Val! is Rad!

Growl to facebok

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 05:46:07 GMT

And then I got side tracked by OMG cuteness!!!!
damn theyre ability to kick cuteness's ass:
http://i563.photobucket.com/albums/ss77/ayinozendy/web_gallery/azumiazusa-taiga-cosplay/b7af7ea8793bcaa24aee39fdb4f8a5e6.jpg

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hv-1mLTN7lI/SZ7VIlgezPI/AAAAAAAAHv4/oOzA3-e_A68/s400/arika_yumemiya+asian+cosplay+mai_otome+photo+twintails.jpg

(^^^ I would love bangs like that)

Kiiinda well done

:http://home.graffiti.net/omega_design/Identical-Asian-Anime-Cosplayers/Asian-Cosplayer-Lucy-Maria-Misora-From-To-Heart-2.jpg

Perfect !!

http://home.graffiti.net/omega_design/Identical-Asian-Anime-Cosplayers/Asian-Cosplayer-Iori-Yoshizuki-From-Is.jpg

Waaa so cute

http://img1.ak.crunchyroll.com/i/spire3/08312008/3/8/8/6/3886415ddd4540_full.jpg

http://www.oneinchpunch.net/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/hatsune-miku-cosplay.jpg

kawaii!!

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/146/399332864_9b821102fb.jpg

playtime!
http://i563.photobucket.com/albums/ss77/ayinozendy/web_gallery/SupikaUriu-taigacosplay/1e120b680f62149647f3e9c449bf7a51.jpg

ok im done...
/obsession

Verbacious Emails Get Transported to LJ

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 03:03:35 GMT

So I got home from dinner, stuffed, and started responding to an email to my (and moreover my sister's) friend Thao,and the poor girl! I just couldnt seem to keep my fingers from rambling out randomness. Perhaps it's because for the past 10 days my fingers have been frustratedly pecking at keys and hitting many incorrect key combinations under the burden of very long fake nails - from which they have only today been freed. At least I think that might be part of it.

I am stuffed to the brim right now as Everel and I made our way to Jim Dandy's tonight (my first trip there). I had suggested sushi as there is a pretty decent sushi place just around the corner from our house and they give you lots of free appetizers, including porridge! But as we started to head there Ev said "what about ribs?" and so to Jim Dandy's we went. This place tries to look Texas-themed (though of course it is a very local-to-the-Rutherford area chain, having started just across RT3 in Lyndhurst) and looks like a place where lots of ppl would go to get their hands messy on ribs while watching sports on a big screen and drinking beer - which is prolly why the place is plastered with signs that encourage you to "BYOB and your friends" but tonight it was only us, and another couple, and apparently the local transient who wandered in much later for a burger. Well.... As I said in my email to Thao:

I just got back from having ribs and half a chicken "fajita" (read: weird pressed cheesy burrito-esque thing) at a small local-to-this area chain called Jim Dandy's. Decent ribs tho. now if I could only learn to NOT inhale my food - arg! I always wind up over eating and feeling miserable. I wish I knew the cause behind this. Then again I have many life lessons to learn, and at 29, am wondering if it's not a bit too late. (old dog, yadda yadda).

It's true tho - we ordered a full order of ribs of which I scarfed down over half (they were decent ribs tho, baby back ribs with a typical sweet sauce - though seriously I ate them so fast I can't give a really honest review), I also ate a side of chips n salsa, and half that weird burrito thing. It was an Ok place. Neat to have ribs anyway as it's been a while ;)

Tomorrow will be an entirely different dining experience as - after 3 years in the city - and 2 dinners at Nougatine - Peter B and I will be dining at "The best restaurant in America" (according to the James Beard award garnered back in May) aka Jean-Georges.  Yes tonight was licking fingers and paper napkins, and tomorrow will be suit and dress and multiple courses served to us in a Trump building on Columbus Circle. I will say this is my number-2-having-wanted-to-go-to-forever restaurant in the city, and we are both excited.
I also work a half day 2-6 at ABC learning Avid's "interplay" system which my semi-boss (or previous boss or interim boss) Len despises. But it'll be interesting if nothing else.

And the weather is ushering fall in so nicely - Thursday's high is to be 60 degrees!  In fact it is just at or below that right now. What a great temperature to walk around in (in a jacket or sweater!) and just enjoy the fact the world has this kind of amazing ability to change to fall. That the leaves are turning and drifting to the ground here and there. That Oct. 1st will in fact land gracefully, fallen-leaf-like, on that very 60-degree-high Thursday :)  And what will I do on that Thursday?  It's a tough call, to be true.
I feel the need to spring up and say, "Pumpkin buying! Apple picking! Hot apple cidar brewing! Jack-o-Lantern carving!!" But I also am in the midst of really really overhauling my room. Again, an excerpt from my letter to Thao:

In other news - I have decided the room I rent is in desperate need of cleaning and entirely re-doing (well u know, the whole house is, but if I am going to be here for a bit longer even still...), so I am taking everything out in order to clean, then gonna move things around, and bring things back in... and sort... and hopefully toss stuff.
Its rather ridiculous how much 'stuff' one can acquire in a few years.

So yup, as Everel assembles new dressers for me downstairs, I have been hauling bags of clothes and hobby supplies, boxes of writings and books and journals, bags of yarn and memo boards and trinkets, down to the spare bedroom and out into the other attic spaces. But I really need a whole day. A wake up early, Move This Shit Out, Rip up and rid myself of the carpet, sweep, mop, clean the walls, sit and go through all the tedious paper and clothes stuffs.... but this is all hard for me, as I look to my left and spy a container full of tennis balls (which for the past I dont even know how many years was an occupant of my car's trunk) - and I wonder... shouldn't I keep those? What if at some point Vanessa or Theron or someone wants to play tennis? Granted I dont have a racket here... but still... And of the Hello Kitty dispensers in the sanrio lunchbox... wasn't I just wanted a new dispenser for my car? Shouldnt I keep the rest to refill?  Oh odds and ends and things acquired. Hello Kitty Coinpurse I no longer use, coffee travel mug full of coins, a Texas belt buckle I have every intention of... someday... getting a belt for... a box or 5 of crayons... bc u never know when u want to color!! (cool spring days are good for this)... shirts from Chinatown.. bathing suits... wine boxes and glasses and corks from wine trails over the years.. old CDs, CDs to sort thorugh, CDs that mysteriously just say "Val!" on them... printer boxes with a printer in it... old boxes full of bathroom stuff from previous bathrooms I clearly dont need. Old shoes I cant bear to part with.. users guides and discs to store- wear??? its just... too much for this girl. But im trying... oh ramble ramble.

What I am looking forward to is the potential of really redoing my living space.... Mom has thought of another placement for my bed (I have only moved it 1 time since I've lived here) and with new dressers I might even buy a new closet-like thing as the closet here is just impossible. Id like to move my TV. Id like to get the desk it sits on out of here and put it on something else. Id like to get a new big white light to hang from the ceiling, and other cool lamps (tho I have bought cool lamps before and they reside in Texas in storage)... and to paint an accent wall.. and maybe decorate it... and to have a real "Space"... i dont know... you just have to do the stuff you can with what youve got, right?

Another excerpt from letter to Thao:

- I hope my boss will say they have more work to line up for me in the future (like early October/November) but that is only hope. But hope is better than no hope right? and in the mean time I have been entertaining myself making podcasts. only 2 so far but I really enjoy it.. and its awesome to be out videoing (even if it is just myself and buildings) - and coming home and editing (with my own camera, my own firewire-> computer, my own Avid) and realize that hours have past while im putting something together. - hours that I am not stressing or in any other way trying to 'deal with' or 'avoid' life b/c i am actually doing something that is fun to me. Silly I know but there have been so many times/years where I am constantly looking for any kind of distraction (drinking, running, kayaking, softball) - its good to have good positive things to do. (volunteering at that soup kitchen, painting with yall in the bronx - those also fall into that category)... and also something that is productive/producing something (Creating as opposed to consuming) - bc otherwise I just go out to eat a lot :)

I might go to Chicago next week but I still havent decided. I could prolly get stuff for my podcasts there, and just about now the light must be great in that city - tho I worry about missing any of the fall that is rushing in on us right here right now on the East coast.
And of course if I get offered work I'd stay or ...just if i want to stick around here and work more on my room or what exactly.
Indecision is rampant in my life right now... or maybe always?
And there is a lot going on Oct 3rd. Rutherford is having a little festival in the west end near where I live (just for a few hours). The Hudson Valley Blaze starts (it happens every weekend tho - and sounds awesome, and I have to go - and I know everyone would enjoy it - as it is in or near Sleepy Hollow (Ness, are you reading this, have you heard of it?)
It feels like other stuff... Maybe just me thinking about all the stuff I 'could do' up here...

