nirvana
It is no coincidence that Monday Morning Coffee girl has unconsciously chosen Monday January 18th to “re-group” for her Senior Project, something close to her heart: The Liebson Foundation.
For those who have come before us, for ourselves, and for those who will come later, I present my curiosity of my late uncle’s intention when selecting a one hundred and eleventh acre space.
What was he thinking about way back when? What can I do now?
BS artist mix: Radar, til it’s gone, BAby one More Time, Toxic, Criminal, Slave 4 U
movie idea: every day this girl relives her life several years after the millennium hit, recalling where her sister was, her mother, and the boy she had been hoping to kiss
#whitesuffering
In the winter time I begin to feel like another person, like I don’t exist almost. Actually now that I recall, even as a little girl it felt like all year long I was just waiting for summer. I would say this and write it in my journal, or atleast think it privately to myself. It felt like life wasn’t real unless it was summer time.
I feel this way now.
I wish to say no more on the topic for it is giving me that awful nagging feeling.
Women are more likely to suffer from depression than men.
I feel like I’m trying to unite everyone. I can’t. A voice inside me tells me I can. I don’t know why I can’t let this one go. I think it’s a talent of mine, and maybe I’ll lay it to rest so I can unite myself, and I know myself; if something ever comes up- I’m no longer sure if I can be there for others the way I once was. I don’t even know what it truly means to be an empath, why anyone ever told me I was, but if I am then maybe I should take the time to look at it and look at my own health. Maybe people like me need time away from other humans. It’s like that episode of Charmed when Prue receives the empath “gift” and she totally freaks out. That’s how I’m feeling.
I can’t think of any other logical explanations because I love people, am a people person, and thrive… well I’m a people pleaser, or atleast I used to be… Maybe I’m just growing up. Maybe I don’t want to be an empath anymore. Why do people brandy it about like its something to be happy about? It’s not. It’s scary. It’s terrifying. It makes me feel not in control. Everyone else comes first and now I have no clue who I am… atleast that’s how it feels sometimes, and I kind of… made a face at that because it’s not true that I have no clue who I am.
The whole world is fucked and guess what? I have above average intelligence, and… I just feel like a baller sometimes. I feel invincible sometimes, not really invincible cause I know I can’t literally can’t do “anything,” but I can do anything I want it seems. I am unphased.
Pascifism pisses me off. I used to self identify that way when I was younger. I mean I don’t mean to start any trouble. I guess thats a very subjugated girl thing to do. And then when you read feminist existentialism you realize what a girl you became, and it pisses you off because you also read “Be Here Now” and you know that human drama is inevitable. Why so badly do I just want peace? It tortures me.
Does it have anything to do with the peace that I’ve actually personally brought to others? People have literally told me that I’ve saved their lives and shit like that. I feel like a relic from the 90s. help.
The 90s comfort me because the nuclear family was being really open about how much it doesn’t make sense. “Broken home” became a household term. It became normal to be broken, and that comforts me.
When I used to do a lot of adderall I was always able to figure everything out about myself really quickly. I haven’t touched the stuff since 2009. It is still such a huge part of who I am and I didn’t even realize how much it affected me. This however, is not the point, as interesting as all the tangents I want to go on here are- the biggest thing I want to say is that it reminds me of those articles I used to read about kids taking acne meds and completely hormonally changing.
Oh how I miss 8th grade health class in this moment. Fuck it. I fucking love stream of consciousness writing and am reminded of how much my teacher was impressed with my project that semester. I as so fucking clever. The simplest things.. that’s the thing about education, and thats why I so resonated with that class at Binghamton “Evolution, Literature, and Cinema.” Everything kind of can be deconstructed…
I think I am desperate to know that I somehow make sense.
is the title of many poems
and that gives me hope
because I know that there is a lot of recovery potential out there.
I am trying to make a point about womanhood; rebels without a cause tend to have causes.
I am playing games. I chose this photo for a very specific personal reason. I don’t know why things like this give me comfort but they do. A wise woman once said that she enjoyed envisioning the marriage of things rather than the opposition of things. I really dug that.
#tomboy #michellerose #prettynamecomplex #socialexperiment
just “be” yourself.
heady
we get it. you want to say something big. unafraid.
preparedness i’m focusing on you and I like it.
My poetry has become: feminism trigger girl foreground beach background humanized nature blue like a color and pretty like a girl.
If the beach is where I belong, then of course I’m gonna end up with skin cancer, right?
caffeine is a wonderful social lubricant, in my humble opinion
Studies show simply being around happy people makes you happy, right? I don’t know. I think it’d break my heart to see all those people thinking they were happy at the beach while they were getting skin cancer… or would it? Do I have a way of sabotaging everything? Why am I thankful for it. It’s me. I have a feeling my “thankfulness” for it is adaptive. I’m pretty sure the fact that all I’m doing is “getting fucked up on caffeiene” and watching a movie I’ve avoided for… seven years… seven years… is it no coincidence that all I ever wanted was to be a writer, and I happen to be the perfect little poet? I resent how quaint and cute I am. I prey upon it to become stronger. I really dig the extra “e” I put in caffeine. I hate it without the extra “e.” I think I’ll spell it caffeiene, and only I will ever know the real reason I did that. Is this what it means to be a writer? Gloria Steinem I’d rather be a regular woman like you than be a writer. I know that you are a writer; it’s just that every woman is a writer, and I really think I’d like to leave it at that.
It’s like you’d never understand because I know how it feels to feel like Penny Lane in Almost Famous, and maybe you do and maybe you don’t; I hope you can. There is a certain magic to us girls; resenting the preceding statement, I revert back to a side of me that strives to be solely analytical.
Gravity. Magic. Girls. Is there anything wrong with the preceding three words all in a row like that? I apologize to my loved ones for living as though I’m dying, but something about lighting Grandpa’s Yarzheit candle earlier today helps make that all go away. Gratitude is fucking crazy man.
“Why are you taking love like it’s some kind of blessing?”
mystery man
I feel like I know what James Dean was like. I think most people could imagine. James Dean I thank you for your sexy naivete: focused to the point of destruction<-I heard that somewhere recently and it rings true with you, and me. I did say that I would take Forever27 as a challenge; I didn’t know it would mean so much to me.
ugly girl complex
“This girls got a whacked out ugly girl complex. She’s gorgeous.”
“I think she’s ugly.”
“I think she doesn’t matter.”
“She is something else.”
proud moment
I like the way she doesn’t care what people think of her. For example, her interest in the following photo feels like this moment had been placed, based on where this article began:
I am trying to make a point about womanhood; rebels without a cause tend to have causes.
I’d rather not think about negativity, although I appreciate it as a reminder. To me this photograph is a reminder of the suffering of womanhood; it lays it to rest in just the right way for me. I guess that’s why I love the Britney “Control Freak” shot. I am a control freak, which says a lot about me, and I am a “true artist” which also says a lot about it; it’s pressures that were placed for no reason at all; does everyone feel this? I was feeling peaceful about reality, like about how its all been done so I can chill because life makes sense, and then its like wait a second; I’m living life too, and what have I been working toward…something about human suffering, so its okay to tend to my own.
most image-ey pic of me
cozyredrosie 