Not knowing is half the battle

Personal perseverance and abstinence has been prominent in my life for quite a long while. I tend to get jaded easily, therefore I have hereby been avoiding hurling myself into alien social gatherings and sticking with a steadfast group of familiar friends. My personal avoidance has inevitably lead to an increased sense of longing that I have convinced myself may be fulfilled by a particular man. One man I have been acquainted is also acquainted with my "steadfast group," which might make him part of it, but the logistics of social networking can be somewhat murky.
My social tendencies are besides the point in regards to this futile attempt at explaining my feelings (as I hide them in lengthy sentences and unrelieved prose). It may be that the holidays have brought out my romanticism, or my will has finally caved in, but as of now my feelings seem quite genuine. All because he has been the first person I have met in a long while that isn't (so far) what I have expected him to be. I believe that deserves some merit, even if it is just a crude game.


For now,
A

It's the little things

My hands were twitching as I trotted up to a strange house. The shrubbery had been left to grow freely, the unkempt yard scattered with cigarette butts and discarded plastic wrappers. After standing lethargically in the doorway for approximately thirty seconds, I rang the doorbell and took two careful steps backward.
The door slowly opened, and I glanced at the man who opened the door. A casual acquaintance. As I walked through the entrance then quickly recognized everybody in this house. My gaze immediately fell back to this gentleman that opened the door. I felt my pupils dilate as we were locked in a trance that ended much too quickly. His eyes reminded me of a robin's blue eggs I found early one spring morning. I got the chance to watch them hatch later that day, and sheltered their petite bodies from the torrential spring rain. When I brought my friends over to see those tiny hatchlings, there wasn't a single bird in the nest.
So, that's how the story goes. After a brief exchange, he walked me back to the door. I trotted past the untamable shrubs, through the barren yard, and drove back to my inanimate home.

Give in

Have you ever wished you could re-do you whole life?


If your answer is yes,



Please, go rot.

There are a infinite amount of possibilities and choices. Do what you want. Learn to deal with acceptance and rejection. Take a train to the midwest, write a song about it. Fall down, get bruised, get up. Pay for you meal with change. Make a fool out of yourself. Take, take take. But most importantly: give, give, give. Love every moment of your dormant boring life, and the consequences and coincidences that fall in between. Realize that your boring, dormant life will be gone in a matter of time, and that unpredictable millisecond is what you have been working toward your whole life.

Rant

Elementary school was chalked full of lessons about sharing, and compassion. The concept to treat others the in a way that reciprocates the level of generosity and respect that you would like to receive yourself has been buried underneath specified thoughts and information attained across many years for the purpose of getting what you want (and ignoring everything else).
Living in America is full of contradictory laws and ways of life. A "Christian Nation" that thrives on oil (money) and gossip. Yet, when a highly educated person with tattoos goes into a job interview, their chances of getting the job are smaller than a person without. Does marks on someone's skin automatically make that person less of? The same goes with people who are fat, black, Hispanic, people with bad teeth, hair, clothing. The interviewer looks at the interviewee's appearance rather than their resume.
Deliberately poking fun at people with speech impediments, autism, deafness, etc. is more often a choice of topic, rather than helping these people and learning about them. You will often find that people who are different from each other in drastic ways we can learn a lot from.


If you object; enlighten me, please.

No point, really

I've been slacking on this whole blogging concept. I suppose my life is nauseatingly mediocre and repetitive. I'm looking forward to beginning my Junior year of college on Monday, it is a good feeling knowing I am more than half way to graduation.

Taylor visited me this past weekend, which is always very exciting and full of Captain Morgan.

I got my braces off, so thats nice.

Maybe I'll update this again sometime during the week when I have something real to talk about.

Karma payment plan

I'm on the karma payment plan.

The end of one crossroad has been revealed, and I have stumbled across another dreary intersection as it maliciously anticipates my choice. At the same moment the hunter crouching behind the shrubs adjacent to me pulls back the string on his bow.

Instead of choosing the path most traveled by versus the route less taken, I'm buying a shovel and digging into the Earth in hopes of filling my barren core with...anything.

