&

"Well, the pleasure - the priviledge is mine.
Oh, there is a light that never goes out."




mkp.

Lovefool.

I fool myself into believing that its all over and everything's done with. But all it took were a few short seconds, and suddenly, there I was, within your grasp again. And for that night, you were mine. I could say, "I love you", and I wouldn't feel awkward about it. I mean, you said it right back. I won't say I didn't enjoy it. It felt safe, and familiar, and sweet. And it still feels real to me, so much so, that I felt it chilling down my spine. Truth be told, I miss it. I can't help but want to hold your hand when we are driving in your car, or hug your limp body when you're crying, or even place my cold feet between yours in your warm bed. But you are not mine to love anymore. I'm so torn.

I thank you for your honesty. It feels good to know that I'm not the only one feeling this way. It feels good to know that I'm still loved and wanted and adored by you. But for the time being, I guess I will pretend this didn't happen. I will continue just being your friend. And maybe when you start working, you'll forget all about me and move on. Or, maybe not. We'll see.




mkp.

Pull.

I found an old diary I kept when I was 10-12 years old. In it were pages filled with my loopy, childish scribbles, describing my dreams and lists of things I wanted, and doodles of my future wedding gowns. But there were also things that I had written that I had absolutely no memory of. Events I had documented, which I could not recall. Things that occurred, but I could not believe. I spent hours thinking to myself, wondering if it really happened. I spent hours actually believing I was insane. And then suddenly, I felt his tight grip around my wrists. I was small again. I was helpless and weak, and no one would believe me. His tongue slithered down my throat, and all I tasted was his cigarettes. I pulled away, and he pulled me by my hair, as his sharp, prickly face brushed away at my innocence.

And then the memories came back up, and one by one they each hit me like a bullet to the head. I’m not crazy. These things happened. And they’ve happened to me.

I was a fantastic liar. I fooled everyone all these years into believing that it was nothing, myself included. I blocked out these events from my memory, as if I merely turned them off like a light switch. How, how did I pull it off?




mkp.

Paradox.

I watched Inception for the first time recently. It was beautiful and complex. It made sense to me, the fact that people can so easily lose themselves within their dreams... but even more than that, people can also lose themselves through their desires, their addiction, their work or reputation, even their relationships. Sometimes, reality can appear hazy, and what is truly actual is not within our grasp. I used to venture out into the caverns of my imagination, to escape the uncompromising tendencies that world offered me. And for once, I felt that I finally had control over something. I did not have to succumb to the inevitable trap of time, nor deal with the stupid inconsideration of others. I did not have to feel sad or angry or so empty all the time, and it was liberating. Whether I still do that is unknown.. or I just can't remember.
-------------------------------
I keep waking up, expecting to find you sleeping right next to me. Where did you go? I could have sworn you were here a second ago.. I can vividly remember you kissing the skin behind my ear, and our fingers locking together, as we cuddled and danced beneath the sheets. I will check my phone compulsively to see if you've texted or called me at some time. And then after I have given up on waiting for you, I will lay my head down and find my way back to sleep. And then finally, you come back to me, and I am all yours again. But no, there is not another body lying in this bed to keep me warm. Those are not your long, slender fingers folded over the back of my hand. That hot breath I feel whipping the back of my neck is just a projection. You are gone.

I was dreaming this whole time, and I've finally woken up.




mkp.

Fleeting.

I got home last night at 4 in the morning.

She asked me about it earlier, but I refused to tell her. I played it off, turned my back and pretended to sleep. Knowing her, she noticed, but was probably too tired to care. I'm kind of glad I didn't tell her, considering how the night ended. But at the same time, I wish I had someone I could turn to when things went wrong. Part of that is my doing; I'm always fucking stuck behind this wall. Just wish I had someone to talk to and keep me company. Just wish I could talk to her again, cause I don't necessarily feel like I have a best friend anymore. To me, she is; but I don't think she feels the same about me. It's like she's outgrown me, or like I'm just not on the same level as her anymore. Even worse yet, I feel as if I've been replaced. I'm tired of putting all of my effort into something that doesn't reciprocate that same effort back.

I don't like this. I really don't.




mkp.