More Thao letter and a bit of reiteration:
oh and one last thing - you know how we keep saying we should go to Nougatine? And I think I mentioned it is one of those 'top chef in the city's less-expensive restaurants' like how Daniel Boulud of "Daniel" has "Bar Boulud" and Mario Batali of (food network and) "Del Posto" and "Babbo" has the lesser "Lupa" and "Otto". Well tomorrow after I work my half day my friend Peter and I are going to Nougatine's pappa restaurant "Jean-Georges" which not only has 3 Michelin stars, but this year won the James Beard award for "Outstanding Restaurant" - Huzzah!! Even still, Per Se is numero uno on my list of 'MUST GO TO' NYC restaurants before departure, but JG was definitely up there. I guess I am caring a bit less and less about them. When I first moved here I found out about Aquavit b/c they have a St Lucia festival every year (or at least on St Lucia's day they have a choir walk through the restaurant singing Swedish Christmas carols)... and was then obsessed (as I played St Lucia in a play in elementary school) - and that obsession grew as I learned there was a Joel Robuchon ("L'altelier") here - and I was obsessed with him YEARS ago when I First read about his crazy castle restaurant in Japan... er... rambling still... anyway so yea - been to Nougatine, Lupa, Otto, Aquavit twice (I still love lingonberry Aquavit but that place aint my kinda food), Joel Robuchon twice, Morimoto (which is totally doable and fun for the tuna tar tar), Russian Tea Room (ick), Petrossian, Gramercy Tavern, and a few others but... not to Per Se. not to Bernardin (which I've always spelled wrong), nor a handful of others that are the tops of the tops.... and I dunno. I guess like anything it just comes in waves. And I guess I am always trying to figure out what New York is to me. Lately it has been late nights tucked inside La Lanterna on MacDougal with great mousse (not the dessert kind, the pate kind), great salads and bruschetta, a good friend, and spicy Chilean wine. That will be even more appealing as winter comes in and the fireplaces start blazing!! It should be that.. it should be lots of things you know??    Id love NY to be walking (lots of walking - I love to walk!) in the nice areas, experiencing everything (tho I have been fortunate)... poetry readings! (I should have delved more into this maybe - and if I do another you have to come! I did 2 back around April, did you know?), filming, working jobs that pay - well.. i wish paid a lot more than they do right now - so I can then take time off and travel, but then great meals, great chats, more friends - but I do love the ones I have - just.. more more more :) Oh and Opera. as Opera season has started.
So has football season come to think of it.

Really, how can you not love the fall?

Sadly they have gotten rid of Metro Marche in Port Authority because the winter was great there - reminds me of drinking kir royals and smiling at their redness and bubbles.

But what is NYC. What can it be?  I get on kicks where I feel like it can be anything. Like walking up 8th Ave to ABC and seeing Lincoln Center and working on shows - some days with my producer - which made it all worthwhile - that human interaction and the 'problem solving' of editing - and leaving and meeting Peter for a movie or AT for dinner or friends from out of town. Knowing if I worked here longer or lived up here well I'd be a hop away from seeing the Metropolitain Opera perform.. and a big long walk (or subway or taxi) down to Lanterna.. or just a walk through the west village.. the NYU area in general at night is nice.
When I first moved here I adored walking down Thompson st - until you hit Kittichai where it becomes less quaint - but then I was amazed by Chef Kittichai on Iron Chef and again liked Thompson st all the more (and ate at Kittichai and it was neat) - but that was a long time ago and a day after working at Snap! on stuff for Nickelodeon!

Then I had that whole year at NBC that tried to and sometimes made me feel I kinda sorta half fit or was half sane. And that crazy semi-kinda-boyfriend who helped me through or obliterate my nights or days. Companion of a crazy kind. And then NBC was gone, and Joey was gone, and I was a hop-skip-jump to Texas and a drive and in Chicago. Rollerblading, working strange hours, alone save for my laptop and my crazy drunken or just plain crazy roommates, and the El train, and fall swooping past us into a frigid 30 degrees the night before Halloween, and working with a great girl - both of us workaholics, probably because her boyfriend was out of the country and I was all alone - save for when my amazing family and friends visited. I remember the day David was in the city. Just knowing he was in the city wandering around made it feel so much more full of life. Not just those white buildings huddled together downtown, nor the river walked past and saying nothing to me - but a city bursting and proud because I was here the compass point and David the needle wandering all about.

And Mike came up - and we laughed at the "cuisine expert" in the visitor's center who suggested hot dogs and pizza when we asked for something truly unique, like fusion, like mind-blowing. (really i should have drug him to Moto bc he would have I think enjoyed it).
Then Ness coming and me finally having a day off so she worked and I slept curled up by space heaters and later we picked out pumpkins. Then Karen and Ness were both there - meeting me at work, glamorous and gorgeous and vibrant in the breaking night - and we went to the Hancock Tower and I realized how the Hancock tower was meant to be experienced - with amazing women giggling over the strength of the drinks and delighting in a midwestern city that knows how to make guacamole. Then later off to a BYOB but No-way-nevermind the wrong vibe and stuck in the cold rain - drinking champagne on the street next to a nameless no-markings on the door spot where gay men incognito passed in and out. And dinner at a diner and back at my house before Mike arrived the next morning and we tromped all around loving and hating the city - the weather against us.
And a bit more time, and meeting Theron for a sushi buddy, and someone who would bring us lunch or ice cream in the middle of the night to work - but not really getting to know him till after I left - that night Mom worked all day with me - that Halloween wasted working - her with her black and orange gloves - me grumbling that the final edit was taking too long and it was Halloween damnit, Halloween in this city with the great light and we're stuck all night in a dark room. And Theron meeting us, and back to my apt we went, watching all the people in my neighborhood in their costumes (everyone, everywhere, in costumes) continue their drunken party from one bar to another.
Then it was pack swiftly in the morning so the next subletter could sublet, and off on a rather disappointing roadtrip back here.

Then here, then Texas, here, Texas, here, Texas, Europe.........

Then again with the Texas and here and Texas, Chicago, here - hop scotching the cities and not staying in one place too long.
Till I've worn out my wings.
Till ABC found me.
Till I bucked up and paid for Media Match and Len called.
and I got 2 months of a gig and felt good about that.
Sure April existed. I had a new friend, and a guy I almost sort of dated, and wrote a screen play, and did 2 poetry readings, and took wonderful walks in the park with Coco and Patricia...

And then there was a muddled time of not-too-happy me as I could start smelling summer through my window and I had no job, and no direction, and neither did Peter, and Ness was just on the brink of starting somewhere, and we drove around trying to make the most of it, but not feeling so high on life anymore.. and Windy and Mom came up and I bought and made things for Ness's birthday and we all went out and I worked at ABC and Windy left and Mom left and the boys from Switzerland came and I walked with them and drank lots of starbucks and we each took them when we had time and they shopped and shopped and we went to Texas and tubed in the river and then back up to NYC and sang Karaoke and we went to Telepan for lunch and they left and Peter and I were back at Lanterna for dinner, and ABC kept me going and I had a few days of 'I dont know what to do with myself so I'll go shopping" then Theron came in and we got me a camera with some incentive via a gift card from Ness - and then it was dress shopping and Ithaca and driving and flying and Atlanta with Chet for Melissa's wedding and moments childlike and fun - eating at Sugo, walking through target, truly indulgent manicures, riding on Chet's bike, watching Camille in his home theatre as he slept and we dyed my hair. Melissa beautiful at her wedding. The next morning. my bag stolen. what can you do - thats life too and Mom already had a replacement phone on it's way when I woke up the next morning in Jersey.
and Auto adjustments and life and life and life.

And fall ...did I mention... is coming in...
and my hair is blonde and pink.
and longer than it has been in a year.
But not the longest that it has been in 3 years.

I enjoyed sitting with Peter in Washington Square park the other night talking about just things. talking about talking about philosophy.

I could have added in here (and you can sprinkle this throughout) arguments with Ness. Who I just found, going through a drawer, a card from her with a pony and a rainbow on it from my first December here - encouraging me.
And she still does, with her podcast comments, and I try, with recommending things to her. And Oh I have a councelor now that I like - but she is on vacation for 2 weeks and anyway tomorrow is counceling via Jean Georges anyway - though I never knew they had anything aside from a tasting menu.. is the prix fixe menu new? Like Per Se's salon menu?

hrmm...

