clap clap shuffle shuffle twirl....

there are some songs that just allow you to dance through to your fingertips. i'm listening to one right now. and i just want to smile and be lost in between chords. because when you're caught there, it feels like you'll never leave. like those friends never left. those lovers never broke you.

like that time we all sang into the emptiness of the night. and i was sober, but nobody noticed because i nursed one glass of wine for a few hours. and they sang, sang, sang.

they probably don't remember it. it probably doesn't mean anything to anyone but me. because i'm too sensitive for my own good that even a burst of wind makes me believe in God again.

so a song, with all its multitudes, will inevitably become a pool of memories. and i just fish through them, like that children's game with the magnets, always just barely aligning the connection before they fall away.

...that was intended to sound deep, but wasn't.

it never is when i try.

god. being deep is too difficult.

all i know is i love rogue wave. and the sounds of k words in my mouth after eating some chocolate.

the difference between a little and a lot.

there's something oddly satisfying about lounging around in your underwear. especially when it's something you keep hidden to yourself. there's no pretentions, no need to hide belly rolls and cellulite...you are perfect exactly as you are, in your underwear, typing thoughts to the endless medium of the web.

just a thought.

change of subject.

thinking of re-applying to USC. everyone's friendlier on the west coast. i like sunshine and surfers.

quick stop, change of heart...

or perhaps i'll like melbourne, aus so much i'll just stay there. it seems feasible. i like that idea. again...sunshine and surfers. and since many close friends will probably be accompanying me on the long journey to the sunburnt country, perhaps they will want to stay too. or, better yet, perhaps they will want to obey every nomadic urge i have thereafter with me! that sounds fantastic.

existential crisis.

i used to want to be famous. to matter. to write important things. to change somebody's life. to inspire. now, i'm more interested in relaxation techniques.

alright...boyfriend wanting attention in between making his advanced art gallery models...shall go give him some.

lots of love,
Leni

ah...finally...solutions

according to wikipedia, these are the characteristics of a quarter-life crisis. ...sounds vaguely familiar.

"Characteristics of quarter-life crisis may include:
feeling "not good enough" because one can't find a job that is at one's academic/intellectual level
frustration with relationships, the working world, and finding a suitable job or career
confusion of identity
insecurity regarding the near future
insecurity regarding present accomplishments
re-evaluation of close interpersonal relationships
disappointment with one's job
nostalgia for university, college, high school or elementary school life
tendency to hold stronger opinions
boredom with social interactions
financially-rooted stress
loneliness
desire to have children
a sense that everyone is, somehow, doing better than you"

at least now i know that this is normal, and will only last between the ages of 21 and 30

great...7 more years of uncertainty.

burden your mouth for what you say

everything feels to be collapsing all at once. i have to find a job. it's difficult. i don't know what i want out of life anymore. and suddenly, before i give myself a chance at redemption, i feel alone. why did it have to turn out this way? why does everything feel so helpless? and why am i incapable of focusing on the here and now.

i just need a job. i like working. i haven't worked in so long. my body twitches in hopes it will provoke me to do something other than sit around all day, wondering about my life goals. what are life goals anymore? anything i've accomplished has become a byline. My life seems so petty, so short, and everything is so damn trivial. I can't handle it.

where the hell is this grown-up utopia you're supposed to achieve once you've supposedly grown up? cause i can't find it. everytime i think i see it, it's a hallucination. the palm trees collapse into sand. the water disappears before i can run my fingers through it: mere ghosts of an experience i long to have. is it so easy for everybody else?

my experiences all seem like they've happened to another version of me. as though i never made those decisions. all i have right now are thoughts to hold on to.

and sometimes, i don't feel their resonance, just their ever-impending panic...

and now we're saying bye, bye, bye

so i'm taking a leave of absence from sarah lawrence. perhaps i just wasn't ready for it all. and by it all i, of course, mean the financial burden of graduate school as well as the mental toll that always occurs when i plunge headfirst into writing. i forgot how crazy it makes me just to put words on the page. how it makes me crave the past like a good song.

what's my problem with that anyway? 10 years ago, I looked forward. Now, I look backward. I can't understand it. It only makes me depressed and long for everything I'm going through now to have the same resonance as it will in a year. I view my life as this neverending slideshow of incoherent pictures. People become a fixture for a measure or two before ebbing away into their own adult life.

Yes. I am moving forward now, and trying to appreciate the present, but it's difficult. how can one appreciate what's happening now when everything around them could serve as a reminder? when a song you forgot existed suddenly leaps into the top rotation on your iTunes, forcing you to edit a mini-film together in your mind of all the mistakes you made.

Nothing makes sense. The only thing that does is the movie that forever burns behind my eyelids. The one that pushes and begs to be captured into word pictures. But I seem to be incapable of doing so beyond a single sentence.

All I'm left with are memories of:

concerts, when they were enough; audrey hepburn costumes; jack-o-lanterns burning through the rain; us trapsing through the muddy floodwaters, knowing this was the last time we'd hold one another close; ireland; the words, "your voice is important and necessary"; my incapability to stop the downfall; a close friend fading into the background of a scene, without so much as a word of thanks; my best friend and i unspeaking words in our very first cabride: the first taste of what we have now...complete independence.

and yet, these past couple months drunkenly blend together into a mess of craziness and tears even i cannot fathom to imagine witnessing. i'm better than that.

and here, my nose feels so cold, so red, so pretty pink in its gasping for warmth. i want to stay forever on the cusp of snow.

ohps

COMMENTS ARE NOW PUBLIC. FOR ALL Y'ALL THAT WERE COMPLAINING (*cough*AMBER*cough*). SO COMMENT TO YOUR HEART'S DESIRE. =)

