Merry Christmas, interweb.

MaverickXRose: Merry ridiculously grandiose, trite, and environmentally unfriendly secularized Christian holiday!
onthefoldout: Merry commercialized, barbarically carnivorous, materialistic, day of giving only to receive to you and yours, too!

I do believe that, as is usually the case, Fiona says it best.

And what a thing, to know what could be instead
Oh, what a blessed curse; to see
It took the agenda from its place in my bed
Made a merry paramour of me
O' Sailor, why'd you do it?
What'd you do that for?
Saying there's nothing to it
And then letting it go by the boards


I never thought I would get a chance to pose the question.
But, the sailor that made a merry paramour of me has seemingly returned from asea.


O' Sailor, why'd you do it?
What'd you do that for?

Judgment.

First off, there is no "E" in judgment...unless you are British, which you almost certainly are not. Please quit inserting one. It irks me.


There is nothing that irritates or angers me more than feeling as if I am being judged.
There are few things that trip that switch in me.
I am excellent at biting my tongue. I am a professional, in fact.
My skill in that has been honed and refined over years of practice.
It is quite hard to anger me; I may feel a range of emotions in the same genre as anger: bitterness, hurt, sorrow, disdain, etc, but very few things legitimately ANGER me.

I am a proponent for intellectual debate when opinions, views, beliefs, lifestyles differ.
I am perfectly content to banter back and forth, stating my viewpoints, objectively listening to yours, and perhaps allowing my views to evolve if you manage to sway me enough.
But, don't DARE pass judgment upon me.

We, as humans, are beautifully flawed, imperfect, confused creatures.
None of us know the "answers."
All of us err with regularity.
We are consistently inconsistent.
And as these flawed individuals, we all have our own methodology, our own way of living, our own moral code that we feel is correct and appros pos for ourselves.
Do not try to force your ethics or beliefs upon another, especially me, as it is an exercise in futility, and only serves as a negative reflection of you as a person.
Bend.
Listen to others.
If you still disagree, think of it as a learning experience,
a study as to how that person functions.



Do you ever have difficulty climbing into the saddle when your horse is that high?

Forfeit.

I'm resuming my hermitage.
I've had enough of the outside world for quite a while.

I tried.
I honestly did.
But, it's been a terrible month.
So, I turn tail until further notice.

I've got to admit, it's getting better, a little better all the time.

'Tis the time of year to be thankful.
People seem to forget about Thanksgiving anymore.
It has become a speed-bump on Christmas road,
and nothing more than an excuse to over-eat and watch football.
Every Thanksgiving, I make it a point to really think about what I'm thankful for,
and I post it in my current journal.
So, let's get started on this year's list.

What Is Lexi Thankful For?:

1) I just got off of the phone with Aaron a few moments ago. I'm so extremely thankful for so many things in regards to Aaron. I am thankful for him entering my life and remaining a very important part of it, despite the eternally vast distance between us. I am so relieved and thankful for Aaron's safe return from all of his deployments to Iraq. And, lastly, I am so thankful that he has found a wonderful girl that makes him happy after all that he has had to go through.

2) I am thankful for being blessed enough to have met Sam. I don't know what I would do without this woman. I view Sam as a guardian angel of sorts... She keeps my head on straight, tells things like they are, and has become one of the best friends I could ever hope for. Any time that I get down on myself or need to get away, I know that Sam will be at Denny's within minutes for hours of coffee, conversation, and therapy.

3) I am thankful for They Will Rock You and the fabulous Mary for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. I am living out my dream courtesy of Mary's inviting me to become a part of the staff and patience with me [sometimes, it takes me forever to turn in interviews/photos after I take them, due to my hectic schedule and lack of free time]. I am thankful for every musician that I have met during the course of this incredible year. I am especially thankful for those who treated me with a great deal of kindness: Anberlin, Family Force 5, and matt pond PA. I am thankful for Stephen Christian's email correspondence, "Chapstique's" support, and matt pond PA's companionship. I am thankful for Dennis from Flogging Molly telling me that I had given him the best interview he had ever done. I am thankful for the gentlemen of Biffy Clyro for being so modest and flattered regarding the fact that I had been a fan for years. I am thankful for Switchfoot's invitation to their After-show gathering, despite my lack of an "After-show" pass. I am thankful, I am thankful, I am so fucking thankful.

4) I am thankful for all of the local bands that gave me the opportunity to photograph them while I was on my path to discovering what I wanted to do with my life. I look back upon those terrible photographs I took and feel so blessed for the support of those along the way. I am thankful for Monument the Ghost allowing me to take my first set of promotional photographs. I am thankful for O' Captain My Captain's use of my low-quality live shots. Yes, I am even thankful for Cloverleaf's use of my promotional photographs for so long.

5) I am thankful for my relationship with Justin. Despite all of the pain and unhappiness, it was the greatest learning experience of my life. I look back upon it as a "what-not-to-do" of sorts and a lesson in what not to stand for in a relationship. It enabled me to see and learn everything that I do NOT want in a relationship and made me a much stronger person. It gave me the security to realize that I do not NEED a significant other to be happy and granted me the ability to enjoy the pleasure of my own company. It gave me the ability to say that I will not simply settle and am fine on my own. It was an awakening to the fact that I had centered my world around one person and neglected the things and people that truly mattered.

6) I am thankful for my parents and their support in my various decisions and actions. When I was drunk at 4 in the morning last October and called my mother bawling from Penn State about how miserable I was and how much I wanted to be home at the moment, but there were no Greyhounds leaving any time soon, she hopped right in the car and made the 3-hour drive to come get me. I am thankful in their support of my decision to abandon traditional school for the Art Institute and pursue a career with zero job security. I am thankful for their putting up with my residence-hopping and always welcoming me back to their house when needed. I am thankful for their love and for their advice. I am thankful for their always being right, but scarcely using the phrase "I told you so." There is so much about them that I could express thanks for that it would take a formal essay to do so.