And yes I've been doing podcasts. Only 2 so far but... I really like it. But I already said that. and I am just rambling... But I miss that too - at least I miss that about myself. Miss writing. Miss writing to fill time. to Kill time. to write.
havent written poetry in forever.
And should have gone for a walk today or tonight.
But that's the good thing about life - there is tomorrow.
And fall is just now starting.

And soon Ness will have made apple pie from all the apples she picked.
And Mom will be here before you know it.
And we will head up to Salem for Halloween. And we will be little creepies, little hobgoblins, Halloweenies.

yep.
Life.
We'll see huh? :)
-A Very verbose Vallers!

Pet Peeves

Fri, 21 Aug 2009 21:30:59 GMT

This will be an ongoing list (whenever I think of them) of my Pet Peeves!

1. Never being able to remember my damned pet peeves when somebody asks.
2. Ink from Newspapers coming off on your fingers
3. When something makes your hands smell like metal (i.e. old pennies/change, the reason I never played much with my old butterfly knife)

your voice comes into my head

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 22:24:05 GMT

In the words I think - the way you used to mock my voice. I was just thinking I have time to get off the bus early and walk home, like I used to do all the time, like I used to try and make u do w/me which annoyed u. But I don't knw why - I just don't wanna. Which makes me hear you sayin in that mocking high pitched whiney cute tone, "buuut iii dooowwwwnn wannaa" and it annoys me a little - to think of u again. And it annoys me when I say the things we used to say and understand as being Things, to other people, and they don't get it. The can't. How could they? They weren't us. And here I am, a girl writing about someone from a year ago. And Mary posted that thing from "he's just not that into you" on her facebook and the entire first part is true - he may miss u, but every day he's making that conscious decision/choice that he doesn't want to be with you. Its noit like we donbt know it. Or at least its not like I didn't.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

We write about sad things
we write about things that make us feel. We write about things that, upon thinking of them - inspire us and get us on a roll of inspiration. At this point in my life i dont care if that roll happens or has to be b/c of or about a boy from a year ago.

I just wish it would continue once I got home... and not on the bus where I can't write. Sigh.

random ramblings

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 13:24:19 GMT

AUG 4th - I suppose it is a side effect of actually working - but some days (as I've only been here a week) upon arriving to work I am filled with thoughts and creative energy, but facebook posts hardly seem the place for them.
Not that LJ is the best alternative, but a decent one for now, I think.

I wish I could now remember what my random thought was, exactly...

---------
AUG 5th - That was from yesterday.
I trap myself by not being trapped. I have a car, cash, a bicycle, rollerblades, computers, I could find something to do. I am sure I even have art supplies. I have a job to go to. - in the morning mind u, not right now. I am not trapped. But I do this to myself. Hermit. I am perhaps slightly agoraphobic. I wonder at this, realizing there are degrees to everything. And that I get stuck.
Who knows.
I don't.
Try to live life in the moment and then not sure if that was right.
------
Aug 7 - segment we're doing on sleep walking says pain is not or is only minimally perceived during sleep - to all you ppl who ask how I can sleep through the heater burning my arm. hmph!

I'm A Mess

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 06:29:02 GMT

I'm savage
but not savage enough.
But sometimes I feel so feral I could
scratch through anything
rip
bite
gnaw
.

Crawl
Scratch
curl up on the floor
run
short
distances - return -
trapped
trapped - not wanting to be free
not free
wanting to be salvaged.
scrap.

not knowing what freedom even means
anymore
a metronome
underneath my skin.
Every night I want the night to end
and almost viciously.

...
.......
...

but then things come to pass that change the fight
and flights to hug you
in my soft embrace
feathered winged arms to pull you up
against me and save
you if i could
from the absurd
things life thrusts at you.
shush.. shush...
hold onto me
sleep now.
hush.

-val!

There was a Time

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 19:53:31 GMT

There was a time we used to write.
A time we used to think things seemed so possible.
We would write in our journals
we would write or start our little stories - you know - the dystopian novels.
I would say it was possible - you know - to start with a fake fan base and grow a real one. The web was still somewhat mysterious and doable.

Now we live in the world of media. Of SEO and viral video and slamming marketing strategies out through the 'internet' as if it ever only existed for being purposed in the same way as billboards, infomercials, last-minute buys at the grocery store. Nothing more.

It used to be special to us. It used to hold nights of crawling from site to site, learning about night-blooming plants and dark haired, childlike anime characters with strange names.

It used to mean you could build something beautiful - a website - something. A place for other people to gather. To get information. something.

Dystopianism.
I was telling Peter.
"You can't get that innocence back."

That trust you had in people, either. In friendship. things that never deserved trust anyway. People are sneaky and spiteful even in first grade. down to their rotten cores. down to the flawed marrow in our bones.
And I a trusting idiot, always. "You swear to god?" I'd ask. "No I dont swear to God." they'd say. And I'd think it meant because it was against their religion and trust them anyway.

Sticks and stones.
buying books at airports.
buying too much at staples. too much at michaels.
"I love your eccentric shopping habits"

I see pens, notebooks, i want them.

I see shiny things. I want them.

He deleted my photos. mine. off my sd card.
and my laptop still has to be restarted if you shut the lid.

and changing my external 'my book' from FAT32 to N-wahtever it is hasnt worked.

and now this is formatting with a mind of its own.
immediately
dont allow me to be seen as your muse. see yourself in what you think u see in me.
though that happy girl singing the toadies and dancing as we drove back down from dutchess country..
that could have been a glimpse of me - 10 years ago.

i am allowed to be down today
afterall, all white american women do is whine.
-Val!

Doing the Laundry

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 20:52:26 GMT

I don't write. I know that. Because I wind up writing about how I don't write.
My friend John told me to write a list of 8 to 12 things that I would do/buy if I had no monetary concerns - things that would make me happy.
I did enjoy traveling Europe, so one would put down travel, but that alone does not bring happiness.
I would say getting a nice video camera, but that alone is not happiness.
You need to know how to use it. You need a crew. You need connections. You need distribution. And then would you be happy?
What about love? real love. The kind of love that inspires and you inspire and is all creative and motivating.
I started writing a list.
A list for discussion. A list for no real reason.
Last night I wrote a different list - of things to do when I get back to NYC.
Maybe kick boxing.
Maybe hang out at Per Se and try and write.
Maybe rollerblade more.
Take a class.
Start my 'Hobbies' project and other productions I'd like to do.
Get someone to look at my Avid as it is wonky now.
Lists.

Today I thought I would submit head shots to extra casting agencies as maybe that is the only way to talk to anyone on Law And Order and maybe if I just tried again maybe once they would talk to me. But I dont know.

What I know is that "Bad things happen to Good People" as my mom says.
That Jared's suicide destroyed all of us.... His mom most of all, we presume.
That she finally found love again. A boyfriend. They took trips.
And he just died.
That life spits in your face.
And it hurts and is hard.
And then what?
good to have love.
but the loss?

sigh
-Val!

not that I have any true desire to write

Sun, 03 May 2009 07:46:15 GMT

and should be really attempting sleep. Back in New York - Queens. Soon back in New Jersey. Came back to go to a wedding with Alex H. Was great to spend the time beforehand with Ness - was really sisterly bonding and fun. The weather was damp - and then a downpour! But the sister bonding was nice. Her covering my heels with bandaids which were already blistered from the shoes I'd worn on the plane. Me trying to make sure her hems were straight. Her putting my hair in a neat up-do. Me shoving everything and then some into a big bag I bought. Her walking with me to the subway saying she was really glad I was there - the moments I live for. It seems I say it alot but it remains true - A Ness happy with me makes me feel so much happier with myself and life. She even gave me a card when she got me from the airport saying how proud she was of me for finishing my screenplay :)
[For those of you who may not know - tho really I dont think too many ppl read this anymore - April was script frenzy challenge month and I finished my screenplay - it comes in at 199 pages so.. a wee bit long right now but just a first draft!:)]

