Don't Think Twice.

One year, and here we are again. We've both changed and grown so much. We've fought too many battles the past year, and I can read those failures and triumphs in our eyes. The difference between the first picture and the last is impeccable. I've only known you for one year, yet you've already been everything to me: my friend, my lover, my muse. Thinking back to when it all began, last September over a cigarette on a break from painting class. And now, whenever I paint, I paint with you -- if not in person, then in spirit. You've seen me naked, both literally and figuratively, and accepted me with love and open arms no matter how much I despised myself. You know me better than anyone I've ever truly known, even better than I know myself sometimes. It's been only one year, but I've never understood the words "best friend" until now. Stephanie, you are the Bubblegum to my Marceline. The Daria to my Jane. The Bubbles to my Buttercup. You are Frida's past life, and I was her past life's lover. I love you with everything I am, and everything I hope to be. I love us and everything we have been through.

mkp.

LA CANVAS

Here are some of the highlights from my gallery-hopping trip to the Culver City Art District. For a more detailed post concerning my favorite exhibition, refer to my tumblr post.

mkp.

Good Morning.

There have been several breakdowns, with very few break-through's, transpiring around me lately. There was my best friend who called me on Friday, hysterically crying about a betrayal, and on the verge of ending things with her boyfriend. There was another friend who called me a few days ago, insulted and abandoned at a time when she needed someone to be there. There was this morning when I couldn't make it to my three-hour Philosophy 150 class because of a flat tire, risking my seat in the class. There was tonight, where I met up with three others to help clean up an destructively abusive, insecure, flat-out morose mess tainted with cigarette smoke and alcohol. Tomorrow, I return to Northridge, yet again, in hopes of intervening, mending, fixing. And once all of this has been taken care of, I can go right back to panicking over the five paintings due on Tuesday, which I'm more than 50% sure won't be completed by then (please, sweet baby Jesus, help me now at my time of need). I can already feel the stress and anxiety crawling under my skin. I'm listening to Jarrett's music because it's the only thing that can calm me down like a cigarette can do. I'm tired. My whole body feels like it's made of chalk. I feel as if I'm carrying everyone's burdens on my back, as I'm merely trying to just swim along. And it's drowning me a little bit. Is that terrible for me to say? Does that make me a bad friend? My body is tired from my mind over-thinking itself over the concerns that belong to those other than myself. I feel like I'm just stuck here. Stuck here to fix everything again. I can't even think of me for even a split-second.

Today, I woke up to a sweet surprise left for me by Jarrett on my facebook wall. It was a cover of him singing "Promising Light" by Iron & Wine. The video begins with him looking into the camera, slightly smiling, and saying, "good morning". I've openly admitted to watching the video countless times today, just to hear him say those two words over, and over again. How comforting and reassuring, those two words are to me. A good morning. A fresh start. A new beginning, of some sort.

Please, let tomorrow start with a good morning, indeed.

mkp.

It Struck Me.

It's been a while since I've written on here. In all honesty, I've been itching to update this, but I've been extremely busy since I returned from Kairos last week. The make-up work, assignments, papers due, weekly readings, drawing-a-day's and paintings to complete have all piled up and towered before me. I've put a hold on my sleep and my social life. The only reason why I am even able to type this right now is because I am far too tired to paint. But today was a good day. I went to see some galleries in Culver City with some friends from school (I'll post photos tomorrow), and I am already planning my next trip.

On the way back to the valley, Monica, Zeina, Justin, and I got stuck in lovely 5:00 traffic. So we took this time to get to know each other. Taking turns, we asked each other questions. A majority of them were silly, some pertained to our inspirations and muses as artists, and a handful were rather personal. When it was my turn to answer again, I was asked, "How did you get to be so confident?" Immediately, my face bore a look of confusion. I am not confident at all--in any shape, way or form, I thought to myself. It was revealed by my newly-made friends that at "my young age", I carried myself with confidence, accomplishment, and stability which they all longed to possess. I did not get it. These words do not describe me at all. I am self-conscious, jobless even, and I have never known real consistency, for I seem to have stumbled through every pathetic stage of life thus far. From this topic stemmed the question, "What is your biggest failure, and your strongest success?" I knew immediately what my biggest "failure" was. But when it came down to my "success", I drew a blank. I searched my mind for a single time when I was proud of myself, a time when I felt happy and infinite. And during these instances of my running through my memories, I saw the sheen sixteen brilliant lights. The lights of the sixteen beautiful Kairos kids I've led. I remember the first time I led last year, and how shy and worried I was. A year later, I've taken the role of the "more experienced" co-leader. I was not shy at all. I was confident. And when both retreats reached their end, I felt a sense of accomplishment I had never felt before, and I felt more than happy; I felt infinite, strong, stable, for the first time. And in all honesty, I've been very happy lately. I'm not putting on a fake smile for anyone nowadays, and I'm not shying from my beliefs like I used to. I'm not finding any reason to have to pretend to be something. I realize now, that I no longer notice when I am pretending to be confident. Sure, there are tons of things that I dislike about myself. A fuck-ton, to say the least. But I'm tired of having those things anchor me down all the time. I want to let them go, and I want to be free of them forever. Because it doesn't matter. There are those sixteen bright lights that make it clear to me how capable, strong, and worth it I am. My beautiful friends who remind me how fantastic life can truly be, even when it likes to fuck with me every now and then. My boyfriend, who loves me for everything I am, accepting everything I know, experience, and feel, and everything I hate about myself. I'm surprised I didn't realize all of this sooner, or last night, even.

"You really don't have to if you aren't comfortable with it."

"But... I want to show you. And I want you to see me. I want you to see all of me."

mkp.