7) I am thankful for the wonderful people who have become a part of my life this year through different means and circumstances. I am thankful for all of the Art Institute-ers who have become true friends. I am thankful for the residents of the South Side: Paul, Rocker Dan, Trevor, the Mission Street-ers, the Youngs Tavern regulars... all of whom, whether beknownst to them or not, helped me through a very rough patch of my life simply by way of keeping me smiling. I am thankful for the wonderful people of Hot Metal BFC for leaving me with such inner peace every time I left their presence. I am thankful for my coworkers at Macy's who I am just beginning to get to know.

8) I am thankful for the many people who have attempted to help me with my career this past year. I am thankful for Brian Goff's support. I am thankful for the La Fond gallery for using their connections in New York to try and get me settled. I am thankful for Scott Spangler's support, criticism, etc. in my photojournalistic endeavors. I am thankful for Faceless International for trying their damndest to get me included in one of their charitable missions as the trip's photographer. I am thankful for the various PR firms that continuously extend offers my way.

9) I am thankful for the people that have remained a valuable part of my life throughout the years. I am thankful for Kimber, Chris, Steph, Heather, Sarah, and anyone else from childhood that has remained a close friend. I am thankful for the people I have met in my part-time-job-hopping that have become some of the dearest friends I could hope for. I am thankful for everyone at Denny's for still treating me as if I work there. I am thankful for everyone from Panera for staying in my life, despite their status as "mutual friends" of myself and Justin, and not allowing that to get in the way. I am thankful for the people I met at Penn State that have stayed close friends of mine: Brennan, Sabina, Paulina, etc. I am especially thankful to those three for keeping me sane and staying true to me when so many simultaneously turned their backs on me. I am thankful for all the people that I met through other means that have stood the test of time: Ana Sofia, Seany, Corey, etc. And, as lame as this may sound, I'm thankful to my various "interweb" friends, mainly livejournal, who have provided unbiased input and opinions on my goings-on, some of whom I have exchanged the aforementiond with for years.


I have to go shower and get ready for tonight,
so we'll put a "to be continued" on this....


And, as a side note,
I am so very sorry for all of those affected by the death of Candice Killinger. I spent last night with some of her closest friends, and their sorrow deeply touched me, and took me back to the various times in my life when I was affected by the loss of someone dear to me. I'm certain that wherever she is, she knows how much all of you loved her [and still do].

I Concur.

The nickel dropped when I was on my way beyond the Rubicon
What did I do?
And of the games that I can handle,
None are ones worth the candle
What can I do?
I'm a frightened, fickle person
Fighting, cryin', kickin', cursin'
What should I do?
Oh, after all the folderol and hauling over coals stops
What will I do?
Can't take a good day without a bad one
Don't feel just to smile until I've had one
Where did I learn?
I make a fuss about a little thing
The rhyme is losing to the riddling
Where's the turn?
I don't want a home, I'd ruin that
Home is where my habits have a habitat
Why give it a turn?
Oh, after all the folderol and hauling over coals stops
What did I learn?
I am likely to miss the main event if I stop to cry or complain again
So I will keep a deliberate pace
Let the damned breeze dry my face
Oh, mister, wait until you see what I'm gonna be
I've got a plan, a demand and it just began
And if you're right, you'll agree
Here's coming a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me

- Fiona Apple

Run. Run. Run.

stir-cra·zy /ˈstɜrˌkreɪzi/
Pronunciation Key - [stur-krey-zee]
–adjective Slang.

1. Restless or frantic because of confinement, routine, etc.
2. Mentally ill because of long imprisonment.
3. The way Lexi feels when she's in Pittsburgh.



My travels and temporary escapes spoil me.
I have returned from the Happy Valley to routine living.

Wake up. Make coffee. Make eggs and toast. Eat said eggs and toast. Smoke cigarette. Shower. Dress self. Drive downtown. Smoke two cigarettes during drive. Park in garage closest to the Art Institute. Walk to building. Attend class. Smoke break. Return to class. Mitchell's for late lunch [garden salad and coffee...occasionally fried mozzerella appetizer]. Attend class. Return to garage. Pay for parking. Retrieve car. Drive back to suburbs. Arrive at work [typically about 5 minutes late]. Work. Break [normally consists of Au Bon Pain coffee and 2 cigarettes]. Return to work. Close register. Drive home. Key in door. Take off coat. Make dinner. Eat aforementioned dinner. Make tea. Change clothing. Make more tea. Basement. Homework. Paint. Make more tea. Paint. Photoshop. Make more tea. [Cigarettes all throughout the previous actions post-entrance into basement.] Do laundry. Go upstairs. Get in bed. Read until overcome by sleep. Repeat.

Sadly, the slightest deviation from routine excites me...
...such as the nights Sam and I go to Denny's, drink coffee, smoke, and conversate.
[Typically on Wednesdays/Thursdays... so, that's actually pretty routine, as well.]

I go stir crazy within days of returning to the 'Burgh.
I want more adventures, unpredicatability, and craziness.
As I've said over and over again, at heart, I'm entirely too nomadic.
This city bores me.
Its soil is not foreign.
I have experienced it for far too long, and it is time to move on.
This next year or two until I get my degree and am set free is going to pass by so slowly. I will be like an animal set free from its cage... I will not be able to flee this city fast enough.

Destination: HapVal

Sometimes, I just need a temporary escape from the "real world,"
and that is why God created the Happy Valley.

No blogs for a week-ish.
Blogs mean contemplation.
Contemplation means thinking.
I want no thoughts for the next week...
...just impulses, feelings, energies...
...just friends, bonding, lack of negativity...
...just booze, dancing, and ludicrousness...
...just me and the Happy Valley, back on good terms.

