Cornfields of Popcorn

Rockies Vs. Dodgers: April 24, 2009

2009-04-25T11:52:00.004-06:00

Top 2: Huston Street warming up in the Rockies bullpen

3rd: Guillermo Mota warming up in the Dodgers bullpen.
4th: Todd Helton (Rockies) hits a single of of Eric Stults (Dodgers) in the bottom of the 3rd.

32:365: Golden Kiss

2009-03-30T21:36:00.001-06:00

32:365: Golden Kiss, originally uploaded by fantasiaamazing.

Took this today and I really like it.

Thinking I probably have to paint myself more often.

Q: How many people does it take to fix a flat tire?

2009-03-21T13:58:00.002-06:00

Didn't make the flickr cut but I like it anyway.

2009-03-12T16:45:00.002-06:00

I bumped my camera before pressing the remote trigger. I should be in this shot with Connor, but oops.

2009-01-04T10:25:00.000-07:00

Let's go 2009!!

In case you always want to know what I'm doing...

2008-12-27T12:18:00.001-07:00

Twitter

2008-11-18T16:01:00.001-07:00

Dear Jackets,
It's nice to not have to wear you on November 18th.
Love, Kira

2008-11-01T11:52:00.001-06:00

Dear November,

It's nice to see you again!

Love,
Kira

This is what I've been doing.

2008-10-22T19:53:00.002-06:00

Cranes For Change

Roses

Makin' Sculptures

Connor

String Maze

2008-10-03T11:11:00.002-06:00

At CU, the Environmental Engineering Department (I think) created this string maze, a spiral that you walk through. The yarn is different colors in different parts of the maze.

I decided to try stock photography. Click an image to go to 123rf.com, which is the most generous about accepting images.

2008-09-22T17:48:00.002-06:00

Very Brief Letter to an Old Friend who Doesn't Want to See Me Again:

2008-09-01T10:25:00.001-06:00

I miss you.

I'll probably always miss you a little bit.

Sorry.

Some photos from recently.

2008-08-08T13:33:00.002-06:00

a bee at the denver botanical gardens.

sunset over boulder walking to the fireworks--july 4

connor at sunset--outer banks, north carolina.

I still exist.

2008-08-08T13:32:00.001-06:00

...hi.

Clouds

2008-06-16T20:46:00.002-06:00

IMG_6462, originally uploaded by fantasiaamazing.

The clouds last night were good.

Adventure

2008-04-27T22:51:00.000-06:00

(i heart connor)

Corbis.com

2008-03-13T13:50:00.003-06:00

Yesterday Katie showed me the greatest website.
You can find pretty much any photo you could ever want on it.
You can see some examples.

http://www.corbis.com

2008-01-20T12:22:00.003-07:00

The thing about spending much time in a small town is you always feel like you know everyone, even when you don't.

2007-12-28T11:57:00.000-07:00

My surgery is in 3 days.

Cold Kisses

2007-12-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

"Here I am behind enemy lines
Looking for secrets, looking for signs
Old boyfriends big and small
Got to see how I measure up to them all
This one's handsome, not too bright
This one's clever with his hands alright
Tougher than me if it came to a fight
And this one's a poet, a bit of a wet
Bit of a gypsy, a bit of a threat
I wonder if she's got over him yet

Old passions frozen in the second
Who were you holding in that fond embrace
Hearts have a past that must be reckoned
And do you still feel the warmth of cold kisses?"

-Richard Thompson

Right?

2007-12-02T13:01:00.000-07:00

It's not a good sign when you have dreams where your boyfriends friends are trying (successfully) to seduce you.

Right?

Torn

2007-12-01T00:44:00.001-07:00

You ever feel like something is just so good that all you want to do is mess it up?

At least that way, you'll be able to pinpoint exactly where it went wrong.

And you ever feel like no matter what you do or how hard you try, you'll never ever live up to the standards of the last girl, and then you see a picture of her that just flat-out confirms it, she's gorgeous and skinny and sexy and confident, and what on earth could make him like you when he's already liked someone like her?

You ever feel like timing is just so wrong, that fate is just working against you in every possible way, and one night you just want to tear apart the world you've made for yourself for the past two months.

Bah.

Today we went to the Butterfly Pavillion:

2007-11-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

Rotating Face

2007-11-05T15:08:00.000-07:00

I don't usually go for optical illusions but this one is really cool.

The reason we need love:

2007-10-15T14:43:00.001-06:00

"...Steady my soul and ease my worry
Hold me when I rattle like a hummingbird hummin'... "

-Ryan Adams

2007-10-14T05:00:00.000-06:00

Ta da!

(kira can accomplish anything she sets her mind to.)

Finnegan's Wake

2007-10-12T15:27:00.000-06:00

A few notes from John Bishop taken from the introduction of Finnegan's Wake by James Joyce:

"It is, perhaps, the single most intentionally crafted literary artifact that our culture has produced."

"it...grew more and more strange and obscure as Joyce made decisions to write it in a language of 'punns and reedles' "

"...to adopt an incessantly allusive style..."

"Its admirers see in it a comprehensive summa of twentieth-century culture and letters; its detractors, an arrogant compilation of arcane materials eccentrically patched together for the amusement of the literary elite."

"one doesn't need to comprehend it as a totality to profit from it or enjoy it."

"it can sometimes seem that one is doing extremely well if one makes sense of only a sentence or two on a single page. "

"the book serves as something of a Rorschach test..."

(and so on.)

I flipped through the book; I'm sort of intrigued. It might be fun to buy a copy and just write all in in, point out the strange references, share it with a couple people and have them do the same thing. Fill it up with sticky notes, take it a page at a time, not necessarily in order. It's got sort of a beautiful rhythm to it:

"Here she is, Amnisty Ann! Call her calamity electrifies man." (page 207)

Crush Du Jour

2007-10-07T23:07:00.001-06:00

Grady Sizemore of the Cleveland Indians.

AKA the only player on any team who I find attractive.
(Kaz is almost there. Not quite.)

