24 april 2007 - 12:51pm cst

i pulled a card today. it says i have all these possibilities before me. and since my assessment went amazingly well, i think it means here. so, i'll stay. at least for a little while longer.

23 april 2007 - 10:17pm cst

something inside me is twisting and twisting and scaring me. it's scaring the shit out of me. the stars have all disappeared and the moon is gone. i'm crawling along slower than a snail. my nails are digging into the earth, but something slick pushes out of the soil and i lose grip. i'm blinded by the tears that coat my eyes. i want to scream, but i can't find my voice. i know i'm not alone, but god do i feel alone. i've never been so scared of anything. i don't know what to do.

23 april 2007 - 8:43

i feel like everything around me is whispering for me to go. it just keeps getting louder and pushes at the seams that keep me together. it's deafening and scares me so much. i feel like i am standing at the edge of my horizon and i'm supposed to take that step, but i'm supposed to do it on my own. i don't want to do it on my own. but every single part of me is screaming to do it. but how is that possible?

i imagine myself taking that step and looking back and weeping because everyone i know and love would be behind me. and where would i go? how would i get there? i need to leave this place. i need to keep moving. my time here feels so expired. i don't know what to do.

23 april 2007 - 10:52am cst

a vision came to me in a dream last night. i was going to photograph a portrait of a woman in a very beautiful costume. but she was also going to be wearing an apron and be holding a turkey baster and probably a spatula. it was supposed to represent that no matter what women accomplish, there's always this stereotype of what they should be. i don't know if i'll actually shoot this.

in the dream i also did a time-based media project on pornography. hm.

20 april 2007 - 4:13pm cst

i feel like my ancestors, my spirit guide, god, someone/thing is trying to tell me something. i'm straining my heart to hear it, but it's just not coming through. i feel like i'm trying to tune a broken radio.

18 april 2007 - 10:39am cst

next week i have to pack aaand my room is in total disarray. so i guess i should work on getting some more boxes. i saved all the ones i used coming up here. they're broken down under my bed. i should recruit my mom one day next week to help me pack. the semester is so close to being over. i just want to go home and be with my brother for a while.

17 april 2007 - 11:53pm cst

the little piece of driftwood had grown even more fragile and brittle than it had been before. when it was splashed by the ocean it wished to turn into sea foam. when the wind shook it against the dock it hoped to plunge to the water below. the little piece of driftwood cried out for the little sailboat, unable to keep silent any longer. the ocean calmed. the world grew quiet. it felt as though time itself was coming to a halt. all of a sudden the wind came drifting past the little piece of driftwood and whispered, "patience says the little sailboat." and with that the breeze swept across the weary little piece of driftwood, kissing the wounds and somehow brought strength back to its heart.

17 april 2007 - 9:33am cst

every day and all through the night the little piece of driftwood gazed at the sea, watching for the little boat to return. sometimes the sea splashed up on the driftwood, or the wind would toss it about. if there was ever a time the driftwood thought it could no longer hang on, something or someone would come along to hold it up. sometimes the sun would come out and say, "don't cry. i'll dry up your rope so that it becomes strong again. i'll always shine down my warm rays upon you." other times a pair of fish would poke their heads out of the water and say, "we'll protect you of the tide, little driftwood. you'll never be a burden." all of these things brought hope to the little piece of driftwood. but with time the cracks in the driftwood seemed to deepen and it began to split.

16 april 2007 - 5:03pm cst

one day, just as the little piece of driftwood was losing hope, it heard the sound of a small boat's sails flapping in the wind. suddenly the piece of driftwood was plucked from the sea by the most delicate of fingers. the color of her skin was just as soft and pale as the color of the warm sandy banks and her eyes were dark and wet, just as the ocean had been on moonless nights. she turned the piece of driftwood over, running fingertips over the cracks and imperfections. instead of tossing it aside, she placed it on the floor of the boat. just as the sun was reaching the peak of the sky, the little boat and the piece of driftwood pulled into port. the girl tied the boat off and disappeared. not much longer she returned with a small can of ocean-blue paint and a small bundle of thin rope. with a brush she began to paint on the piece of driftwood. she tied the rope to it as well, so that it could hang from the dock. "home.." she read aloud with tears welling up in her eyes. "one day i may come home." she touched the sign and smiled lightly, climbing into the boat again. the piece of driftwood gazed at the boat as it got smaller and smaller. maybe one day she'd come home.

15 april 2007 - 12:31pm cst

it's hard not to be selfish. it's so incredibly difficult to see from any other view but my own. i suppose the hurt blinds me. the other night i went to an artist lecture at my school. the artist's name is ming fay and he's a scultptor. he came to america from china when he was eighteen to attend school. throughout his lecture he would always come back to "knowing how long to stay in one place, knowing when it's time to move on." maybe it's just time. i don't want it to be. but that's me being selfish again. i'd rather be the one miserable anyway.

i feel totally blind right now. blind to everything. the present, the past, the future. i thought for sure i was set. now i don't know anymore. i feel like i was climbing up this huge mountain and now i'm stuck. no way to go down, no way to go up. is this it? was that all i'm supposed to get? it's a hard thing to swallow. but i have to try anyway. there's no use holding on to something that wants to be let go. maybe it'll come back, but i shouldn't hold on to that either.

14 april 2007 - 4:59pm cst

the driftwood lets go of the sandy banks. it drifts and drifts. the banks are turning to stone and rigid glass. the water dumps into the mouth of the ocean. the driftwood ducks under the surface, wishing for the arms of the sandy banks that are so far away. the ocean is a lonely and solitary place.

10 april 2007 - 11:55am cst

a piece of driftwood is tugged along by the current. water wears it thin and soggy. rocks scrape its belly. the sun warms it through gaps in the clouds. sandy banks open their arms for it to rest. but the current always calls it back to drift.