Though, I don't really have much to be "escaping" from on this occasion. Last visit, I had plenty that needed evaded and matters haunting and plaguing my brain.

Presently, life is being very kind to me.
To complain would reflect ingratitude.
I am finally at peace and have found peace.

I am currently in the midst of one of my necessary hermitages. When things get too crazy, I withdraw. If I feel a loss of control, sanity, or something of importance is imminent, I retreat to the sanctuary of my basement, where I spend my time creating. I photoshop, write, paint, draw, etc. etc. etc. I turn to Mr. Dylan, Mr.(s) Lennon and McCartney, Mr.(s) Floyd, and many other gurus for advice. ["How do I level this mess out, dear sirs?"] With hot tea, Chimes of Freedom, and paintbrush in hand, I somehow inevitably reach my "moment of clarity." After feeling relatively certain that I can maintain, I re-emerge from the ashes as the phoenix, and head back into the "outside world."

This visit to the HapVal will be that foray. However, I am transitioning into almost direct opposition... from reclusiveness to overwhelming insanity and vastly social situations. Hopefully I won't feel/behave awkwardly. Nobody likes a wallflower.

I do believe I want to learn how to play the guitar. I have fumbled with the instrument before, and had little to no success. I always gave up shortly after the attempts began out of frustration.
I used to write songs, but never with instrumental accompaniment, as my piano key-striking days were numbered, and I lacked the ability to play another instrument. [Unless you count the recorder, which we were forced into in the fourth grade. I could play a mean "This is My Country."] However, I should like to begin writing songs again. Never for playing in public. Personal posterity. Secretive catharsis. I can't even remember any of the ones previously written. New beginnings. I like those. Individual renaissance.

This blog has worn out its welcome.
I have gone from waxing philosophic to rambling.
Goodnight.

Happy Halloween to all. Frivolous post.

I do not know if I shall be dressing up at all for this All Hallow's Eve.
If I do, it will be a costume that I have worn previously, as the holiday seems to have lost its magic a bit this year, and apathy set in when contemplating costume choice.

I decided to peruse the Interweb and see if I would suddenly become inspired in some way as to something last-minute I could throw together if need be, and I found a couple really awesome costumes that I figured I'd share....

Rubik's Cube

iPod Commercial

Borat... very nice!

Ali G... respect.

Humpty Dumpty

This person actually dressed up as a table.

Big Apple.

Tonight was Trevor's going-away gathering at Young's.
I had no idea that he was leaving until this morning.
I had asked Paul if he wanted to get a six-pack and catch up tonight, when he informed me that tonight was one of Trevor's last nights in Pittsburgh before he departs for New York City on Saturday, and that I should come and say goodbye. For everyone else, it was "goodbye," but for myself, it was "see you later."

This is the perfect opportunity for me to announce to the general public my own scheduled relocation to NYC. Fear not, 'tis not nearly as soon as Trevor's. However, in a little over a year, once I am done getting my degree [FINALLY], I will be moving to New York [and reuniting with Trevor ASAP!].

Why, you ask?
For the very same reasons that Trevor, a filmmaker, is doing so.

(1) If you are an artist, especially a photographer or filmmaker, you need to be somewhere like New York City to succeed or at least have a fighting chance at success. I have had innumerable offers to cover various shows and events and to do some work for various PR firms (including Magnum PR)...but they are all located in NYC. Every new invitation in my inbox absolutely kills me to decline.
(2) Pittsburgh is an incredibly small city. I'm a big city person, and in love with New York City. I've been there several times, and on each occasion have not wanted to leave. Paul and I played a little bit of Six Degrees of Separation, and it was frightening that he knew some of the people I was speaking of. Trust me when I say that in Pittsburgh, no one is "new." Every "new person" that you meet knows someone that you know, or is a friend of a friend of a friend. Either way, you don't need six degrees to make the connection; it normally takes two to three. I can't stand it anymore. Which leads to...
(3) I would rather be a little fish in a big pond than a big fish in a little pond. And, of course, preferable over both is being a big fish in a big pond. Unless you are Sidney Crosby, your success in Pittsburgh has a very defined ceiling that you cannot extend beyond. Give me anonynimity. Give me the ability to blend in. Allow me to meet individuals who are truly new and to start anew with the cleanest of slates and thousands upon thousands of opportunities for first impressions. Then, grant me success. Grant me familiarity. Make the sky the limit.

This time cannot pass fast enough. I count the months as if they are days.
I'm going to cram as many credits as I can manage without having a nervous breakdown into each quarter to expedite the process. Of course, I will miss my family. And, I will miss my friends. The true blue will stay a very valued, though farther-away part of my life. But, this is so very worth it and what will lead to my ultimate happiness.

So, enjoy my company, Pittsburgh.
You have about a year to do so.
Ready, set, go...

Fall.

Fall is finally upon us.
The air has that crispness to it, a slight bite of chill in the breeze.
The deer are playing in the roads.
[I have almost hit 3 of them with my car.
One was a buck with enormous antlers.]
The leaves are the most vibrant hues of gold, ochre, and brick red,
signifying that they are soon to plummet from the branches to the earth below.
The scent of burning leaves wafts through the air.
This scent is one of my favorite scents.
The city is damp with the fall rains,
but lacking the humidity of Summer.
Therefore, it is pleasurable and I do not mind it at all.
Long sleeves, hot tea, and my porch swing shall dominate for the next week.
Before my hibernation begins, I want to soak up the brevity of this season.
[Pittsburgh has almost no Fall.
We segue straight from Summer to Winter with possibly a week of fall inbetween.]
Contemplation.
The death of the matters of the Summer and Spring.
As the leaves tumble down, the negativity and pain of this year past follows suit,
joining them in the pile at the tree's base.
For the first time, I do believe Winter will not feel quite so cold.
This Winter will signify starting anew.
As the snows fall and blanket the ground, they will whiten my canvas,
blank, and ready for new works to be created upon it.
I am a work in progress.