LOVIES,
LENI

the wisdom of britney spears

'eat it. lick it. snort it. fuck it.'

those were the words of britney spears upon leaving a custody hearing for her two sons: sean preston and jayden james. never have i heard such wisdom. she's like, the epitome of real motherhood. i love it. if only my mom had advised me so clearly early on in life. in those four concise commands are a multitude of truths about life. oh britney, you are so deep. please, never fail to grace the cover of magazines with your lovely insights and beautiful (albeit slightly) photoshopped body.

p.s. love the new album. it's hot. hot like your grandmother's crotch on a tuesday.

hugs and kisses,
Leni

beauty in the breakdown?

so...pumpkinfest is beautiful. the fall in new england is generally beautiful. i long to stay, but must leave.

but not for long. my head is in all sorts. i'm ready to grow up and get a job, and i'm kind of done with everything else.

it's nice to know that you always have your best friends to count on. in spite of the fact that you may not have spoken for a few months.

that's nice.

what's not so nice is doubting everything else.

wanting to die just to forget the memories.

life is tough once you realize it's actual work

sometimes i wonder if i made the right decision about grad school. as i was leaving keene, i finally felt at home. i felt a presence in my life that was helping me work towards the better. and now, i question everything. i love writing. i love poetry. but it's clearly not as much as some of the other people in the program. why do i feel the need to have a degree by the time i'm 25? sure, that'd be great. i'd get to teach. my world of opportunities would open up. ...but maybe i don't want it to. maybe a BA is good for right now. maybe i wouldn't mind doing some hard labor in between the time.

because, in reality, if i had been thinking about my own personal development, i would've deferred from USC for a year rather than jumped into a more convenient, more available program.

i love SLC. it's great. the professors, the students, the feedback.

but maybe, just maybe, i'm not the right person. i'm not the right fit. at least not right now.

i miss being here too much. all my life i've searched for home, and then had to leave it once it was presented to me.

i'm tired of jumping around. here, i have friends, a boyfriend, an atmosphere i'm comfortable in. and, as my dad says, life is about happiness...there is no shame in working.

there isn't. and perhaps...i'm just not ready for this.

i need to think.

when i'm here, everything is right. and i'm tired of being dichotomized between the two. i can't handle it. my emotional state is too fragile right now.

i want this. my friends. my boyfriend. my apartment that feels like i've lived here my whole life.

yes. that and only that.

because that, unfortunately, is what makes me happy. and possibly suburban. but, hey, whatever...there's nothing wrong with being suburban and unsure.

smell of wine and cheap perfume

we all have those songs: the ones that, in the crescendo, remind us of who we were, of friends long gone, of a time that you didn't appreciate until it slipped away like the words that race through your brain. all these songs grip my memory, make me reach for a glass of wine. i wish for them to neverend: for those friendships that changed beyond repair to revert to their innocence.

as much as i hate to admit it, and i've always been this way, i'm completely incapable of letting go, moving on, getting over the past. I allow the nostalgia to gather inside my chest till it explodes in the middle of a journey song, and i want nothing but to capture those times that are completely incapable of being captured in words. i've tried so many times, but they just seem to be the experiences that deserve more than words or pictures.

i was looking at pictures from right before i studied abroad yesterday. fall '04. and i remember that feeling: coming off of the summer to end all summers, and looking towards an incredible journey that was to be filled with ups, downs, sideways, broken hearted moments that are inextricably tied into my brain as a dream too good to have ever happened to me. that year was the best year of my life. and has quickly been followed by the worst.

i'm not quite sure i understand why. a year of perfection followed by 2 years of unhappiness. and yet, things seem to be looking up now...but only after hitting the complete rock bottom.

my heart is always filled with this sap, i just want to tap into it and create something that means anything to anyone...

but the sac is just too strong, too closed, unready to open the vessel and release its memories into the wild. i somehow don't want to allow other people to navigate that jungle. the trees are too new, and just barely reach above the ground. mere seedlings.

but if i can only write after the experience is hard-wired, how can it ever be organic?

god i miss keene.

no.

god i miss the incredible freedom that was: college.

you ever lose a moment? a minute? perhaps even a second? have you ever lost and missed an entire month? a month worth saving? a month worth documenting?

I've lost that time. the one time i felt at ease: with me, my friends, alone. i miss them. alana, colleen, melissa, and me...a year ago today. we were the most perfect beings in the history of existence.

and it's gone. and i wonder: will we ever get it back...or must we continue growing, moving forward, forgetting our past in the hopes of some great future all of us are unsure of? whatever it is...it was there. we were there. and we were whole. is it possible to be there again?

naturally organically natural

god. sometimes it's so difficult being a graduate student. woe is me. pity the girl who's getting an MFA...i deserve it, i'm sure.

nah. though it is quite exhausting both emotionally and mentally. i rack my brain searching for words and images, and yet, nothing is ever enough. in conference today, my professor just kept telling me to "trust your own images. your natural ability." i don't really think i have a natural ability. and going off of these drugs has been a lot more trying than i thought.

i'm easily distracted by "rock of love" and friends' blogs and youtube and my roommate's dog and my own blog and my large movie collection with an array of movies boasting accents. this leaves me alone on a wednesday night watching "bend it like beckham" and wishing i were in trafalgar square just one more time: lost with megan on our way to orso with her grandfather's friends--both willing to treat us to fine dining, cigars, and cider.

god...keira knightley was so fucking hot in this movie. so is jonathan rhys meyers. and parminder nagra. it's fairly amazing. i wish i had an accent. i wish soccer was bigger in the U.S. i wish i was good at any sport. but mostly, i wish for more cameras.

i miss filming for third rail mice and the two PSAs. i miss acting. it was such a release of all things i keep too bottled up inside. and i'm good at it. strange. never thought i'd be good at something i enjoy so much. though i know there's no future. i don't really care for making a living at it: i just want to do it for fun. acting is usually something people do for fame, for money, for the prospect of something that will (most likely) never come to fruition. but i do it for another reason entirely: i do not expect anything to come of it, i just enjoy it...body and soul. i love inhabiting this other person: this person inside me, or beside me, that i didn't know within or couldn't imagine i could know. they are all there: around me, inside me...pushing, urging, throbbing.

and writing eases it. but acting releases.

