Paint My Own Reality.

"Feet, why do I need you, when I have wings to fly?"

Las Dos Fridas, Frida Kahlo.

I finally watched the film by Julie Taymor. It's a fantastic film. It's immensely powerful and captivating. And it introduces the younger, pre-Diego Frida that not everyone is familiar with. But it's not an easy watch. The film is so painful, and it still hurts, now seven hours later. Frida, you are a beautiful and inspiring woman. You've taken my very feelings and cemented them within your artwork. And even during those moments when I don't know what I feel, I feel you there with me. Holding my hand, or stroking my hair, telling me it will all be fine. Why can't I be more like you? Strong, and capable, and free. Like you, I only paint my reality. I rarely tell people what my paintings mean, but I always wonder if you've ever been in my shoes before.

mkp.

Goodnight and Go.

What is this feeling? This light, fluttery feeling in my stomach. Of sweaty palms, and shy, awkward smiles. Of both excitement and nervousness. Of longing and missing. Of compulsively checking to see if you've responded. Of feeling sad when you have to leave and can't stay another thirty minutes to talk. I haven't felt this way in so long, I'd almost forgotten it can exist again and again. I don't know if I should forget about it, or trust it and hold on to it and see where it will lead me. I don't think I'm ready yet, but nevertheless, you make me feel okay.

Its all her warmth, but with a different scent. A new set of limbs to embrace. A new face.

mkp.

You Melt Me Alive.

Today, I got a text from her, proposing a hang out after class so she could stay away from home for a while. So right after class, I rushed myself. She was sad, but it was understandable, considering all the shit she's been through in the past dew days. I hugged her tightly and stayed like that in the Pho 999 parking lot for a while. Just hugging, because I didn't know what else I could say or do. But after lunch, things livened up a bit. We blasted annoying tween songs on the radio on our way to picking up my sister from swim. We blew candles off leftover cupcakes and stuffed ourselves until we were beyond full. We kind of worked on my Abstract painting (which I have given up on). We surrendered to our food coma and found ourselves collapsed on my bed, as we just talked, and laughed, and played. And even though I had fun, the moment she left, I immediately felt a slight pang of sadness. Because I couldn't comfort her the way I used to when she looked like she had been crying all day. I couldn't wrap my arms around her long enough so she could just bury her face into my chest and cry as I stroked her hair. I couldn't tightly hold her hand and promise her that everything would be okay. I couldn't sit right next to her as we ate our soup and rest my hand on her knee. This was the first time we had eaten in a restaurant where we sat facing each other, as opposed to sitting side by side. It makes me sad, but I am trying to overlook it. Because we are still friends. Because she still trusts me and opens up to me. And because I'm tired of feeling so pathetic all the time. I don't know if she still reads this thing, but if she does, I want her to know that everything will be fine.

A few moments after she left, I found a message someone had left in my ask box that read "at the risk of sounding creeper status, you left your stuff logged in at the art lab at csun and once i logged you out, i decided to check out your blog. just thought i would say hi". And it was the beginning of an extremely long conversation which included that of Andrea Gibson, dancers, beautiful women, nude modeling, addiction and sobriety, teaching, the photography dark-room process, gestural drawings, awkward moments in clubs, gender identity, good brands of hairspray, and my little painting series. I've never met this girl before, but in the span of five hours, I've managed to tell her more than I've probably told some of my friends. And I feel really glad to know that I've made a new friend tonight.

Here are three other things that currently fill my heart with warmth:

A delightfully touching animated short French film.

Ellie Goulding's sweet-sounding cover of The Knife's "Heartbeats".

One of my favorite poems by Andrea Gibson that makes me feel hopeful and happy without me having to be in love with anyone in particular.

mkp.

Both Under Influence.

My little labor of love.