But for now, the Fall is lovely.
J'adore l'automne.

Raison D'etre

I posed this question via Myspace bulletin:

What is YOUR raison d'etre......your reason for waking up in the morning......what do you live for? What keeps you going through everything?



At some point in the next couple days, I'll post a blog with the answers I receive,
[anonymously, of course] and I'll give you MY raison d'etre.

This concept has been of personal intrigue for a while.
After my break-up this past Spring, I really had to sit down, re-evaluate, and reprioritize.
I began to question when and why I had allowed my reason for living to become dependent upon something to temporal and unhealthy.
Ever since I rediscovered my purpose and my true raison d'etre, I've been a happier person.
With my rejuvenated modus operandi [not in the criminal sense], I've been more focused, determined, successful, generous, and all-around pleasant.

I am hoping that hearing what others live for will be all the more inspiring and motivating.

"All in all, you're just another brick in the wall..."

I wonder...

How many boundaries are truly in place?
VERSUS
How many boundaries are made manifest by our belief in their existence?

We always think that we're too much or not enough of something.
Or, as said in Zeitgeist [which is incredible and everyone should view at least once], we, as humans, are divided up in so many different ways: gender, race, religion, age, sexual preference, socioeconomic "class," style/"label," intellect, etc etc etc.
We waste so much time creating the very boundaries we are attempting to break through by way of doubt, intolerance, and conformity.

Allow me to provide just a few examples...
[Some touch close to home. Others might touch close to yours.]

1) "I'm not good enough to succeed in this."
2) "She's not intelligent enough for me to waste my time getting to know her."
3) "I'm strongly Christian and he's strongly Jewish...it'll never work."
4) "I don't have enough money to move there, even though I'd really like to."
5) "That promotion is going to go to her instead of me. She has an 'in' with our boss. I won't even bother applying to fill the opening."
6) "I'm not good-looking enough for someone like her."
7) "We're attracted to one another...but the age difference is just too large."

My rebuttals?

1) The only reason you are not succeeding is because you are truly afraid of success, not failure.
2) So, you would pass up on the company of someone who could be a very kind, loving person?
3) Why can't you teach one another, agree to disagree, and just love the other for who they are?
4) If it is what you really want...suffer for it. Be flat broke. Start from the ground up.
5) People often get what they deserve. There is no harm in trying. No race was ever won by sitting it out.
6) Not only are you placing doubt upon your physical appearance, but you're also placing so much doubt in your character and in HER character by automatically assuming she could never love someone for who they are on the inside.
7) Aaliyah once said, "Age ain't nothin' but a number." While I don't often quote hip-hop artists for their wisdom, in this case, it is appros pos. People often don't correspond to their chronological age. It should not be something of vast importance if you clique. [Exception: pedophilia.]



I live in that fairy tale of my own making, and I am quite content.
It's the principle of the 'power of positive thinking.'


"Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to."
FUCK common sense, say I.
"Common sense" is often a moniker that doubt disguises itself under.
It's easier to pass something off as common sense rather than exit one's comfort zone, or put oneself out there in a way that could result in rejection or hurt.


How different would your life be without self-imposed boundaries?
What would life be like if you mentally dissolved all boundaries and held the honest-to-god belief that anything is possible?

"And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing..."

Today was spent at Mingo Creek with Steven.

On the drive,

there was countryside.

and horses.

and ponds with hundred of geese.

and Paul McCartney.

and not a care in the world.

Upon arrival,

there was laying in sunshine.

and splashing in creeks.

and climbing of trees.

and herb.

and taking of photographs.

and not a care in the world.

And now, tonight,

there is vanilla caramel tea.

and candles.

and Bob Dylan.

and cool breeze.

and not a care in the world.

I do believe I have found the recipe for perfection in its simplest form.

Unplug.

Escapism.

Tomorrow, myself and Steven shall be turning our phones off and spending the day in Mingo Creek Park in Washington, PA:

I am dire need of sunshine. and creek water. and grass.

Photographs aplenty shall be taken.

Digital and film.

Digital shall be viewable upon return.

One whole day of no phone, no computer, no television.

Just escape.

Do that.

That's my challenge for today.

Unplug for one day.

Skies like this,
with almost 360 degrees of horizon line/mountains in the background,
make you want your 2 hour-long drive to never end,
and make you feel very "at peace" with your life
and circumstances.

"As long as a man stands in his own way, everything seems to be in his way." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I do believe that one of the most fantastic feelings in the world is as a direct result of proving yourself capable of something that the masses doubted you could do.

Although I believe wholeheartedly that in the near future, I shall be living my photographic 'rock and roll fantasy' [a la Bad Company], my day job while attending art school is waitressing at a popular diner in the South Side of the city. I have been stuck working the 2-10 shift since I began there, and have attempted countless times to work the coveted weekend night shift, even on a trial basis. Every time, I have been told that I would be unable to handle it and that I'm "far too nice" to work that shift. [The diner is open 24 hours, located on a street full of nothing but bars, and on Friday and Saturday nights is packed with droves of drunk people. We even have a bouncer.] However, yesterday, there was a call-off, and they needed one of the '2-10 girls' to pull a double and work the night shift until 4 in the morning. I volunteered myself, as this was my chance to prove them wrong.

[This is all leading somewhere, I promise.]

Before the shift, some of the 'night crew' came in early, making remarks along the lines of "you're going to be miserable" or "you're going to fail." Pre-shift, I was told, "You can't be you; you can't be nice to these people, like you normally are with your tables. You have to be mean."