*sigh* i can never make up my mind about anything. when i'm here, i want somewhere else. and when i'm somewhere else, i always want here.

ain't that the way of it.

--Leni

House of Sugar by Rebecca Kraatz

http://www.tuliptreepress.net/sugar/

In my elective class (Expanding the Poetic Toolbox: Saying the Unsayable), we are relating the vernacular of cross-genre art forms to the language utilized in describing poetry. The first genre we have endeavored upon is the graphic novel. And (being the geek that I am), I am in love with the books and study of this field in relationship to poetry. We've read Chicken with Plums and Understanding Comics thus far. This week, I was supposed to read Mother Come Home, but am unable to find ANY place which sells it on time, before Monday's class. However, I have read through the handout of examples the professor has given me, and have fallen in love with Rebecca Kraatz's series, House of Sugar. It's a whimsical little comic strip written in what could be described as poetry format (depending upon what you classify as poetry).

Either way, I am in love with it. The complete ridiculousness of some of the strips (i.e. the one where the hamster goes missing, only to be found singing on the playground) is a refreshing reminder of childhood. We only had a few examples in our packets, but I looked up the rest of them through tulip tree press.

Perhaps I enjoy the comic strip because it reminds me of my own work at times. Or maybe because she's obsessed with the 1940s films and their stars: the nostalgia for the time when the men were rugged, handsome, and secretive; and the woman were refined, stylish, and aloof.

I highly recommend it. It made me want to comic-strip-ify ALL of my poems. Perhaps when I find a scanner, I'll be able to show at least the one I've done thus far.

Enjoy if you get the chance to read them. If not, lata suckaz!

--Leni-kins

i think i have an unnatural obsession with mickey avalon:





he's just...amazing. especially for lines like: "i like a girl who eats and brings it up, a sassy little frassy with bulimia." or "jane wasn't fast she was easy to catch." YES

...amazing. so wrong, and indecent, and yet, so so right.

i am going overseas next summer. not quite sure where yet, but i am going overseas. it's an awfully exciting adventure to be discussing, and yet, (as i mentioned with amber last night)...some of the most exciting things about traveling are the preperation and the reflection.

i mean, the process itself is fun...but this is the problem with travellers: it is not the process they like, but the constant change: that which speaks to the ineffable power within us that begs: move...constant motion.

i have difficulty living in the present, and always have, and probably always will: i am constantly reflecting and looking forward. so a life of travel seems inexplicably correct for a being such as myself.

...grad school has made me quite aware at the lack of the "i" in my writing...the constant connection to things through observation. is this a bad thing? i never know.

my mind's all over the place.

i found the gateway!

so i'm not quite sure when the obsession started (i think sometime back in mid-september or october of last year), but i have fallen in love with the mid-nineties hit, sliders. it's the story of Quinn (a young scientist), his professor, his co-worker (and love interest) Wade, and (by chance), the perfomer, Rembrandt "the crying man" Brown. In its later years, the show got switched off to sci-fi, Jerry O'Connell left, as well as Sabrina Lloyd, and the Johnathan Rhys Davies. Leaving Rembrandt to substitute for the show's voice-over narration. But, having re-watched (and yes, I'll admit it...BOUGHT) seasons 1 & 2 box set, I have re-discovered my undying love for the ridiculous plot lines, neverending unrequited love stories, and the whole concept of parallel universes.

Don't confuse me for one of those conspiracy-theory-reading, abducted-by-aliens, ghosts-are-all around us science fiction nuts. I'm not die hard by any means. But I think the show appeals back to the child in me: the one curious about the fantasies of science. And yes, the words fantasy and science CAN and DO inherently go together. Commonly we discuss the wonders of science, but what about all these elaborate hoaxes people research, the gateways people claim to have seen, the alien spaceships in haiti: what about these things. They all come down to the ideas of: "we are not alone in the universe" or "things could have turned out differently." Whereas we could go about this naturally human desires by creating complete fiction, why not experiment with the idea of science? Why not? Don't we all want to know the scientific facts behind things? We wish for scientific fact to make our fantasies plausible and probable. Plastic surgery is a perfect example. How strange that we can bring in a picture of a celebrity and say: make me look like this, I don't like my own equipment. And that, in a few simple procedures, it will happen (or close to). Years ago, this would've been thought impossible, but now it's a business expanding exponentially by hundreds of percents a year. Soon, we MAY all look the same.

But back to the original point of this entry: Sliders. Mid-nineties. There I was on Wednesday night in my brother's room. I was 10, maybe 11, and I remember watching the premiere of this show. My father sat, while I laid on my stomach, feet in the air, dangling in anticipation for my fantasies to be realized. And they were. It became a ritual: Sliders night with my father. We would watch it together and discuss it together. And it made me happy that possibilities were out there to defy my expectations. And that's what I've come to desire: defy expectations, convential wisdom; I feel the need to seed inspiration into the almost-dead souls of 10 year old girls just like me.

