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The thumb market Bodhisattva.
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[12 May 2004|12:30pm] |
I decided that it would probably be much better to start a friends-only journal to post my musings, so if you'd like to be included in the list of people that can read it, please comment to be added in one place or the other.
My new journal can be found here.
Here's to the dedication to keeping words sacred.
Post script: To those of you without a Live Journal, you're going to have to at least sign up for the site before you can continue reading my journal. That's your choice, not mine, but if you have any questions, get ahold of me and I'll help you out with that.
Also: I changed my AIM name and email address. Both are the same as my new journal name, so it will be easy to keep things organized and in order.
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[11 May 2004|05:12pm] |
It was the first piece of writing I ever took away from the world.
And it's gone for good.
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[10 May 2004|03:17pm] |
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I think I'm dying my hair dark red tonight.
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| It might explain Nostradamas or my addiction to prophecy: |
[10 May 2004|11:41am] |
Five minutes now, staring at this blank void and finding some sense of urgent necessity to fill it. Silence. No inspiration or direction presented. I suppose I could delete what I have thus far and forget the urge was even here to visit, but that would be the cheap way out. My taste and nature is far too refined for that!
In no attempt to bead a dead corpse here, I really have to take a moment to complain about work last night. It seems that lately the whole environment has been hostile towards me in general, but last night takes the cake. In addition to my already PMS-induced sour mood, I got to work and couldn't get into my general groove. You see, whilst one is in the photo lab, he or she must create a quick-moving pattern that moves film from machine to machine efficiently and in time. For some reason, I couldn't find that pattern last night. I was pretty much confused for the first few hours I was there, then I just got really exhausted and indifferent. However at about 6:30, the printer jammed. Josh, the pricing coordinator, went back into the lab for about half an hour trying to figure things out, and it did take almost close to an hour to get things working again. Of course, I had backed up orders that forced me to hurridly finish them in a mad rush. Some lady gave me a five dollar tip for my kindness and I talked with my mom for a bit, so the night started looking up. But I should have known better. I was scheduled to leave at 10. Orders kept pouring in, all due at 10 or 15 minutes before or 15 minutes after. Again, the rush began. However THIS time, the carrier that reads the negatives and sends the pictures to the printer died. Seriously, I had 10 orders all due in about half an hour and this thing just cuts out. Luckily the manager got it back to working, but then I was literally running around that lab like a chicken with its head cut off to get those damn orders in. And everyone was coming in about 20 minutes early to get their pictures, so I had an audience to witness my distress. I swear I was thisclose to just leaving with no explaination just so I could cry. Emo.
And for the record, I guess it's been misinterpreted that I hate my job. I just wanted to clarify that no, I actually adore my job, it just gets really hectic at times. And the good times there don't make half as good stories as the bad times. Hence why I do nothing less than complain fully about each day I work.
To report on Chris being away, I've got to say I feel much closer to him now than I did even a few days before. We've been talking on the phone as opposed to the internet lately, and I find that we end up laughing for 3 hours each night as opposed to arguing or misinterpreting. On top of that, we still manage to discuss some serious issues, but we do it openly with no problems. I really think we have our communication advantage set up for us and I couldn't be more relieved to discover this.The only thing we really have to worry about now is how physically comfortable we end up being around one another, but I feel that won't be a problem either. So in that case, I can honestly say I haven't been more excited about pursuing something so promising. Things just seem to be falling into place all around me concerning Chris-- for once it just feels right to completely give into something I adore. I just want to immerse my being with all he has to offer, totally submerge my subconscious in each one of his living breaths. He makes me want to be a better person, which sounds completely cliche, but stands so true here. I legitimately just want to feel better about myself because I know it will get me further in life.
And I know I seem over my head here, but I assure you all that these words I write are all organized ideas inside my head that just can't be written out properly. As opposed to the synchronized pattern that exists in my head, it all escapes as a jumbled mess of perceived idealisms. Just wait and see -- It may appear as a dreamer's cheap ramblings, but it's just waiting to explode as blatant reality. Duck and cover, relish in the aftermath.
I just looked up at my bookshelf, and right next to my Carl Sagan book is the New Goat Handbook. Bet you all never realized I was such an avid goat fan? Or that I used to OWN goats. And still aspire to once more some time in my life. Oh yeah, I'm full of incriminating surprises.
And now I'm full of cello aspirations. So I now deem this entry as done.