Hence making the Indians my second favorite team in baseball.

That, and Kenny Lofton is adorably endearing.

Foux Da Fa Fa

2007-10-06T14:51:00.000-06:00

#2 of the Essential House Youtube Videos: Pretty much everyone who comes over has to watch this, the other one that everyone watches is The Magic Position, see older posts for that.

(It is from Flight of the Conchords.)

2007-10-01T23:34:00.000-06:00

Go Rockies!

Run Run Run

2007-09-29T13:36:00.000-06:00

(the following 3 posts were written for a writing class that i took in the fall of 2006. i was just re-reading them, and these three just sort of stuck with me. this one is about a Placebo concert that i went to with Sydney last year. the opening act I refer to is She Wants Revenge.)

“The lights, they glow sideways and up and down
The beat takes you over and spins you round
Our hearts steady-beating, the sweat turns to cold
We're slaves to the DJ and out of control”

It’s cold outside, as we wait in line. Our eyes are wide, trying to take it all in. People dress like stereotypes, parodies of their normal selves. Dark eyeliner is a must, and red lipstick. Their hair looks like they went at it with garden shears after a night of drinking: chopping wildly, randomly. Close to Halloween, they dress in costume. I can see the mad hatter, a vixen nurse, and several corsets. Anything goes. Everyone is waiting anxiously, rocking back and forth and looking towards the door that should have opened five minutes ago. Some of these kids, the ones at the front, have been here for hours, waiting, in the cold, in their tiny tank tops and fishnets.

You can tell a lot about the band by who shows up. This crowd is different than usual; I knew it would be. This band plays to the outcasts. We’re all a little odd, a little kinky. I see some leather pants; I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had a whip.

The doors open. Security knows what they are looking for, nothing I would be hiding in the pockets of my black blazer. My drivers license is checked, ticket torn, and I’m in. Suddenly I can move freely, as freely as possible being surrounded by people. You learn to maneuver, how to slide your body through groups of people without disturbing them.

The first thing to do is reevaluate the crowd. Who is in the balcony? Who are we going to need to squeeze past to get to the front? Probably don’t want to try to squeeze past that big guy; he could take me out pretty easily. Those two girls shouldn’t be too much of a problem though, and even if we can’t get in front of them, it won’t be too hard to see over the tops of their heads. No, wait, if we go over there, that really tall kid in the denim jacket will block our view completely and he looks like he knows what he’s doing here so he won’t be easily pushed aside. Oh well, the opening band hasn’t even started yet, we have time to work ourselves around them.

The DJ starts playing. He’s alright, he knows the crowd he’s playing for and suits his music to our collective taste. No one’s really dancing much, just sort of standing, having as good a conversation as can be expected in a loud environment like this. We’re still people watching: The emo boy to my left is far too good-looking for the girl he’s with, this girl in front of me doesn’t look like she fits into this crowd at all. She’s here alone. I wonder why she came.

We are approached by a man with a shaved head and a beer. He appears harmless, a little drunk, very social. We talk about the strangest things: the DJ’s suit—it’s red, but not quite the right shade, and did anyone win the World Series yet, do you know? He asks which band we came to see, the opening act or the headliner? He nods approvingly at our answers.

The opening band comes onstage to do a quick sound check before beginning. The lead singer would look like a joke it if weren’t so obviously intentional. Maybe that’s the joke. He has exaggerated the fact that he is balding by pushing his sloping afro as far up on his forehead as possible. It looks straight out of the ‘80’s or early ‘90’s, a Paula Abdul music video maybe. His body is long and sinewy, exaggerated by his ultra-thin stained t-shirt. He is graceful and captivating. His body moves with the music, his face remains completely blank. I am too busy watching him sway—trace lines in the air with his long thin fingers—to notice any of the other musicians—keyboard, bass, drums. His voice is deep and flat, entrancing. My friend leans over and puts her mouth to my ear. She shouts,

“WHY DO THEY LOOK SO FAMILIAR?”

I shake my head and shrug. I think I would remember this guy if I had seen him before.

She’s positive she’s seen them somewhere else, and for the rest of the night, it bothers her that she can’t think of where. We run over the mental list of concerts we’ve been to together. It’s a long list; we’ve been doing this for years... Nope, nothing. It must have been one she saw without me.

The set feels long, probably because one song sounds like all the rest when you don’t really know any of them. By the end, they’re starting to sound familiar to me too, but I think it’s just because the sound is predictable. Oh well, at least it’s good.

This girl who we are standing behind is driving me insane. She’s got about two feet of space in front of her, which for a sold-out standing room only concert should be a crime punishable by death. I try to bump into her, accidentally catch her hair, and brush her with my elbow to get her to move forward, but she doesn’t budge. If anything, she moves backward. Every time she sways to the music, the hood of the sweatshirt she has tied around her waist brushes my thigh. It bothers me, but I can’t scoot back, I am sandwiched. The thigh brushing becomes distracting. I really want to shove her hard in the back or yank hard on her hair, but I won’t. Every time I brush her, she gets annoyed and looks back at me, but doesn’t move.

“Thanks for coming tonight, to support us and our good friends from across the Atlantic, PLACEBO!” (The crowd goes wild.) “We have just one more song.” He starts singing again, alone, without the band.

“Run run run would you wear that black liner baby,

Run run run, run run run...”

His low deep monotone seems to cut through the air. Everyone is silent. His emphasis, timing, rhythm are perfect. We are all captured, slightly terrified of this loud voice that hits us straight and hard in the chest. The drum comes in on top of the vocals. The beat resonates through us. We don’t hear it as much as feel it. It becomes our heartbeat, the only pulse we can feel moving through us. We are a single entity, beating as one, led by this God onstage who has complete control of our bodies right now...

The song is over. We gasp, our heartbeats become our own again. The stereo system starts playing some modern rock music while technicians move equipment on and off of the stage. They unplug amps, coil mic cords, tune guitars. I could get a job like this, there isn’t much that they’re doing that I don’t know how to do, and I bet they get to meet all the bands and hang out with them backstage.