Appearance

My Grandma Simon is cooking a birthday dinner for me tonight. I am bringing my roommates along since they haven't had a legitimate home cooked meal in a very long time, I'm sure. This week will be my debut, seeing I haven't gone out very much in the past month and haven't seen really anybody I usually hang out with outside this house.

Every time I am about to go out something comes up, whether it is another activity or an emotional confrontation. Social events take a lot out of me. I would say after about 2 hours of a social gathering feels like I have been awake for two days without any sleep. It is draining and exhausting to be with people I have just met. To try and force a social interaction with a complete stranger. Standing alone in the corner feeling like a spotlight is beaming in me showing off every stray hair and makeup flaw on my body. Insecurities are fleeting but once one leaves, another comes along. Example: I look in the mirror and my makeup doesn't look half bad. But my haircut is terrible and in the awkward stage. I suppose that is ordinary, to worry about my looks. I only wish I didn't have to. I wish people would look at me and think "She is a good person," or, "That girl seems like she would have intelligent input in a conversation about the theory of relativity."

"The great majority of mankind are satisfied with appearance, as though they were realities and are often more influenced by the things that seem than by those that are."

Out with the old

I painted faces on my fingernails last night and when I woke up there was an imprint of four faces on the side of my cheek. So, I guess you can say I didn't wake up lonely this morning in retrospect.

I threw all of my clothes on my bed and probably had a pile about six feet tall, no lie. It's about time that they finally meet the local goodwill bin. I never throw things away. Everything I have is a concrete representation of a specific memory. I look at my dad's dusty keyboard and remember standing in the office at my parents house in the suburbs and playing Greensleeves on repeat. I wore that shirt to grad bash. I bought those pants when I was shopping with Kory. Madison got me that jacket for Christmas two years ago.

It's like throwing away my past.

In the end, maybe it will make me feel new. Tossing out old memories to make new ones.

Excitement

Please?

I'm tired of sluggishly rolling downhill

save me.

lately

I've been falling in love with a lot of things I read lately.

For Example:

I can't say for certain what the future's gonna bring

I look to the horizon, I don't see a thing

I've got a picture, I've got a frame

Future and horizon both look the same

My heart belongs to the sea.

She wore a button down shirt with a holster and a gun

And rolled both her sleeves, and put her hair back in a bun

She spread out her fingers and she painted all her nails

And lifted up her hands, And blew across the sails

My heart belongs to the sea.

That's all,

Alexis Bea

What the fuck was I thinking?

love grows in me like a tumor
parasites bent on devouring its host.
I'm developing my sense of humor,
till I can laugh at my heart between your teeth,
till I can laugh at my face beneath your feet.

And so life goes, the saga continues, and I have lost one of my best friends.

I'm so sorry.

Metaphor

Although I have cast plenty of stones there are still a duet of rocks that weigh me down. They are chained to my ankles as they unexpectedly tug at my feet and I dance with defeat no matter what my plea.

They sit on a ledge and wait for an inopportune moment to fall, so instead of free falling with the rocks flailing unnoticeably and plummeting behind me, they take the first leap and drag me into their pitfalls leaving me with broken bones and bruises. With time these rocks slowly erode away, but in comparison to stones their lifetime is far greater and weight is much larger.

One of these rocks is more of a catalyst for the other, considerably less in mass but it's experience as a deadweight is far greater. It's initial purpose was to pull me to the greatest depths of the ocean, but once it got toward the bottom it cracked under pressure and the deadweight devolved into a regular rock that lies in my front yard, camouflaged by the overgrown weeds and stones.

The other is always in my general line of sight, friendly and enthusiastic, but I'm still unsure of the elements that compose it. I understand it's facade and extraordinary affectation, but am infinitely perplexed by the truth of it's nature. Although it slowly sinks ahead of me, I buoyantly ogle as it does. Hopefully the inner elements of this rock are sturdy and sure, without too many cracks in it's design. A granite finish, as opposed to it's marble cohort. Even if that rock will never be tied to my hand again, I'm sure it will pull at my heartstrings even once it reaches paradise.