Poison hearts will never change,
Charlot
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| But the kids were only shooting at the busses and the cars: |
[09 May 2004|01:58pm] |
There's nothing like waking up to Jimmy Urine's everlasting falsetto. My stereo has a bad habit of randomly turning itself on at 9 am and playing the first CD it finds. This morning, it just happened to come across "Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy" by Mindless Self Indulgence. Wow, what an obnoxious form of alarm. Seriously, I'll be sure never to have that CD in the CD player before I go to sleep -- I just don't want to risk this ever happening again.
I forgot to mention in my last post that I somehow managed to get out working the morning shift today. Of course I'm going to end up coming in at 4 and working the same amount of hours, but at least I didn't have to wake up early for once. It was definitely nice to be able to sleep in an extra hour and then not have to rush around to get myself ready in a rush. In fact, as we speak, I'm still in my pajamas and have not applied any makeup yet. And I intend on keeping it this way until about 3:30 pm. :> The joys of laziness.
My cat Mew is sleeping on my blanket right now. In my bed. Lately it's made me immensely sad to look at him, because his age is really starting to catch up with him. I get these really cliche flashbacks of him when he was a kitten, when I could play rough with him and watch him zip from one ond of the house to the other. Now it takes him 3 minutes to even hop up onto my lap. I have this really strong fear of the day that he passes on -- mainly the discovery of it. This cat has been my companion since I was very young and I don't know how my reaction to his death will be like. I guess I shouldn't think about it until that day is here, right?
There are some days I really want to calm down. Everything from appearance to lifestyle. Talking about this with Chris lately has really made me think more about it -- Sure, there's something exciting about living a fast life with a carefree attitude, but there's something so much more rewarding in putting emphasis on the creativity and art INSIDE as opposed to outside. Sure, I can be a walking piece of eccentric art on a day to day basis, but it takes away from the poetry I produce. It takes away from the words I say. The balance is just completely off. On one hand, I really think I'm ready to grow up and start taking things seriously. But then a part of me still wants to be tattooed and politically outspoken and black haired and drunk. Is there some sort of balance I could find here? Some middle ground that could keep me happy?
Been having an inferiority complex lately. With all this talk from my friends and boy of beautifying themselves during the summer months, I'm left to think that I'll stand next to them in the fall as the inferior one. And that could completely be my low self esteem talking, but right now I'm feeling at an alltime low. My face is broken out [which is purely blamed on the medication I'm taking -- It always gets worse for two weeks before it gets better. But still.], I'm very aware of the fact that I'm not thin and that my body doesn't have the capability to be, and I can't be tan. And I have a really bad haircut and hair that won't grow. Even if I could somehow make myself over to be beautiful, it would take months to do, and I know very well that I don't have that patience. Since when did life become all about aesthetics, Charlot? Jeez. I need to shut up and get a reality check.
I'm looking to bounce poetry soon if anyone is interested. Been in such the colaboration mood as of lately.
In Prague we drink to insects I think,
Charlot
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[09 May 2004|01:06am] |
Tonight was definitely the shittiest night I've worked thus far. A tangled combination of PMS and some real genuine dumbfucks with a dash of technical difficulty just really made things hard to handle. So I'll talk about Roy Moore instead.
Roy Moore deserves mention in my journal because he is the first elderly man who knows how to live. And literally, I took a few moments tonight while working to think about this. He comes in at least 3 days a week, but most times more, to drop off film. He has a 'free film for life' camera, so he always gets one hour processing so we'll refill his camera for free. I swear this man is spending away his retirement money on pictures, but that's besides the point. He always comes in with some story to tell about one of his ladies or a new outfit he found or riding his bike in a parade. Each day, his outfit screams to be noticed a little louder. When I first met him, he had on a complete vintage cowboy suit, complete with his pants tucked into his boots and a hat to top it all off. The second time, he was wearing black bondage pants with a button up collared yellow dress shirt. [and I must remind that he had all the chains connected to the pants, haha.] Tonight's outfit took the cake, though -- First of all, he had high tops on. And a tie dyed shirt with red white and blue suspenders and a pyramid patterned belt. His image can not be recreated, as most people simply don't have the balls to go through with it. His pictures always show him surrounded by smiling people, and it just makes me think that perhaps this eccentric Roy Moore brings a small bit of joy to hundreds of people outside myself on a day to day basis. It's so refreshing to see such life and passion in a person of that age. I hope to create such a legacy myself when I hit 80.
Thus concludes my honourable mention of Roy Moore.