And though the network switched the shows to Fridays, switched networks, changed casts, and eventually was cancelled. I lost touch with my enamor of foreign worlds and creative ideas. They fell to the byways of a life well-spent socially with a beer in hand. But now, re-watching these shows that so spoke to me in some of my darker times as a child, I suddenly am reminded: anything is possible. Even recovery.

here i am in new york city and wondering what the world has to offer. i wonder if this is what was meant by the world at your fingertips. or if this is merely a distraction from the world i once knew. i feel grown. i feel alone. i feel as though everything is moving me apart from all that i knew: and i'm okay with it.

We Tease Cuz We Love

There is one thing that really pisses the fuck out of me about New Hampshire. ...Okay, so there's more than one thing, but one that I can recall at this moment in time.

The street set-ups. Who thinks it's a good idea to have 3 roundabouts in one town? I don't care if they have a lower accident rate than stoplights, NO ONE else in the world utilizes that function. And moreover, why would you put three in a college town? So all the incoming freshman can get doubly pissed about moving in: 1. they have to spend more time with their parents, and 2. that they are moving in to a town that has three fuckin' roundabouts. yay state schools.

Moreover, who decides to start building roundabouts an iota of a second before move-in day? new hampshire. "fuck you incoming customers! we live free or die bitches, so you can suck my big lovely roundabout dick."

But what really got me going was the "two-way" streets with parking spots on either side, leaving about a space of 10 feet of driving space, which of course every SUV in the fucking world has to quadruple turn it before they make it through. it's bad enough that an entire liberal college town which promotes global warming awareness will have the largest population of lexus-SUV-owning assholes with "support the troops" sticker painted across the back. "i support the troops, i support the people involved in the war i protest against, yes,protest every sunday on the green, right by that adorable little gazebo we're all so fond of having ill-fitting country cover bands play reba mcintire, with their mullets waving in the wind, and the goddamn hippies dance with their bare feet and dreadlocks studying law and environmentalism (which i support of course) while smoking some cloves: 'cigarettes are, like, organic so i'm not a hypocrite by throwing them on the ground. it's like mulch for the soil', but they forget (or what they don't see) are the real environmentalists studying communications scamper around at night like squirrels searching for nuts, picking up every last ash or butt till the grass looks peachy clean. which, we also support: the green movement, that is. which is why we've begun selling american spirits loose-y cigarettes right next to the support the troops stickers (with colored assortment, so you can pick just the right one to compliment your lexus SUV's fat fucking ass as it clumsily manuevers its way down a 10 foot wide one-way street, so the tiny compact car behind you can be held up as much as possible, but still have a wonderful fucking piece of irony on your car's fat fucking ass as you smile and give me the thank-you wave."

*sigh* i guess venting produces the grammar-free Leni.

peace in your crease!

Change of School, Change of Blog, Change of Heart

So there have been several people questioning me about the recent inexplicable change of my facebook and myspace accounts informing people that I shall be attending Sarah Lawrence and not the University of Southern California.

These changes are correct. I simply sat down and thought about all the happiness I'd have in NYC, the way I feel about living in that particular area, that particular school..and it all made sense. I'm a bright lights, big city sort of girl and not a tan, bleach-blonde, happy person. I'm dramatic, complicated, and brooding. Some see those as faults...I see them as prospects in making New York City friends.

I'm getting quite restless. The need to move, to change, to go, go, go keeps burning in my mind. I think about England and my times there, yes, but moreso about the areas in the world few people get to travel to. I want those to burn in my brain just as deeply and intensified as the study abroad experience.

If I could just pack up a few friends and jet set off to another continent, I'd be perfectly content. Too bad money has to play a factor in such an endeavor.

Well, not quite like anyone really reads this...so, I'll end it there...abruptly.

Love, love, love,

LeniCat

for weeks my body aches

so it was around a year ago today that my life took an entirely different turn: i graduated college. at the time, it felt like the most painful thing on the planet. the thought of handling things all on my own seemed overwhelmingly impossible. it never occurred to me that real life could actually start at the drop of that graduation cap.

but it did.

and yet, all the things that have happened this year have been for the best. i have had ups and downs that i never knew existed. i've learned to take care of myself: to shop for myself, to live alone, to understand the nature of give and take, to pay bills, to make all new friends, to accept responsibility for my actions.

there are many life lessons that are contained within an important year such as this. ones that i'm not even sure i could describe here. ones i'm not even sure i understand quite yet.

all i know is that i am lucky: i have amazing friends who i will miss beyond repair. it was scary moving up to keene on my own...just as moving out to LA will be. and yet, i know i'm capable of that risk, that chance. i will miss everyone ferociously, but i know who will stay in touch.

because i love them. and they love me back.

for once i found a niche comfortable enough to be...me.

so this is what it feels like being a star? people come and party at your house giving less than a shit about anything but themselves.

fantastic.

this was supposed to be one of the best nights of my life.

it's already the worst and it hasn't even started.

so so sad

i stumbled across this recent picture of film critic Roger Ebert and it made me undeniably sad. here's to hoping that the big guy keeps on keepin' on. sticking those two thumbs up the ass of his sickness. kudos roger ebert!