"You love a sinking stone that will never elope,

so get used to the lonesome."

Happy Independence Day, by the way.

I'm not that basic, I swear.

I took that picture of myself today. I like how my eyes look in it, so I figured I would share it.

I've working on my book slowly and irresolutely. I would say I have roughly 1/2 a page of a story that is a exaggerated glimpse of part of my life, that I'm probably going to read over, delete, and repeat the process within the next hour. Starting a book is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I mean I can easily phonemically transcribe virtually any language and I can name every bone and tissue in the larynx. I have never gotten anything but A's in math class. I focus on being creative because It's the one thing that I could never get a knack for. In my room there are at least three canvasses; half painted and deserted. Embroidery thread, sewing thread, knitting needles, yarn, fabric, craft kits, wire, beads, a whole craft store is hidden in the confines of my room. All the reminders of things that have been attempted then abandoned.

Anyways, I need to write something everybody can relate to. Something they can read and feel complete and total empathy in what the story is presumably about. I need a funny/passionate/intricate/raw/deceitful/mesmerizing approach to a situation that everybody has been in before.

Easy, right? Not for me, apparently.

Well, I was thinking about relating to people. I mean it's easy to relate to people as in interests in movies, music, restaurants, cars, children (or no children). How everybody nods their heads in agreement and laugh slightly before they tell their opinion. I can relate to people on those things. I can laugh my head in agreement, and listen to music, and watch a flick with just about anybody. I want a story that can do that but on a much more intimate level. A personal confession that not everybody can accept but absolutely cannot deny.

The night is young,

Alexis Bea

Inspiration-less

My sickness has kept me as a hermit the past two days, but tonight I am going to watch a film with a friend that is in the same ASL class with me.

The inspiration for writing is lacking, so I'll update when I actually have something else thats worthy to write.

I really really want a BFF, or a man. And a job. Damnit, I'm a failure.

Love,

Alexis

"Da Penthouse"

The past three days I have been freed from the grasps of the internet with the exception of a "tweet" honoring the passing of the wonderfully talented, very creepy and indebted Micheal Jackson. On the first day of this esteemed journey I scooped up two good friends from the isolated po-dunk town of DeLand and brought those two fine gentleman to Daytona Beach with me. After a refreshing dip in the salty Atlantic we took the elevator up to the penthouse (oh so classy) and grubbed on some sandwiches. They proceeded to drink some booze and we laid back on the balcony and yelled at tourists passing by. They were then grilled by my grandpa with slurred speech and repetitive questions. The night went similarly with some loitering in front of a sketchy Mobil and drinking on the sunroof with a cool breeze at our face, listening to and envying our comrade's success stories.

I could elaborate on my emotions regarding this whole night but I think I will take a rain-check for when I, personally, am slurring my speech or am in a somber mood. But, the truth is, I don't really want to write anything negative in this entry. I mean even losing money at the dog races was fun since it was my first time gambling. Daytona really is a wonderful city full of busted hookers and ex-cons trying to skeez their way into a job and free sex, but they mostly just get drunk with tourist's money and pay for sex regardless.

So, cheers to an internet-free trifecta of days and hopefully many more to come. Maybe I will work on writing a book or doing something productive as a past time.

Vacation!

It's that time of week again, heading out to a friends house and partaking in festivities. But these festivities I actually feel like I have earned because I helped out with my roommate's student film for the past few days. Although my acting had no dialogue and my photographs were sub-par amongst film school elitists with their expensive lenses and pretentious attitudes. Nonetheless, I feel accomplished for having contributed to a team even if it was just bringing people cigarettes and roaming aimlessly around the set.

The rest of this week I will be spending time with my family in Daytona Beach, catching some rays and catching up. My cousin, Mac, crashed at my place last night after his long drive from Michigan. It is exciting that everybody on my Dad's side will be together for a large portion of the vacation since last year only a few of us could make it. Truthfully, we all need the vacation and relaxation time with the terrible economy taking tolls on everybody's funds and employment hanging on a wire. It's a good chance to just get away from it all. Plus, watching my Grandpa get drunk, eat about 30 wings, and talk like a German is premium entertainment.