++++

Generally, I am an open-minded person. I believe I give everyone and everything a fair shot. I try to see all sides of the spectrum. I try to understand and respect where people come from, regardless of whether or not I agree with their stance. I try to accept, and I try not to judge. But even though I appear to be open, I am pretty closed off. I’m not afraid to express my opinions, but I’m terrified of making myself look vulnerable. I have a tendency to act upon how I feel, but I can also overanalyze my every move. I’ve never had a problem with making friends, but I’ve always had problems trusting others. But for some reason, I decided to let those walls down today. And my god, do I feel lifted.





mkp.

Sleeping In.

I've been on medication for the past two or so days, to treat a serious allergic reaction to a spider bite on my left wrist. Consequently, I've been loopy and groggy lately. There was no class today, so I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in. Hadn't done that in a while. When I finally decided to get up, I checked my phone for the time and for any missed calls or messages during my time to myself. The screen read "11:42, November 11". November 11, already? I sat up instantly after realizing this. It's ridiculous how much everything I've done has been directed by the events that occurred within this day, seven years ago. I'm wondering now, if I'm finally free from its grasp? I am a lot stronger now, compared to 12 yr old, 15 yr old, 18 yr old Marie. I feel like I've grown up a lot. Crystal told me once that she envies me for my self-control. Never, ever expected to hear that at all.
I think that this year, I won't cry. Not even once. I'll be sad, but I think for once I'll have my shit together, and I'll be able to do things without having to sob every five minutes and think of you. I think this means that I've finally accepted what's happened. I know I say that every year, but I don't know, this time feels different, maybe. It feels like I finally have control over things. So with all that being said...

Leo, I miss you always. It's still hard, but I am fine. I finally know that I will be alright without you. Rest in peace.




mkp.

/////

"What is it? My dear?"
"Ah, how can we bear it?"
"Bear what?"
"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"
"We can be quiet together, and pretend -- since it is only the beginning -- that we have all the time in the world."
"And everyday we shall have less. And then none."
"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"
"No. This is where I always have been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."

--A.S. Byatt, Possession

Sharp Shock.

I am a heap of limp limbs bundled up in a pile on this bed.
My hair is a mess of tangled curls, enfolding my face, my neck, my chest. The contours of my face traced by the konstant tears that keep streaming down, down, down.
I am tired. Exhausted from another sleepless night, plagued by bad dreams. My mind is jumping. Over-analyzing. Reaching false conclusions.
I am falling apart, in more ways than one. I am not in touch with who I am, my motives, my feelings. All that is clear is that I am very much upset, afraid. I know that something is wrong.
I am alone. And I know I will feel this way until we finally speak.

Two days. Two days.




mkp.

asijhrinflghkj;khgi

I'm fucking tired of being treated like this. Like I just come secondary to you. It annoys me that I continue to deal with it. What for? For love? During times like these, I doubt its worth it. I don't think it will be if I'm the one who always has to go out of the way and give and sacrifice and apologize and mend. You're fucking selfish and inconsiderate. And everything always has to go your fucking way. I do so much for you, and you take it for granted.

/endrant.




mkp.

Limping On Two Legs Again.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm once again, grazing the edge. Sometimes, out of nowhere, it appears that we've become completely undone in the matter of minutes. Time is not my friend, right now. The meticulous and lengthy process takes to trust one, can still be unwound, in the shortest instance. The large amounts of days, weeks you spend with another, that can feel so substantial and steady, can be betrayed within the lack of communication that can take place within a single day. Time is moving so fast, but within the week, it moves at such a slow pace, that I find myself sometimes merely waiting. I keep myself busy. Within the past 24 hours, I'm feeling much more confident. Trust has replaced a large portion of the doubt. Still, there is a slight pang of sadness. And evidently, I am still very much afraid.

So please, walls stay down; head, find clarity; heart, remain open. Perseverance, determination, faith: be on my side, during these next few stages. I know I will need you more than ever.




mkp.

Cupcake Corner.

This is one of the billions of reasons why I refused to make a facebook. Obviously (and regrettably), something gave in, and now I spend any free time I have playing this stupid game. Who cares if I have another paper due Thursday and I'm missing my computer graphics class right now, the sugar cookies are in need of frosting!