(source: suntimes.com)

motion motion motion...only forward motion

there's something in the air. i can feel it. and it's more than just summer vacation. more than just being a graduate student (finally). more than an upcoming trip. something i can't define. something larger than me.

and the plans and ideas are being planted. i can feel them molding into my brain. i have many things to accomplish within the next two years.

and are they attainable?

you bet your sweet little ass they are.

confirmation and details later.

huff puff

this week has been/continues to be super-de-duper busy. every night has been a different event:

monday: grindhouse with alec
tuesday: ADR (sound looping) for third rail mice // little children with matthew
wednesday: "evening of dance" with dave // hair dying session with taylor d.
thursday: chock full o' notes a capella show with taylor
friday: iris' senior recital // england party
saturday: "evening of dance" (again) with matthew
sunday: PSA filming.

whew...that's hectic. but you know, i actually enjoy the busyness. it makes me feel like i have more to look forward to. it's nice to be inspired every once in a while.

and it provides me with something to do other than either: 1. hang alone (not that there's anything wrong with that) or; 2. go out drinking. finally i've met people who are interested in THINGS. actual, real life things that you can remember. where were they before i drank? where were they those incredibly lonely and mind-boggling years at the beginning of college? why has it taken me this long to meet people who are my speed? i don't understand it. the beginning of keene was virtually intolerable without the solace of alcohol. i'm glad i actually dealt with those feelings instead of seeking comfort in the arms of intoxication. i delved into things that made me a better person: books, movies, exercise...and when my heart got broken, i knew how to deal with it without a bottle.

people always say "there's nothing to do in keene, nh," but in reality, there's PLENTY to do; they would rather have a beer. bowling? plays? speakers? movies? art exhibits? there's quite a bit if you only just look beyond the exterior of the frat house. there's a whole world there waiting to be discovered. i know: i've looked at keene without beer goggles. trust me...it's nicer than you think.

alright, enough of that. at work now, discussing the exchange possibilities. i never thought i could be as passionate about the philosophies of study abroad as i am. i thoroughly enjoy my work. i feel as though i make a difference. i provide these students with a vessel to explore a world they haven't seen with open eyes.

i want to go abroad again at some point. i would like it to be australia, but i'm really not all too particular. whether it be working there during the summer or doing some sort of graduate study. i'm not sure yet. but here, amidst people who understand, i can feel the possibilities rise, swell, and overflow.

...my cup runneth over.

ethics over gin

so last night i saw little children. that movie gave me a mindfuck so bad i couldn't even move afterwards. it just laid on top of me for hours.

afterwards matthew and i went for a drink at a local bar: tony c's. it's a nice little spot, chock full of that trying hard to be a semi-nice new york dive bar, but ultimately failing. it's aplace for a strong drink and a smoke indoors...if that's your thing. which it is. so i dig it.

When we get there, over the calming burn of a cigarette, matthew and i begin talking ethics. specifically, we were discussing the ethics of the movie, but it was really justone of those conversations where we both knew we were covertly applying it to our own lives. (it's something you can't help but do as a thoughtful person). eventually we get to the topic of having children and whether or not its selfish to have a child if you're unwilling to sacrifice your own pleasure. i agree with that statement: yes, of course it's selfish to do that. do people do it anyway? of course. people have children all the time for all of the wrong reason: somebody to love them,to save a relationship, for pity or privilidge. but moreover, i realized, i can never get to that point.

matt and i have this realization at the same moment:

we are both undeniably, ridiculous, and hopelessly selfish people. both incapable of putting aside our own wants for another person. and yes, wants...not wants and needs. i never really go for what i need. do i get it? nine times out of ten, no. do i try in vain anyway? indeed i do. yessireebob.

at this point, taylor arrives at the bar interrupting the all-too-intense self realizations and quelling our thoughts with a shot of tequila. smart people can be so dumb sometimes. especially in the face tuesday night that's revealed their own callous hearts. and we begin discussing relationships.

oh joy of joys. two ex-boyfriends who i happen to be friends with discussing their sex lives and how our waitress fills out her pants well. not that i care all that much, but sometimes, when a girl has gotten all dooded up for a night on the town (regardless of whether or not she's going with someone who is a potential date/romp in the hay), she just wants all attention on her. it's the girly side of me that i surpress so hard until it comes roaring out with a: hey. you know what would be fun? if you wore those jeans that make your ass look good tonight. and i say, "thank you girly thoughts. i think i will do that."

alas, those nights are never the ones that get me laid. it's when i'm sweatered out at a skeezy bar, smoking my last cigarette, and playing erotic photo hunt: babes edition.

in any case, we're discussing the girls at the bar that they find attractive. all butterfaces, but ya know, generic hottness (and p.s. does that come in a bottle somewhere? am i missing something?) and i simply sit there in wonder, astonishment even.

in my head all i think is: i am sitting at a table with two ex-boyfriends who are assessing the asses of the girls around us and i just casually cross my arms lean back and accept it.

i am a goddamn goddess. my patience is near zen-like. and perhaps this is why my relationships never work.

after pondering my unique and rare ability to maintain friendships with dicks i've had sex with i snap out of it, grab another cigarette, and sip my jack and ginger...secretly biting down on the straw and hoping the teeth marks stick. i offer to buy us all another drink. and do.

and for a little while, over the cheers and clinking of glasses to no toast, i think to myself: and i'm going to miss these twoand their conversations more than anyone.

and suddenly...california...was real.

assortments

so, in spite of my best efforts i, unfortunately did not accomplish much last week. instead, i got a kidney infection.

boo.

on the up side, i have been writing quite a bit. need to get my taxes done tonight (i know, i know: down to the wire), but i have them basically figured out. may be going to see grindhouse as well provided it all gets done in a timely manner.

and here, for the adorable kat who proposed a challenge: use alluvial soil in a poem. and just for that...she makes a cameo (what can i say? i love write-off challenges). without further ado: my alluvial soil poem.