So we got to the city, waited for Alex H to find us - as I was to be his date (unbeknownest to Justin, though they work side by side at Jet Blue) so when I first saw him I was - perplexed and not too happy but happy in general. The weather as I mentioned was not nice, so we tried forever to get a cab. Midtown - cab - rainy weather - never happens. Bad call. We took one of those rip-you-off town car cabs up to the park and thanks to Justin's navigating, found the "alternate if raining" spot - tho there was no wedding party there! we commented on the annoyance of walking in heels (my new $90 satin cream colored heels in the rain, water, mud, thin heel jabbing into the mud between bricks on the ground) - Ness in hers that were already killing her, and just how slow you walk in them! And commenting no the beauty of the park in the rain - by the boathouse, Bethesda fountain, the grey hues and still lovely. Justin found the wedding party at spot #1 so we arrived just as everyone was clapping, the wedding ending. We took some photos - Justin took IMO a great one - of the bride and her groom walking. We made our way through the park to 72nd street, giving up and walking right through rivulets, Alex's jacket back entirely soaked, not sure to whine or laugh, worried about being cold, Justin's velvet jacket not doing much better.
Cab down to The Modern. Excellent service walking in the door - checking our things - being taken to the private room for the reception, seeing Ness so interested in this restaurant she'd not been to before (Thanks to Phil for taking me here a long time ago), grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter as I walked into the room, Ness off to get her cosmo the way mom likes it, Alex off to get his... 7 & 7? I dont recall. Scrumptious passed hors d'oeuvers while seated, macro photography and macro photography chatter, Alex's Manhattan and the story I have to recount about the time I ordered one a night out with Laura and not-so-successful dinner at Petrossian.
Katie coming in radiant, people noticing Alex's tie matched my dress. Laughing. Ness being social, Ness getting the bouquet as always, 'There's something about a Martini', dinner with white and red wine, amazing pork tenderloin, saying I wasn't fond of the red and having a special temperanillo brought just for me!, speeches, the cutting of the cake, meeting new friends, did I mention drinks? and laughter? and attempts at dancing, as the drinks blur the night and photos cease being taken, as Vanessa commences to convince Katie's parents to accompany us to a bar downtown suggested by others. Taxi rides and Ness falls down (who knew) getting out of the cab - thanks to the unaccounted for weight of the centerpiece she was carrying. Alex feeding a jukebox money, picking songs, dancing, did-we-really-need-more-drinks? rushing outside to talk, rushing back inside, who even knows, things that are dangerous when you are drunk and your date is drunker, falling into a table and breaking glasses, deciding it might be time to leave.
The night is gone, and that is that, but it was fun in it's haziness. Blur of existence, essence of haute cuisine and dive bar.

When I wrote my last place-holder update, I wanted to write (had been moved to write, had been moved by tears and passions but something else (as is often the case) came up - I had wanted to write about closure.
I had finally decided not to communicate with Joey anymore. I had received a text from him, which just spiraled into nothing save for me feeling shitty, crying, writing, and deciding I couldn't be his 'friend' or acquaintance any longer. The next evening he called - for no other reason than to ramble and say goodbye. So we did. We said "I love you" "I miss you" and "goodbye" with a promise from his lips to my ears that he won't try to contact me. It was the way I felt. How can you move forward with your life when you are still holding onto this thread from you past - which is painful? I said "maybe we can be friends in a few years, you can call" he said "no no this is new york, it's not so small, we might run into each other." And well, it has been a fair amount of time hasn't it?
I know it needs to be more, but I digress.

Closure.

Also as in the past 6 1/2 years I have wondered what-ever-became of James - my last college boyfriend - and now, thanks to facebook, I know! He's working on Friday Night Lights (not sure doing what), is in a relationship with his longtime friend Lorena, and seems happy. I havent talked to him, but she and I interact, and how I feel about it is - I dont think I could feel happier. I feel glad for him. I feel glad for me. I feel glad to KNOW. Closure.

So closure is one step, to allow other doors to open. My life right now is not so focused, and strange to say it has been such for half a year. And by choice, no less. I have turned down a few jobs now. I have wandered Europe. I have written a screenplay. I have played dress up with my friend in Chicago, I have dragged my Mom around on her birthday shopping for accessories for ME for a wedding to go to in NYC - which I woke up at 2:30AM to fly to - after taking her out for an expensive dinner b/c I whine and wanted to - and hope she enjoyed it (dad said she seemed to). My wonderful Mother, supporter of my life.
Saw old friends, met new ones. Texas.

And the wheel goes 'round - now back in the North East - plans to see new friends, and older ones. Hopes to start working more intensely on projects now. Probably time to stop floating through life and start doing. Such a strange thing - life.
And all its permutations. Variables. Variations. and unknowns.

to the unknown. whatever it brings up. whatever it brings us. to excitement. to adventure. to life. and to love!

-Val!

i want to write on here

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 05:59:52 GMT

I'll have to do that soon.

<3

So, it's April

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 02:30:48 GMT

For many of you, April is your favorite month. Why? Because flowers finally start blooming again after a long winter. That is at least what I've heard so much of since I've recently returned to the tri-state area. "Thank god for warmer weather!" "Look! the trees have buds on them!!" "Look! There are crocus blossoms in your yard!" (ah the crocus... read on!)
Springtime in New York. People just adore it. My sister notices it far more than I do. All my friends point it out to me on the ends of excited fingertips. I say, "Oh, yeah!" Because I don't notice. Because I have been gone and not enduring the specific weather *here*. But sure, I bought some new shorts so that'll be fun. And in the mean time I can wear jeans, cute longer shorts, baggy shorts with leg warmers, maybe. Another sweater or so. It's spring.
Spring and April go hand in hand. They just do. And let me tell you this:

April, more importantly than that it is Spring, it is national poetry month. I think it is somewhat funny, or we could say, ironic - as the two poetic quotes that come to the top of my head regarding April are in fact negative.

First, from my much adored (and oh - after reading her biography, much maligned) Edna St. Vincent Millay:

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Not the most chipper poem, oh poetry month!
But since I'm at it, let me also mention T.S. Eliot:

    April is the cruelest month, breeding
    Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
    Memory and desire, stirring
    Dull roots with spring rain.

Alas!!! April!!! Why are you natural poetry month!
- in any case, it is.
And the past two (if not more) years I have said, "I will write a poem every single day in April to commemorate it" and I am sure I in fact did start out doing such - and should look for those, and that can be another post..   i haven't said such this April, and felt vaguely something but not much ealrier, and came up witha few lines. But really perhaps I should - though truly, truth be told - this April I want to focus more about actually *getting out there* in the poetry community. Getting published. Getting seen. Getting heard. Existing. Having a presensce.

That is my hope. That is my goal. One of a few. Because April is something else also..

It is 'Script Frenzy Challenge" month!!  And damn me if I didnt even DO the NARRATIVE challenge (and I didnt!!!)
http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/   - voila!

Which I clearly need to read up on!!

I also have a lot of other projs to do... like put my 101 Hobbies into order!
Not to mention my taxes. yarg!
indeed
and clean up my pad....
hah.. my pad. yeah.

-Val!
ciao for now

Sadness and Stupidity and Concepts of Love

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 21:30:40 GMT

There were so many times in my life
that I have lost love. That love has seemed to exist in one of its so many million forms and then broken my heart.
My grandma says she and I are alike and I smile - a smile that holds just as many meanings as 'love' - a smile that says I am so glad, so proud, so honored that she feels that way. A smile that says in general I love her and all her spunkiness and vigor and the way she lived her life. A smile that says she is so, so wrong.
Because my grandmother says she never fell in love. She just couldn't fall in love. And I - I have fallen in love, or I have loved, or I have been so extremely attached - given my take on each relationship at any given time.

And I am jumping over cross roads not knowing what to write about.
Figuring down in my soul somewhere there is something that wants to come out. Wants to be written.
At the same time that it doesn't matter because who wants to read my whining anyway?
Because I was a girl reading poetry too fast on stage. I made some people clap, some people laugh, I was supported by wonderful friends and my amazing sister to be true - no doubt about it - no question - but I was still this nervous girl reading words that given the day mean something or nothing.

And Joey wanted to see me but as he offers Sunday and I ask why Sunday - he says I only care about what I want and that is 'conducive to being alone' - that I always want *more and more* and that analogy of giving me apples (gives me 3, I want 4).

The day outside is white and there is certainly a chill in the air.
It is the perfect weather for me today - for sleeping late curled up in my bed, avoiding going through the vagueness of expenses for taxes.
For coming down here and pitying myself and crying.
It's not like I ever thought Joey was the love of my life.
I just don't like being called out or called things like impossible to satisfy.
Though of course I do think it has some merit but who wants to be told that? especially when you still have hope that another more correct love may come along.