We have managed to squeeze our way to close to the front. We are so good at it, it’s almost scary. We did it without making anyone really angry also, which is the real accomplishment. We are so close that we will probably be breathing the same air as Brian Molko, our hero, the lead singer of Placebo.

It feels like we’ve been waiting forever. It’s one thing to stand cramped in with strangers when there’s a band playing but when it’s just waiting, it’s nearly unbearable. I can’t even talk to my friend anymore, since she’s in front of me and it’s so packed that she wouldn’t be able to turn around without getting squeezed back.

Finally, Placebo takes the stage. Of course everyone is going wild, reaching towards them, screaming. One girl near me faints at my feet, hardly anyone notices. I help her boyfriend pick her up and try not to go down myself. They leave and their space is instantly filled by more screaming fans. People are pressing into my back, I am pressed into my friend’s back. I can’t move my legs, there’s nowhere for them to go that isn’t already occupied by someone else. My arms are protectively covering my chest, they aren’t going anywhere either. I can feel the heat radiating from every body. Someone could suffocate in here.

Brian Molko is different than I’d imagine him. He’s much shorter. He also shaved his head since the latest photo of him I saw. Nonetheless, he’s drop dead gorgeous. He’s got style, sex appeal. I’m obviously not as big a fan as the rest of the crowd; I don’t even know the names of the bass player or the drummer. They’re hot too.

Most of the songs that they play are off their new album, the one I don’t know as well since I only bought it a few days ago. I’ve been listening to it non-stop since then, but I still only know the words to certain choruses. Everyone around me knows every word. The girl to my left is getting really into it, singing her heart out, wanting to somehow become one with her idol by singing the same words as he is at the same time.

“Carve your name into my arm,
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed...”

Her arms are outstretched, reaching toward him. No one else exists to her now, it’s obvious just by watching her. I envy her a little. Even if I knew all the words, I don’t think I could get as into it as she is. Near the end of the concert, I glance over at her. There are tears streaming down her face, her perfect black eyeliner stripes down her cheek, ending around her chin. I’m glad I saw it.

They don’t play my favorite song, the one I wanted to scream along to. There’s always that one pseudo-obscure song that I really want to hear that most people probably skip when they play the CD. Oh well. It’s hard to be disappointed after that. Man, what an amazing show, what an amazing crowd.

As I’m heading out, I stop at the table to buy concert memorabilia. While we are waiting in line, we start a conversation with the keyboardist from the first band, the one I barely noticed. He’s cute and modest and even a bit shy. We talk briefly, then he leaves. Every time he passes us, he nods at us and smiles. I love him.

Outside, the night is cold and quiet. Walking fast feels strange, walking at all feels strange, because we’ve been constricted for so long. My ears are ringing. I am high on adrenaline. Whenever I am out this late, I can’t help but feel sexy, I don’t know why. I walk with confidence through the parking lot to my car.

We drive home in silence. We are at the same time both exhausted and incredibly awake. Tomorrow we’ll go out and buy that CD, the opening act. I’ll glue the ticket stub into my scrapbook, she’ll burn me a disc with the photos from tonight on it. I’ll print a few of them, maybe, and stick them in the scrapbook with the ticket stub. Maybe I’ll even write a few lyrics to go with them. Then, sometime, next week, next month, I’ll turn on the radio and hear

“Run run run, run run run.”

I Miss You

2007-09-29T13:35:00.000-06:00

(this was written probably in october 2006 for a writing class. i wrote it because i needed to write it, however melodramatic it turned out.)

I’m driving home, praying that no one else will be there when I get there. I just want to be alone. My car is silent and I feel like crying but I can’t; my mind isn’t empty enough to let myself break down—I have too much else to worry about. All the lights in my living room are on—everyone’s probably sitting in front of the TV, just like every night. I drive past my driveway. The cold dark solitude of my car is what I need right now, not the warm distraction of my house, my room, my homework.

I am upset, and I am upset at myself for being so upset. This is ridiculous. I am overreacting. I am letting my emotions get in the way. This shouldn’t be about more than business but I am making it more. I’m letting you be more to me. I’m letting you get to me, you manipulative bastard. I am letting you in and you’re hurting me.

I used to look forward to you, to the afternoons when you’d be around, and I’d be around, we’d be together. I still look forward. I want to see you even though it’s not good for me. You’re not good for me, with your insincere sweet-talk. I can taste the sugar coating on every word that comes out of your mouth. It’s nauseating.

I turn right at the next stop sign. I no longer know where I am. My neighborhood is like a maze to me. Right now it feels good to be lost. I want to pull over and start walking, but it’s cold and my coat is thin. I’ve also been warned about walking alone here at night—this is the bad part of town, as bad as bad gets in a town like this. I drive, not looking at street signs, not looking anywhere but at the road straight ahead of me. My headlights cut smooth beams of light through the darkness onto the pavement in front of me. The trees on the side of the road flash like ghosts as I pass. No one is out walking, I don’t know if it’s the neighborhood or the weather that is keeping them indoors.

I still can’t cry. I know I’ll feel better if I can let it all out, but I can’t. I hold it inside myself. My white knuckles gripping the steering wheel are my only show of emotion. I don’t have to be tough right now, there’s no one here to see me. I won’t cry. It’s instinct.

I hate myself for thinking it, but the only thing in the world that I want right now is to see you, to hold you, to melt into you. I want to hear you tell me in your sugary sweet voice that everything is alright, that this’ll all pass. When I left, you came up to me. You reached your arms out to me—

“Don’t touch me.” I said.

Of course you won’t call.

It’s my fault. I wanted too much from you. For a while, it seemed like you wanted it from me, too. I guess this isn’t the first time I’ve been wrong. I’ve set myself up for disappointment before.

My finger is on the talk button, ready to call you. I should. I need to smooth this out, we can’t keep this up. It’s not good for you and it certainly isn’t good for me to be this upset. All I need to do is call you and we’ll be better. You’ll be sweet, I’ll ignore the fakeness of your voice, I’ll feel better, reassured. I’ll miss you tonight.