Anyway, since I'm waiting for my cupcakes to finish baking, I'll write up about last week. Kairos 106 was so worth all the assignments I missed. I'm seriously considering leading 2-3 more this year, if school permits. Anyway, there's something entirely new about the retreat when you're no longer one of the candidates, and you're leading instead. You witness something so beautiful that occurs within a short 3 days.. And though I was the leader, I am definitely the one who learned from everyone else. If any of you are still reading this thing, even if you don't what it means, Thank you; I love you; I am sorry. And to the members of Group 4: LOVE MAH GROUP!

I love her. I really do.




mkp.

Almost Here.

Things at home have been... intense, to say the least.

I'm really glad to be leading this Kairos. I remember my Kairos so vividly. 94: the new friendships I made, the relationships I strengthened; The unconditional love I felt every single day that was indeed, very real. And I'm very excited, though I do feel kind of guilty because I partly just want to lead so I can get away from all this at home. Maybe it will grant me some peace when I come back? Maybe eradicate some of the bad thoughts I keep playing over in my head? Bring me closure. Inspire me. Make me feel something.

I haven't started packing yet. There's so much to do in such little time.




mkp.

Amelia

I know I fucked up. I always do.
And regrettably, I make you pay for my mistakes.
I don't want you to. I never want you to.
But I have no means of covering for it, myself.
I'm sorry, I mean it. You think I could care less.
You think I'm unaware of how much it will cost you.
But I fucking swear, I'll make it up to you one day.
One day, you'll see that I can, in fact, do something right.

I am the embodiment of the very things you despise, yet you still tell me you love me. I hope you're not lying. Because no matter how much of a fuck-up I am, or how much my choices and decisions pain you, I only wish to make you feel proud of me. I never meant to do those things to you, and I never wanted any of this to happen. I love you, even if it appears that I hate you. Even though all we do is fight and yell and scream at each other, I always wish you would hug me, and we could just cry it out and apologize and move on.


Believe me, I feel fucking terrible.




mkp.

Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall.

Tomorrow, I start my first semester as a college sophomore.

I remember how I felt this time last year. I was anxious, and scared, and nervous. I stressed over making friends, getting myself good professors, finding the time to spend with my girlfriend. And really, there was nothing that needed to afraid of. Of course, the stress and time-complications were utterly inevitable, but eventually I found a way to work around it. Made some new friends, and then lost some. Had to balance schoolwork with the shit going on back at home. And overcame math and speech. This time around, I'm a lot more confident. Now, it's just some other thing on my schedule. I don't think its going to be all that easy either. I'm prepared for a hectic, stressful, cryallnightbecauseihaven'tevenstartedthetenpagepaper semester.

So, looking back at my summer, I'm trying to figure out if I really spent it all that well. For the most part, I think I did. Figured out who my true friends were. Rekindled distant friendships with some people I had lost touch with. Regrettably, I've also lost touch with some people. I don't want to say it was purposely my fault, but it somewhat was. I'm... tired of all that. I feel bored with things; like I'm just waiting to move on. It's not that I don't care about you; I'm completely serious that I always will. I'm just growing up, I guess. Also, I finally had the time to refocus on my artwork. Oh, and I am leading September Kairos. Yeah, I think that I'm pretty satisfied with my summer.




mkp.

Konstant.

I woke up this morning in my own bed. I was hugging my pillow, imagining we were still adhered together, like the night before. I pretended I could kiss your forehead, greeting you to a bright, early morning. Confused, you'd fall back asleep because it would only be 9 or 10. I always wake up too early. But I don't mind laying with you while you sleep on my shoulder, waiting for time to pass, and for it to reach early afternoon.

Right now, love feels light. Light, but constant. Steady.
There are times when it's explosive. When it is desperately urgent. When it is annoyingly protective. And at times, even helpless.

The only constant thing about love is how unpredictable it is. And if I've learned anything about us by now, its that this flowery feeling won't last all that long. We will fight, make-up, cry, fuck, laugh, kiss, yell, tease, push away, reconcile, make love, trust, doubt, hold back, forgive, and move along. And believe it or not, this chaotic instability is indeed the stability I've always craved and longed for. Even if at times, I want to punch you in the face.

And since love is still weightless, I'll just put that out there.
I miss you, love. I always miss you.




mkp.

Honestly

So, last night, as I'm driving home from my girlfriend's house, I realize that I'm alright. And everything will be fine. I'll keep myself busy, keep looking forward, and enjoy the rest of what summer has to offer. And if shit happens, they'll happen. But as for now, I'm moving on.




mkp.

