jesus was a carpenter.

an extensive amount of time has passed since my last real post. no excuses besides the rat race that is life. my time has been filled with friends.. school work, (maintaining a modest A+).. work, and work friends enjoying unrelated activities.. multiple shows.. walking.. laughing.. crying.. the transition from summer into fall.. into wintery downpours that are pleasantly broken up with random, lovely, dry, moderately temperatured afternoons. i celebrated my birthday last week.. i've now passed the quarter century mark. there is no turning back, adulthood is upon me and i am immersed in the syrup that sticks reckless youth and mature reasoning into a pot of moral dilemma. what to do what to do..

these past couple weeks have spun into some new webs planning for spring.. mostly involving school registration and frustration. it can be quite the drag when all you want to do is selflessly/selfishly learn, with the intention of attempting to help better an unbiased sample of the population.. it's quite the drag because the system we have has essentially set up flaming hoops that are moreso for easily engulfing cash bills rather than preparation, and are ultimately discouraging when you are me. i often think about whether things in life "happen for a reason". and how to distinguish between active and passive decision-making, or if that distinction even exists. i am actively thinking about my future. i'm actively working towards self betterment. i'm actively considering my personal goals and the things that make me happy. that are fulfilling. that i can do for an extended period of time without the gnawing emptiness that ensues, that has followed me everywhere to some extent. i'm wondering if this discouraging system is telling me that it's time to change gears. look elsewhere. try something new. come at it from a different angle. and i am left wondering whether these obstacles are leading me to passively forfeit.

i'm registered in a chemistry course for the january semester which will continue my neverending attempt at a nursing school application form.. i am also seeking information for wood working and carpentry courses. is that straight out of left field you ask? a physically challenging creative outlet with countless possibilities, flexible hours, and no borders.. only time will tell.

chosen field: life.

I will once again post the words of another; one far more poetic and experienced than I.

Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road:

Various ultimate careers were predicted for him, the consensus being that his work would lie somewhere "in the humanities" if not precisely in the arts--it would, at any rate, be something that called for a long and steadfast dedication--and that it would involve his early and permanent withdrawal to Europe, which he often described as the only part of the world worth living in. And Frank himself, walking the streets at daybreak after some of those talks, or lying and thinking on Bethune Street on nights when he had the use of the place but had no girl to use it with, hardly ever entertained a doubt of his exceptional merit. Weren't the biographies of all great men filled with this same kind of youthful grouping, this same kind of rebellion against their fathers and their fathers' ways? He could even be grateful in a sense that he had no particular area of interest: in avoiding specific goals he had avoided specific limitations. For the time being the world, life itself, could be his chosen field.
     Part 1, Ch 2, page 29.

But she needed no more advice and no more instruction. She was calm and quiet now with knowing what she had always known, what neither her parents nor Aunt Claire nor Frank nor anyone else had ever had to teach her: that if you wanted to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always turned out to be a thing that had to be done alone.
     Part 3, Ch 7, page 425.

strange dreams. [be daring].

“In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular activity, vividness and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truth like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpected, but so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system.”
       -Part I, Chapter V, p. 57

“And I kept thinking…And I had dreams all the time, strange dreams of all sorts, no need to describe! Only then I began to fancy that….No, that’s not it! Again I am telling you wrong! You see I kept asking myself then: why am I so stupid, that if others are stupid--and I know they are--yet I won’t be wiser? Then I saw, Sonia, that if one waits for everyone to get wiser it will take too long….Afterwards I understood that that would never come to pass, that men won’t change and that nobody can alter it and that it’s not worth wasting effort over it. Yes, that’s so. That’s the law of their nature, Sonia…that’s so!…And I know now, Sonia, that whoever is strong in mind and spirit will have power over them. Anyone who is greatly daring is right in their eyes. He who despises most things will be a law-giver among them and he who dares most of all will be most in the right! So it has been till now and so it will always be. A man must be blind not to see it!”
       -Part IV, Chapter III, p. 413

“‘…But what I say is, that if you convince a person logically that he has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Is it your conviction that he won’t?’
      ‘Life would be too easy if it were so,’ answered Raskolnikov.”
       -Part IV, Chapter IV, p. 419

Fyodor Dostoevsky in Crime and Punishment.

sammy jo.

every year for the entirity of my life to date, i have celebrated today as a day of life-giving. my brother's birthday. and then six years ago, today became a day of life-taking as well. and i remember it so vividly it still tears my heart.

for six years i have battled emotions of joy and sorrow when thinking about life and death.. it was that day that i sincerely felt vulnerable for the first time.. the first time i was old enough to understand that someone close to me had passed. it was the first time i hated God.. the first time i questioned my faith. the first time i questioned everything around me and why someone like me deserved to be here. the first time i felt like i was floating and drowning at the same time.

and as the years progress, and i get older, more people come and go. and i still question and wonder and get angry. i still don't get it. and i still feel guilty that i'm still here.

and i still catch fragments of those sparkling eyes that possess. and the smile that makes them disappear. and i know i'm not the only one. and that makes me feel 

both joy and sorrow.
because she's impossible to forget.