Cheers,

Alexis

endless rain into a paper cup

I can feel myself slowly crumbling and disintegrating into the depth of my despair. I am caving in, and floating away. Taking personality tests like they will somehow save me from my own demise and give me insight into how my mind works. But all I get is a percentage on how different I am from others, a glorified answer with no suggestion how to fix it. I'm a perfectly polished apple and with one bite you will find my rotten core.

I don't want to me rotten anymore.

Want. The method to my madness, it drives my insecurities as they bubble to the surface and explode into a myriad of colors and shapes. All indistinguishable yet persistent. I want more have.

But tomorrow will be another glorious day, am I right?

My heart's as big as Texas

Last night I made my way downtown for a hip-hop concert featuring my good friends of Not Them, Steffanotto, and Bop Gun. I was very impressed with all of the musicians and had a lot of fun at the show. I went up there alone, and did not know really anybody at the concert, so of course that leads to me awkwardly walking around the theatre scanning the people walking in hoping for a familiar face and flirting with the doorman because I have nothing better to do. As I was standing against the wall daydreaming a girl named Emily introduced herself to me, then introduced me to the people she came with. It was a very nice gesture and she reminds me a lot of some people I went to high school with. 

The night before that I decided to "rage" as some people like to call it. Drinking beer and a drink called a bullfrog (mountain dew, vodka, and red kool aid) the whole night always proves to be a silly idea. At least fifty percent of the night I was looking down in my lap at my mobile device sending messages to a dear friend that lives in Boston. It is truly unfortunate we live so far apart though. Timing never really was our niche, being that when we met I was dating somebody. Then after that somebody and myself split apart there was lots of drama and we never really got the chance to spend too much time together. My outlook is grim as for ever seeing him again, but my hopes are still high. 

I got your message as I walk into a teenager's apartment

My head still clear and pondering my words to have my heart sent

first class ticket through my phone, you know i really meant it

Please show up and illustrate because the concept of SMSes is bullshit.

that fire in your retina is the spark that keeps this love lit.

This woman is amazing.

May I illustrate to you how amazing There will be Blood is? Just like the classic The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly there is absolutely no dialogue for the first 15 minutes of the film, yet the shot composition and activity are entertaining enough to the point where dialogue would be futile. The first words uttered in the film is a monologue by Daniel Day Lewis pitching his oil company to people that own the land he wants to drill on. His first words give you an insight on to all his cares in the world: money, and oil. As I am sure you don't want to hear me rant about this movie even further, if you have not seen it I definitely recommend it, especially if you are a P.T. Anderson fan (Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love, Boogie Nights). I could yammer incessantly about how much I absolutely love his films but I will save you the grief.

For me, watch at least one Paul Thomas Anderson film this week. 

For Now,

Alexis

"Sad are only those who understand."

Today I am about to put a good foot forward and attempt to get an internship. This will be the third time that I go into the office, since the first time I waited over an hour without being called and had to leave to go to class, the time after that they told me to come in the next day and as it turns out the lady I need to see did not work that day. So, let's hope that she is working today. Afterwards I am going to head out to the dog park and give Harvey a much needed bath, on top of relaxing and walking around at the park. After that I suppose I will meet up with a few friends and catch up since I have been out of town this past weekend.

Otherwise I don't have much to write, as I am not even sure that this entry is worth posting. But it veers away from the sappy and depressing poetry and prose from my previous entries, which is a good break. I mean I am not in a sad mood all the time. I believe that sadness and remorse is an emotion that I cannot comfortably communicate verbally or personally, which is why I write it down either in this blog or in my journal. Happiness is a comfortable emotion, easily conveyed through speech. But sadness is insightful and sometimes beautiful just because of the fact that it is rarely illustrated. Some people show sadness as anger for fear of getting hurt, and others show sadness by curling up with a good book and avoiding the world. Some people go to their best friend or lover and cry on their shoulder, because everyone needs a helping hand every once in a while.