Dissolved Girl.

I'm fading away. I feel like I don't know myself anymore. I doubt everything I do, and I can't bring myself to complete anything I start. I stare at a book for an hour, without turning the page. I get in the car, and forget where I'm going. I bring a pencil to the paper, and nothing comes out. Everything is a lost cause. Worst of all, I'm beginning to think I don't know you as well as I used to.

I'm not all that happy.




mkp.

Up the Stairs.

I'm having those dreams again.
The ones where the past feels real, where faces are known, rather than familiar, and where those who are gone are still very much alive.
I dream about the four of us. Especially her.
But her face is still hazy in my dreams.
I cannot remember how exactly she looks like.
She is fading away; dissolving.
I wake up, and she is gone.
It's been six years since I spoke to her.
I am too late.




mkp.

I'm mad. You're mad.

I made a tumblr, recently. To be honest, its not the same as using this. I like reblogging and following people and all that, but for some reason, I have nothing to say when I'm on tumblr. I can't seem to pull out the words, and writing seems difficult. Maybe I'm just more used to this one since I've had it for so long?

Anyway, I'm so busy lately (or sick!). I'm sorry everyone, for being such a shut-in. Tomorrow happens to be my mother's birthday. The day after that, is my aunt's. She and her son and husband are coming to stay with us tomorrow. We're going to the beach, and maybe even Disneyland this week/end. To be rather frank, I'm sick of all these family hang outs.

Oh, and I fought with her today. And I hate myself so much when I do.




mkp.

Sorry.

I haven't had the time to write in a while. But so much has happened since last time I wrote.
Main things would have to be Crystal's 20th birthday. Took her for a picnic and then to the Observatory. I am also in the middle of redecorating (finally) my room. I got a phone call from Shell a few days ago. It is Mary's birthday today, but I won't be able to see her, because I made a commitment to clean my damn room. Had a chance to spend some time with Elizabeth. Made myself a tumblr, but don't know if I should use it. I do miss being able to read my friends' blogs.
We had volunteered to work at PRIDE yesterday, but failed to make it. Thanks, Douche Bag. My hate for you intensifies each day.

I'm too lazy to write about everything else.

But sometimes, I kind of feel like I'm floating on a cloud. I can see my family and friends. And I miss them and love them. But I end up drifting away. I'm not consistent, even though it is what I crave most. I have to leave and come back. Kind of there, but not really. I don't know whats wrong with me.




mkp.

That's My Sister.

Right now, as I am typing this up, there is a kickback going on at Eddie's for his, mine, and Kelsey's birthdays. But of course, I have to be at home, away from everyone, and bored as hellz.. just waiting for Crystal's phone call.

And why am I not at this celebration? Well, that's because of last night's drunken mess: my sister. And thanks to her, my parents have gone crazy with the curfew rules. How wonderful.

So, until 1:00, or whenever my girlfriend gets home, I will be up with these three boxes of food from the Cheesecake Factory, probably watching Edward Scissorhands, and NOT having fun with my friends at the party. I can see it now: someone asks me why I was a no-show. My reason? "Ohh... well that's cause of my sister."

Thanks, Melissa.




mkp.

You're the color,

You're the movement, and the spin.
I've had this song on repeat for the past 30 minutes.

But the past few days were pretty amazing. Minus all the family bullshit, of course. My birthday, which felt like 3 or so days, were nothing less than awesome.

Midnight birthday kisses, pancake breakfasts, funfetti cupcakes, dinner at BJs, pizookies, tennis (lol) and movie night with my girlfriend, feasting, surprise adventures to the Getty, Kabuki, cheesecake, presents, and cuddling = BEST BIRTHDAY EVAR. And then kickback this Saturday? I haven't gotten drunk in a while, so it can possibly turn into a disaster.

Me and Crys blocking the pretty maze-thing at the Getty.
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Today, I'm going to begin a new painting!

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mkp.

Nineteen.

Happy Birthday Meeeeeee.




mkp.

Pink or Blue.

So like I said earlier, I need a 70% in the class and a 50% on the final to pass math. And like I also said earlier, the final was so very fucking hard, that I needed to spend $140 in an overpriced art store just to calm down for a while .

Well. There must be a god, cause I passed exactly with a 70%. I got a stupid 66% on my final but whatev. Math can fucking suck it.