the land of milk and honey.

so i've come and gone and dabbled in this and that in the last month or so. i was robbed of my iphone while working, and was given a free one the following day from an almost stranger, after my cellular provider gave me a free month of usage because of my "loss".. and with this free month i bought US minutes and therefore had a phone plan while i quit my job and leisurely drove the california highway down to coachella - the music festival where dreams come true.

seeing almost 40 acts in a span of 3 days.. making friends and breaking trends in a sea of fashionistas and celebs.. the just-bearable sweltering heat of a 106 degree desert.. with daytime minutes spent chugging water and finding shade in the most remote of places after daring the relentlessly exposed main stage for a must-see show.. evenings spent dancing in patches of green grass and flying past bodies, eager to catch the next performance at the next stage.. the sensory overload of sights, smells, and feelings, while watching idolized bodies serenade thousands in summer nights. our canopied campsite reminiscent of childhood forts, connected through posts, scraps of fabric, and the unbreakable bond of fellow festival-goers: our camp is your camp. with the unspoken agreement that we will not keep in touch, we say goodbye with intimate feelings of mutual respect: we survived this together.

continuing up to los angeles we booked into hollywood for the night. starry streets and milkshakes.. the morning spent on a windy venice beach.. and a drop-in on the queen of the valley: aunt leslie in all her glory, accompanied by the vivacious gary. we had such a riot chatting, laughing, and drinking wine that before we knew it we were helping to prepare a dinner we previously hadn't the time for, and three hours later were almost ready to set up camp in the backyard and stay awhile.. difficult as it was to say goodbye, we eventually made our way up the coast a few hours where we pitched a tent in the rain and woke up damp but undeterred. creeping slowly up the coastal highway, we snaked past hanging cliffs and white-capped waves.. past mistresses' castles and antique shops in hick towns with no gas stations.. past big sur with the rich smells of salty air meeting pine forest meeting a humid mash of rainy floral delight..

we made it to san fran. reunited with eric g and nic o, we strolled the hilly streets.. good talks, rainy walks, billiards and beers.. taking in the painted sisters, the golden gate, and countless amounts of authentic tacos.. then saying goodbye to danelle who had a prior engagement back in vancity; her empty car seat was quickly filled [her shoes left gaping].. and we cruised north once more.

into the redwood forest we past one-log homes, a crisp curving river, and took a relaxing, friendly, scenic drive through the aisle of the giants.. and then took another relaxing, friendly, scenic drive to our campsite [unbeknownst to us] as we drove a 20 mile loop out of the way and coincidentally almost ran out of gas.. these were relaxing friendly times.

setting up camp next to a babbling creek, we were in awe of our surroundings.. cushiony green moss took cover on almost every square inch of bark in the vicinity. the lushness of the forest was evident even with closed eyes, you could feel it in every breath. we humbly walked amongst the ancient giants until their canopies oppressed the last stubborn rays of sun and we were forced to retreat back to camp, where pioneering nic lit our campfire with a single match. we grilled up dinner and sipped local microbrews chilled in the stream..

waking to the soothing sound of the brook, we sadly said goodbye after one last hike.. we packed up camp and trudged straight through the last 10 hour stint, crossing the border at 3:30am and making it back to vancouver by the first signs of morning light. and after three days of floating in a strange mix of nostalgia, in a city that already felt like five lifetimes ago, nic and i drove east.. through another five lifetimes of fields and dreams. back to a land where family and friends were the same, but different. as were my feelings about it all.

home for the first time in more than 7 months, i am amazed, as always, at the people i have in my life. how i got so lucky i will never know. the days passed all too quickly and with a blink it was time to go. not a goodbye, but a see you soon. fields replaced with mountains.. tangible relations replaced with the imagination. uncertainties as prominent as ever. and here i sit.. with the rocky ranges just past my kitchen window and the sun shining on my shoulders. 

it's a lose/lose.

i have a bad tendency of thinking that words are always better than no words. so at times when i don't know what to say, my foot seems pretty tasty. i guess i just always felt the need to let the people around me know how i feel. and i guess i always thought it was a good thing, and that i was good at it. but i guess the only thing i have realized is that i'm really not good at the one thing i mistook as my talent. so i guess now the only thing i'm good at is misinterpretations and too-little too-late situations.

my life can get pretty bubbled over here. things are so busy and hectic that i saw my roommate today for the first time in a week. the city moves fast and you have to move faster to avoid the undertow, and every now and then i find a moment to myself and i reflect on how good i have it. and my reflections are based solely on my unbelievably amazing family and friends; my reason for being. so in these calm moments i sometimes have the time to shoot a quick message, or drop a line. with nothing but the utmost interest in what's happening with them, the conversations inevitably begin with small chat about the day and what's happening presently, then generally progress into larger, sometimes more serious antidotes, and plateau with the i miss you's and let's do this more oftens. but when i get nothing back, i go into pilot mode. passengers if i can get your attention please, we're going to have to make an emergency landing, there seems to be no wind under wing and we are going down..

crash and burn.

i guess that's the best case scenario; go fast, hurt less.