I ignored it all and decided that I was going to do it and I would be doing it MY way. I was as nice as ever to my tables, and surprise surprise, they were quite receptive. These people are drunk. If you get stressed out and give them the slightest hint of an attitude, of course they are going to reciprocate with twenty times the negativity. But, rather than being a buzzkill, I went with it. I was bubbly. I made my par for the course corny jokes, smiled, and laughed at theirs. I even had a table pull me aside and tell me that I was far too nice for this job and hand me a $20 tip. After the rush, the kitchen manager told me I did a great job [earlier, he had made jokes that he would 'take it easy on me.'], and some of the staff inquired if I would want to work that shift every night.

When questioned as to how much I had made, I lied, claiming somewhere in the neighborhood of $80, which is what the rest of the staff had made. However, truth be told, I made about $120 in less than five hours. The best victories are silent ones.



[I told you this was all leading somewhere...]

Don't let the doubt of others transcend into your own self-perception.
Chances are, you are worth and are capable of far more than most will give you credit for.
Only you know what you are truly capable of.

"As long as a man stands in his own way, everything seems to be in his way."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

If others continuously avow that you cannot do something, it should become your personal mission to disprove their statements/thoughts. You are merely 'standing in your own way' if you agree and give up.

Also, do not adapt yourself to conform to what is 'necessary for success.' If you have faith that success can be achieved without altering who you are, it can be. It is all a matter of your own perceptions and beliefs intermingling with your situation. Never lower your expectations of yourself. I was told that I could not be nice, but it was not in my character to behave in that manner, and by refusing to conform to expectations, I succeeded. It is easy to blend in with masses, but much more difficult to achieve success by separating yourself from them.

Of course, after working a double shift and running around for 15 straight hours, I have spent the entirity of the day drifting in and out of sleep, and my body has needed some recuperation time today. However, it was vastly worth it, and I am left with a deep feeling of satisfaction. Even if I am not given the night shift after this, I have proven to all those who doubted that I CAN do it, and THAT is what matters most in all of this. The satisfaction was worth the effort. The 'juice was worth the squeeze.'

I am going to go back to bed.
Stay true to yourself and give 'em hell.

"What is Life Without the Pursuit of a Dream?" - Vanilla Sky

Acknowledgement: I am aware that by posting the following, I risk angering/offending certain individuals. Know that this is not directed at any specific person/persons. It is meant to be a catalyst to changing one's outlook, not to critique one's lifestyle or judge one by one's choices.

Today, between classes, I decided to give my mother a call and ask her if she would like to go out to lunch. We had a rendez-vous at Mitchell's about ten minutes later. It was an overall pleasant lunch, despite about five minutes of hostile bickering [this IS still my mother and myself, after all, and that's to be expected]. I love intellectual conversation, and my mother is always a good source for that. We spoke of the following topic for a bit, and I was inspired to post about it and elaborate a bit more on here.


Survival versus living.
Are you living? Or, are you just surviving?
The two are completely separate states of being.

Living is not necessarily blissful happiness.
Living is taking risks, loving, straying from the norms.
Living is deep appreciation of the little things.
As said in Vanilla Sky, "What is life without the pursuit of a dream?"
Living is the pursuit of a dream, of YOUR dreams, of your wildest fantasies as if all were possible or attainable simply by your own determination and making.

Existence is fleeting and time so precious.
So, why do people contentedly settle for mediocrity and waste so much time being so ordinary?
Why do people "give up" so easily?
How can you hear "no" once, and then walk away and figure that it'll never work out and it's not meant to be?
How can you even bear to take "no" for an answer?

When did you let your day job become your career?
When did you give up those dreams you once had?
Didn't you once dream of being something greater than this?!
Go back to school!
Apply for your dream job!

Also, those surviving among us often feel that if something is meant to be, it's going to come to them. It will be fated and occur regardless of their actions. This also could not be farther from the truth. The fates owe you no favors. You will continue to wait until your dying day.
Be brazen. Take the risk.

The surviving often waste so much time indulging in such ordinary pleasures as well. What could you be doing instead of 'partying'/drinking/doing drugs incessantly? [I will not put on the false pretense that I NEVER drink or never 'party,' however, it's in moderation, and as of late, has been a very seldom occurrence. I felt myself slipping into the pit of survival not that long ago, and I managed to pull myself out. [Survival is tempting, as it's easy, frivolous, fun. And, living's a real bitch, sometimes.]] There are so many provisions for the wasting of time in modern society. Calculate, roughly, this equation, if you can:

Time spent on Myspace/Facebook/any mindless website

+ Time spent watching television

+ Time spent playing video games [yes, Guitar Hero most definitely counts]

+ Time spent drinking/drunk/'partying'

+ Time spent shopping [whether for clothing, CDs, etc.]

= How much time you could have spent bettering your life and yourself this week.

I'm not saying that one should never have any leisure time by any means; that's a one-way ticket to rapid loss of sanity. But, how much leisure time does one need? Could this, perhaps, be a hindrance and a contributing factor to one's failure to live versus survive?

If you are truly content simply surviving, if you wake up in the morning fulfilled and are excited for the day to begin, if you are genuinely happy with normalcy and mediocrity, then more power to you.

I, for one, could never do/be that. I choose to live.
And, it would be lovely if you would join me.

I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again. - Chumbawumba

If one were never knocked down, one would never learn how to get back up and dust oneself off.

Consider, for a brief moment, your life thus far...
Did every negative experience or 'black' period not make you a stronger person or teach you some valuable lesson? Why then, do we consider such a period as being such a scourge upon us, when in reality, we should be viewing it as a blessing?

And why am I currently having such a monumentously tough time practicing what I preach in regards to this?: Because I'm human. We're remarkable beings. Rather than viewing pain, suffering, sorrow, loss, and the like as a cross to carry, we view them as God striking us down, or the ever-popular "bad luck." It could not be that we have a lesson yet to learn or some skin yet to thicken. Oh no, of course not. We're cursed, unlucky, miserable, WOE IS US.