So now....

this color?

-

or this one?

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I'm going to be 19 in two days.

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WAT?!

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mkp.

Coupons.

I had my math final this morning at 9:00, and that bitch was damn difficult. I need a 70% in the class and at least a 50% on the final to pass the class. My current grade is... not that nice. I've never been much of a math student. So, I'm pretty scared. On my way home, I decided to stop by Aaron Brothers to pick up some paint brushes and a canvas board. There's nothing as soothing and calming as the smell of new, unused art supplies. I ended up treating myself to an early birthday present.

About $140 were spent on 6 itty-bitty tubes of oil paint, a bottle of linseed oil, one quart of turpenoid, a basin, matte varnish, Pink Soap brush cleanser, a 24 x 30 canvas frame, and a sketchbook.

Oils are expensive. It's a pretty big investment, unless I can learn to be really, really thrifty with my paints. Needless to say, I got carried away and forgot to buy the brushes. But my budget wouldn't allow it anyway, so I guess its all fine. And if it weren't for those three coupons I printed out, I would've had to pay 50 dollars more. So I'm not complaining. But it would be so completely awesome, and the-best-present-ever if I got some natural-hair oil brushes for my birthday.

Just saying.




mkp.

Figure Drawing.

Today was my last figure drawing class.

-

And I'm both relieved and sad. I'm excited to start focusing on my art outside of school again, but I'm incredibly depressed as this was my most favorite class ever. And I had the best professor, who was incredibly funny, and kind and laid-back, but extremely knowledgeable and tough as well. I didn't even mind waking up everyday at 6:30 and dealing with morning traffic, and the expensive costs of parking passes, and the frustrations of my morning class, just as long as by the end of the day, I got to draw.
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Here are some of my favorite studies from the course.

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mkp.

Don't bend, don't blink, don't beg, don't scream,

This is what happens when my girlfriend and I plan to study at the convenient and helpful CSUN library, only to discover that the library is fucking closed that day for some festival to take place on the grassy lawn down the steps.

-

Today will be more productive, I swear.

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mkp.

TRIPTYCH.

A triptych, in essence, is a work done in three panels.
Much like writing an essay, you begin with your opening statement and make three points to support your theme.

-

Since most if my drawings and paintings prior to this figure drawing class portrayed the face/frontal view of a person, I chose to focus on a woman's back, trying to capture the equal beauty it possesses, in comparison to its front. I drew the same girl in all three drawings, during the act of undressing. I didn't want this to be an 0ver-sexual or erotic theme, rather, just the simple act itself.

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All - 11 x14, colored pencil on bristol.
Approximately 10-15 hours spent on each drawing.
I suggest clicking to view in detail, especially the hair!
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Now that I've just completed my drawing final, I've now got twenty-one sketchbook drawings, one major composition assignment, two acrylic paintings, a three page reflective paper, a speech to prepare/write, and a math test all due within the next 9 days.
Stay tuned as I die!
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mkp.

$1.99.

That's how much one Prismacolor pencil costs.
Just for one motherfucking pencil.
And if I want to get my drawings done before they're due, I'll have to run to the nearest Aaron Brothers and buy 3.
OR, I can just continue using my little 2 inch pencil stubs--what my beautiful, expensive Prismas have been reduced to-- and endure the more-than-likely sessions of hand cramping that comes along with it for the next 30 or so drawing assignments.

So: Endure hours of hand and forearm pain or spend $5.97 on three colored pencils? And that doesn't even include the tax.

I think I'll go with a nice nap.




mkp.

Mommy Dearest.

When I was a kid, you told me I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up.

I was six or so when I told you that I wanted to be an artist, just like Leo. And you said that I had talent, and I could do it.
When I was eight, I begged for you to put me into art classes. And I remember every time I'd come home with a new finished drawing, you'd frame it up on the wall because you were proud of me.
When I was ten, I started reading a lot, and I told you then that I wanted to write and illustrate my own books. You promised you would someday read them aloud to your grand kids.
When I was thirteen, I designed dance costumes for a friend. I told you I wanted to go into the fashion industry and sketch all day. Every time I was asked to design something, I'd give you original sketches and photographs of the finished design.
When I turned fifteen, I asked for painting lessons and told you I wanted to become a famous painter one day. You told me you were my biggest fan.
When I turned sixteen, you asked me what I wanted to study in college. I told you I wanted to go into the art field. I don't remember your response. But you sure looked confused.
When I was seventeen, I started looking into some art colleges. You yelled at me when you found out I wasn't applying to any UC's.
When I was eighteen, I planned to attend Art Center in the fall. I was one of very few high school seniors accepted. They offered me a $12,000 scholarship, and the Fine Art chair wanted to meet with me. Yet, you told me I had to go to CSUN to make sure I was going into the right field.
I'm turning 19 in a little more than a month. I hope to transfer to Art Center in a year or two to study illustration. You still ask me if this is really what I want to do.