My sadness has grown into a melancholy, wistfully carrying me into moments of happiness followed by questioning and despair. But it's really not all bad. I just haven't found what I'm looking for just yet. Maybe when I do the birds will lift this burden from my shoulders and I will walk effortlessly through life. But who really wants that?

I'm what you call a social wreck

I'm a goldfish in a shark tank, waiting to be eaten alive.

Tick tock.

My secrets and regrets are building up as the water boils and overflows onto the counter.

Burning my toes and the soles of my feet

I have been walking in this desert with nothing but a leech

sucking at my insides pulling at my heartstrings.

My betrayal is something I will keep

as it slowly works backwards until we first meet

my brain being the lion and my heart is the meat

you passed out on the floor, I passed out in his sheets.

I am despondent and remorseful for being a cheat.

Fraud, fake, sham, charlatan, quack, mountebank, swindler, gonif, snake oil salesman, fraudster, racketeer, cheat, confidence trickster, phony, con man, con artist, scam artist, bastard, bluffer, crook, charlatan, deceiver, double-dealer, mountebank, phony, racketeer, swindler, impostor, sorry.

home free!

Back in Tampa

Caught up with mom and dad

watched a Motley Crue documentary (not a fan)

ate some amazing ice cream

about to watch Hot Fuzz and go to bed early.

Feels good to be home.

Photo adventure with an old friend tomorrow, possibly. I'll post the good ones.

"In pretending to be a man in love, he became a man in love."

I talk as loud as anyone but when asked to make a point I tend to whisper

Can't you see my insecurities seeping through the pores of my skin, lathered in two different types of foundation, cheeks brushed with bronzer and eyes blacked out with two thick coats of waterproof mascara. Black and gold eye shadow distracting from the subject with beige shimmer lining the inside next to my tear ducts repeating underneath my brow. Oh but it's so much more beautiful when you can't see me. My smile is lined with twenty brackets with a wire running through, and sometimes when I drink ice gets caught between them and causes my whole body to shiver. And as you watch me sip my whiskey and Coors can you see the terrified look underneath everything? As I'm trying to forget my timid tendencies so maybe somebody will remember me, only to black out and wake up in a strange place with a strange note wearing strange clothes searching for my car keys. 

Drinking is a good idea that wears away quickly, I think maybe if I talk more I will be able to swiftly sweep someone off their feet and he would call me back, and he'll pick me flowers and write me a poem methodically illustrating his pent up feelings toward me. Yet, I am far too inhibited to even show a sign of affection, and when I do it is always uncomfortable conversation and inelegant movements.

As for now I am going to sink deeper into my room absorbing myself into arduous novels and scribbling cursive nonsense into my journal. At least until I get another opportunity to expose my timidity after communicating back and forth through text message and them meeting over beer and soggy chips and more nervous chit chat.

when we say your name our tongues catch flame

Last night I went out to a dance night called Crush, which I used to attend ritually and regularly; dancing with people that I just met and trying to make conversation in a loud and smoke filled venue. The ritual has been overdone and overplayed and the people there are even more so. Of course, I try and attempt to feel like I should be there as I make the most awkward movements on the dance floor and try and slink away for a few seconds to possibly find someone to talk to. The petty drama lingering in the girls bathroom is always a humorous and genuine way to escape the pounding repetition of the monotonous music. But the fact that all the toilets are broken and about to start overflowing is discouraging and disgusting. I may have caught herpes or the swine flu just standing in there. Even after a few drinks when my words spill out like cold water from the outside hose I still feel awkward. Then I even got caught up in a conversation with an ex-lover, as my curiosity got the best of me I spewed out awkward and invasive questions that I truly have no right to know. But that was probably the highlight of "Crush" to be quite honest. Besides the people that I went with, since we were "goonin" (all wearing the same color, meaning we were trying to start mischief) and we had each other's back.
On the Walk back to the car as per usual we were stopped by a man trying to get money, bullshitting his way into it not even realizing that about every single person in this whole city has heard the "my wife is in the hospital" sob story. Then a angry drunk started getting upset because nobody wanted to talk to him, while I subtly instigate him in hopes of some excitement or at least a good anecdote. 
As If anybody really is interested in all of this anyway. This song is good, because when I listened to it for the first time it struck me in a way that is very personal. I enjoy listening to music that helps you come to realizations and philosophies about yourself and your own life. Enjoy.