This is tough love in its most perfect form. This is, literally, the School of Hard Knocks [not the 50 Cent/Tupac one]. This is life schooling us the only way that it knows how. And, sometimes, you need tough love in order to learn. God gives us this tough love because we stubborn creatures sometimes need it in order to reach an understanding of some sort and shan't be bothered with the lesson otherwise.

I've been the eternal learner/seeker of knowledge.
This lesson is just coming harder than most.


C.U.P.S.:
[Completely Unrelated Postscript:]

Vegetarian/Vegan frozen food is delicious whether one is vegetarian/vegan or no.
I highly recommend it.
I'm neither of the two, but every time I eat one, I picture a happy little cow smiling.
To this content bovine, I return the smile and say "Not this time, buddy."
He nods in appreciation and replies, "Thank moooooo very much."

Wow. That was corny/unnecessary. It's time for me to quit while I'm ahead.

Words of Wisdom [/Stupidity]

Don't allow yourself on the computer when you're sad and slightly intoxicated.
You'll post blog entries that you'll have to remove the next morning and hope that nobody actually got to read beforehand.

Cheers, Kurt.

Sometimes, things fall fantastically apart, and sometimes, things fall fantastically into place.
And, sometimes, both occur simultaneously...bringing an uncomfortable sense of not knowing what to do with oneself or what to feel or where one stands.

Life can be summed up best by Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five mantra,
"...and so it goes."

And so it goes...and goes...and goes...

Tonight, make me unstoppable...

Time prioritization had never been my forte.
Inevitably, procrastination gets the best of me or play is put before work. And for some reason, I remain eternally at a loss when my actions hold consequences.
I have come to the realization that the world owes me no favors. Deadlines must be met. Punctuality is not as negotiable as I may have perceived it to be.

My studies last quarter slowly slipped down my list of priorities.
And somehow, it still managed to come as a shock when my grades weren't up to par.
This quarter, I began with a renewed outlook and the same habits, as old ones die hard.
However, I refuse to let this be a repeat performance.
I will approach this quarter as the Grateful Dead, who played their songs differently each concert, refusing to fall into routine.

However, the longer I have been at the Art Institute, I have noticed a great deal of the pretentiousness I initially expected to find upon enrollment.
I've met several individuals who feel that simply a degree from the Art Institute, along with the required portfolio for graduation, is enough. They're "gifted" and therefore, opportunity will fall into their laps upon graduation.
This attitude irks me to no end.
If a person wishes to achieve something, they must work for it. The art world is competitive and vicious. It is as much about who you know as what you know. Making connections is vital. Outperforming your peers and achieving noteriety BEFORE graduation is imperative. THAT is why I work so hard outside of class on my side projects. This is my dream, and I will work as hard as need be to live it.
I'm not going to succeed because in addition to hand-rolling cigarettes, listening to the most obscure music, quoting Bukowski, being an active member of PETA, and acting elitist, I also happen to be pretty handy with a camera.

Make the most of your life.
And, if you have a dream, fight like hell for it.
Grab onto it.
Refuse to be torn from it.
Kick and scream.
And most importantly, believe in it to your dying breath.

No matter what males may come and go from my life, it's a blessing to have my best friend, Kimber, who will always be there to call me to say goodnight and "I love you."

I am truly thankful to have had her in my life for the past five years and for many more to come. I want her to be the godmother to my children, whenever that may come to be.

We always seem to reach the same epiphanies and go through the same phases simultaneously. I'm very glad we've both sorted things out for ourselves, prioritized, and are living happier, more focused, purer lives, now.

I have found my soulmate.

Thank you.

Everything In Its Right Place...

She tenderly hung her collage on the wall, careful to ensure that it remained uncreased. This collage consisted of photographs with her boyfriend, frozen memories. Smiles plastered across their faces in each one, I couldn't help but wonder the reality of it all. My focus shifted to their eyes, which I studied like textbooks, desperately searching for some iota of sorrow or suppressed emotion, but I found none. I envied their seemingly-genuine contentment to the point of resentment. I wanted to tear it from the wall and shout to all those in hearing range that temporaryism is real; it is love that is an illusion.

Jaded. The moment of realization came. The walls of my heart have caved in upon themselves, sealing the entrance to its cavernous depths. Though I have long since let go of him, I had yet to let go of the idea of him. While I loathe him and still remain unable to forgive him for all that he has done, I have nothing but sorrow at the loss of what he represented. I do not miss his presence in my bed, but I miss there being a warm body to press me against his while we drift off into dreams of the other. Yet, how can I expect to ever start anew if I keep the entrance to my heart sealed off in mourning?



"It is going to take leaving all of him behind. And I mean all. The more you hang on him, the more you end up hanging yourself on the rope he leaves behind."
[I hope you don't mind my quoting you. And, you couldn't be more correct.]


As I was driving this evening, I passed the location of our first kiss...the old abandoned hospital up the street. However, months ago, construction finally began upon the site. I had not had the opportunity to see it since. When I looked at the ever-so-familiar skyline tonight, it had changed vastly. There was no hospital to be found...just a pile of ash and rubble. And so the memories must become to me. I shall grab the ashes, handful by handful, and toss them into the wind, freeing them and simultaneously freeing myself from the noose constricting my breathing. Ash suffocates, and so it must be scattered to dance in the air and land where it may. Only then may I once again breathe deeply the pure air of the dawn, the cool air of the night.


"Earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace."

Be gracious unto him, as his soul is heavy with sin. I beg of your mercy to be gracious unto mine, as I also feel the weight of sin upon my shoulders.

From this moment on, I shall continue without the noose upon my neck, and leave behind my executioner. Breathe, Lexi...because, now, at long last, you can.

What a Literal "Buzzkill"!