Last night at Tiff's birthday party, I drank a bit too much and I smoked almost everything in sight. Now, my head, chest, and throat are paying for it. There were times I wanted to cry when I ended up catching sight of some things I clearly was not ready to see yet. I really tried not to be sad about it. And there were times when I was angry because someone had taken Wy's phone. But for the majority of the night, I had fun. I met some awesome people, and hung out with old friends. Shell, Steph, and I brought some really delicious home-made rainbow cupcakes. I tried to fend off Kelsey's stalkers, but I kind of sucked at it. Cuddles on the couch were nice. Albert gave me a kiss on the forehead and made me promise him I would sober up and stop drinking. Crys and I had en epic hug battle and food fight (and clean-up) which felt like old times, but not really. I was glad to have left on good note with her. And then she and Tiff walked me to my car when I was finally sober enough to drive. And it was really cute and sweet, and it made me both sad and happy because there was a time when the three of us were insanely close, and it hasn't been that way in a while, and I miss it. But at least this time, I didn't have to punch anyone at the party.

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Today, my mother told my sister during brunch that her little skinniness was now "fatter" than one of my cousins. Obviously, it sent her into tears. I said what I could to liven things up and to assure her that she was not "fat", and that she makes me feel absolutely disgusting about my own body every day. In other words, she was an idiot. My mother then looks at me and says "then you should do something about it." At this point I'm halfway from swallowing the first few mouthfuls of my leftover subway sandwich from last night. I look up at my mother, who is sneering at me through the empty spaces of the centerpiece. I stand up, throw the remainder of my sandwich onto the middle of the dining table, and say "okay, I will". I stormed into my room, and my face was hot, and my eyes are welling up with tears. I used to feel so confident in my skin. I was never a stick, and I used to love it. But it was too easy to let people's idealistic perceptions of what "beautiful" is get to me. Mother, every time I've forcibly thrown up is a reaction to your insolence.

I am kneeling before the toilet, and then for some reason, a memory creeps into my head. A distant memory from more than a year ago, where am lying in her bed, glowing in my summer skin. And she is lying next to me and she smells like the sun. And she is tracing her fingers along my legs, my stomach, my breasts, and I am shy about it, so I take her hand away. But instead, she holds me in a tight embrace, and she tells me in my ear, "I love your body". I love your body.

So I had myself a cupcake. And now I will continue on with my painting.

mkp.

Still Smoke.

[11x14 inches. Ink & watercolor on illustration board]

Here's my dancing, sickly, ladybird pin-up. She was a big hit during critique today. The assignment was to create a hybrid creature of animal and nature characteristics.

I've had the smell of smoke lingering in my lungs for the past few days. I can taste it in my mouth. Ironically, the last cigarette I smoked was about a week ago. As of late, I've been a bum, stranded in the art center of the campus, while the smell of tobacco imprints itself onto my skin. I've been staying at school everyday 'til past 6 p.m., even though I am technically dismissed at 4:45. There's something strangely comforting about being surrounded by creative, passionate, brilliant people. It motivates me. It makes me want to be more gutsy with my own art, and to make something new, and to not hold back from what I need to say. Their compulsive smoking is enough for me, too. I guess I've been staying late because it's not so lonely there. While I wouldn't consider all these people "good" friends of mine, they are there to talk to, or laugh with, or just listen. Whereas at home, its a different story. I don't know where I stand in a majority of my friendships. It used to bother so much, I'd catch myself texting out a message to send, and then erasing it after realizing how pathetically needy I look. It still bothers me, though. But maybe I'm just tired of it all. I'm tired of fighting for people who don't care for me as I do for them. I'm always in these one-sided things. Sucks. Anyway, I hope she won't flake on me, come Friday. Because even though she's an idiot, and I hate her most of the time, and she makes me feel like I'm going crazy, and I can never decide if I want to punch her in the face or hold her hand, "lonely" is the last thing I feel when I'm with her.

mkp.

Loop.

I was having a rough day earlier. I was weak from my lack of sleep, a bit loopy for having painted a total of seven hours, and slightly hungover from the all the good wine consumed last night. But all it took was that text message to make me cry. I just might be over-thinking myself again. It might be the very reason why I can barely sleep. As of late, my mind has not been my friend. But my heart is my best friend. Even in these moments when I feel I have lost all control, or when I want to scream into a pillow, or take a deep drag off a cigarette and just give up, it keeps going, keeps beating and chipping away at the brick. I had the music of DeVotchka looping for the first hour or so. But eventually, I just let Andrea Gibson's poetry take over as the soundtrack to the rest of my painting session. I've listened to her for so long, I could practically recite some of her poems. And then after some hours, I heard a faint buzzing noise resonating from my bed. I dug under the covers for my phone, only to hear the voice of a friend, but someone whom I hadn't seen in a while. I can be rather funny in the sense that I won't realize how much I miss someone until that moment I finally see them again. And now that I know you secretly stalk my blog, I want to say "Hi, Kelsey." Thank you for randomly visiting me today. Even if it were for only an hour. I was having a rough day, and you've made it all better.

mkp.