Rain on Umbrellas

Sounds like static electricity
Little gunshots firing at my eyes
Hoping to sting, hiss, bite,
But deflected by plain
Rubber (my skin too rough
To touch, too slippery).
At night it threatens stars
(truth be told) digging the
Alluvial soil that kate yearns
To nourish calilies. Instead
They drown. And stars—slightly
Embarrassed—hide behind the
darkest clouds (I umbrella my face,
standing like a mushroom at the sound of
A footstep).
And in the evening
It's boisterous, alluring
Looming and longing
To matter, wanting to echo
(your words never cease
to play haunted harpsichord
melodies), my heart, my neurons:
always synapsing sparks like
supernovas in the firmament
unobserved.

what to do with to do lists.

As most of you may have heard at this point, I have been accepted to the University of Southern California's Masters Program for Professional Writing. In this program, I will allotted time to study across disciplines. The program has renowned faculty spanning from Marc Norman (Shakespeare In Love) to Janet Fitch (White Oleander) to John Rappaport (MASH). Perhaps one of the most impressive things to me, as an aspiring screenwriter, Syd Field teaches at the program.

How the hell did that happen?

So, as soon as I fill out my financial aid and send in my letter of intent, I shall be a USC Trojan. Scary as all get out. But ridiculously exciting. I have never been a huge fan of L.A., but as of recent, I have found myself innately drawn to the area. I am curious to be around those who all have similar passions to mine: movies, writing, art, music, all of the above. I want to surround myself, immerse myself, and be overcome with the overwhelming sadistic melancholy of creativity. I love the magic of process, the consistent gelling and ungelling of words and ideas and theory. It all flows through me like blood: my heart pumps inspiration and dreams only.

I have begun to make lists of things I would like to accomplish. Here is the short term list:

• Begin working out again. At the gym. At home. Wherever. Warmer weather = running.
• Start bringing lunch to work. Have healthy options.
• Write everyday.
• Read those books I've been putting off forever.
• Devise documentary travel itinerary.
• Apply for financial aid.
• Organize housing situation.
• Plan road trip.

And then there are the ideals:

• Work overseas summer 2008.
• Research writing internships/conferences/workshops within the U.S. and abroad.
• Look into film jobs in L.A.
• Come up with a submission-worthy manuscript of poetry.
• Work on short fiction novel started in September.
• Finish documentary.
• Audition, audition, audition.

Yeah, sure, these are long-term goals. But on the same token, I really feel as though these are things I must force myself to do. I expect nothing less than my own set goals for the future. These things will make me happy, and although they may be difficult to achieve, I know that it will be worth it. When I do things I set out to do, I feel accomplished, motivated, and full of inner life.

My best friend, Megan, said to me the other day: "I've given up trying to convince you to stay, because you are just not the type of person to settle until you're ready, and who knows where that will be. And no one can convince you otherwise." And it's very true. I love the adaptability of circumstance, chance, and choice. The three c's have guided me steadfast and true through the toughest of situations, through the muck of indecision, and the brutal severity of crisis. What it comes down to is that these three things are what define us all. You can choose which one is the be all end all. I have always been a choice sort of gal. Circumstance and chance are what come afterwards. But it could be just me. Others think otherwise.

*sigh* I think I'm done writing for the moment. Work is calling me back to its mundane fax machine cubicle life.

But that's okay. Sometimes the predictable can be oddly soothing when nothing but adventure paves the path before you.

Out like a trout,

L-dizzle fer rizzle

without the pain, where would we be?

happy. i'm happy. the kind of happy that comes from only within. i feel as though spring has released me of my self-indulgent prison. it's as good as it gets and thensome.

i believe it started with the cruise. something about visiting foreign countries, traveling, sunshine, beaches, culture...i don't know. all of it combined pulls me into an absolute mess of euphoria. i've realized recently that i am just not the type of girl to be tamed. i wish to all get out sometimes that i were. but i'm not. i like seeing new things. i like experiencing. i like discovering that you know nothing about the multitude of things you thought you knew everything about.

it's the little things lately that get me: silly conversations over pizza and fountain soda, the cool taste of water, the wind chilling me to the bone, a night in with friends.

all of it makes sense and feels right for where i am in my life right now.

being loved feels amazing, but not as amazing as being alone. at least right now.

finally, things seem to be falling in place. i am DOING things. i am ready for all that life has to offer me: a swift punch and a sharp blow and a few tears. maybe it is time to stop fearing the vulnerability that is innate to me, the scary experience of being human. i can let people in. they can care about me without a hug or a kiss. they can care about me with a smile and a soft brush of the hand.

i love love. but more than that: i feel loved. everyone who has put up with me during this tumultous year of transit has helped me to realize what's important. it's been a painful, strenuous, all-consuming year filled with memories i'm sure plenty would rather forget. and yet, i am the happier for them. i have learned a lot about me, about the relationships i pursue: romantic or otherwise. i am capable of realizing who ACTUALLY cares now.

and i am able to let myself care back.

thank you.

--L-dizzle.

sweet...i look famous

stream o' consciousness produces leni's dark side.

numb, she thought. numb. as her lips burned with the intensity of a flamethrower. she enjoyed the way pounds fled her flesh. the way her eyes dilated. the way her cheeks grew pale at his slight mentioning. to be numb was cathartic. she savored the moments when she didn't feel, think, need, anything.

but what does one do? stand on the edge and release or wait at peaks never to peer beyond? she chose to fall. and fall she did, alongside the multitudes who savored the way wind rushed past their face, cool...numb. without the fall, there would be nothing. without the numbness there would no longer be joy. but she had begun to wonder if her cold heart and numb hands felt anything besides endless waves of pity.

she still wasn't sure who it was for: herself or others. the others who chose not to go down this path. they didn't know. how could they understand.

she was, by all means, perfection. the very definition of euphoria. it's strange how closely related apathy and euphoria can seem. for you can smile as widely in apathy, have all the same bland, blank facial expressions of one who is extremely happy.

it's easy to fake both.

oh how she fell admiring the ground's inevitable thump. how she enjoyed the plummet. the way her stomach screamed no, no, no, and she defied her body time and again.

to have control over oneself is the best kind of control. to scream no to your heart, your inner organs, your guts. to let them know who's in charge. you can choose the inevitible if you want to. your brain is the only thing that matters: it's what moves your feet, what clasps your hands, what brings the bottle to the lips, what fucks a stranger.

you can make that decision.

because it's yours.

and she did. and enjoyed every last drop of self-loathing destruction.