I shouldn’t call. I need to keep my distance for a while, let this all cool down. Maybe it would be best if I just gave up, used all my energy to forget you. If I call, things will be fine for today, maybe I’ll sleep better tonight, but what about tomorrow? Tomorrow you’ll hurt me again. I hate this cycle. I use my steering wheel to flip my phone shut. I pocket it and start looking for familiar street names.

It wasn’t always like this. I used to drive home happy, practically giddy with excitement. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world to have found someone like you. The late nights, just the two of us—the innocent jokes. Somewhere along the line, things changed. It got too hot; it got scary. It stopped being real, we started faking it, then we gave up altogether. I distanced myself. When we worked together, we worked in silence. I began to recoil when you touched me, turn away, make excuses to keep my distance.

No one even noticed as we began to fall apart. On the surface everything remained as it was. We talked business. I still drove you home, but the car rides changed. I drove fast, uncomfortable with only the small gap between us. The radio was the only thing breaking the almost painful silence.

I’m not mad anymore. My drive and the few minutes of allowing myself to become completely lost have cleared my head. I’m not perfect, but I’m coming to terms with this. It’ll never be how it was or could have been, but that’s alright. Tomorrow it’ll be different. Tomorrow when I see you I’ll smile, but I won’t hold you tightly when we hug. I won’t press my entire body against yours, I won’t relax into you. We won’t joke, not even a little. While I’m working, you will stand above me and plant a kiss on my head and I won’t look up, won’t even smile.

I miss you.

Time Repeats Itself Here

2007-09-29T13:33:00.000-06:00

(This was written after the Fall 2006 show at Boulder High, Where I'm From.)

Time Repeats Itself Here

“Promise me, Pooh, that you won't forget me ever, because if I thought you would, I wouldn't leave.” -E.E. Milne

The show is over. We made it. I’m filing out of the auditorium, wondering if the tears in my eyes are noticeable by everyone who looks at me.

I’m walking through the crowd, the faces are all different, all strange, but the fundamental human emotion is the same on every face, the same now as it was six years ago, when it was my school, my lobby, my theatre, my show. We are all so glad that we did it, so sad that it is over, so full of energy and so exhausted. The hugs are the same, there’s always someone else in the sea of faces to greet, to congratulate—there’s always more human contact to make.

Soon, most of the audience leaves—to drive home, hopefully touched, maybe even teary, like me. I head back into the auditorium, to clean up, to feel busy while I’m waiting for everyone to leave so I can lock up the school.

I sit in the back of the auditorium, while everyone else dances onstage. They jump wildly, the music pounding, the lights dim and flashing. Their joy is apparent, the relief of being finished, the pure joy in how well this all turned out, being so glad that they created it, and that here they are, who are capable of creating it, and now that they can celebrate, let loose.

The song ends, and their life resumes—actors head understage to change—to discard their characters into a heap on the floor, to turn back into themselves. The tech crew congregates in the lobby, planning their evening—are they going to go to the cast party with the actors or have their own private party at Martha’s amazing house?

The auditorium—onstage and in the house—is completely deserted. I am walking onstage, unplugging lights, moving set pieces, still trying to busy myself while everyone else is leaving.

She is walking down the isle towards me, hands in her pocket. She joins me on the stage. We stand together, we who have come, gone, and come back to this place. We stand onstage, as we used to, understanding, knowing, connected. We are in tears, looking around, remembering. She is a year younger than me, but more than anyone, she is my generation. We were on crews together, knew the same people. We ate dinners together, pushed barricades, carried Styrofoam rocks, wood benches. Once in the middle of the night, we sat together in a playground—talking, thinking, just breathing—while the world spun madly and chaotically around us. Now, we stand alone together, staring into the lights, the seats, into the deserted wings as we used to and no longer do. Everything is the same here, we have changed. Or have everything changed around us, and we are still who we always were?

We haven’t spoken for three months at least. The last time I saw her, we were parked in my car, connected in the dark. We aren’t good friends, but our friendship is a powerful emotional one. We share moments—silent moments where there are no words for what we understand.

Now she’s gone. Not far, physically, but far enough. The new ones won’t know her name, won’t remember the barricade or those benches. They won’t remember.

We immortalize ourselves here, to try to keep from being forgotten. We use permanent markers to try to convey to future generations who we were, why we mattered. For someone about to leave, the simple act of signing, finalizing, is as purging as Confession.

She tells me that she left without signing. Now feels right, she should do it now, while we still feel the way we do. Now that she is coming to terms with being gone from this place. We search for a Sharpie. Things never change here, of course we can’t find one when we need one. We pry the lid off of a can of black paint, racing, faster, faster, to immortalize this feeling before it fades. We race past actors, swinging the paint bucket madly. She pours the paint on her hand so that she doesn’t get too much on the brush at once, touches the brush to her hand, and begins. She wrote, I sat, reading the signatures on the walls as if they were epitaphs: “Brighton Beach Memoirs- 1993,” “Prop Goddess, 1982.” They all sound the same. Ten years after the 1993 production, we did Brighton Beach again. I don’t know anyone who remembers the old one, and few who even remember the newer one. She was in the newer one; we have that memory together.

While we are signing, the now kids, the ones who were in the show, pass. Although they don’t understand what we are feeling, they can sense that it is important and profound, timeless.

“Thank you,” they say, walking past in their jazz shoes and high-tops. The same shoes we wore, when we used to walk down here. I look up at them, smile, and they’re gone.

Soon, everyone’s gone, and I’m alone in my dark theatre. I am walking through dark hallways that I know better than I know the hallways in my own house, locking doors, picking up garbage. I find a black Sharpie on the floor of the girl’s dressing room. I walk down the tunnel until I find my name. I kneel down before it and uncap the Sharpie. My hand pauses—there are no words for what I feel, and trying fit it into words would be to diminish what it truly is. I recap the Sharpie and pocket it, but I remain kneeling in front of my eternal section of the wall, reading about who I used to be, trying to see myself as an outsider.