Going, going.

I've been painting and working away since 10 a.m. It is now four in the afternoon. This woman and her words are the only things that make any sense to me anymore.

"The winter I told you, 'I think icicles are magic'

you stole an enormous icicle from a neighbors shingle

and gave it to me as a gift.

I kept it in my freezer for seven months

until the day I hurt my foot.

I needed something to reduce the swelling.

Love isn't always magic,

Sometimes, its just... melting.

Or its black and blue

where it hurts the most.

Last night I saw your ghost

pedaling a bicycle with a basket

towards a moon as full as my heavy head

and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket

like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest

and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home.

Two years ago, I said 'I never want to write our break up poem'.

You built me a time capsule full of big league chew

and promised to never burst my bubble.

I loved you from our first date at the batting cages

when I missed 23 balls in a row, and you looked at me

like I was a home run in the ninth inning of the world series.

Now, every time I hear the word 'love', I think 'going, going'.

The first week you were gone, I kept seeing your hand wave goodbye

like a windshield wiper in a flooding car

and the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out alive.

Yesterday, I carved your name into the surface of an ice cube

then held it against my heart 'til it melted into my aching pores.

Today, I cried so hard, the neighbors knocked on my door

and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar.

I told them I left my sweet tooth in your belly button.

Love isn't always magic.

But if I offered my life to the magician

If I told her to cut me in half

So tonight I could come to you whole and ask for you back

Would you listen for this dark alley love song

For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies.

I wrote too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak

But I know now it doesn't matter how well I say grace

if I am sitting at a table where I am offering no bread to eat.

So this is my wheat field, you can have every acre love.

This is my garden song, this is my fist fight with that bitter frost.

Tonight, I begged another stage light to become that back alley street lamp

that we danced beneath the night your warm mouth fell on my timid cheek

as I sang 'maybe I need you'

off key, but in tune

Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open sea.

Maybe I didn't even know I was here 'til I saw you holding me.

Give me one room to come home to.

Give me the palm of your hand.

Every strand of my hair is a kite string

and I have been blue in the face with your sky

Crying a flood over Iowa so you mother will wake to Venice.

Lover, I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window

for every wall inside my chest.

Now, my heart is a pressed flower and a tattered bible.

It is the one verse you can trust.

So I'm putting all of my words in the collection plate

I am setting the table with bread and grace.

My knees are bent like the corner of a page

I am saving your place."

-Andrea Gibson, "Maybe I Need You"

mkp.

Something Vague.

I slept last night for a total of one hour. I woke up and felt like shit. I decided to skip my Anthropology of Sex lecture, because my body refused to get up from underneath the covers. I did go to Art History, though. But, I couldn't focus, let alone even draw instead of paying attention, like I normally do. A concerned friend of mine told me I looked sickly pale and that I was in desperate need of sleep. I took his precautions to heart and drove myself home right after, completely missing my 3 hour studio art class. I don't think I could have done anything productive anyway. I get home, and I'm actually feeling relieved. You see, since the semester started, I hadn't the time to see my father as much as I used to. Before, we'd walk a few laps around my old school together every Monday morning, or get breakfast before I drove off to school, or even just play some music. But now that my classes start early and end late, I practically don't see him all week. So I was ecstatic to have my lunch with him. But something was off. Saying that he wasn't himself is a serious understatement. My father is a strong man, but he looked tired and weak. And then I saw his eyes. I could tell he had been crying because they were puffy and red. Something was very wrong. He tried to crack some jokes to liven up the mood, but he wasn't fooling me. It turns out that his sister's breast cancer had gotten worse. So much so, that it had spread to her brain, and confined her body in the ICU. It was a predominantly silent meal. What could I say to him that would bring comfort? What could be done to help ease the pain? I remember repeating the words, "It's okay, Dad". But the whole time, his face was a vague blur. I don't think he heard me over all the chaos looping in his head.

mkp.

Lamb's Bread.