After a long day at work, I joined Paul at Young's for a few beers, where, as per usual habit, we exchanged witty banter while maintaining a mild interest in what was on the bar's TV. [Well, I amend that statement. Paul paid more attention than I, as FSN was on, which I have little to no interest in.] Post-sports, the nightly news came on, during which I heard one of the most singularly disturbing stories every broadcast: a man was just sentenced to a term of between 7 and 30 years in jail for repeatedly shocking his newborn baby with a cattle-prod, beginning when the child was FOUR DAYS OLD, smashing her skull, and breaking her leg. Are you serious? Does that much evil really exist in the world? That child will spend a lifetime dealing with the pain of knowing what this monster did to her. In my humble opinion, thirty years is not long enough. I believe that chemical castration is a more apropos consequence for such behavior. In instances such as this one, regarding those who behave so atrociously as to abuse a defenseless child, I, for one, am heavily in favor of re-instating Hammurabi's Code: "If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out. If he break another man's bone, his bone shall be broken."

A child is not a possession to toss about once you've tired of it. If one has made the conscious decision to procreate or made the conscious decision to have sex [knowing that doing so could lead, whether desired or not, to procreation], then one should have the capacity to raise a child. It's inconceivable to me that someone could pick up such a fragile being [of one's own making, nonetheless] from its crib, a mere four days after its arrival into this world, and proceed to bash its skull off of a bathroom sink .......incredible ......DISGRACEFUL.



I promise to post a more positive blog, soon.
[I must be coming off as such a pessimist. I'm truly not. Things that disappoint/anger me just seem to be what naturally comes out when I sit down to write for the night.]

Pray for baby Candice.

"Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save." - Will Rogers

It's a rarity that I get a 'restful' sleep. Ever since childhood, I've had a great deal of trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. Also, I've been plagued with 'night terrors' since a young age, and from time to time, I still wake drenched in sweat and screaming. The other night, I was once again victim to my subconscious. What I had dreamt escapes me, but it was clear that I would not be going back to sleep.

I decided to watch a documentary on the National Geographic Channel that piqued my interest on the Zo'e tribe, one of the few Amazonian tribes still in existence. One portion of this documentary really resounds in my head and forces me to ponder the American way. The Zo'e hunt the indigenous primates with spears, and this is their main source of nourishment. They crouch silently and wait until the primates come out of hiding [Crouching Zo'e, Hidden Monkey]. They spend quite a bit of time plotting, wordlessly, as to the best route of attack. However, actually accomplishing their goal and killing one of these creatures takes a long time; they sometimes hunt all day for just one meal. Yet, they have the admirable patience to do so.

In America, everything revolves around instant gratification: fast food, eight-minute abs, rush-delivery, sound bites, one-liners, instant coffee, frozen dinners, the Internet, leaked albums, "spoilers," credit cards [buy now, pay later], pay-at-the-pump [we can't even walk to the cash register], products that are faster than their competitor, win the war NOW. It's an 'atrocity' that one must wait for anything, whether it's in a five-minute line at the bank or post office or for a few brief seconds at a red light. People will even get up and walk out of a film that they have paid $8 to see if it does not instantly strike them as being of quality.

Ralph Waldo Emerson took note of this frightening tendency, even 150 years ago, when he spoke of "this shallow Americanism, with its passion for sudden success."

Whatever happened to hard work, a job well-done, earned success, home-cooked meals, saving up for something desired, libraries, reading the newspaper, reading AT ALL? If the average American were told they would have to work all day for one meal, imagine the response. They would most likely scoff, jump in their SUV, and have a Big Mac in their possession in five minutes.

I can't deny a slight hypocrisy, as I have been raised in "Generation Me" and have been surrounded with this American instant gratification for the majority of my life. I enjoy digital photography, as I can instantly see my photographs on the display and make adjustments to my camera settings. However, I adore the black and white film process and feel a deep satisfaction when a print that I have spent an hour developing and fine-tuning is finally completed. When I come home and am exhausted, the convenience of a microwavable vegetarian burrito is a comfort. I conduct the majority of my research on the Internet and my credit card is currently as good as maxed out.

One of the most important lessons I've ever learned was in Jamaica. I was [as cliche as it may be] getting my hair braided by one of the locals. I knew that the time was fast approaching that I was to meet up with some friends. I questioned the woman as to what time it was and how much longer it would take to finish the braids. She laughed, a deep belly-laugh, and said to me, "Girl, you Americans so preoccupied. You in Jamaica, darling. No worries about time, here. You relax. Forget the clock." No wonder Americans are so stressed out and unhealthy, as a whole. With such a focus placed upon time, how can one's time on this earth every truly be enjoyed?

I challenge every individual reading this to spend an entire day without looking at a clock/time-telling device even ONCE.
I challenge you to go on an aimless walk, soaking in everything around you, with no ultimate destination. I challenge you to take the five-minute walk somewhere, instead of the 30-second drive; it's good for the soul in addition to the environment. I challenge you to get lost in conversation with someone. I challenge you to spend a day [or more] volunteering with a charity, rather than completing items 6, 10, and 72 on your most recent "to-do list." I challenge you to meditate.

Our time on this earth is precious and the one thing that cannot be recovered once it is lost.
How are you spending YOURS?

And Thus Begins My Romantic Hermitage...

People never cease to amaze or disappoint me.

After a month or so of singlehood, it would be an understatement to declare myself "jaded."

I have never felt so objectified in my life. It is one concept to be "sought after" and an entirely different one to be sought after purely for aesthetic and physical purposes.

I suppose I never saw this side of the male species before as when I was walking down the street, my hand was placed within the hand of another. I was the "property" of another male. The gesture marked territory. However, it has been some time since the scent of the alpha male has worn off.

Whatever happened to the act of falling in love? A pox upon ye, concept of communication. It seems as if I'm the last of a dying breed. Romanticism is antiquated; temporaryism and instant physical gratification have taken its place in the genetic code.

