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.