This photograph has given me pause again. It is an excellent metaphor for why I love/hate Warrior II, love/hate NY, love/hate the sun…you see the sun gives you cancer but I prefer it to cold North Eastern winters of course (a certo).
Sometimes this photograph is like Warrior II to me. I’m glad I already mentioned the love hate feelings about Warrior II cause I’d like to keep my personal private yoga thoughts to myself. That’s what makes it yoga people… stop asking me all about it. I didn’t go to yoga teacher training. You’re all turning me into a false expert on something… that I guess is apart of me but I really don’t know how to speak on yoga anymore, but I am totally digging what “warrior princess” feels like to an American girl, which is what I ultimately am, despite my yen for zen.
I realize that I want to be on the beach in the 90’s cause of skin cancer, but on some level because I am olive skin toned and know that I have good genes, and have that natural magnetism from and toward new age health, that I’ll find the balance with the sun, and all the people who know the secrets to getting sun safely… and ya know I think on some level because there is this feeling like the sun is bad and I know its good for you, for a long time maybe I’ve been creating that sun feeling all on my own, and that’s why I love all the 90’s throwback culture, especially anything with a remnant of human suffering awareness, breakthrough, & recovery. Having survived an entire decade makes me feel empowered, like I have something to speak on. The first thing that came to mind was something I said earlier about adolescence and girlhood, and the only apology I’ll make for my excessive interest in “feminism” is that its not a flowery language and I think that the artsy left brained side of me may be kind of strong because I go to an art school right now, but who cares? I guess when I feel this way, the right brain side gets this feeling; I wonder about the way humans evolve.
In any case, I love My So-Called Life for a lot of reasons; it’s the least lonesome of the collection of photos I’ve put together here. There is something ethereal about it, and that’s what I go for in this moment. My artsy side feels kind of lonely; maybe that’s because it is human expression and what else is there to express other than joy, something that brings you closer to joy, or the stagnancy that is keeping you from joy. I don’t know man. I’m a little bothered by how bothered I am just by being myself, and now I’m smiling because that feels really human. Noone is too good for a little reassurance, even the smartest people who struggle with their minds; people who suffer from add are dealing with the world every day. I wish the world were different and could more easily match with peoples’ unfulfilled desires, or I wish that people would stop desiring so much the things they can’t have or don’t really need, but curiosity is important to being human and I don’t want to think about other people anymore because I feel like an elitist snob which I totally both am and are not. I invoke the desire to add “disadvantaged female” to the DSM again. That’s life right.