Vomit

It's been a while since I've done this but I'm going to attempt to regurgitate all the half-finished sentences that ran through my mind today. No masterpiece will come of it but it's sort of like finishing a breath. It's not like I have an audience who's devoted to reading my every thought, but I'm going to pretend that I do.

Have you ever watched Julia&Julia? Aside from being inspired to cook, I was also inspired by her blogging and her loyalty to tracking down her own thoughts, even when she didn't have any readers. I wonder if I can find more movies that feature the modern lay-writer. It's incredibly satisfying to see people create sentences while they're in the middle of typing them. It's like working on a Google Doc with someone - you get to see how fast they write and all the typos and pauses that are normally hidden from the other reader, as if the body was trying to spell the intricacies and nuances of thought formation.

On a day to day basis, do we always think in complete sentences? Last year, in my Short Story class, we were going over how Vladimir Nabokov wrote his works. He grew up in Russia, wrote stuff, wasn't successful, came to America, wrote stuff, became successful. But were his English works the raw albeit refined materials of his mind, or were they a translation from originally thinking in his mother tongue? I remember reading that his response to this question was that he merely thought in pictures - the words flowed out by themselves afterwards. 

But when he can write things like: “I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness-in a landscape selected at random-is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern-to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.” (Speak, Memory) it really makes really wish I could figure out his secret for explaining my punitive human condition. Alas, I'll rant more.

Speaking of movies, I watched Shall We Dance - the Japanese version - in class today! It's so cute. Go watch it.
I miss dancing (so a lady from my church is gonna teach me how to salsa @__@)
But more than that, I think I just want to watch musicals.
I miss playing in an orchestra. I miss reading sheet music. I miss exhaling deliberately into my flute so all the saliva gets out of it. I miss the soreness in my fingers. I miss having a talent.

Anyway, I have good news for today! So I've been bugging my TA in my Intro to Clinical and School Psych class about this opportunity to get some really quality hands-on experience this summer. There's a lady in his cohort (someone in his graduating class at his doctoral program) who's currently researching and writing her dissertation on how Asian families and communities receive and respond to therapy and counseling. Cool, right? That's my field of interest - Asians. It's taking a long time to coordinate meeting up with her and stuff but today he told me that she finally got everything organized and knows how I can be of best assistance to her. Yay for structure! But more than that, he told me that she's anticipating training me to be able to help guide culturally sensitive group therapy, code data, and if she publishes any of her data, MY NAME WILL BE IN IT. MY NAME COULD BE IN A RESEARCH ARTICLE THAT ONLY RESEARCHERS READ. How's that for experience, grad school?? 

I'm going to try and talk less about people I know because I find that it only adds fuel to the fire that is my insecurity about my worth. How do the 2 relate? Well, it's difficult for me to feel stable or worthwhile when I don't see anyone else treating me that way. The paranoia I have that comes from the overanalyzing I do is a safety precaution to prevent the worst from happening, which is namely to think that you care more about me than you actually do. I've written a bunch of blog posts about this already so I won't go into it again, but this is the sort of thing that falls under the family of things I hate being right about. So please let me be wrong.

Anyway, even though I'm only halfway through my 20th year, I'm already starting to see the way my life has been pointing me towards a path, whether it's due to my choices or my circumstances. I've been challenged and put through the refiner's fire but at the moment, I'm not entirely someone I don't want to be. That's not to excuse my blatant and very apparent mistakes and imperfections, but at least I'm not being forced to go to law school or to marry someone I don't know. And I think for now - those two freedoms mean a lot to me, especially when there isn't much else to keep me afloat while I'm caught in the mundanity of this drivel called existing.

I really want to put all my photos in one place. Flickr would be the easiest but I don't really like how they present the photos. Tumblr would be ideal, but it's tumblr. I want a camera that's capable of capturing mountains because I'm unnecessarily and uselessly ambitious!

No class tomorrow. Thank God Thank God Thank God.