Freckles of the Imagination
Monday, March 28, 2005
You came by yourself but you left in a train...
My humble readers, how I have neglected you. I suppose I could throw you a blog, eh? Bien. I don't promise anything spectacular,... long, ...exciting. Lets consider it more as an update, but then again, when have these things ever been anything more than an update.
France. It is confusing here, and it feels like I'm in a fog. For the first two months I believe I went through culture shock. Everyday is an emotional roller coaster. But like moss, it has covered me...enveloped me. And now I dont think I will ever want to leave. Lies. I am looking forward to July...or is it August? It's just that, once you get the French talking it is hard to make them stop. Even stumbling over my words, I get butterflies...for a fucking language. I suppose it's accomplishment. Im not sure. I miss Pittsburgh, I miss the dewy spring of Pittsburgh. And drinking on the cathedral lawn. And the power circle. Which will no longer be mine when I return. And hula hoops. But they are waiting...very patientely, and I love them for it.
I've met a girl here and. We sit on the bus and stuff our giggles back into our mouths, silently spitting each one back out. What would France be without her? We have also met a girl. She is so amazingly French she makes us punch drunk. And in that case, it is necessary for bottles of champagne framboise (raspberry champagne); which must be done again soon, for it has been far too long.
I am going to Ireland in April, and then my lover comes. And oh how we will love, and hug, and squeeze, and breathe. Together.
Life is exciting, and I miss you all.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
A 1000 flowers could bloom...
In less than a week I'll be saying things like salut and eating pain chocolat avec lait. And while everyone keeps saying to me "you must be so excited" I am fucking scared shitless. Uprooting myself from my everyday routine and putting myself in a situation where I can be blindsided is what makes everything so fearful for me, yet it is also the reason why I am going. Comfort is best when it is varied, try not to become too relaxed. Six months is a long time to be away. By the time I come home, everyone else will have different routines as well and somehow I am going to have to figure a way to widdle myself back in. My kitten will be a cat, I will have a new roomate, and a new abode. All of this makes me fucking nervous. Screw getting over there and not being able to communicate a damn thing, or realizing that perhaps my language skills aren't as proficient as I thought, or having a roomate for the first time, it's all about the homeland and the lack of Alicia in their lives. And yes, the boyfriend, that is where the heart strings pull the most. We're doing it again, being seperated again, and while I knew this was the consequence, it never really hit me until now. And my eyes have been creating rivers that not even I can swim out of. Each time we are split, it hurts so much more. But we have done it before, and we can do it again.
Now lets not confuse all of this ho hum with regret, for I have plans for this trip. I have bought myself a holgaroid with 9 packs of film as a starter and I plan on holgaroiding my whole trip. I also have 2 other cameras I will be bringing along, so a photo journal is expected. And a regular journal as well. As far as I can see, this is going to be quite a ride, and I have no expectations (except to become fluent in French).
Send me your address and e-mail address if you want a postcard.
à bientôt
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
It's like a cat on crack...
Welcome. It's been a while eh? Someone please tell me why I received so much pleasure from telling my father that I was an atheist. Perhaps it's because he is so "reformed" from this strong belief in Christianity that he has so recently accquired. We got to talking about morals, souls, the meaning of life, and all other good things that come from heated religious debates....or at least a casual conversation. Yes, a conversation indeed, the heated debate was to come later when my mother asked me how my day was. I told her about seeing my Dad, and that it wasnt weird even though we hadnt spoken in a year. I have that way with my Father, or maybe we have that way with eachother, not speaking with each other that is. In any case, I told her I told him I was an atheist, and there we got into a less that friendly conversation, or at least that can be said for her. I suppose that sharing my atheist thoughts with her might have been a bit too hasty on my part, but I was inundated with the pleasure of revealing this to my father, that I wanted to share. My bad. What is most distasteful to me in all of this is that there is no respect for me or my beliefs. She views it as a "phase" that I'm going through. Her reasoning that I am not Christian is because I have turned my back on God b/c I am bitter about my father...and age (meaning she has 26 years of "turmoil" on me, thus she can comprehend the need for God better than I). For me, all of this is only an opinion. I respect her opinion and I congratulate her and anyone else that has found Christianity to improve their life. After all, that is what living is all about, being happy and living up to your own standards of achievement, religion aside. And my opinion is that Religion is false and if I were to believe in God I would be giving myself false hope and living a lie, thus not making myself happy.
...What an intermission, she came upstairs for an encore because she couldnt sleep after our little chat.
Silly Alicia, you can't argue with Christians...