I have been on a few "dates," which I deem to be spectacular failures. Upon attempts at conversation beneath the comfortable surface of pop culture and "want to hear a funny story?" I was left with a one-sided conversation, receiving grunts or single-syllabic responses. On one such "date," I, God forbid, broached a somewhat-theological topic. That conversation crashed and burned, and soon led to blatant attempts on his behalf to get me to return to his apartment with him that night. I politely excused myself, thanked him for the coffee, and made my exit. [And my apologies to him if he is currently reading this. 'Tis but honesty.]

I feel as if relationships are no longer expected to have any substance to them. I need a partner who can teach me something, who I can have intellectual discussions with [or intellectual debates when our opinions differ]. I need a mate who views me as more than simply that...a mate; where are the men who seek out women of intelligence, substance, and character?

I think I'm going to abstain from a relationship for quite some time...at least until I stumble across someone who I'm positive encompasses all of the aforementioned, which, based on this past month's experiences, I'm assuming could take years. Focusing on and bettering myself has done a world of good. Therefore, I believe that any time spent 'alone' [by societal standards] can only further my growth as a person.

This is the only male I need in my life right now.

I. Me. [The First Quasi-Intellectual Blog]

I am Lexi. Lexi is me. I am the sum of my accomplishments. I am a composite of my experiences. I am simply the most recently-released version of myself. I am not the walrus. The walrus was Paul.

So, what's one to do when one finds oneself in the midst of an identity crisis? Am I in the midst of an identity crisis? What are the technical parameters that define what an identity crisis is and is not? Does one really have one, solid, absolute identity that one must identify to really have a chance at self-awareness and preservation of self? Is it self-centered and egotistical to spend so much time focusing on this concept?

I am Lexi. Lexi is me. I am lost. Was I ever "found"? Did I simply live in a fantasy world for the past few years that precluded me from realizing how lost I was? How can I be lost? Here is my body...solid matter... my fingers are typing this. They're attached to my hand, my hand to my arm, my arm to my torso, and so on and so forth. Voila! I found me.

Perhaps this is a "transitional period." However, that draws me to question from what into what am I transitioning? And isn't existence really one, big transitional period? It is the human condition to be ever-changing, ever-learning, ever-absorbing like a sponge.

I am Lexi. Lexi is me. I am disillusioned. I am disillusioned with humanity. I am soured on what we as humans do to one another. I once saw beauty in abundance. I was naive. I was happily in possession of a pair of those blinders that carriage horses wear; I could view and concentrate upon what was directly in my line of vision, but oblivious as to what was on my left, right, all around. Before my face was beauty, love, happiness, a fairy tale existence; I wasn't concerned with peripheral vision. What is one to do once those blinders are suddenly yanked off? I feel as if I am a newborn, seeing the world in its entirety for the very first time.

I am Lexi. Lexi is me. [I am still not the walrus.] I am a dreamer. I am a lover. I am passionate, fiery, vibrant. I have so much love to give. The love within me bubbles over the meniscus line of my heart til it spills out onto the floor in front of me. For the past few years, there was a storage receptacle to catch all of that overflow. Without that receptacle, I now scurry around desperately seeking another, misplacing the overflow in unworthy vessels, simply to have a vessel at all. But these vessels are not mine. They come to me to receive their self-indulgent fill and want no more. My overflow serves as a temporary ego boost for these vessels, but they do not seek permanence.

I am Lexi. Lexi is me. I am in love with love. I love to love. I am never more content than when I am loving. Giving love unto another gives me self-fulfillment and makes me feel as if I have served my purpose in this world. What IS my purpose in this world? Have I already fulfilled it unbeknownst to me? Have I already affected that one life in the way that I was intended to? And if so, where do I go from here? With my divine goal accomplished, what am I to do with the rest of my time on this earth?

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty. " - Rainer Maria Rilke

Am I poet enough? Am I currently poet enough? Was I formerly poet enough? Can I ever again recover the piece of myself that was poet enough?

TRUTH:
I used to have a solid sense of what was of importance to me. I read. I read with ferocity. Literature was prey to my hungry mind and heart. Rilke was one of my personal favorites. I learned. I sought knowledge in every experience, person, location. I traveled. I saw England, Wales, New Zealand, Australia, Jamaica, etc. In each country, I was not merely an observer. I sought to make my mark while I was there. I worked with charity. I changed the native perspective of what an American is. This was the case especially in New Zealand and Australia, as I was there directly after we entered into the war with Iraq. I enabled the hatred in the hearts of the individuals I met in these peace-seeking countries to be transformed into an understanding. I have always devoted my life to intellectual pursuits.

Then, enter: the person who became the world.

This person was not for the betterment of the mind or soul, but rather the raping of the present for everything it was worth. This person stood for selfish, unfettered indulgence, with not a care for consequence or the effect it would have upon others. This person masked this side. The exposition of these attitudes was slow and gradual, and therefore slipped past my radar. A symbiotic relationship developed. Symbiosis became co-dependence. Co-dependence resulted in my sacrificing my values, beliefs, priorities, loved ones until I was a shell of my former self and a carbon copy of him.

Then, exit: the person who became the world.

Humans are temporary. We grow, die, change, and become monsters. Never allow one individual, especially your lover to become your world. That is not love. Love is growing side by side; if you feel the growth process come to a halt, your love is unhealthy. One should always be growing, learning, giving. If your lover does not enable and encourage you to do such things, it is for their own selfish reasons. By halting your growth as a person, they are able to feel better about their own growth ceasing long ago.

I will resume my growth and plodding of my own path.
I will read again. I will learn.
I will resume my work with charity.
I will allow my overflow to spill upon those deserving vessels I left dry and wanting for years: my family and friends.
And perhaps in the process, I will finally feel that sense of self that I'd been willingly robbed of.