but i am still alive and loving wide eyed in my time
not a mummy shrinking in its cloths
your cat clawed out my eyes while i's distracted by your smile
and now my sockets sit like empty catcher's mitts waiting
and you ask me if there's anybody else that i'm dating.
Love,

Alexis Bea

good night

I am incredibly stoked for this movie, as you should be as well. I will probably round up my posse to go see it opening night. You should be part of that posse, whoever and wherever you are. 

Other than that my slate is blank, but maybe tomorrow I will have some ridiculous/horrifying/romantic/awesome/unbelievable news for you soon.

Pound it,

Alexis Bea

memorial day

Memorial day was today, in the morning I awoke to blue skies, a cool breeze, and the screeching noises of my roommate's impatient and erratic cat, Mildred.

Looks can be deceiving, people.

I then wasted my day away reading Q&A (the novel Slumdog Millionaire was based on), watching the Intervention marathon, and hanging out with good friends that practically live in the house at all times. The moment I motivated myself to arise from my wonderful green couch and adventure to take some pictures and walk my dog, mother nature decided to throw a torrential downpour to central florida. 

That seems like a metaphor for my entire life. I have always been a procrastinator. 

Anyways. Hopefully everyones memorial day was filled with all the Bar-Be-Que and ceremonies, and anything else your heart desired for this momentous holiday.

Peace out,

Alexis

concern. pt. 2

I still feel the same way as I did.

But now my heart has grown tired and my soul has finally flown away. It was beautiful when it happened, as rare as a flock of doves in fresh winter snow. But it has left me empty and cold.

The kind of cold that blankets and fires can never hope to cure.

Its been a while pt.2

I suppose I should get on to this whole blogging thing again and spill my guts and events to the general public of the internet. I have decided officially today that I am going to extricate myself from society in order to focus on more important things in my life, mainly school. In order to get a 3.6 GPA I have to get mostly A's all the way until I graduate. I must overcome my slothfulness and step out into the "real world." Move away from the every weekend (or weekday) party, and change that to a monthly or bimonthly. Hopefully I will get a job on campus working for a professor or graduate student. Next summer I am prospectively going to intern in Tampa for an SLP and probably live at home for that time in order to save money and work on graduate thesis/take online classes to raise my GPA. All these numbers will be trivial in a few years, but I am taking the responsibility of keeping up with them now, because for the past two years I have done the bare minimum, and still somehow pulled off mostly B's. I figure actually putting real effort into it I could easily get A's. After I graduate I will either enter a program called Teachers for America or go to graduate school in Massachusetts, New York, California, Florida or Colorado. I still have about a year and a half to decide.

Life as I know it is moving at an alarming rate. Not necessarily fast, but the idea that I am so close to pure adulthood is jarring. Is there a moment when someone officially becomes an adult? I mean technically I am an adult by societal standards, but I truly am terrified of that idea for multiple reasons: being completely broke, living off student loans, eating cereal for every meal of the day, drinking ungodly amounts of alcohol illegally most nights, sleeping until 11, waking up dazed, watching films, going to the park, and going to school. That really does not seem very adult-like to me. In fact, I have never felt so small and derisory in all of my short existence.

On a positive note, in case you are not informed I have a wonderful dog named Harvey to keep me company on these long rainy days that mother nature has been plaguing Florida with. Here is a lovely picture of him. I got him from the shelter about 5 months back, I believe he is a white german shepherd, and he may have some husky in him.

I spend most of my free time at the dog park in winter park during the day, which is a pretty awesome place (if you like dogs, of course). 

Once I get some money I am getting some more canvas and paints. I'm taking my art in a new direction that I think may possibly be successful and more likable. When I am done I will put some photos up. I have been writing some poetry as well, but nothing notable that I would feel comfortable posting. 

But as for now, I'm going to hope for some sunshine. Both metaphorically and literally.

Stay dry, friends!

much love, 

Alexis Bea