And Chet and I were talking at La Lanterna about love - past loves - what it is to love - true loves. I felt even at 21 that I at that moment was loving the love of my life. That it would end. That I would always be grateful for it. - Not the ending but the having. And I was. I was grateful - to be so beautifully in love with someone. He was by no means perfect. I remember him - as all memories go - in brief glimpses only. or when i see something that might stir something else up.
As I was packing to leave Texas I was reading books of old poetry I'd written. One of the books happened to be a gift from him. Originally a hardback notebook with egyptian hieroglyphs and symbols on the outside, that he had covered much of with black marker, then scratched through with who knows what - leaving a texture and some color and the impression of art.
I remember he did the same to... a Picasso (or perhaps a Dali) print he'd had in his apartment. I remember seeing it and thinking it was really amazing - what he'd done to it. I guess more things are new and amazing at 20-21 anyway, but true artistic passion, torment, suffering - that was entirely new to me. It wasn't someone creating art in the wretched indie film way I was so used to seeing. It wasn't the horrible goth poetry you might have then found on line.
It was something he did for himself, did because he had to for some reason - take this painting and alter it so dramatically.
But sure.... I remember the days that I was too clingy. That "nothing is enough" still hearkens back to. The day - a weekend day - he wanted to go see his friends and I'd planned to go see mine in San Antonio - and as is my way I had a hard time getting up. His car wouldn't start. How trapped he must have felt, just wanting to get away from me for a while.
I was intense about things then like feminism, like objectification. He helped me get up and take photos early in the morning, except one morning where he was hungover from drinking some kind of whiskey - as we had had a truly small tiff and he'd run off. or walked off. i didn't doubt I'd see him again - but he never did come back. I had to go to his apartment to find him on the floor with this enormous bottle - and I at the time very unused to drinking - could not comprehend this at all. That next morning he stayed sleeping in my bed while i went to take photographs of random strangers for portraits.
Always in the mornings,
and the use of my sisters 35mm camera.

And we worked on film projects together. And I was so glad at the times - the many times - we would take long distance car rides (1.5 - 5 hours) and not only not argue, but where nothing negative or suspicious would be attacking my brain (as so often or so constant was the case when I dated Allen). But there were times and there was drama on both ends.
And there was the 16mm film we shot at the house about the little girl - that afterward we lay shocked and depressed that that whirlwind was over and that, believing ourselves to be future filmmakers, that that would be what our life entailed: Stress for weeks leading up to the event, so much planning, so much to take care of and consider, then the up and down immediacy of filming, then the crew gone, the actors gone, a dolly as a remnant, and the time between production and the slowness of post.

In Austin in our apartments so close together. In Austin with hot tamale candy and love.
In Austin with poems - the only true love poems I feel I've ever written. That of his own accord he'd printed and placed in his wallet to remember what I'd wanted him to be. Missing the point that he already *was* all those things.

And instead of flowers, books and cds that were thoughtful were what he brought me when he felt he'd messed up.
And coffee and donut holes were our special treats in the mornings.
and of course youth.
wanting to move with him to NY. Feeling that we could accomplish anything.
That is the safety of college. And I know I could have played our last night out differently.
I could have not been so dramatic - or just.. not so ...frustrated. I could have tried to be calmer. Knowing the tension of the last round of finals and editing and screenings were still weighing on us. Maybe I could have just said, "why dont you go to your apartment and I stay at mine, as Meg is coming up anyway, and we'll talk tomorrow" instead of getting up out of anger to go into the other room and him thinking I was going to hit him - which I'd never done!! And then hitting the wall and him pulling me to the floor then him saying he didnt know what to do, and leaving.
And Meg arriving and midori drunk, and he returning - i dont know with what intention in mind - but then just calling me drunk. (hah) and walking away and me jumping on his back whining, "no dont go!" and him tossing me off and the air was out of my lungs and I lay stupid looking up at the stars in the sky in the wet grass. and he came back and held me in his car. and Meg eventually left - me never coming back. And we took over my apartment again and probably talked between sleeping. And I had already in my drunkenness said the words and weird logic that "I have put up with a lot more from people I loved a lot less - but I can't put up with this from you - I love you too much." Maybe I just knew it was over. And we said we'd each go home (when his home was Dallas and mine was San Antonio) and maybe come back to Austin the next day - and he'd call at 3. And I went back to Austin (Belinda with me) and it was 3:15 and he was having lunch in Dallas with his dad and couldnt talk.
and that was the end of that.
The end of the love of my life.
The boy I loved so much, with his weird puffy chest, and strange gravelly voice, and hair he cut himself.
This seems cheap and lame - and yes it seems immature - but we were in college and it was what it was and I hope it was love. I hope he loved me. I tried I remember once getting him to say I was cool. Not asking "do you think I'm cool" (I thought he was so cool) - - but sitting in the courtyard between the RTF bldgs I mentioned something in an offhand way about being cool, and he didnt say "heck yeah you are" or anything.
But we would walk to or from class to his car holding hands. I was so excited to really have a boyfriend to go to school with.

At any rate - ramble ramble -
As Chet and I discussed this I realized it was 6 1/2 years ago. And feel lame as I think of James very often anyway - from time to time.

But what can you do? You can't go back. And I let that one go - because I could tell he was being suffocated by me. That he wanted to be without me. That it wasn't going to be us in New York conquering the film industry, renting a small apartment, supporting his art and my poetry.

So tears for a long time ago. And a girl who is sort of grown up now enough to worry about taxes.
But not grown up at the same time to be volatile and needy.
To be sometimes a shock of happiness in someone elses' life.
To be someone to chat with who tells too many stories.
To have still some dreams.
To travel Europe and see so much beauty.

I am flawed. I am beautiful and hideous. I am gorgeously ripped through with flaws - or I am dumbly bound and ugly with stupid flaws.
I am a poet, I a writer, I am an artist, I love so many things.

I always said - and wondered what it meant - that I am a Romantic in the truest sense of the word. This I said when I was very much younger.

Show me a tumultuous but productive life.
Take me for who I am.
Love me when I need to be treated gently.
Be brutally honest -- as you have been (my friends) - but always in that brutality keep a measure of the love you must have for me.

In this all may well be just a way to avoid dealing with tax preparation anyway.
The beauty of a city and years ago - and of projects years ago -
that should not die.
Things need to live, to breathe.
I can't be a girl stuck alone forever waiting.
And if nothing else should be working on a screenplay.
Should be doing something productive with my time.
Right?
The Vanesssa Files Projects:)

Nothing ever came to those who just sit around doing nothing.

And why do I feel like I want love anyway?
John suggested a lack of fulfillment in myself.
Maybe.
The older I get the less likely it is I will find that love and passion and naivety that love should be anyway.

Previous post script
here i am back in NJ. hard not to think about Joey. Tho I know times have changed. I am not his girlfriend. Not his caretaker. Not mother. Not his abuser. Not even his friend. but not free from the feelings that tether me.
I no longer work at NBC. I have not been rushing around looking for any freelance gig like when I first moved up here. I am not laying out staring out the world wondering why the hell I am here and thinking that just physically *being* physically *hurts*.
Time moves on.

I just dont know where it goes to.
I want it to go to our own thing - not someone else's editor. I Dont know. Something else.

I just want it to go somewhere beautiful and truly creative. How do u get back into really believing in that? in things? in creationism you can complete?

People say I am moody, volatile, kind, "free", artistic, 'discovering', impassioned, capricious, adventure, adventurous, complex/complicated, - and this is just from a silly facebook survey.

Procrastinator also comes to mind.
-Val!
too much
I know
But, as one of my poems I did not read states:

Whatever it is, it is and will be,
and whatever I am, I am at least me.

unfinished

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 05:03:06 GMT

you want to take me in your arms
and forget that i am 28
going onto 29
at a most alarming rate?

i ask because
i just read many things
journal entries, poetry,
that I wrote when I was 21
and wanted to be treated delicately

then came undone

and abused love

and my self

i wanted to get away from me
with drugs or sleep or
running
stories that never ended
barely started
had no clear direction

and love - the one love - the love
in my head and whose rejection
i dismiss

nothing really changes
does it?