As I am writing this—frantically scribbling snippets of memory and hoping that they will be intact enough to understand and feel later—there is black paint smeared on the palm of my hand. Like the Sharpie on the walls, it reminds me of something that once happened, an event that will never exist again exactly as it did before. The paint will wash off, and the marker on the walls will fade into the many other signatures and be forgotten. The people will come and go, their lives will be changed, and they will be the only ones to remember. My hand will be stained with black paint again, and again, I’ll wish it would never wash off, so I could be reminded of some incident or other that—however fleetingly—touched me.

"therefore let's kiss."

2007-09-24T15:57:00.000-06:00

I decided I need to learn more about poetry.

So I browse the poetry shelf at work, and I decide to read some ee cummings.
This is not the greatest idea, though, since ee cummings is the poet I know best to begin with, and reading more of his stuff is not really going to improve my knowledge.

Anyway, here are a few poems that I found, and since love/sex is very much on my mind a lot these days, I want to put them here to remember them, since I can't bring myself to buy this book yet since I haven't fully exhausted the 3 ee cummings poetry books that I already own.

as
we lie side by side
my little breasts become two sharp delightful strutting towers
i shove hotly the lovingness of my belly against you

your arms are
young;
Your arms will convince me,in the complete silence speaking
upon my body
their ultimate slender language.

do not laugh at my thighs.

there is between my big legs a crisp city.
when you touch me
it is Spring in the city;the streets beautifully writhe,
it is for you;do not frighten them,
all the houses terribly tighten
upon your coming;
and they are glad
as you fill the streets of my city with children.

my love you are a bright mountain which feels.
you are a keen mountain and an eager island whose
lively slopes are based always in the me which is shrugging, which is
under you and around you and forever:i am the hugging sea.
O mountain you cannot escape me
your roots are anchored in my silence;therefore O mountain
skillfully murder my breasts,still and always

i will hug you solemnly into me.

***

skies may be blue;yes
(when gone are hail and sleet and snow)
but bluer than my darling's eyes,
spring skies are no

hearts may be true;yes
(by night or day in joy or woe)
but truer than your lover's is,
hearts do not grow

nows may be new;yes
(as new as april's first hello)
but new as this our thousandth kiss,
no now is so

***

b
et
wee
n no
w dis
appear
ing mou
ntains a
re drifti
ng christi
an how swee
tliest bell
s and we'l
l be you'
ll be i'
ll be ?
? ther
efore
let'
s k
is
s

(more poetry later as i delve deeper.)

Tea

2007-09-23T13:47:00.000-06:00

It's pleasantly refreshing on the occasions when someone decides what I want for me. The other day a friend decided that I wanted chamomile tea, then he made it for me. It was really nice, to just get a cup of tea.

And then we threw the boxes of tea on the ground.

I'm sorry if that's never happened to you.

The Magic Position

2007-09-18T08:51:00.001-06:00

I like to watch this when I'm in a bad mood because Patrick Wolf is amazing and he makes me feel better.

Embedded Video

Blogged with Flock

For Sam

2007-09-11T00:09:00.001-06:00

Haircuts.

2007-09-10T10:50:00.001-06:00

i'm thinking of getting my hair cut like the one on the top right.
yeah?

Makes Me Want it Harder

2007-09-09T19:40:00.001-06:00

The best playlist ever, do you see a pattern in the songs?

1.Fuck Her Gently- Tenacious D
2.Little Red Corvette- Prince
3.Like a Virgin- Madonna
4.Lover I Don't Have to Love- Bright Eyes
5.Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk- Rufus Wainwright
6.Striptease- Hawksley Workman
7.When the Lights Go Out- 5ive
8.Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades- Brand New
9.These Things- She Wants Revenge
10.Closer- Nine Inch Nails
11.Pull My Hair- Bright Eyes
12.Sweat (A La La La La Long)- UB40
13.Hello Time Bomb- Matthew Good Band
14.You Shook Me All Night Long- AC/DC
15.I See Monsters- Ryan Adams
16.Come On- Lucinda Williams
17.Love Child- The Supremes

It tells a story, too.
This is what me and Hannah do when we're bored and sexually frustrated.

mmmm.

2007-08-28T23:54:00.000-06:00

thinking of getting the surgery i was planning on getting several years ago, and i'm terrified. i spent a while today looking up info that will help me decide and although the very thought of what they do seriously nauseates me and makes me cringe like no other i feel that i would be so much happier if it happened.

hottie mchotterson du jour came over today, but i was too stressed about the surgery to really care at all and i only stuck around to observe the dynamics which is turning into an exercise in futility and self-torture, bummer. they all get together and seem to think it's this cool awesome big deal to pseudo-recite useless popculture knowledge and just go on and on making different connections forever which i can't do, so i'm out. trivia is not my thing. but now he knows about the surgery because i mentioned that i was researching it to hannah. who knows if that's something he should know or not, i guess that doesn't matter.

i need to sleep before anything else sucks.

Sam

2007-08-23T11:36:00.000-06:00

Sam and I did senior photos yesterday.

I just wanted to say:

2007-07-17T18:18:00.000-06:00

Hooray for summers free from drama that I must dwell on.

It feels good that my biggest problem really isn't a problem at all.

and you should check out my photos--some of them are pretty cool.

And if you look at them you will see that I met Jamie Waylett (who plays Crabbe in Harry Potter) and Devon Murray (who plays Seamus Finnegan) which is really exciting. I also saw (but didn't get to meet) Tom Felton (Draco Malfoy).

So there's the highlight of my summer so far.

june 2 2007- jake and ben's graduation parties 086

2007-06-03T20:22:00.001-06:00

june 2 2007- jake and ben's graduation parties 086, originally uploaded by fantasiaamazing.

At Jake's Graduation Party.

For more photos you should check out where I am now posting the majority of them.

Even the bad ones, beware.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kiranapoleon

Damn Liberals.

2007-05-21T11:04:00.000-06:00

..."And now we have Boulder High School."

watch this.

