe you'll hear from me through a postcard, a letter, an email, a YouTube video as I grow physically further and further apart. The thing is: I can't stay in one place with the same people for too long. I guess I just want to remain entertaining and mysterious, so you won't figure out my tricks and cheats all too soon.

I'm gonna live like those artists in artist communities. Scraping it together, barely there physically, but when you look into my eyes - those wrinkles, discolouration and bags show that I've lived life well.

All this is so ideal, what is reality? But do I want it if it will only disappoint? What if I'm tied down to be a housewife with no time to write? What if I sell out and create something mainstream like Twilight just for the sake of money and fame in excuse "I can do what I want later?" If the cost of living is too much to bear, should I rethink my steps - but why is living how you want hand in hand with the zeros in your income? I hate how society constrains your freedom by placing a cost on leisure. I suppose that's what the Internet has changed for the better. Digital pleasure!

on the upside

photo credit: zephyrance @ flickr

tonight i was walking back to my dorm and there was this girl standing outside of the pita store, on the phone. she was shorter than me, probably a freshman, with blonde hair, black tights and a northface jacket. my description only implies a finger pointing at about 80% of the syracuse female population, and since she was yelling at her dad, i think it also says a lot more about her as a person than if she were yelling at her mum.

for starters, it tells me that she's definitely a spoilt white girl because a spoilt asian would never yell at her dad for such a reason like hers. i say this with much stereotypical insight, but at the same time it's very true. i still standby the fact that stereotypes exist because at a certain degree, someone still fits into it. yes, you may argue that a person is individual and different when you get to know them but there will still be people who live in those stereotypes until the end of the world.

anyway, she was yelling for the entire block to hear. "NO DAD THERE'S NOTHING POSITIVE ABOUT THIS PLACE!" and she proceeded to complain about her best friend who stole from her five times, and other things like the cold and her classes. i guess she really hates this place (but if she had edward cullen! would it be different...hm /sarcasm&generalpokingfunattwi-hards/). at the same time, it reminded me of how i always complained about my position here, but a year and a half later, i think slightly different. a place is ultimately how you make it; you can see the positives, the negatives and put black and white until you get gray - but in the end, you should chose to smile it through because you don't want to look back and think you've wasted time. time seems abundant, but that's only when you're looking back. if you look forward, despite your plans and confirmed flights, it's one big black hole visually clears up as you approach it.

i don't want something timeless or forever, these things have faults of human error. give me something nostalgic so i can think back with smiles, even when i hardly remember. so maybe that's why i'm working my ass off this year with 18 credits - i think i'll look back to this semester and remember myself working, but working hard and enjoying my education with bountiful things that i have learned. in between, i only had time for the best of things with friends.

this is nostalgia. good times, good times :)

on the other hand, i think i will be combining both my blogs now - (kiss or keep + standstill) - i know elizabeth likes my other one better, but it's so hard to differentiate what goes where, so i'll just store everything from daily activities to mental pondering all in one blog. i think i can actually transfer my posts over, so we'll see.

edit finished! all posts are now imported like cheap wine

pandora thanksgiving

Thanksgiving came and went with so many incidents, it's hard to say exactly what I liked and hated about it. First of all, I don't remember sitting down and being thankful; secondly, I noticed that I did everything I didn't want to do. It's funny how we're such creatures of habit, or rather, compromise. I thought I was going to stay up in Syracuse this Thanksgiving for the sake of saving money, but I went down to NYC; I promised that I wouldn't shop until I drop, and although I didn't do that, I did follow my friends around until my legs were ready to fall off.

While I want to be thankful for the whole break,

I'm purely thankful that Thanksgiving is a great milestone marker in the academic year telling me that Christmas is around the corner.

Unfortunately, this break did not really

help me reflect on what I am thankful for.

This Thanksgiving I unexpectedly blew up in front of all my friends. Well, not literally, but my comments were scathingly rude and pretty bluntly put out of irritation. I don't know where it came from, but I felt like everything people did was just stupid or annoying. Maybe it was the sickness that I woke up with every morning or maybe it was something else entirely. I don't know what I wanted from anyone or anything - I've never felt so confused in my life.

The first day was the best, and then it sort of went

downhill from there. Although I did have dinner with some family friends that have such a connection and love for family reunions, it made me jealous and wonder why I couldn't be that way. I guess in a sense, I wasn't cut for big parties, groups or tight social gatherings. I think the larger a group is, the more lost I feel. I'm not a dependent person; I much rather live in a loft with me and my dog - and this will be how my future plays out. I think I'm thankful that I'm getting these last moments to spend with my friends before I disappear into oblivion.

And as stereotypical as it is to say I'm thankful for my friends that I have now, I am. Without them, I would never have a place to stay in NYC; I would never have someone to relieve my stress to - there are many friends I miss dearly that I didn't see over the break, most of my closest and best friends that I now realize I can never erase from my life. I am thankful for the friends I have at Syracuse; for everything they have given me in general, and I wish I could give the same but I don't know why I'm not cut out for it.

If I've ever said or done something hurtful, I'm sorry. Although I probably meant it, I really didn't want to do it. I'm just Pandora's box....