- Just wrote this while packing to leave TX after depressing myself reading old poems, prose, journals. Nothing great but why not share.

random poetry for random times

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 02:09:00 GMT

squirrel away your talents
deep down inside yourself
inside your stomach
keep them 'safe'
so no one can see them

in the morning
bind your brain with drugs
that have already had it bound
since night time
ensuring sleep.

curl up as close as you can
to your squirreled away dreams
in the fetal position
- as close as you can -
and feed off the crumbs
and stay dumb
and stay damned.

here i shall write this here

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 00:17:54 GMT

and not on my blog for my trip where i shall only write things of beauty.
insomnia was my fiend last night . no not friend. fiend. and overshadowed a bit of today - tho i was pleased even still at my stick-to-itiveness at getting to the town center, getting a new phone here, seeing the clock (tho i had wanted to come back here to sit, snack, write - time goes by too fast, esp when there is so little daylight) - saw the bridge (went up in the tower) - was more magical when vanessa and i were running through - but first times are just that way arent they? The gold gleaming in small adornments on the dark dark statues like a hair pin glittering on a child. and she was right - it was not popcorn - it was roasted nuts we had stopped to buy..
but i felt a sense of smugness or not that. perhaps - justification but thats not the right word - when i came from a big loop back to kampa park restaurant beneath charles bridge. and saw that there is - to my surprise, delight, - a small adorable playground in front of it on the edge of the Vlatva! what a great addition to my story - my characters go there - but i had no idea no real feel for the place. (tho i believe it to be the place vanessa and i saw years ago where rich ppl must have been dining).
i walked down kampa 'island' taking photos, looking over at the 'new town' still so very ancient in comparison to today. i kicked snow. old ladies giggled like young girls as they fed ducks in the river. the sunshine was new and welcome.
i was frusrtated at not finding the lennon wall. at not having had the chance to stop and eat. at the sun fading so swiftly. at being so tired from walking and from not sleeping.
i got myself lost in stare mesto.
danny and i went to eat where i wanted to go - despite the fact i felt fatigued already - and at dinner (he was chipper, jovial, a pleasure) - i felt i could pass out any moment. I let Vlad down. Danny put on DVDs. I vaguely existed. I finally slept. I woke with a sore throat and justification for my previous ill-tending mood. Sickness has gotten me. Either from travel, from a change in climate and allergins, from hanging out with Vlad who is still somewhat sick, from so much time out in the cold night air, from partying way too hard and not resting - from all of the above.
Now I sit, thinking I would write, thinking I would be almost in tears.
My back is sore and I feel I have to accomplish things, evne just being - even if what i want to accomplish is seeing more sites down in old town and feeling like I live - even if it is just drinking coffee and watching the world go by - watching people - trying to understand what it would be like to live here.
Though I should relish or at least be pleased (and I am, I am) that being with Danny, with Vlad, I am learning what Czech life is truly about. What people really do here. What they think about. A lot of time spent drinking beer for less than or at a dollar a glass. listening to so much music. meeting each other. talking for hours in pubs. it is a far cry from the dining out culture of new york that where i have enmeshed myself for years. they accompany me to restaurants where we spend 700 koruna - so much more money than those years ago - and i feel pained by this expenditure, though it is in reality 35 dollars...
i will know more when i look back at my photos. i will write more. i will think more.
i will try against all odds to sleep now.
i know i should be sleeping.
i was trying to not fight myself - to go with the flow of things - invited to a pub, go. invite to a club, go. invited to melnik to wander around in the snow - (a moment i loved, probably nothing to Vlad or anyone else - was driving on the insanely snowy and small precipice where the rivers converge after looking up at the town as it sank in to night - stopping him as his lights glowed on the snow - and getting out of the left hand side of his car (oddd british hting), running around it, reaching up - climbing up - bending the thin limbs - to grab at a small strange fruit - success! that fruit, upon getting back in teh car - a czech apple - small, so small, and dark like a plum - and rock hard from the freezing temperatures - and the top speckled with snow - so looked to me beautiful like our old fashioned christmas ornaments. even him standing on a bridge he loves near a damn - the lighting there a strange and beautiful green - he lit a cigarrette - his face was warmed in the orange orb of fire light from matches. everywhere else was glittering snow and nighttime. beautiful.
later, much later, after walking around his old school, after against his will having him walk through a cemetery with me, admiring with so much love the glowing red candles on the dark white graves - much later - parked at the docks where boats meet trains to load and unload freight bound for Germany, for Austria, for elsewhere - but now that water covered in chunks of ice - in slabs of it (the ice we could hear cracking earlier while on the vlatva - i have never heard this sound outside of movies) - we spoke of loves, past loves, lovers, and other loves. other tragedies. i said i talk too much about love. even my poetry. he said it is why we live. love. whatever form -- a relationship - family. we had coffee and the night curled up. i wanted to go back to prague. he wanted to watch a movie at his house but i felt i had to awaken here. not knowing i wouldnt not be able to sleep.
but i am rambling.
Vlad - what was your nickname as a child. something like Lad-ya. Something mellifluous and new.
New. and yet I could be anywhere. Because I am interacting with people who speak english, but moreover - people who are real, who feel.
but oh - i digress - people who have a very strong understanding of oppression, of history, of sacrifice. this they talk about alot. and what countries do and dont like each other (czechs dont like the poles but the poles love the czechs and the czechs should not dislike the poles bc the poles are brave and loving and passionate and crazy) and they hate hungary - how could they not? and russia - and hungary is ridiculous with its illogical language. but the love slovaks and slovaks love them.

and here i am and here i try to sleep

but then i did post it there as well

i am not a manic person

Tue, 06 Jan 2009 21:19:48 GMT

but i do work myself into strange frenzies and fits sometimes. frustrating.

tired thoughts and sleepy time

Tue, 06 Jan 2009 10:35:30 GMT

Yes I should be in bed as nothing exceptionally revolutionary will come from typing in my livejournal at 4 in the morning (after spending the past hour looking again at my picasa albums). But I note - and I note this often (though at least it isn't among the many things that make me feel I am utterly repetitive and therefore prone to getting on my own nerves) that my/our ("our" being that majority that comprises the general 'we') world[s] seem so different from one moment to the next - that our world views shift by the week, if not by the day, if not by the moment .
I note this readily about myself. Before leaving NJ for the brief visit to Chi then here to Texas - that I felt somehow strong - though there were moments of weakness, confusion, loneliness. That I felt I was in fact - not as some so frequently contend - negative - but a happy person. A person who truly enjoyed life and all its simple joys. That I enjoyed even the feelings of it - even the anger - even that - the feral silly feelings of strength and autonomy and jealousy and owning one's own self and one's own life.

In chicago granted moments occurred where I was brought back into being tied to the nastiness of other things - of other people and other people's expectations - tho still interested, perplexed, amused at the vast variety of divergences in those interpretations.

Then landing in SA and so much fog everywhere, and weather that was indecisive, and my stomach becoming upset, and my mood tired, and suddenly feeling lost and uncertain as to where I belonged and where I fit in. And this malaise (as it were) settling over - and a fight with my sister days later - which always (save one instance years ago that I still recall with wonder) put nails in my coffin faster than anything.

But today (and in part Saturday - though i was bored and alone and whining-ly so - bored and alone also enjoyably so, if that makes any sense at all! and BITS of Sunday) - again made me reassess our views of the world - or our worlds which we view so FICKLE-Y. (Note more words in this language certainly need to end in LY). Because I was lucky enough to hang out with Belinda and Tim today - and enjoyed that - the dusty (hah) friendships of so many years - just riding in a car, getting dinner, sitting through a not-so-great movie ;) Nothing amazing or out of the ordinary - just a pleasant ordinary. And before that sitting in the kitchen talking with Mom and Aunt Sha Sha for a bit. These things.

I will even say Sunday morning - Because I think it speaks volumes on our own interpretations of the world and reality - as Allen sat quietly in a chair near me as I read a bit of my book and thought of all the silly small things we could do. I somehow felt content. Something in a buried part of my mind must have lit and remembered the juvenile fun we used to sometimes have - simplicity of going to museums or painting our fingernails - because that is what I felt would be productive and amazingly fun and would happen. Of course that was all dashed in an instant when Allen informed me he was (despite us previously having planned to spend much of Sunday together) going to be far too busy doing.. laundry.. and that it wasn't his obligation to entertain me. (gee-thanks-ouch). But really - it was my mind creating this fun reality - that saw the world as this open coloring book (and a pop up one at that!) and his words (ah hearkening back years ago to when we dated - words ready and mean and hurtful if easy) - making the day not death but sickly and sad.
So I had lunch with Chet and he said I am happy in all my pix on line - that I am therefore 3 different people. And on my LJ someone else entirely. and in person - well then that is the third. Though really I am curious how all these three 'me's' comprise the whole. And I dont mind.
I know now that people and my family discuss me and form their opinions even when I am not there (shocking revelation right?) But either way - the world is the world - and I guess it is only to a certain extent. The minute you invite other people into even your smallest plans or nudge them into any slight expectation - you are creating a universe that might make you smile, but at any second might get all crumbled up by their own reality (which is to say the happiness, the solitude, the ugliness, with which they are painting). (to which immediately I can only say boo snubs and utterly SQUASH!)