"They simply don't care in Boulder."

Bill O'Reilly would.

Yep, we have some big problems out there. And I'm looking at him.

Wow.

2007-05-20T21:52:00.000-06:00

Watch this.

2007-05-16T21:16:00.000-06:00

"they don't even care that much, anything you want to believe fades when she's around, hopelessly desperate actress with big plans and no one to execute them, all alone in a room with nothing on your mind. and it feels so good to sit here comfortably in the world where everything is how i imagine it, and my perceptions are as concrete as the brick you threw at my head which really isn't a brick at all. and oh fuck how could would you ever?"

10-22-04

2007-05-10T14:27:00.001-06:00

This is getting ridiculous.

2007-04-29T11:16:00.001-06:00

it is finished.

2007-04-24T15:50:00.000-06:00

2007-04-24T15:21:00.000-06:00

2007-04-24T15:01:00.000-06:00

my favorites.

2007-04-20T23:57:00.000-06:00

during show times, my favorite people to be around are the same every time.

every other time, it changes, but as soon as we open, those two people are just really unbeatable.

um, yeah they rock.

I Heart Jesus.

2007-04-19T10:42:00.000-06:00

2007-04-18T19:57:00.000-06:00

Sam as Jesus

I Love Fog

2007-04-18T19:52:00.000-06:00

Robert as Caiaphas

More JCS

2007-04-16T18:40:00.000-06:00

JCS Photos

2007-04-16T12:07:00.000-06:00

Jesus Christ Superstar

2007-04-12T22:55:00.000-06:00

Come see
Jesus Christ Superstar
April 19-21 and 26-28 7:30 PM
Call (303) 447-5313 for tickets!

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere..."

2007-04-03T18:52:00.000-06:00

So I spent last week in Ithaca, visiting. As it turns out, I miss it a lot more than I thought I did. The week was perfect, I felt so at home, everything was fun. At times I regret transferring.

But then I really think about it--those nights that I would go to the woods and just sit and cry for an hour, those times that I would get lunch and go back to my dorm and just sob on the floor, silently, so no one could hear me through the door. I remember going to the lounge with the hopes that someone would see me and realize that I was miserable and help me, I remember that no one ever came.

Things here are not like that. I usually get mild SAD (seasonal affective disorder) in the winter, but this year was the best it's ever been. Nothing really drives me to the point of hysterical tears anymore--I can't even remember the last time I cried in Colorado. (I cried a bit at the Ithaca airport when I was leaving)

Nothing out here is really all that bad, but nothing's really that good. I guess I don't have too many friends, there are a few people who I see on occasion and when I see them we have fun together, but rarely the exciting adventures that I had in Ithaca. I think people just forget me when planning their adventures, or they don't live down the hall so it's too much of a hassel to find me. That's what I miss about the dorms, the convenience of friends, there's always someone to do something with, even if it's just, "hey, wanna walk up to towers with me to grab a pint of ben and jerrys?" Can't do that with my roommates now. We hardly ever talk to each other. I don't know what it is. They all have their own things, and we never do anything together.

I just need to work on getting excitement back into my life.

Bond-a-Thon Summed Up in 3 Photos:

2007-03-18T18:58:00.000-06:00

2007-03-14T20:24:00.000-06:00

So I found this really great way to make stencils to paint onto shirts and the like... It's pretty exciting... I'm thinking about trying to start selling them... I don't know really how to do that though. Any advice?

(sometimes)

2007-02-21T22:10:00.000-07:00

sometimes i worry that the situations i am so desperate to get out of are ultimately better than the situations that i try to get into.

i don't want to think i'm digging myself deeper, or fucking myself over.

and regardless, there will be good and bad no matter what.

(i'm scared)

2007-02-19T19:25:00.000-07:00

I guess things are better.

I hit rock bottom and had about three days where I could hardly talk without crying, and then I let it all out for about 3 hours straight of crying and then I felt better.

We started on our next show, that helps-- Jesus Christ Superstar. I didn't think I'd be excited about it but as we start to get going on it I find that I really am. Musicals are hell but they're so much fun, and they're almost more my element than straight shows are.

On Saturday Night I saw the most amazing movie ever-- it's a documentary called Air Guitar Nation. It stars C-Diddy and Bjorn Turoque, and is about the quest to the world championship air guitar championship in Finland. After the show, there was a sort of quick question and answer session with the directors and Zac "The Magnet" Monro, the two-time world champion, and Bjorn Turoque, and after that, there was "aireoke," and at the end, everyone got on stage and rocked with Bjorn and Zac.

It was fabulous, and I've found a new hobby.

On another note,
Someone from my past (junior year in high school--shut up) has started showing up in my life again. I've seen him a few times in the past few weeks, we always stop and talk for a bit, and then move on. He's looking good these days. I don't totally dislike seeing him, even though back in the day it was sort of his fault that I had a falling-out with one of my best friends.

WARNING: I am about to rant.

2007-02-04T17:26:00.000-07:00

Every time I think that things couldn't possibly get any worse, they do. I am getting pretty sick of it. I am right in the middle of two not-so-good life situations, and I am too much of a coward to get myself out of either of them. I keep postponing, not now, I'll do it later, I want to get this other stuff figured out first, and then I just never deal with any of it.

And I'm so completely alone in this, there's no one that I can turn to who isn't part of the problem, or just completely sick of hearing about my issues. I need someone to just hold me while I cry and tell me that I'm doing the best that I can and that I impress them, even just a little. I need the people who make me so upset to come up to me and tell me that they didn't mean it, that they're sorry, that they'll try to help me not feel like this next time. I need somebody to notice that I'm falling apart.

2007-02-02T23:25:00.001-07:00

at this point, there are only two consistent reasons why i'm still doing this and they're both in the show.

2007-02-01T23:00:00.001-07:00

You've seen a person at their best when you've seen them at their worst.

Long story.

Tonight was emotional.

2007-02-01T16:16:00.000-07:00

Boulder High Theatre Presents...