I wonder if somewhere along the line, I'm going to look at myself in the mirror and ask the same questions you do. Will I call you one day and tell you that you were right? That all of you were right? That I should've kept this as a hobby and gotten a real job? I look around me and all my friends are ditching their talents and hobbies and dreams. Should I be doing the same?

There is a red stinging burn imprinted on my left cheek, just where you intended. There is a taste of salt protruding into the corners of my mouth. My eyes burn. No, I'm not crying.




mkp.

BAWWWW :)

"i adore that moment when you realize, just seconds into a song you’ve never heard before, that you’ve found something absolutely brilliant.

it just happened, and i am completely enamored.

it was on a cd marie p. made me. she has the best taste in music. my ipod nuit would definitely be worse off without her."

I love you, Lisa. Happy almost-birthday!




mkp.

Riottttt.

Today was productive.

Protests are fucking tiring. I feel like my legs are made of jelly and I'm going to lose my voice from all the yelling (speaking of losing, i just lost the game). I'm just pretty happy I got out of there in time before people started getting beat and arrested by the po-po.

My speech went okay. Everything was so rushed and cluttered, due to the walk-out, so I didn't have much time to really get too anxious about it. I pretty much winged it and I think I did good!

And of course, Mookah. It's always lovely getting to catch up with friends.

I miss these nights.




mkp.

Man, fuck this.
Fuck this shit so hard.
Fuck this hard-heartedness.
I wasted 5 hours yesterday on this shit.
And I'm doing the same right now.

Fuckkk.




mkp.

Honestly,

I fucking hate math. Like srsly.
I don't get it. It's frustrating. It takes like 5 minutes just to do one problem, and getting to the solution part isn't even worth it. I'm trying to do my homework online, but I keep getting the answers all wrong and I don't know why. And I keep fidgeting in this chair, next to some kid I don't know. And she looks at me time to time, because maybe I look all crazy, kicking my legs and shaking my foot and tapping my nails on the desk compulsively. I bet I look annoying as hell.

On a positive note, there was a book sale at the Oviatt today. I bought a ton, and so now, I'm going to have to lug my weight in used books all the way across campus to where I parked my car. I got a few old classics for me, a couple for Crys, and a book about Old London for my sister. Oh, and I had to create a self portrait for Art 124 B, expressing who I am. I really enjoyed that project a whole lot and am satisfied completely with the outcome (and having to describe myself is really intimidating for me). Because I don't know where the fuck my camera is, I cannot post pictures of it (or any of my newest shtuffs) until I can borrow one from a friend.

After I finish this lame homework, I'm going to visit Lindsay, since the studio is right next to school now, and drop off an original for the art show. Grab lunch, nap, meet up with Crys and go back to school to study some moar. Awesome.




mkp.

All You Can Eat Sushi

Has made me really full. Really, really full. I feel like my stomach has expanded twice as large as it is already, and soon it will explode into bits of rice and fish.

But last night and this morning were really fun. I love Chbcca Rawr! Happy Valentine's Day!




mkp.

"The pink sheep of the family."

R.I.P. ALEXANDER MCQUEEN.

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Innovative, quirky, and so talented. Your endless creativity will always continue to inspire me.

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mkp.

Invitation.

“If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!”

-Shel Silverstein




mkp.

British Accents.

Why is it that whenever I blog, it is during my break before figure drawing? I'm so bored and hungry and annoyed, someone save me plz and bring me foodz. Oh, and someone needs to fix that damn parking permit pay box thing on E6... totally ruined my morning by making me walk ALL THE WAY to another lot just to pay $6 and walk back to put it on my dash.

