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illusence
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Name: Ms.
State: California
Gender: Female
Interests: study art, write, listen to music, study psychology, HTML, computers, play some sports, and do a ton of other things... :)
Expertise: pondering upon the meaning of life and confusing the heck out of people!
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  illusence
Member Since:
1/30/2004
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| Damn, it's funny how much we change.
For weeks–longer than that obviously, but for our purposes it's easier to narrow it down to that time period–I've been struggling with the passage of time. Four years seemed to soar by in the blink of an eye. I was afraid that college would fly by just as fast as high school seemed to have: I still remember bits and pieces of things from the past few years as if they had occurred but a week ago. I still remember some of the things I did in middle school and think, has it really been over four YEARS since I stopped doing that?
But reading through this helped me overcome all of that. Just seeing how much really happened in those years–hidden in pages of text, public and private–that I would never have remembered otherwise... It's staggering, really. I've changed so much. Reading some of this, I can hardly imagine what I must have been thinking when I was writing it... Sometimes, it's impossible for me to believe that I am the same person as the girl who wrote dozens and dozens of these entries religiously in the span of two years.
And yet there are still pieces of me that think of the same things, struggle with the same problems, and try to express the same feelings as the 'me' that wrote these entries over the years. This brings me comfort. Even though I know I'll continue to change and evolve–for better or worse–continuously in the years, I will always have the same unique core that I developed as an individual somehow, years ago, without even realizing it.
If anyone is currently reading this, I can only imagine under what circumstances you've been brought to the Xanga page of a now college student, an old blog of a self-amused and over-stressed SoCal teen which has been relatively inactive for almost three years. In any case, perhaps you'd be interested in knowing that I've decided to publish my thoughts as a book. Not for you, silly, I don't expect you to be interested. I'm getting a copy for myself. I was astounded that none of my material has been deleted after so many months of no new updates... And then incredibly grateful. Reading back, I found so much material that helped me regain tremendous insights into myself: insights that were lost to me, and could have been lost to me forever had my work been destroyed. I don't expect this to be a work of literary merit, or something that is of any interest to anybody else. I simply want to immortalize my thoughts, for lack of a better word.
This way, maybe, one day, when I'm searching through all my college documents and textbooks after graduation from Stanford as a computer engineer, trying to decide what to bring with me on my new adventures in Hawaii, I might run into all this old new knowledge one more time, and it'll once again help ground me and remind me that things are going to be okay. | | |
| music.
we relate everything back to ourselves, don't we? all those songs that make us feel... but what we feel is already inside us. nostalgia, longing, rage, hysteria, pure joy... anything from the slightest nagging at the back of your consciousness to a full-on slap in the face you never saw coming. but eveything, all of it, stems around YOU. whether it's self pity or satisfaction with yourself, anger or frustration at how others have hurt you, the emotions that are generated from songs surround you, your situation, your ambitions, failures, relations, your outlooks, you you you. and it all comes down to the basics. you listen to the words and they make you feel deep, and you suddenly feel as if you've discovered something about the world, something beautiful and concealed. you feel as if a void has been temporarily filled.. and it can make you beam with joy or cry with understanding. or one day you may hear the words and they have a different meaning now, and suddenly you realize how lonely and isolated you feel, and that pity sinks in. it could be another song. it could be the same one. music is very iridescent. you look at it from a different angle in order to see the exact shade you want to. and sometimes you see the ones you try to avoid, the ones that point out your flaws and failures.
this isnt what i was trying to say.
its usually what i'm trying to say. damn the time.
the world. i feel the world
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| i have never written anything so simultaneously loaded and dry
before. i owe you an apology. i will not be used to channel hate. i feel like
i've done something irreversible by spitting out those empty implications. but
i can't help it. i can't ignore or forget the image of some white background as it molds
around and caresses every letter. but those words won't disappear, in fact
they're burned deeper into the page the longer you try to make them vanish. and now it's permanent.
it's so much more suiting to write it on a black background. something so dark
and malevolent should never be so blatantly highlighted and urged on into the
eyes and minds of everyone... it should be sucked and absolved back into the
darkness from which it rose. | | |
| it's like looking at yourself from the side. looking yourself square in the eye and thinking, is this what i want myself to be? what would you say? do you remember what you were thinking? do you even care? is it another deformed cry for attention so intricately, flawlessly pieced together on a lonely wednesday afternoon in the same old place, with the same old people gone, away, and waiting? waiting. day after day for something to break through. starting AGAIN and again but always beaten down, laughing, mocked. it's there. where are you? i'm afraid of losing you just as i'm afraid that one day the sun will set and never rise again. i'm tired of waiting for tomorrow's dawn when it brings back the same heat with more intensity. have you ever thought it might one day explode? will the fall and winter soothe? or will it just wither. do just that. wither away. unnoticed by so many because it's just part of the cycle. you sure as hell managed to uphold that image of yours.
they may look so beautiful at first. so full of fucking meaning, a statement, a SCREAM out to the world that i'm fucking TOUGHER THAN YOU. you've sure managed to show it. congratulations, conformist. you're just like everyone else now. do you think it drains them too? do they lower their gaze and realize that material can't penetrate what they're trying to kill? you have to find that silver stake before trying to drive it through the source and seeing it disintegrate to dust....either way. but you're not ready to let it go and watch it die, are you? if a surface scrape ignites so much weakness and insecurity, imagine what the termination of everything but a tiny speck will do. you're not tougher than anyone. you're not even thougher than yourself.
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