Responsibility, Grown-Ups, and Grad Schools...OH MY!

Lots of things can happen in a week. A ton. A shitload. And I've had a metric ass-kicking these past 6 nights. Not a bad ass-kicking. A good hard blow to the brain. It was a good thing. A great thing. I needed to re-evaluate.

I find myself in ridiculous situations saying ridiculous things and wondering how or why i got there and why those phrases that mean nothing just yet, tumble on outwards. they spill into my brain via some strange and otherworldly taser gun. I was doing fine and snap: hey, there's that thing you didn't mean to say.

I've made new friends. That's always nice. They're fun people. It's sad that it took me this long in Keene to find some good people and they have to swept under the rug. Graduate school does that to people. Why do the best things always come at the end? I'm just waiting for the smoking signal to ding, cause that means everything is okay.

That brings me to another point. Syracuse: out. Iowa: nada. 2 down, 5 to go. Let's hope I've learned to grin and bear rejection. Megan thinks I'm suffering post-traumatic stress from all that shitty shit during the undergrad application process. Perhaps. Probably. That was pretty devestating for me.

For the first time in a while, I don't feel this endless surge of worry. This all-encompassing self-doubt. The whywhywhys or hows of how I meet people and how they respond to me. I'm a good person and I deserve as such. I meet a boy: I shouldn't immediately doubt, but I shouldn't immediately attach either. Learning it. Owning up for my flaws. It's a difficult process. So I don't know where the future is headed, do I need to know the endings before the beginnings even transpose into middles? No. I am slowly letting my grip slip away from these things. They don't matter. But more importantly, I don't want them to matter anymore. That's the main thing: I don't want that hassle.

So I'm solving it now. Iowa rejected me; I cried. I scare away a boy with my intensity; I fix it. I feel like crap; I take care of myself. It's a funny thing, being responsible. It's remarkably.....soothing.


L-Dawg: OUT.

Greek Tragedies Make Me Smile

Leni has been making strange, albeit delightful, decisions. Life has been good: a pleasurable mix of pain and play. That sounded almost like S&M, which is totally not what I meant. In any scenario, I spend my nights at home alone or out with friends and I found this delicious balance between alone time to be okay in my head and friend time to be okay in my life. I need both: the wine and American Idol nights co-habitating with dance class and girly movie nights.

I keep feeling as though I should quit smoking, but there's something about it that has always been subversively appealing to me. I just feel like a femme fatale in a sexy evening gown. They're so convincing. So downright sexy it's hard to ignore the low-cut dress and how the smoke just spills from their lips as though it were as natural as breathing.

But I'm not a temptress. It's not like simple breathing for me. It involves coughing and spitting and everyone yelling, saying "you need to quit." But there are those moments when the light catches the smoke and it curls outwards into the dark spectrum of the universe and I can't help but think about how beautiful those smoke echos must look in the light of distant stars.

...if it were possible for them to exist outside the realm of my backyard.

On another note: Greek tragedies do not lend themselves to the post-WWII era. I went to go see Keene's production of it last night, and while the actors were all quite good, it's simply not enough to compensate for the fact that it ended with "WAR! HUH! GOOD GOD! WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?" Ummm....no. I wanna see the traditional Greek play: baby-eating, mother-fucking, father-killing, god-avenging, traditional Greek play. It's what I pay for...

..Not that I paid for my ticket. I got mine scott-free from a cast member. That's what happens when you know people. And what can I say? I'm a big deal in Keene.

Or so I think.

Tonight: Shower, then dinner and Pan's Labyrinth with Mattamegnon. Perhaps some hang-age with Miss Cate, or Miss Kate-E and her friend Seth. And some deep wonderful lucid dreams.

Sounds like perfection to me.


yours always,
THE Leni

keep the old: one's silver; the other's gold

i may be just me now. but i am me. and i have real, true friends. the kind that will be there through anything: through heartbreak, addiction, pain, love, and betrayal. it's unfortunate that it took such an ass-knocking for me to realize it. but my family and friends are the best that anyone can ask for. so, this post is dedicated to them, and their awesome-ness.... i know that's not a word....and i realize that cheese factor of this is at an all-time high, but regardless: i am too grateful for everything to keep it inside.

i have been selfish at times. especially lately. giving in to urges that are detrimental to both myself and those who care(d) about me the most. but i'm through with that. once you see the look on someone's face, hear the intonation of their voice begging you to never hurt them that way again, you can't help but go: 'so that's the reason for everything.' because they do care. they are there. they're there to remind you of all the times when you were okay, when you were better than okay, when you were a good person, and they tell you as such. but they're not afraid to tell you when you suck either. they can say: 'that was fucking stupid. you're a selfish bitch.' and it's a-okay. because it is. i expect them to say that, and they expect me to reciprocate.

i have been crazy the past month. absolutely certifiably insane. but not any longer. the girl with the dead eyes and fake laughter is heretofore to become Leni again. and if it took disappointment to change me...then so be it.

who's to say if i've been changed for the better?