So this last weekend was pretty fun. I really thought I'd feel bothered and annoyed by ze dranking and all, but it was actually quite fun. I'm not going to lie, me and Crys' Nerd Olympics outfits owned all of yours, sorry. Anyway, I think I'm kind of over that phase. It was more of an internal issue I needed to figure out first myself, maybe. I think it has to do with trust, and fear, and bad memories, and other stupid things. Maybe now I can come out of hiding and join your guys again? Too bad someone's leaving for a little more than a year (saaad!).

This weekend is going to be bomb though. But what am I going to do for 30 minutes before class?




mkp.

Art 124 B.

starts at 11:00. What to do, what to do.

I think I'm the only one who still writes on this blog baby, considering the fact that everyone and their mother got abducted by tumblr aliens, and now I'm left here all alone. Hello? Does anyone still read this shizz?

But whatevz. I'm sticking to this blog because its easy and simple enough for me. I'm not going to make myself a tumblr account (or twatter or facefuck for that matter), so stop asking! Though, I am quite tempted to make a formspring.me account.

Anyway, yesterday was awesome. No, it was fucking incredible. Even though its now only a memory forever etched into my brain, I will never ever forget it. And I don't think I've felt as blatantly happy like that since that night you slept over. Hell, I don't really know if I've ever felt that way before. All I know is that for once, I expressed how I felt without having to open my mouth and babble on. And because those feelings were reciprocated, a whole mess of doubt has been eradicated from my mind.

I'm excite.




mkp.

Then You Bring Me Home.

and we go to sleep, but this time not alone .

That night. That song, that song.
Things are different, I swear.
But a good different; a new different.




mkp.

Repeat, Repeat.

We are routines.
We are programmed.
We are machines.

But we still, (1) we let these things happen. (2) We learn from them, and somehow they end up taking part in the very thing we become. And (3) we keep moving.

Repeat steps 1-3. That's life.




mkp.

p.s. I love you more than frozen yogurt.

UFO.

Its strange how some things that occur in your childhood can leave such lasting impressions. Even when situations and events are merely "forgotten", you're always subconsciously playing them and over and over in your mind. Sometimes things trigger memories that suggest their existence. And then you remember... because you didn't really forget; you were just pretending it wasn't real. I wonder if its time to stop, and admit it happened, and just accept it, and move on.

But I don't think I'm ready to. And quite frankly, I don't want to talk about it.




mkp.

Spring Will Be Worth the Wait.

Early birds.
Heavy, pouring rain.
$36 worth of delicious cupcakes.
Good coffee.
Streets turning into other streets.
LACMA.
Jeff Koons.
Umbrella- FAIL.
Getting lost/adventures/I was right.
Yellowcard.
Doctor appointments.
Holding your hand.
Pho 999.
Serious conversations.
Home.

This break felt so long. A list of finally completed goals, a whirlwind of explosive emotions, and an unexpected revelation have pretty much exhausted me. Yet, I'm feeling bitter about it ending. Today was my last day of break before second sem. And I think I pretty much spent it just the way I wanted to.

mkp.

The Brittle and Bitter-bone.

I know. I've been so closed-off lately.

It takes so much out of you just to break down my wall. Yet, so easily I can bring it back up again. Push you away. Try to fight away my desire to be with you, try to extinguish the growing trust you've been proving to me.

I'm a liar, I'm a coward. I don't tell you these things because I'm scared.




mkp.

One More Night.

In 2009, I wrote about my lack of appreciation during the welcoming of a new year. But a yearly tradition I do continue to uphold involves immaculately cleaning out my closet, diving into the the messy piles of old shirts and jeans stuffed onto the shelves, ridding myself of whatever I don't wear anymore. And every year, there are always a few particular items that I cannot bear to part with, knowing that they will never be worn again, and that they only take up dire space. Yet, my attachment remains undaunted. But come 2010, and I noticed one thing. That tiered, ruffled dress? It doesn't fit. Those teal skinnies? Not my color. That infamous patched-up denim vest? Not me.

And to be perfectly honest, it really isn't that I don't fit into these clothes, or that they're unflattering. They're all very me, but something just isn't right.

And with all the things that have recently occurred, things just feel different. I am different. The things I have prioritized before are now secondary. Favorite pastimes are now looked down upon disapprovingly. Habits are well on their way to being broken. Because those things don't relate to this self anymore.


With that being said, I'll see you. Hello 2010.




mkp.