Shut in, I shut down

Within the massive space that is the Ford Expedition, I sometimes feel as if I am lost in a world of buttons and wheels. I sometimes feel like there are so many things to play with in this car that I may never be bored. I sometimes feel unable and relectant to leave. But then there's sometimes when it's size seems miniscule to what I need. There are these moments where the sharp clicks of the automatic locks remind me of the prison I have forced myself to be entrapped in.

On my lazier days, walking from clairmont to anywhere on main campus is a drag, and I often plan my day's schedule around how little walking I can potentially do or not do. But when I am in an Expedition, I quickly begin to realize how small my campus is. I drive in circles till I am sick of the circle, so I go the other way in the same circle. I see the same international korean students and the same jappy girls with pants that I am thoroughly disgusted with and attracted to at the same time. When I am feeling mischievous, I plan my escort route so that they have to sit next to each other. The conversations are quite awkward, but I live off of those. Dooleys...Library....Clairmont Campus....DUC...Dorms...Parking Lots....that is my life over and over and over again. Some part of me wants to get out before it gets me.

I want to get away for all the wrong reasonos.

Moments

Adam and I were in our boxers and white t-shirts, playing Mario Baseball as our form of breakfast. Screaming in between Yoshi's tongue catches and Donkey Kong's homeruns, we hear a knock on the door. I scurry back to my room and search for any pair of shorts that may look presentable. By the time I come back, there are two women in our living room, saying that they must check our room. After 4 minutes of the most awkward silence of my life, we see the note that they left us: PLEASE CLEAN TOILET. Adam then proceeds to clean the toilet, but I have 10 minutes to shower and get ready before I must leave for Java Monkey. Therefore, in desperate times, it calls for desperate situations and I had to strip for Adam as I go into the shower as he is still present in the bathroom. I forget that my roomates are who they are. Within a few minutes, two buckets of ice cold water gets dumped on top of my head. No anger. Just a feeling of, "sweeet, i have friends."

I like the books that I read on my leisure time. I like the accompanying coffee that goes with it. I like the company that is there as well. I was reading a book called God's Blog. If God had a blog, how would it look like? "I made man, and then as I looked at him, I laughed. And he was very confused and didn't know what to do, mainly because he had never done anything before." I am an instant fan.

As I got back to my apartment, THE NOTEBOOK came a calling, and I wound up watching the movie with my entire apartment of men. Wrapped in my comforter with my neck on a pillow and my face buried in another, I watched intently in the romance that is THE NOTEBOOK. I am sick of these romantic comedies that seep into my lives and make me want that cute blonde from high school that always thought I was the Asian Screech of the school. The funny thing was that if you just listened to how we reacted everything, it was more like we were watching the Jerry Springer show than anything else. From shouts of "Slut!!!" to "Ohhhh shnap!!!" we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. There was also that weird five minutes of silence after the movie where we just watched the captions. And yes, I admit I thought about you for a little bit after that. I definitely felt like a girl for a few hours.

That was before every type of meat was brought out on swords. At 9pm, 8 men ate about 18 cows, 25 pigs, and 45 chickens. They did bone us with 2.55 per coke refill though, and they didn't even tell us that. Nonetheless, it was just an overall great time. Came back and had another video game party in the apartment. Life is good.

Now I have 6 hours before work tomorrow on a sunday! Crap, this sucks. And I have so much work to do! That really sucks. And I just read your writing, and frankly, I have no idea what you're talking about. And that troubles me. And yeah, I'm doing everything I possibly can do to work against every feeling. And it's working better than it ever has, but it's there. Maybe in a year or two or three or seven, it will be gone. But for now, all I can say is crap, and confuse about 99% of my readers right now.

All I have this moment. And in each moment is a choice. And now I choose...sleep.

Disconnected Thoughts

1) How can my heart be so aligned to the heart of God and another person's heart be so aligned to the same heart of God, and yet my heart be so disconnected to that other person?