But realities. And the world. And to say that my sister who has not been the happiest little beauty of late (beauty yes, but not so very happy) has had her reality (tho she felt unsteady a bit as it were) shift entirely under her feet on this day. Her job (like so many of ours, my friends, my not-yet-friends) getting cut due to lack of funds and a failing market. A blessing, I think, I truly think. But she is worried and feels the need to scramble for another one. I know that feeling - working freelance for several years already. The need to scramble swiftly for a job, any ounce of 'safety' and validation. the self doubt. But werent u thinking of going back to school? Just today you told me that. And wouldnt you like to meet me in Europe? it would decidedly be 'a trip' ;)

Back to realities and the people in our worlds - My sister who I love so much, and who loves me so much too - you can't (despite your sometimes desire to) - paint me in the image you want me to be - not as great or glorious as you might wish sometimes- but certainly not as ugly as other times - and I cant similarly paint you. But we can, if we try, and if we put our heads together, color in a world we might agree on, and might well enjoy.
As many worlds and as many shifting realities as we inhabit in a year, a month, a DAY, a lifetime - in this time that is our lives, we only have one actual span to live it.
Before Atropos grabs her shears - I would love for you to meet me in Europe, I would love for you to write your book, your bookS, to follow your dreams, to "follow your happiness", to find your bliss.
Above all view this not as a scary precipice the edge of which you hesitate to look over, afraid - but as a mountain top from which you will undoubtedly soar once you leap with the belief you should always have in yourself.

Just, make sure you fly by me on the way.

Love,

-Val!
Delirium or something like it. (sorry not my best writing but you know, writing nonetheless:)

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 20:20:48 GMT

Fog has taken up residence over our state.
Though at times it gets dolled up for a night out on the town and leaves us only with a white sky and a bleak amount of sickly light.

I remember being younger - let us say even I remember ten years ago - and headlights dipping into patches of thin spider-woven swaths of fog as my tires ran along the pavement - taking my first boyfriend home on school nights.
Music was bubble gum rock and lonely through a fake happiness.
Though I was happy to sing to it - my first boyfriend riding shotgun, patiently listening to me squeak out the lyrics to Eagle Eye Cherry as I took him home.

Now I look out the dirty windows of this house to a sky without airplanes. My train pass is here but my trip is delayed - because I am charmed enough in my life with the ability to pay only a few hundred dollars for a trip to Europe - but chained by the same opportunity as I fly standby, and all the flights are full for the next several days. (I in fact see no green-light-go at all).
It is a strange thing.

So I got hugs from my parents and still do have errands to run. I suppose I could reorganize my room here. Why not - Mom and Dad both happily recount all I have accomplished since I've been here in the way of cleaning out my closet, buying these necessary things (this tiny laptop I am currently typing on), even bought a bathing suit to wear in the thermal baths of Romania... And clearly accomplished (if we can use that word) other things - Eurail pass bought and arrived - cell phone waiting to be picked up at Fedex (it should have been delivered today), other errands I'm sure, a hard drive to back up the laptop I will ship out to get fixed today.

I had an enjoyable new year once I let myself - get out of the house, see fireworks - be around people.

I suppose those errands should be run.
Even though they feel far less important now.
less imminent at any rate.

I am not one for New Years resolutions or anything of the like - I gave up on those years ago - and kisses at midnight.
But what do you guys think your 2009s will hold? what are you aspiring toward?
I can easily say 'travel' because I have already put the limping ball (balls cant limp) into motion.

Sisterhood of the traveling pants 1 and 2 guys - we grew up as creative and full of raw zest for creation as they have. It must - it simply must - be retapped.

Valerie Rae Jupe Apologizes

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 18:23:33 GMT

I am sorry that I so often view life as a tragedy. That I wake immobilized by anxiety and un-place-able, implacable fear of the world. That I view so many periods as things to 'get through' or that I let days and weeks pass trying to hide under the fabric of life and time.
I apologize for even this - as I know it is my common way of negativity.
I apologize.
I know I am tiring, and I am sorry.

my signs

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 08:01:15 GMT

Cancer
22 June -
22 July Cancerians need to learn how to keep themselves from being sucked into everyone's emotions. They have a natural empathy that causes them to worry too much about everyone else's problems and feelings. They are highly sensitive and tuned in to 'feeling' which is the making of a good psychic or medium. They are sentimental and thoughtful, and in regard to loved ones, highly protective. Their moodiness causes them to be on top of the world one moment and down in the pits the next.

Leo
23 July -
23 August They are generous and warm-hearted and have a natural organizational ability which they tend to push on others whom they feel need some re-ordering in their lives. They feel they know best and when this is challenged, tend to take it personally. Their natural fun loving vitality is contagious and affects those around them. They have a tendency to be interfering and bossy, even pompous and need learn that others have valid opinions also. They are enthusiastic and have a creative ability which must be expressed.

is yours accurate?
http://www.newagedirectory.com/love/astrology.htm

thats all tonight,
ciao.

My Life is too much an open book?

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 20:01:24 GMT

When I left Chicago, granted I left in a grumpy mood and left not wanting to leave, though not knowing what else to really do. Within a handful of days though, every new idea seemed motivational, possible, inspiring.
This could have been for a number of reasons, but I felt also somewhat independent.

Now, and again it could just be right now, this week, these past few days... but I know I get clingy. and that is how i Feel. clingy, scared, uncertain.
while previously i didnt feel like my ideas of going to study language and poetry hermit-like in Princeton, or elsewhere, or travel a bit while preferably studying something in Europe, or renting a cheap place somewhere in the Catskills or even further north and potentially writing... nothing seemed like escape, only "different" life - different experience. Now that again this Stupid *fear* of life in general has scratched it's way in, I see all these things again but see them as escape.
I also see myself applying for jobs and potentially taking jobs beneath my skill level... and why. and what. and what's next. Where the what's next a month ago didn't bother me - as something is always next - right now it is. Just because I am indecisive anyway. And just not that happy right now. Things are getting to me.
Ness as she said in her past response "it is always the same" with me and my comments, my posts, and maybe it is, with my life.
Making messes.

But whatever.
I worked at WNBC for a year - i did that.
I went to Chicago alone, found a place, worked there double shifting. I did that.
I lived in Austin alone for the most part.
I lived in Rutherford NJ and survived NYC for 2 years.
Something is next. Something new and next is coming.
And I do love my family.
And i do want more.
From life than what I am getting and what I am putting in.
I want to - as five years ago I wrote in a poem about chicago - experience life at a new pace.
But you have to MAKE things for yourself DO them for yourself. not just wait.
Chicago waited 5 years.

My book is waiting.
My book to screenplay to potential film... it is waiting.
and only on me.

my poetry also is waiting to be typed up.

Just a Poem by Konstantin Pavlov

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 05:28:10 GMT

Paradox
By Konstantin Pavolv

The topic is the likes of us.

If we didn't have the likes of us,
we would have to create the likes of us.
It's frightening.

Every day,
with tremendous effort,
an amoeba, a giant amoeba,
shortens
the distance between us.
She moves her little false feet,
she waves her little false hands,
she fixes her little false smile.

Someday she will reach me.

Frozen by her insistence,
I will surely give myself to her.
(The way we give ourselves while asleep
or in a drunken stupor -
in equal doses of lust and hate.)

This conversation is not self-punishment.
(I would kill myself,
if I resembled the swine
who washes herself
in the puddle of her own tears
and finds it a special pleasure.)

The amoeba senses
the difference between us.
And my apartness will always be
the measure of her loneliness.

The moment
she reaches me,
she will turn into a perfect,
meek,
and tragic circle.
Enclosed, I will twinkle a long time,
a part of her own substance.

And when the two of us
begin to crawl again, perhaps I will be
one of her little false feet,
one of her little false hands,
one of her little false smiles.

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 00:34:38 GMT

Sadness pervades me today
and u and i may know it might just be that i am going to start my period.
but today i did run to the bank for Ev (who is thankfully still away) and drove around trying to find a restaurant i've been interested in - as Ive for the past 2 yrs seen a sign while it resides almost entirely out of sight atop a hill.
I did that. I took too many photos as always. Of roads, of trees, of the monastery next door that is nothing to write home about. (nothing to photo about).

