You Suck and That's Sad

There's nothing like going to bed elated because you've just spent your time learning a photoshop technique. It's like discovering a secret handshake when you were a kid, and you couldn't wait to do it in front of other people who didn't know the handshake. You display your "work of art" (and I DO use this term so loosely) on the worldwide web and sleep tight with the satisfaction that you're one step closer to your dream goal.

In the morning, you wake up, like a person who has just discovered they possess super powers, and think this is it, today is the day when life takes a turn for the exciting. When you're stupidly optimistic like that, nothing can get you down. Not road rage, traffic jams, not even going to work at 8 in the morning with the knowledge that you have the MOST stressful week ahead. You're a goddamn superhero, as you cruise down the highway thinking: I own 95 South. OK I probably went overboard with that last part. But you're feeling great.

To supercharge yourself for the day, you decide to have one more look at a hard night's work. Only to discover that it wasn't as big of a masterpiece as you thought. There is nothing worse than finding out that not only does your laptop's resolution blow, and that the screen may be seriously demented, but that you have publicly posted a blotchy photo and left it there overnight as "art". Nevermind the fact that your monitor screen has beer goggles and you can NEVER trust it again, but what's more disappointing is that you managed to convince yourself that you could have potential overnight.

Just like the time when I was sure my blog entries could be converted into a book one day, and that it would surely be a best seller. Laugh now but realize that you ARE reading my blog.

And as if on cue, you spill coffee on yourself. Realizing once and for all that you do not have super powers and that life was just fucking with you as per usual.

Exaggeration? Perhaps. But having your work on display is like being naked on stage. One minute you realize you could be somethin special and the next, well you'll be lucky if you only left it displaying for a night. And you ask yourself: why do you let it happen. Why get so built up only to have a greater let down. There's no answer, there never is, but you keep doing it anyway.

The Aftermath

My faith system has been crashed by chaos. Disorder prevails, but that's no reason why one should stop blogging.

Random has dealt me a couple of good cards:
- The Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. Where have you f*#@#@kin been all my life!!! Runners up: The I know what you did last summer soundtrack (surprisingly) and in a very close race for first: Cibo Matto Stereotype A. That's right baby, I'm going old school. Every car ride is like a frickin time travel trip.

- Kwons. Don't matter which one (well although I'd limit it to the ones I spent all of my CA trip with), any Kwon will do just fine. Special props to the bearer of my name Kwon for her lovely comments on my blog, I ALMOST burst into tears at work. Hah, good try.

- My mother logging onto gmail while I'm at work. She has no idea there's gmail chat, so everytime I send her a message, she freaks out and signs off. Then when I go home, she tells me how she thinks the computer is breaking because "things" were popping up at her as she attempted to check her e-mail. I asked her why she thought the computer would call her "MOM" but then didn't press the issue. It happens almost everyday now. I have started sending her satanic messages such as: "This machine will now self destruct in 10...9...8..." She signs off but then surprisingly signs back on, what a brave trooper. It's hard to stifle the laughter while eating my Lame Lean Cuisines.

- Comedy. Namely, my sense of humor. Eh, it's no Dane Cook, but it'll have to do until I kidnap him.

- Dance.

- Learning how to take pictures like the pros. Really I mean just not wasting my really nice digital camera. Pebbles is a star! Her and potted plants.

Ok. That's enough for now.

Got it

Dearest Master of the Universe,

I got your message. Loud and clear.

The world is a hellhole and you either don't care or don't exist. So preoccupying myself with ideas of how life will sort itself out is a waste of time. Actions pretty much don't matter since they result in random. Oh and nobody cares, absolutely nobody about anybody else.

Signed,
Me.

PS. I won't be bothering you anymore.

Don't

On my way to work two days ago, I passed by a cemetary, and guess what I saw. Kids running around, playing what I can only assume to be a lame game of freeze tag. Or even lamer, they were just running around.

What the hell is the preoccupation with cemetaries? This must be the third group of people I've seen just fucking hanging out at a cemetary like they're at the fucking museum or something.