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
I've been sleeping with ghosts
Im spinning out of control. And it seems the only time I can do one of these is when he's laying on the floor without me. Im completely unoriginal. A gingerbread girl locked in a gingerbread apartment. A counterfeit marionette, going no where. My strings are being pulled, and I remain slumped.
My glass is overflowing with the liquidy velvet of ennui, never filling. But enough to question my being; enough to leave me disatisfied with who I am and where I am going. Enough to leave me disgusted.
Stagnant and numb. Its distressing to feel as if I knew myself better in highschool than I do now. Is it better to hold onto something fake than to hold nothing at all? I turn twenty in a weeks time, and I feel more like a little girl than ever. Like Im looking up at the world, rather than charging it head on. Quick, someone lace my saddle shoes please...
A junior in college with no clear direction. a waste of money. in desperate want. of creative talent. of any talent. in need. of self awareness. of feeling. accomplishment. in possesion. of the love of her life. of mike o'malley. a bestfriend.
pot anyone?
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Im in love with a game show host.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Before you learn how to rock; you learn to roller skate
Time has been falling like rain drops and trickling ever so slowly into July, watch out kids. Wasted summer nights should belong to us all, and 9am hangovers should keep to the curb, or at least inspire a blog.
...ta da
So lets start at the beginning.
HFStival was a bust. Mainly due to the underestimation of the size of this mother fucker. I paid 50 dollars to see the back of modest mouse play through a chain link fence, play in some sand, and to dip out on the cure. But I did score quite an adventure and some jello shots in the parking lot. Right outside of RFK stadium, near the parking lot there are these bridges that are blocked off by a chain link fence and some barbed wire. If you can overcome these obstacles, its well worth the scrapes. The bridges are somewhat old, the paths are over grown, and the water a bit murky, but the scenery is quite beautiful. To complete your adventure bring a joint and two amazing friends.
Lately Ive been putting pills up my nose and talking for hours.
My dog died. He was fifteen, Ive had him since I was 5.
Sometimes I feel so old and so completely young at the same time. Actually, its all the time. The future is becoming my present, and now possibilities are endless. Im old enough to have childhood friends, even teenage friends. And I cant help but feel remorseful for that. More pointedly the fact of lost relationships, not being old. There is so much love I feel for the people in my life, that it made me well up and cry in his arms. And I cried not only because I felt this loss, but also because I dont know if these people know I love them. Even if they are so far in the past. And then there are the people who are slowly becoming the past. And its not anyones fault, just circumstance of living, which is kind of sad and somewhat fucked. I cried so much that night, I cried for things that I had let go long long ago, I cried for newly found circumstances, I cried because life is so bittersweet, and because it can be so fucking beautiful. I had nowhere to put it, except to let it trickle down my face and onto his chest.
My rudeboy and I spent wednesday night skanking it up at the aquabats show. I danced myself silly, as did everyone else. I believe everyone was soaked with sweat by the time the show was over. Silly is the best way to put the show. How could grown men singing in superhero costumes not be silly. Ska is dead, but shouldnt be. The only other show we have attended this past month was Beulah, which was also very charasmatic. Much dancing to be had by all.
My cat died. She was 18.
Summer in the city is much different than summer at the beach. Yet both enable a mop of unkempt curly hair, that really must be cut soon. I miss having places to go swimming at, but on the upside I have taken up badmitten. It is really quite fun and I highly reccomend it. Its aggravating that I have so much time I waste on being idle. Such as sleeping, or watching old school game shows on the nickelodian games and sports channel. Reminiscent indeed, but I want adventure...and a job.
Matt comes from DC next weekend to visit. There will be no sloth to be had, and much adventuring done by all. Its quite exciting.
There is a beautiful boy sleeping on the floor, and hes onto me this time.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
We didn't start the fire
Fucking A...Billy Joel
while everyone else is just finishing up school, us students here at Pitt have been done for almost two weeks now. Im not really sure where those two weeks have gone, I drank them down with boxed wine. The beach is calling me. Im going home in less than three days now, and I plan on staying a fortnight. No one ever uses that word anymore, its so colloquial, but I move for a re-induction of it to our lexicon. I still need to box my apartment up, for when I return, I shall be moving with Bryan to the floor below. Is this even happening? Indeed it is. I still need to send all of Zach his stuff he left behind from the move. And that, is a whole different situation all together. One that seems to walk in circles, yet there are valid points to be made, and many of them became tangible to me in recent days.
I saw the most beautiful tree last night. It had perfect white bunches of flowers that looked like upside down pine cones hanging on the tree. Eric picked one and gave it to me. I in turn gave it to a man walking down the street. He looked bewildered and satisfied, which left me feeling sublime with a restored faith in humanity. Its nice to surprise.
I want to skank with you.
I need a hair cut.
My laundry is done.