Uhm, so yeah. Still I'm thankful that I got to do a lot of exciting things during Thanksgiving. Like the Tim Burton exhibit, a true inspiration; discovering this wonderful bakery in downtown NYC; and walking the Brooklyn bridge with friends. I also finally say Where the Wild Things Are - such a lovely, inspirational movie that makes me want to be a child again. I love, love the soundtrack and everything they just composed.

But most of all, I'm thankful for these college years where I will meet countless, treasured moments with people I can't never find twice. The city life looks like it's going to disappear and I just might be traveling further and further away from communication. We'll get a taste of it next year during Fall 2010-Spring 2011.

Oh, oh! This November, I am thankful that no one asked me to watch New Moon. :)

third eye

form spring:

i love you christal and i dont think you deserve to be unhappy, at all. i think you just need a different frame of reference to see things.

when I first came across this, I didn't know what to think. there are probably three to four people I can think of that would write this, but at the same time, I don't want to know who did. there were a lot of emotions running through me when I read this: first it was curiosity, then happiness, and a strange form of anger that appeared because I didn't know what the person meant by "different frame of reference." note that this anger was never directed towards the person, but just the phrase in itself. in a way its a self reflection of my own lens. I know I have a critical eye; one that reads too much into actions and people - I guess it's my third eye that analyzes a person's subconscious. it's this third eye that builds this fortress around my heart - and I think in some masochistic way - I enjoy being unhappy - maybe that's why I constantly take the most obsidian perspective on situations. it's in the irony of contrast that makes joy so much more plentiful.

one thing I hate about this blog is how I come off as.

I hate expressing myself in i s o l a t e d emotions.

I know it makes me appear like this force of unmanageable unhappiness, but I'm not dissatisfied or bitter (for the most part) - I think I just miss things. I know the word "things" is so general, but as time passes by, I come to realize that I miss the past. whether it was good or bad, I just miss the fact that the things that happened once upon a time have become things that may never happen again.

I am a nostalgic creature. I live nocturnally because I do not want time to continue. despite the fact that I may not love, miss or want at all, I think I'm afraid of loosing the chances that will be gone once I close my eyes.

to whoever wrote this, thank you. :)

it's always nice to know that someone loves you, and as cliche as the term sounds, you should always let someone know that they are loved. one day, the anonymity of those words may save a life or a moment. Love is the only entity that does not get smaller when split.

Here is my formspring: http://www.formspring.com/forms/?750333-lcFf5IoMjf

wych elm

colin.vg

sorry to those who read it the first time, and those who have to read it again. it's been on my mind since i first read it, and it's been haunting me even more. who put bella in the wych elm? aren't those just the beginnings of the most haunting phrase you've ever read? i think i could create an entire story based on the 1970 graffiti; it's that wonderful.

i've always wanted to create some sort of movement, mystery - well, legacy that will just live beyond me, travel in time beyond me, and then i kind of realize that most people who achieve that get that by death. unless you're andy warhol - but andy warhol cheated in his art, so i don't really count him. you always win faster when you pay someone else to work so you stand in the spotlight. that's being in two places at a time.

and i'm trying so hard with my writing. it's funny how we, as people who are taught to be 'non-conformist,' strive for acceptance among others. you can tell someone a thousand times over that you don't need them, but the act of speaking to them, taking the time to do - expending energy is an act of need. why waste the effort if it isn't necessary?

my readers tell me not to worry about having zero comments, etc - and i don't mean to beat a dead horse - but there's still a need for responses on my end. i feel like no matter how powerful i write, if no one feels emotionally affected enough to respond, it must not be powerful enough.

maybe that's the gauge of effect.

if people respond, you're doing something right.

even though at times it just seems so, so wrong.

it's also why i'm so very anal about quotations, crediting me for my work because i want people to realize that they are from me. i feel like i've lost them once my name is no longer attached to it, and sometimes i forget that i've even written them. looking back at some things my readers quote from my work, i wonder how they've gotten there. emotional writing, at my absolute best, is like some sort of first time high.

i hope i never resort to drugs to write beautifully each time. like the beauty of a legacy, i want to look back and think that i was sober/clear minded when i wrote those words. that they weren't some product of inner desire that can only be released when im stressed. i guess, it's like saying i want to look back at my best writing and know that i felt consciously beautiful

the corpse bride

One of my favourite movies of all time is The Corpse Bride by Tim Burton. A lot of people I know hate this movie and think it's one of Tim Burton's crappier ones, and I'll admit that it's not the greatest, but I think Tim Burton really went back to his childhood roots with this story. It's so simple, yet complex - most of the energy went into building the set and beauty of the Corpsed world rather than a complicated script. Movies these days feel a bit complicated and overly done with what they're trying to say - movies back then were so simple!

Anyway, when I go to NYC this Thanksgiving, it's my number one priority to go to the Tim Burton exhibit! I am inspired to create little monsters again. Oh, and on the bright side, I'm taking Sophomore Fiction Workshop next semester, I hope my teacher is prepared for the craziness I just might write.