That is the name of the kind of weed that my friend bought for me. I was told that it is potent enough to put me to sleep. The sleeping pills I have already aren't too effective. They sometimes even leave me feeling sick the next morning, and at other times, they don't even work. Last night, they were of enough aid for me to undergo a good 2 hours of bliss. But they weren't strong enough to give me a full night's rest. Needless to say, I'm still having problems with sleeping. I'm afraid I may have become an insomniac. Thus, I am still very much awake. I'm extremely exhausted and full from eating too much food from the Cheesecake Factory, but I am up. I figured a really long post would keep me busy for a while. And I've decided that if I'm not even slightly sleepy after typing this up, I will go ahead and pack myself a bowl.

Anyway, a couple days ago, some friends and I named our top 10 celebrity crushes. It quickly turned into a heated debate. But in the end, every argument made was indeed invalid. Each to their own, right? Still, I decided I'd take this time list my personal top ten.

(WARNING: THIS IS AN EXTREMELY LONG POST. I'M SORRY, BUT I HAVE TO SPEND MY TIME DOING SOMETHING)

10.) Anne Hathaway.

I've always loved Anne Hathaway since her portrayal of the innocent and awkward Mia on "The Princess Diaries", and even now with all her recent risque roles, I still can't seem to get over her doe-eyed look and full lips.

9.) Daisy Lowe

At first glance, Daisy has this adorable, fun, quirky, and even almost innocent look to her, resembling that of a deer caught in headlights. But she is really a devious little sex pot! Almost always just lingerie-clad, she embraces the curves she's been blessed with.

8.) Mollie Sue Steenis-Gondi

Admittedly, America's Next Top Model is a guilty-pleasure of mine. This particular contestant from Cycle 6 has always stood out to me. Those cheekbones! Those deep eyes! Her gorgeous face! Based in Paris, she is one of the more successful alum of Top Model.

7.) Alecia Moore (P!nk)

I remember being 10 years old and seeing P!nk streaming on MTV, just thinking that she was so bad-ass. I really revere this woman for everything she's gone through, and still sticking true to herself in an industry that constantly tries to make little sex-selling pop-stars.

6.) Rachel McAdams

I am a sucker for dimples and a gorgeous smile. Rachel has a very sweet, girl-next-door quality about her, yet she's still very infectious and alluring. What's even more attractive is her involvement with the green movement. She one of the owners of Green Is Sexy.

5.) Emma Stone

I can hardly ever contain myself whenever I see Emma on the screen. Her bright red locks, her big, spread-out eyes, her cute, slight lisp. But even more so, I'm in love with her voice. It emits funny, sexy, and smart all at once. And Emma is obviously already all those three.

4.) Zooey Deschanel

I've loved her since I heard her sing in "Elf", but what really got a hold on me were her huge, beautiful blue eyes. She is sweet and simple adorable, yet full of sass and quirkiness. I also really love her husky voice full of sarcastic undertones. She is also one half of the talented She & Him.

3.) Sara Kiersten Quin.

While I love both Tegan and Sara, I've always been an S-sider. She is opinionated and is very intelligent, which intimidates me (and there is nothing that attracts me more). She has a genuine smile, wit and humor, and her jawline is to die for. And I kind of prefer her writing and songs over Tegan's (sorry, Tegan).

2.) Ellen Page

I first developed a tiny crush on Ellen right after seeing Juno. I could list so many reasons as to why I love her so much: her infectious humor, her little frame, her natural beauty, her love for boy's clothing, her raw talent, her athleticism, etc...

1.) Natalie Portman

My number one obviously has to be a woman who is smart, passionate, and beautiful in the simplest and most natural of ways. Only Natalie could encompass all these things. She is reminiscent of elegance, grace, and class. She is intriguing, and that is not limited to only her dedication to her craft. She devotes herself to any cause she may take part of, be it her education, career, vegan-movement, and most importantly as a soon-to-be mother.

So, that's it. It is now 3:52 a.m. and I'm still not very tired as of yet. But I'll probably try to go to sleep anyway. Maybe I'll even go watch some Youtube, first. To anyone who reads this, I apologize again for my extensive, and even maybe pointless babbling and for not being able to control my drooling over them ladies. Furthermore, I hope you have a good night. Sleep well!

mkp.