(i do believe i have been changed for the better)

because i knew you

i have been changed for good.

oh the mundane oh the complacent

hip hop's tonight. i'm going for the first time in two weeks. uber exciting. kate and i practiced last night. i wish we had video of our drunk asses trying to competently dance to j. tims. that would be totes.

so...this is what's on my plate for the day:

• manage to get through work doing nothing since i'm pretty un-busy post-deadline
• eat some healthy food...and possibly go shopping for it. ((sidenote: hummus, tabouli, and avocado wraps = my new favorite food)
• fuck...laundry. i'm still in desparate need of doing this. however, i am going home on saturday for my sister's birthday. hmm...i smell an opportunity....nope...just my laundry.
• motivate to go to hip-hop and dance up a storm.
• head on over to the dillo's to watch kate's friend's band and drink a few beahs

and that's basically it. hopefully it'll be fun.

i'm totally getting some garlic chicken thai food right now, and i'm super excited about it. you should be too.

that's right bitches!

payce,

La-La-Leni

the times they are a-changin'

what i wouldn't give for the feeling that anything was possible again.

two years ago, i was in york, england. i've always been one for nostalgia, but there are very few events that pervade my inner sense of happiness as much as this one. looking back on it, i wasn't always happy there, but for some reason, in my memory, i am the epitome of absolute euphoria. the type that doesn't come very often: surpassing the rush of love, and underwhelming the thrill of accomplishment. nay, england in my memory is a dizzy whirling rush of adrenaline-induced intoxication. thinking of it makes my heart rise up into my throat; i almost choke on its fullness.

i don' t know exactly what it was or is that makes me yearn for this time, but i wish with all my heart i could stay encapsulated there. if there were a tupperware container on my life, i would choose those brief months to live in. perhaps i would encompass the following summer as well.

i was refreshed: a leni 2.0--alive with the possibilities of life. my pontential: fulfilled. my capacity for love thriving outside of continental barriers. and the ever-present onslaught of epiphanic realizations were at an all-time high.

and yet, now, i'd kill for any sort of excitement, for any sort of realization, to feel anything besides the mundane everyday-ness, this insane complacency. i find vicariously feeling through movies...pretending as though i could possibly understand.

not that i don't enjoy the life that is presented before me. i am finally living on my own. i provide for myself. i work hard at my job, and i'm good at what i do. i'm an independent woman: something i never thought would really happen. but it is. i am wholly capable of being (dare i say it aloud) alone. more than capable...okay with it.

that being said, i do wholeheartedly miss everything about that time. i wonder if i've broken since. i miss when i didn't need travel guides to allow my mind to wander. when i didn't have to dream, but when it was all available at my fingertips. all boxes are closed now, and i just want to peer inside of them...perhaps find whatever chunk i feel is missing.

i'm excited for the future: for the times to come, the road trip, graduate school, the people i have yet to meet. i just wish the past would stop calling my name, pointing out my mistakes, screaming inside of me to break free. i wish i didn't crave it. but moreover, i wish i didn't want to love the pain.

looking out the window wishing i were somewhere else

i had the weirdest dream last night. i was at a campfire, surrounded by people i knew, but didn't recognize and we were all talking about the nature of the american dream. then for some reason i started reciting this amazing slam poetry and a boy kissed me long and hard because he loved the words. and i said, 'you make my soul echo.'

it was all very deep and poetic and cheesy. but i've been having quite a few of those dreams lately. epic romance dreams. there was another one a few weeks ago where a boy and i were in love, but we were both promised to another. somehow, we found a way around it, only to be discovered in our secret hiding place in England. but our shoes kept soundless clacking off the pavement and we kissed in between our footsteps.

i'm guessing this means i'm yearning for something more than what i have out of life right now.

in any scenario, it was not the 'you make my soul echo' line that really got to me. it was something i said about california. something along the lines of "even california has forgotten how to dream." and it made me want to cry, because california is supposed to be a place OF dreams. and here i was, negating it in my own.

*sigh* where are all the locations for lovers and dreamers? i've been to france, italy, england, california, ireland...and they don't really come close.

though i did fall in love with the landscape. i suppose that's always been my biggest problem: i fall in love with places and moments, not people.

they make for good stories though.

off like an edible thong,

Leni-Licious

a woman of extremes

indeed, the world is a funny place.

at times, we are wild, like branches and fall leaves and endless summer air. the times that cut through one's soul with a thick butter knife, slicing us like poundcake or marzipan candy. our hair curls at the ends, and it would look beautiful on anyone else: on natalie portman, on your best friend's sister, but on you...it looks as though you are five all over again, with freckles on your nose that you always tried to lemon juice out. but they won't.

remember those days when you would sit by pools and drench yourself in lemonade and spf 45 just to feel the sun melt ice cubes and burn your body? those days when it didn't matter that some boy didn't look your way twice, and your job was simply to be.

ah to be. just be. lately, i feel as though i've been acting crazy. i've relied on one thing my whole life, and that thing, that silly stupid little thing called love is not something to rely on. trite realization, i know, but loving oneself is always more important.

and i feel her returning. the leni that i once knew. building herself up, and digging herself out of holes that she once thrust herself headlong into. sometimes it's nice, being at the bottom: wallowing, scraping out dirt from under your fingernails. but now, it is time to stop. because that's not me.

and i feel as though writing again will help renew this sentiment. for once, just once, i know who i am again.

hopefully the rest of these blogs will be less serious. but what can i say? i wax poetic on breakdowns.



peace in your crease,
Leni to the EXtreme.