After work, I began the drive home. I called Chris to ask about his drive and we ended up getting a good hour conversation in. And tonight I learned of Chris' more disturbed side, as somehow he managed to discuss living in a house with pictures of dead people muraled onto the wall, period eggs being cooked and eaten, me mothering [and having wild sex with?] his male child -- which he insists on calling Brandon, and ignoring the weiner dog. Above all though, this was by far the most I've ever laughed with him and in some perverse sense, I really loved talking about these things -- being able to sit back and not take things so damn seriously. Tonight would have been the perfect night for a dumb preteen sleepover with him, as I could totally see us being really COOL and throwing pillows at eachother and pulling the whole "Okay, let's go to sleep -- 5 minutes later talking until all hours of the morning" things. I think I make him happy too. I can definitely say his laugh is still distinctly clear in my mind, and I want nothing more right now than to hear that laugh regularly. Oh that boy and what I'd do to be his girl.
But his phone died. And mine was tired.
After showering, I feel a wee bit better, but there's still room for impovement. I really think sleep will give me a well needed ending to this day, and that closure will assist in opening tomorrow for me. Here's to the night.
That seed is no longer mine,
Charlot
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| Destined to fire at your lost design: |
[08 May 2004|12:38pm] |
I just got out of cello lessons. This has only been my third lesson, but I'd like to say I'm rather proud of how I'm doing. The first two lessons were shaky, but now that I'm really getting used to my cello teacher and such, I am progressing a lot faster. I approached her openly today and told her that the material she was giving me to practice was usually perfected by the end of my second practice session in the week, and that I'd be willing to either tackle more or harder material. She was actually pretty excited about this, and considering I have had the experience with bass clef, she threw me right into some scales. From the getgo, I told her I wanted to focus more on the music theory of the cello -- note intervals, chord progressions, string relationships, etc. And now it's finally starting to happen. I'm kind of taking a different approach on how I'd usually learn things by jumping headfirst into some harder work . I notice that my experience with bass and guitar has really helped me jumpstart my progression, but seriously, cello just came more naturally than the rest of the instruments I've learned. I'm really grateful of that and simply can't wait until I'm bringing all this practice and learning to a stage. Someday you'll see my name in lights -- "World Famous Rock Cellist in town for One Night Only! Charlot Adoree: Live in Concert." Just you wait and see.
Vocally, I've been tackling a new style I'm working really hard to perfect. As the people that hear me sing regularly know, I try to experiment with new vocal styles every once in awhile to broaden my range, and though it's not really formal in its teaching, it really has helped me over the past few years. It's been everything from Gwen Stefani to Shirley Manson to Shakira. Seriously, I try to work with the most diverse styles I can find. But this time it's going to be a real challenge, as the lead lady I'm working towards sounding like actually has a lot of talent that most people don't. Yes folks, I'm striving to somehow create a new form of Amy Lee. Most of the singing I do is done in my car, and I put in the Evanescence CD to see what I needed to work on. Surprisingly, I can hit some of the same notes and we have a really similar range. But of course I do have work to do on it, but when I finish, I can't wait to use that style in my solo work. How exciting knowing I'm so close to having a new musical option. TWO, actually, if you're counting my cello.
Nerdnerdnerd.
Chris left for Naperville this morning. To me, that means I won't be speaking with him as much. In some ways, that's going to be a good thing, as it will avoid all forms of miscommunication that may skew our plans for June 5th. And the age old saying of "absence makes the heart grow fonder" also comes into play here. So despite my obvious disappointment in not having the option of speaking with him in our usual fashion, I'm really starting to see how this may help. And anything that helps us get through these three months is good in my book!
And yeah, bitches. We are cute. What are you 'gonna do about it?
Work again today. Then home so I can sleep for short hours simply to wake up at 6 tomorrow morning for the turnover shift. I'm just amazing sometimes. I'm just THAT COOL that I can work six days in a row, 8 and a half hours a day. At least I get payed, right? I mean hell, social lives are overrated anyways.
[insert witty informal "departure henceforth" message]
Charlot
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[07 May 2004|12:35pm] |
Our turn of events never ceases to amazing me. From one extremity to the other. One disheartening moment to one ecstatic one. Arguing to three hour conversations and laughter that lasts until six am. He really knows how to keep me on my toes-- and I don't doubt for one short second that this nothing short of a blessing to be able to find.
Short entry.
There are so many small things I really look forward to with him. Watching every episode of My So Called Life. Singing with him for the first time. That exact moment where we feel mutual and total comfort. Hearing how he introduces me to his friends. Getting our photograph taken together. Our Sunday mornings. Music writing. All of these things are the very reason I do whatever I can in my power to be patient and tolerant through these next few months. I'm gonna' make it work, dove. Just wait and see.
He told his mother about me. About the possibility of us.
And in under one month I'll be staying under the same roof with both him and her.
I am happy today.
And you should be, too.
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cellosonata's journal