californication

Taken near Mt. Rushmore this past week, right before I saw mountain goats :)

I've now been to 23 states and still I find no place beats home. Hooray for Autumn.

decadence

The last roses of college.


On a whim:

My will is enslaved to you
My nerves dance from morsels of you
My thoughts, my heart
My ache, my counterpart
Yes, red is what I see, feel, taste of you.
But after each ephemeral visit
I sit and think, what is it?
Is it your round shape?
Your smell?
No, your taste?
With pockets empty and breathing heavy
I think out the labyrinth of your spells.
I cast off your seductions
Reason out your empty functions
And still I find myself at a junction.
Still wanting
Still waiting
Breathless, I am anticipating.
Alas, what's the use
And why the big fight
Let's just have a good night
So in you go little sushi.

I was just thinking how wonderful my life would be as a food critic since it combines two things I love: food and writing. If you also didn't know, I am addicted to sushi. No amount of metal can keep me away. Everyone has an Achilles heel. Or stomach.

what's life without purple

Taken on Catalina Island in early May 2008. There's really no back story. I just thought the flower was cool.

I think I'm finally done with my writing, at least for now. Hurrah. The next few days are just going to be relaxing, with a bit of work thrown in of course. I'm hoping to finish my project in lab this week, see some people, and then have a nice vacation.

On a random note, Jonathan and I were heading out of lab around 8pm this past Friday, and we saw raccoons! Not one, but two - in Riverside! It was so random, but it made me happy.

pumpkin patches

Taken at the Giffith Observatory in November 2007. I saw this little boy still running around in his Halloween costume and couldn't resist taking a shot. I hope his mom didn't think I was crazy.

I bought a copy of Shel Silverstein's _Where the Sidewalk Ends_ some time ago and afterwards realized something: I have inaccurately rosy memories of the past. Of course, I'd been wondering that for some time. Was high school really that great? Did we really mesh so well? Did you really make me happy? And the answer is: I'll never know; I can't go back in time. But here were concrete pages that were supposed to remind me of my childhood. And yet flipping through, the only memory I found was that I read them once, in Mrs. Lukes' 6th grade class. It was a loan from Lina. The pictures are grotesque and the poems are slightly disturbing. Missing limbs, death, children being eaten. I couldn't possibly have enjoyed this.

It just made me think of how often I, we wish things could back to the way they were. We think everything was easier years ago contrasted with the hard days we face now. But I remember the bullies, the pressures to fit in, crying at night. By the same token, I remember all the wonderful things that have happened to me since. Meaningful conversations, nights out on the town, wonderful people ... So perhaps I will just leave the book on the shelf as a reminder that good things are still to come. In truth, the sidewalk never ends, at least not for this magic bean buyer.

bump

Taken from Griffith Park, Los Angeles in November 2007. Sunset came and set the city aglow. True to L.A. though, the glow first wrestles with the dome of pollution. Also true of L.A., there was a model doing a photo shoot about 10 meters away from me.

I wrote this last year:

My senior year in high school, I struggled with writing and Kriesel (my teacher) told me I was trying too hard to be someone I'm not. I've come to realize the biggest, most difficult challenge in writing is neither grammar nor rhetoric. It is not so much the search for prosaic meter or your place in literary heritage but rather just the rhythm of your own voice. At the risk of sounding like a hippie or fanatic, I think most people write without ever really feeling it, and you sense the disconnect between author and pen.

And now I am going back to learn from my own words. This is absurd.

flowers for algernon

Taken at the L.A. Arboretum early this summer. The day was ending and we were headed out when I saw this huge patch of daisies.

Today I realized I have hit a serious creative block. I'm not too sure what caused it, but I know I have to fix it, quickly.

I will quote Anais Nin in that "when I don't write, I feel my world shrinking ... I feel I lose my color ... my fire".

It's back to the drawing board.