Bullets Over Broadway

February 1-3
7:30pm

It's not really a big deal, but...

2007-01-24T19:48:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you can try and try to let things slide because nothing good will come of making an issue out of them.

Sometimes you just have to make an issue and embrace the badness.

"What I wouldn't give..."

2007-01-14T18:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know you anymore,
I don't recognize this place,
The picture frames have changed
And so has your name ...
We don't talk much anymore,
We keep running from the pain,
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again...

-Savage Garden

I like facebook. I love looking at pictures of people I used to know, people who I haven't seen in a while. I like looking at how they've grown, how they are no longer that goofy chubby kid I went to middle school with, how they actually got kind of hot since I last saw them. I draw conclusions about the photos--"so-and-so has definitely gone downhill since we used to date," or "wow, I bet he doesn't even remember me, he looks too happy." Sometimes it makes me miss them more, sometimes it reminds me of the reality of this or that incompatability, grounds me into the reality that he wasn't really as perfect as he always has been in my imagination, it makes me remember what I always used to try to overlook and forget. Sometimes it makes me feel just inadequate--why on earth would they want to remember me when this is what they have now?

Sometimes I look at photos of myself, and try to imagine what those people would think of me. It is important that I look like I can have fun, like I do have fun, like I don't take myself too seriously, that I have a lot of different kinds of experiences, that I have inside jokes and close friends.

Most often, I just look ridiculous.

I don't know what they see in me.

My Trip in Pictures

2007-01-03T19:37:00.000-07:00

NYC

2006-12-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

More photos from the trip to come, I promise. These are just what I have on my mom's camera, the only one I can get to the computer until I get home.

Saw Company starring Raul Esparza on Broadway--from the front row, it was amazing. He really has an amazing voice. So fabulous.

2006-12-24T11:20:00.000-07:00

Happy Holidays!

2006-12-20T22:15:00.000-07:00

Nobody seems to think it can actually hurt when they constantly tease me.

And the condescension doesn't feel so good either.

And I'm tired of people blowing it off when I have some sort of problem.

"whatever"

is not going to solve any problems.

Missing

2006-12-11T17:59:00.000-07:00

There are two kinds of missing people, I think.

There's the kind of missing when you go on vacation, when you move, when you never see someone anymore.

There's also the kind of missing where you see someone every day, and something has changed and you just don't talk anymore, and you don't agknowledge that you even used to talk.

That kind is worse.

The Master of Alone/ I Love Love

2006-12-08T22:21:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, I'm in love-mode these days, please bear with me. I promise/hope that I will get over it soon and stop caring so much that my life isn't like a movie.

The movie= The Holiday. Really quite a cute movie, if you're into that sort of thing.

Turns out I am. When I watch chick flicks I just feel it in my gut--the wrenching alone feeling. Or if, at the time, I am not single, the butterflies. I guess I like that feeling--both of them, even the one that hurts.

There's a line in the movie where the old Hollywood screenwriter tells Kate Winslet's character that she is playing the role of "the friend" when she should have been cast as the leading lady. She responds along the lines of, "shouldn't I at least be leading lady of my own life?"

Ah yes. It hits home. Sitting with friends while they complain about dysfunctional relationships and not having a bit of advice to offer them but thinking the whole time about how perfect it could be if they just looked up and realized that something good was right in front of them. It's frustrating.

In one scene, Kate Winslet's character and Jack Black's character are out to lunch. He gets a call from an ex (a "bad girl"), and leaves Kate Winslet (perfect for him) to finish her lunch alone. She supports him the entire time, even when he is letting her down.

Definitely close to home.

And to make matters worse, the entire time I was in the theatre I was thinking about someone who I probably should not be thinking of in the context of a romantic comedy. Yet still I think of him and wish I was watching it with him (he'd probably hate it anyway). I wished he was sitting next to me, our hands almost touching, and I knew exactly the moments when we'd simultaneously reach out our pinkies just slightly, and our fingers would brush, and intertwine, and it would be good.

I have a vivid imagination, apparantly.

Alas, here I am alone, and kicking myself for even wanting the things I am wanting, which is ridiculous and also a fabulous way to remain alone.

Trust me on this one.

I Hate Sexual Tension.

2006-12-06T19:21:00.000-07:00

Here's my question:

Would someone joke about something if it revolted them? Don't jokes usually contain a hint of truth? The context I am thinking of is the high school "oh, I want to bang you, oh oh!"

I mean, you never say that unless you actually sort of do, right? Because if you're truly revolted by the person, then it's not even funny, just gross.

Am I right?

I know I always meant it, at least a little, when I said it.

Which brings me to the issue--if two people are joking like that with each other, don't you think they should just jump on each other and end the sexual tension? That's what I think.

Jay Brannan

2006-12-04T10:18:00.000-07:00

Check Him Out

I discovered this on the bus coming back from Thespian Conference.

2 days of sleep deprivation, sitting backwards in the seat, sharing white earbud headphones with David who was sitting next to me facing me, and I'm watching the people on the bus sleep, or talk, as the light slowly fades and things get dark.

It was perfect.

A God

2006-11-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

Brian Molko, of Placebo.

From the concert, ages ago.

This photo is actually Sydney's.

Bah.

2006-11-18T13:05:00.000-07:00

je suis bored.

et confused.

et je ne sais pas si je veux quel'que-chose que je ne dois pas vouloir.

(i forget how to have negatives and how to correctly conjugate. sorry.)

TO EVERYONE IN BOULDER

2006-11-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

Come to the new Chipotle on 29th Street on Thursday, November 16th, between 4 and 8!

100% of sales during that period will be donated to BHS Theatre!

Hooray!

Life Goal!

2006-11-07T19:41:00.000-07:00

So I figured out my life.

It's really absolutely perfect for me, like, why am I not there right now?!

Denver Center/National Center for Voice and Speech

So, like, anything I could possibly be interested in, right there.

Doubting/Believing

2006-11-06T22:54:00.000-07:00

In my writing class, we got the assignment to write a doubting and believing paper. This is different from a regular persuasive essay because it is only allowed to use one source, on the doubting side, so it really has to be just opinion.