Personally I think it's rude to the deceased. Maybe I'm a little ritualistic in this sense, I think the only ppl that should be visiting cemetaries are the ones that have lost a loved one who happens to be buried there. I don't even really like to make exceptions for visiting famous dead people, unless you're really paying homage.

The inappropriateness of this concept, to just VISIT a cemetary, really ticks me off. What is it? A fascination with death? Hey you're obsessed with death/dying/thedead, I can tolerate. But making your rounds at the local cemeteries, really crossing the line there. I accidentally drove into one with a friend once and we both got the distinct sense that we weren't supposed to be there. I felt very unwelcome, like I was disrupting someone, someoneS.

Cemetaries can be beautiful, and peaceful, but they're that way for a reason. I doubt they'd be that way if everyone decided all of a sudden that they're the place to be. It's out of respect really and my biggest pet peeve is people who lack respect, in ANY sense.

PS. If you've had sex in a cemetary, I think you're a horrible human being.

And Now We Laugh

I want a pixie cut, but short hair styles haven't exactly worked on me in the past...

And now you'll notice that with this cut, I look exactly like...


...my dad.

OH and a little background on that 2nd picture (the 1st I'm sure is worth 1000 words), my parent's wedding pic. They got married when they were in the army, so no gowns or tuxes, yada yada yada. COOL.

The Big Winding Down

Sometimes the minute my eyelids pry open, I know it's going to be a shitty day. Everything seems heavier. My thoughts, my limbs, my head, even the air, it's crushing me. I become immobolized. I lay in bed not because I want to, but because I think of all the things i could be doing (laundry, reading, coffee, photography, attempting to paint the view from my deck, dance class, movie, TV, or even doing work...and the list goes on). I feel as if I'm being pulled in all different directions and all this incessant tugging only traps me more into a zombie position. Instead my gaze is fixated on my bare white ceiling. It suddenly occurs to me that i don't know how to paint. Black. White ceiling. I should really take some prints to the ritz or something and get it framed, then maybe my walls wouldn't be so bare. Black. White ceiling. Black. White ceiling. The minutes fly by, and I still haven't made a decision yet. What would dad say right now, right now, if he were here. People who accomplish great things never laid in bed indecisively. Black. White ceiling. Black. White ceiling. It'll pass. Black. White ceiling. Black. White. Black. White.

When all the screaming inside my head dies down. I miss it. I use to have a clear definition for it. The details, the specifics, all so precise. I knew what I missed, I knew what I spent the better half of my day lamenting. Now. It's hazy. Time has winded down the specifics, worn away the memories. Time has taught me to demand more from myself, to understand the intricate way in which life unfolds. I am eternally grateful to time. But there's still it. That nagging missing which will not disappear easily. At this point, I don't even know what it is. Isn't that absurd. No clearcut reason, no real instigation, and yet I can't seem to get out of bed. And even amidst all this truth, human fallacy sticks out like a sore thumb. All this potential but only one real choice, to wait for it to pass. Black. white. Black.

Insert Evil Laughter

* Click on the strip to see text

**On a completely unrelated note, dad left today. FOREVER.

Ashley Angel Parker???

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

psssttt...I experimented with airbrushing photos! Either that or Les's complexion is ALWAYS this good. See it in large.

Dare You To be Real

So I'm starting a flickr page (link on the right, or www.flickr.com/photos/elixirvitae). Mostly just a venue for CA pictures. Facebook just isn't cutting it anymore.

Clutch

I remember when I was about 9, my parents asked me what I thought of the idea of a baby sister or brother. Since we had just moved to the US, the single child policy wasn't in existence, I suppose that's when they were thinking about a second child. I remember responding: "if I had one, I'd flush him down the toilet."

I don't know what my parents were thinking, listening to a 9 year old's empty threats. But growing up, I never realized, I regretted my answer all along.

I talk a lot. I think I'm afraid of what would happen if i didn't talk. It's so nice to have people who see you even when you're not talking. The trip to CA was in short, something of a miraculous necessity.