2) He once told me that often times, you'll feel like life sucks and you're disconnected from HIM when you're not doing what you're created to do. Maybe that has been my problem the past few weeks.

3) What do you mean by "showering the homeless shelter off of you"? I'm sorry, that is just plain...wrong.

4) Blogs should not be brought up in person. I feel like it is an unspoken rule that whatever is said on a blog is like a diary that I'll let people read, but please do not make it into an awkward conversation in front of other people.

5) So apparently, I've lost a lot of friends this year.

6) But apparently, I've made a lot more closer friends this year.

7) Hurt.

Be careful what you pray for

A few months ago, I prayed and desperately asked God to give me the ability to cry. I needed to feel this release after going through countless moments where I felt that the natural inclination was to shed tears, but all I got was this nagging on my heart and then I'll just laugh to one of Urkel's antics or Mr. Huckstables expressions. My frustration to feel made me question my ability to be human. For if I cannot cry about a friend's mother's death, how can I cry about anything? A few months ago, I could count on my hand how many times I have cried in the past decade. 2005-Cried when Arunan left Emory. 2003-Cried for a total of 26 seconds when I realized I was going to be alone for four straight months. 2002-Cried when I was watching I Am Sam with my parents. 2001-Cried on September 13th when a remix of voices of 911 and Enrique Iglesias' Hero played. 1997-Cried in bed one night when people called me gay. So what has changed?

Somedays, I pray and wish that maybe one day, I will be able to go to sleep without crying myself to sleep. It shocks me to even write that, and I just took a 4 minute break to look over and laugh over that last sentence. I sound like the overdramatic girl I knew in sophomore year of high school, who I rebuked for crying over petty things when kids are dying every few minutes around the world. But that is who I have become. I guess the only difference is that I am not crying over relationships anymore.

So what am I crying over? Life doesn't and it hasn't resolved. So why should this post? Why should I?

EMO

I.

I will cloud my mind with EMO and doritos
till I can't feel anymore,
till I can ignore the beatings of my heart
beating on my heart
like a bad Hillary Duff song.

II.

I will act like an absolute jerk to you
because if I can't rid you out of me
I'll force you to rid me out of you.

III.

I will write poetry where you will be the
metaphors of open doors shut down
after you have been the
analogies of blind eyes being able to see.
I'm locked up in my freedom of expression.

IV.

Pathetic.

V.

I will watch every movie that you like
and say it was okay though I was sleeping.
I will go to every concert you want to go to
and say it was okay though I was confused.
I'll do anything for you, but I won't do
that.

VI.

I will watch 10 hours of football every Sunday,
eat 3 Hardee's Monster Thick Burgers,
and scratch myself
to forget my sensitivity.

VII.

I will break the mirror
of your image engraved in it,
so that everytime I look at the mirror,
I don't have to see you in me anymore.
I'd rather have 7 years of bad luck.

VIII.

I will not care what my boys will say about heart's anguish.
I will not care what poets say about my cliches.
Just as long as you can read it.

IX.

Do not be so vain to think that this is about you.

X.

I will remix words so well
it can begin to transfix your nerves,
it can depict your curves,
with words from my simile and allegory reserves,
that predicts your thoughts before you can even think them,
as my lips play these tricks acrobatically,
destroying these laws of poetry physics
as all logic bows down to my use of phonetics
in a language that I have conquered as this perpetual foreigner
has cornered Webster, Struck & White, and Microsoft Word Spell Check,
and they flounder as I twist their arms and wring their necks,
keeping them in check,
causing a wreck, double dutching through red marker lines and pop up signs.
BUT WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING ABOUT YOU,
I got nothing.

XI.

Nothing of something.
Something for everyone.
Everyone in everything.
Everything is everything.
except when I come out with nothing.

XII.

I will listen to Delilah
till I am more consumed with me than you
and maybe then I'll have the nerve to
listen to some more EMO.