I was thinking about writing about whether or not evil exists, but I don't know which side would be doubting and which would be believing.

I think I'm going to write about how bad it is to push your own opinions onto other people (religious fervor-door-to-door Jehovah's Witnesses, the Crusades, Jihads, US foreign policy, etc.)

I don't really know how I'm going to argue against myself yet.

Any thoughts are appreciated.

SWR/PLACEBO

2006-10-30T17:11:00.000-07:00

"We've got nowhere to go, we've got nothing to prove
Instead of dancing alone, I should be dancing with you
This song is turning me on, the beat is doing me in
Or maybe it's only you, but either way, lets begin "

-She Wants Revenge (Out of Control)

Saw them opening for Placebo at the Gothic on Saturday, AMAZING.

Check them out.

And check out Placebo if you don't know them, they're always great.

...

2006-10-22T23:02:00.000-06:00

i'm declaring my major on tuesday--slhs.

wow.
who would have thought?

my emotion life is a bit messy at the moment, i don't really feel like getting into it. i mean, i actually really DO feel like getting into it but i don't know how much everyone would want me to do that.

my fish has been acting sluggish lately, i hope he's not dying.

the haunted house at boulder high is next weekend, check out the website, at least, and try to come, if you can.

ummm, sorry i'm so disjointed right now... again with the tons of stuff going on and me being in a sort of weird place about a lot of it.

bah.

2006-10-16T22:04:00.000-06:00

life is complicated, you know?

like, why can't things just be good and easy?

Bittersweet?

2006-10-14T00:05:00.000-06:00

I feel so conflicted and torn and unsure.

I don't know what's right, and what's best, and who's right, and why I feel so terrible at the exact moment I should be feeling amazing, and how the good moments seem to slip through my fingers so quickly.

I guess I don't really want to talk about it. I guess there's no one really to talk about it with but myself.

Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.

-Company

I'm sort of winging it on my own at this point.

Where I'm From...

2006-10-12T13:58:00.000-06:00

2006-10-04T08:17:00.000-06:00

this time a year ago, i was still happy at ithaca.
i was about to have my first random college hookup, to rebound from my rebound guy.
i was having the time of my life.

things are so different now
everything's just so normal

Thursday Night... Yeah We're Cool.

2006-09-29T00:19:00.000-06:00

For Drew

2006-09-26T22:32:00.000-06:00

DAM

2006-09-24T17:25:00.000-06:00

Seasons Change

2006-09-20T14:43:00.001-06:00

They held each other as they walked, clinging to each other for support and to try to erase the time. Now, their bodies were weak, and they had to hold on to each other to keep from falling down, but they used to hold each other for another reason. They could both remember a time when they held hands to feel the electricity flowing between them. The passion that they had once felt had faded after a lifetime together—now, everything that they did together was done because it had been done for so long that they wouldn’t know what to do if they stopped.

They never expected that they’d end up here—decades older together, wrinkles on their faces, the skin sagging everywhere on their bodies, their teeth old, and decaying, their joints stiff with arthritis. When they met, she was only seventeen- slim and blonde, with perky breasts and a dazzling smile. He was nineteen, a freshman in college, the star of the lacrosse team.

One heart attack, two children, and 5 grandchildren later, here they were, walking together, as they did when they were younger, enjoying the crisp fall day. The leaves were red in anticipation of the coming winter, but they hadn’t really started to fall yet. The heat of the summer had passed, but its afterglow could be felt in the sun, if you stood still for long enough to soak in its rays. The birds had already started to migrate in preparation for the quickly approaching winter; the ducks that spent their summers on the lake were nowhere to be found. She wore orthopedic shoes, he carried a cane, and what was once a fiery romance had settled into a comfortable, reliable companionship.

On the other side of the lake, a young couple sat together on a bench, eating Chinese take-out. They had met at the pool, a typical summer romance, but their relationship had lasted even after it was too cold for bikinis and swim trunks. They sat close to each other, feeding each other with chopsticks and kissing and watching people walk by. From across the lake, she saw the old couple. She noticed them leaning against each other for support, perfectly comfortable with the weight of their own bodies and with each other’s. She saw him stop walking, turn to her, and, holding both of her hands in his, kiss her gently on her forehead. The young woman turned to her partner, and kissed him softly on the lips.

(ps- i don't like the end, it seems too sudden to me, any ideas?)

2006-09-14T21:25:00.000-06:00

Why is gas so cheap right now?

2006-09-13T15:42:00.000-06:00

Bah... things are so crazy right now.

2006-09-05T23:12:00.000-06:00

i'd rather do something i love that drives me crazy than something i have no feeling for that keeps me sane and calm.

About the video post from yesterday-

2006-09-01T17:17:00.000-06:00

So this one time, yesterday, I was listening to one of my NPR podcasts, probably the music podcast that I get, and they were talking about this really awesome video that they found on YouTube, and how until just now, they didn't know who the guy in the video was. Everyone was impressed, and it had like a bazillion plays on YouTube. You know it's big since NPR's doing a story on it. Anyway, yeah, it's Pachelbel's Canon, and it's awesome. Anyway, here's the link to the NPR story, if you're interested.

2006-08-31T23:29:00.000-06:00

Canon

I like how this sounds.

Mmmmmm

2006-08-30T21:56:00.000-06:00

I miss hummus wraps and corn soup from Grab and Go at IC.

College, Take Two:

2006-08-29T20:03:00.000-06:00

I wish I could say I'm perfectly happy at CU.

I guess on the bright side, I'm happy enough.

As much as it sucked, living on campus was pretty cool.

Fuck.

2006-08-27T21:53:00.000-06:00

There are just some things in life that make me miserable, and each and every one seems to be making an appearance in my life tonight.

What?

Yeah, it sucks.
Already did the crying thing, the feel-like-punching-someone-in-the-face thing, and I'm thinking I should do the sleep thing before I cry again.

Even though it's still pretty early.