I stopped by Coco's because I Texted her when I got back but she didnt reply. as is her way the first words out of her mouth were to chide me - for ringing the bell multiple times because "She has clients" there now. I turned to leave. no not NOW but 10 minutes ago.
I sat and had tea. Her apartment was peaceful as often it is - because she somehow weaves a peace into it.
When Joey stayed there there was no peace at all. no peace. at all.
I came home, I finished updating an album I uploaded months ago but never made public. - hadnt added comments yet. So its up.
But there were moments today, several of them, were I felt I could easily devolve into crying.
And as I grumpily made guacamole and ate a shitload of it - and heated up dinner - and tried to sit and enjoy it enough, I mentioned I wanted to feel magic in the world. Mom said its not the external but the internal that is lacking (in that way you know). And said something to the ends of - traveling Europe is expensive and would it make me happy.
Clearly I was not capable of dealing with that (no traveling Europe would not make me happy) I started crying and have not stopped.
Its just that. just one of those times.
What is wrong with wanting something different
with not know what it is u want just knowing it has to be out there
and being grateful for the fucking love of god for feeling like its out there.
it is so much worse to feel there is noting out there at all and there is not even the hope for magic
i said i miss poetry and studying and learning and she says "teen angst?"
i

a sense of hope a sense of passion a desire to create a feeling that it matters
(she asked me what i feel like is lacking in my life. "is it just a boyfriend?" oh yeah because that was so fulfilling)

Run away run away or what
this is just like those times in college i knew i was supposed to be somewhere social and couldnt go
but then it was i was in my won apt and couldn't get myself up off hte floor
this is ppl that i actually like - a friend - but am crying like a stupid baby bloating up my face.

and it all seems so much but u know its nothing
ultimately
its nothing
nothing
nothing
except a fucking bus ride into the city i didnt not wholly hate yesterday
and did decidedly not wholly love

You tell me what is missing
Its just me
I am just me
i am just crying
and its been so long since i've cried this way
just crying and feeling bad for it - for mom being here seeing it
i told her i would take her to the airport tomorrow but what do i do
with my things
what do i do
what do i do
what comes next
what comes next??

"you liked james becomes he moped more than u" or whatever shed said .
no duh
but whatever

Who needs teen angst when u can have angst at 28?

I didnt say life was bad and i didnt say i wasnt thankful for having worked as luckily as I have since ive been here. but at the same time there is still the feelings of rejection. come on of course there are!

28 and almost 30 means nothing
i am still just me the little crying thing, taking her mommy or daddy with her
to screenings and readings and feeling - u know i wrote this - only sometimes like a shining star (star of the college bar - i wrote - that saturday in Chicago bc i had 'my friends' with me)

girl with tears streaking her face and a new hair color for a strange old place

A poem I just found, for now, that is all

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 21:56:14 GMT

I am sure I have a lot to say and a lot I feel like I am under. Like a lot is piling on top of me and I haven't felt it yet but there it is.
Like not only this gangland and wet weather and impossible [almost] parking, and strange [as usual anymore] living arrangements, and the desire to desire and follow my previous passions again, and double shifts [given another show to take over] instead of moving those double out into November - which would be better. so much better. and this project of mine, of ours, and not the time, nor collaboration I'd like to give it(you and I in coffee shops late into the night - couldn't we be coming up with something awesome? or some apt. with lights low and talking until things spring into being - bud and bloom and cute ideas and amazingly researched entirely?)

But I am in Chicago - yes I am in Chicago.
Some semi-north (but not far in Texas standards) Chicago. But You are not here, nor is actual freedom, nor is my clear vision of what comes next except life and another day and hoping not to fail or destroy myself. and strange things around me in other peoples lives. Deaths on the ragged burnt edges of my shirt sleeves. Other peoples' deaths.

And I feel I haven't been eating healthy, nor sleeping enough, nor being good to my body with appropriate exercise. Though what did I eat when I was in college? Probably crazy things, and slept strangely, and my mind was always almost probably at it's end. So really, what's the difference? Except age and more alcohol and a jadedness that makes things ironic. - The irony in people saying I am so very three dimensional and complete and whatnot.
These things.

Oh I'm trying - but there are classes I would like to take (had I not decided to accept these double shifts - because I want to endear myself - I dont know? Because I can't turn down challenges like this - and the classes - would really be more challenging, because it would mean going somewhere and interacting with people... but the last time I Took a class (that Czech class back in that other empty awful paper life of mine) well that was a waste of time and completely passionless.

Now we need to watch cameramen's reels and put this somewhere between a youtube video and a artfully done TV-friendly PILOT.
That and working two jobs and living in two different cities and not feeling at home ever in so many years.
'Sister I see you'

But pills in a bottle and not down my throat.
And I have to go to the grocery store. and try to find some solace somewhere.
I know ppl do double shifts all the time.
And ppl do their own projects.
Are they the soulless ones?
Do I still have a soul?
Is there magic in the world?
Sometimes I find it, curled up on my bed here - that there may still be magic, and may be art.
But there aren't building blocks to fall into place like you'd hope.
And not every day is a sunny day where you are rollerblading and feeling like it makes any kind of sense.

I wish I could steal away all the little shadowbox moments in my mind that never happened and have them. Like a flip book. Have them and have those lives.

I am so scared. Of the 21st. Of what though? and why?
I'm so sick and scared of things not being more.
More or less.

Ness - did I tell you the Newberry is a genealogy library? You've been into that recently, so I found it interesting, when I went. Also, the Chicago boat tours have a "Devil in the White City" tour... But will you get to come here? will we get to do that?

Is it ALWAYS feast or famine?

Ah but I was just going to put a poem I found.

Charles Bukowski.

the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,
waiting to die.
I wish I could ring in some bravery.
it's a lousy fix
but the tree outside doesn't know:
I watch it moving with the wind
in the late afternoon sun.
there's nothing to declare here,
just a waiting.
each faces it alone.
Oh, I was once young,
Oh, I was once unbelievably
young!

(“Now What?”)

Source: http://www.thesmartset.com/article/article10060801.aspx

And I really want a book by this other poet but you cant find it anywhere, apparently DO have to order it, and I know things havent been getting here, so I hesitate to order it....

http://www.ivypressprinceton.com/book1.html

Ah Princeton.

-Val
how many strange years
but the 21st and not stopping, not stopping!

Avid is rebuilding

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 17:33:40 GMT

And isn't that what we are all doing? or at least at some points in our lives? Just trying to 'rebuild'? to make sense of things?

Sadness in great sheets has come over my brain oddly a couple times in the past handful of days. I can't say I mind that - I don't. I mind other things - like overwhelming anxiety, or feelings of utter hopelessness, or that numb apathy you sometimes feel which could be linked to boredom. Or the feeling that I still feel at times - that I am doing things - going through motions - to fill my life but not FILLING or sometimes even FEELing it. I did go see wicked.. But that wasnt much of anything but a rainy sunday my first weekend in this city. and me being alone. and not knowing what to do with myself.
a self i wasnt liking so much at the moment.

it comes and goes. as I said to mom the last time the tears came bubbling up out of a seeming no where (had woken feeling blah, then anxious, hopeless, procrastinating - it being sunday and I needing to go in to work) - in the car, I tried to call the 'eap' to see about counseling as my self-esteem was extremely low at this point... but the call didnt go well and i should really call during normal business hours. So tears came, and driving down cracked white streets, and a young black girl in a pack threw a rock at my roof and anger took over.

Avid was scanning drives and I thought about going for a walk outside. Having received some semi(or more so)depressing news. But then thought about writing. I mean I had my notebook with me but why not type? Why not on here?
But this is not a computer lab in the architecture building at UT.
Though there are plenty of young people here, which I find kind of neat.
Chicago.

tears and payroll and not looking up at all for November. I guess I wont get to stay suctioned to you afterall. But go back to the tall grey buildings and cement and ...who knows.
Up in the air.
I am a girl
with tears in her throat
wild
with a checkered scarf around her neck
and a couple more hours of work
and a phone call
wishing she could slip into producer mode.
wishing she could meet a sister for sushi one night at koi kawa because she was procrastinating on studying for a french test.

wishing she could go on writing until something fleshed out.

wishing there was poetry and poets and things we thought when younger.
We never began dystopianism
we never finished so many books
Nor screenplays, Nor Films themselves.
easily discouraged
easily anything

checking drives that were scanning now .
back to work
to do this job.
i happily sat at the Avid this morning
for this first time in a while thinking
this is not just some crap job
(feelingnotsomuchfuckedup)
This is a CAREER

Ah.
Life
open ends
unraveled threads
and fear.

-Val!
humbly,
with sadness
your soldier