Saturday, April 7, 2012

Native Color

How can the relationship we breathe and dream is only a handful of contradictions.
Not in anyway bad contradictions, just contradictions.
It is beautiful and somehow ugly in its raw and human state.
With you I am made happy yet frustrated. I am confused yet found.
I can't help but want to search for your company. The contradictions are just as much company as you are and I need them as much as I need you.

Monday, April 2, 2012

My Own Alaska

“She said, 'It's not life of death, the labyrinth.'
'Um, okay. So what is it?'
'Suffering,' she said. 'Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?...Nothing's wrong. But there's always suffering, Pudge. Homework or malaria or having a boyfriend who lives far away when there's a good-looking boy lying next to you. Suffering is universal. It'st the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about.”

Is it such a bad thing to live the life Alaska did or die the way she did? I may be a writer but, never have I been able to write such a character in my head that I longed to be that person. Alaska saw the world her way and lived to be her own kind of remarkable.
I want to be my own piece of remarkable- to live the way I think and die on my own terms and not the terms of others. Like the way I drink my Dr. Pepper, I want to watch as I pop and fizz.
I wonder what it would be like to be the moment of my life- where I could see how my actions led to my success and overall death- not to regret the choices I made but to relive my wonderful piece of remarkable and be completely content. I don't need to be Alaska, I can be myself- just see my world the way I want to see it. Choose to be outside the overall norm and be my own identity where Alaska is just a place and not a person to aspire to be.

A Mr. Darcy

The handsome fellow walking across the green grass field to propose a love so intricate and complex. To confess his soul to your every whim and wonder.
Is it wrong to want the sappy romantics that make up romance novels? I never was one for reading the love stories, the love seemed too abstract and foreign. True love isn't spurred at first glance, but matures and grows. However, me being impatient I can't help but crave the sappiness of romance novels.

I mean who doesn't want to fall that fast?