Charles Bukowski on the meaning of life:

For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command or faith a dictum. I am my own God.

We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state and our educational system.

We are here to drink beer.

We are here to kill war.

We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.

found via: Explore – For those who believe in God, most of the big….

Lately – him: “How are you?” me: “Crazy”

I am wanting to tie each of my ringlets into their own little pony tails, cut each one off at my roots and nail them to my wall. But I’m thinking that I’ll wait to do this until I’m in school,
so I can call it art.

Also, I just got out of more than 48 hours in an SUV with 4 friends driving straight from
San Francisco. Fully equipped with,

-all the nasty gas station coffee you can imagine.
-being pulled over somewhere in Idaho(maybe) around 1am and having a canine unit search our vehicle for merijuana, coke, crack, heroine and meth amphetamines, ect. The dog was so cute, and we were cleared.
-so many U-turns, mixed exists and swearing.
-spilling(getting) gasoline(gushing) all over myself and my clothes, in my defense it was the 5th time I’d pumped gas ever. The first time being a little under two weeks ago, at the beginning of this trip.
-arriving at the US-Canadian border at 11:30pm only to find that it was not in fact open 24 hours, and sleeping in the car for night number two.
-car light-strobe light dance parties.
-super giddy laugh attacks at 3 hour intervals.

Before that we were all over the US of A, including every gas station washroom along the number one highway, Coachella music festival, Las Vegas, and the Grand Canyon. Our trip was only 11 days long but it felt like a month, expect so many photos.

Also: hugging may cause head wounds, according to me.

Two weeks ago I was at a house show party, excitedly drinking too much wine and coconut flavored Rockstar energy drinks spiked with vodka. While hugging a (really rad) girl named Morgan too vigorously, we fell backwards somehow and I hit the back of my head on the edge of the sidewalk. My friends took me to the emergency, I had a small patch of hair shaved(cue very dramatic and hilarious hospital scene), got three stitches, and a wicked concussion. Expect so many photos. (see first sentence of this post)

Also, I’ve been so inspired from all this highway-catch up on day dreams-thought process-reading time that my notebook is overflowing with ideas and and and
I’m really excited/overwhelmed.

But, also, very very sadly, my house’s beloved cat Cracker died without me knowing before leaving on our trip and I only just found out today(welcome home!) He was so rad, just the spunky-est all white little-lion feline. He had leukemia and had to be put down.

I’ve lived with him for almost two years and will miss him waking me up for work with little paw pats to my nose so bad. Sort of ironically, the first sign that he wasn’t doing so well was that he started to pull out all of his own hair. (see first sentence in this post)

Things are crazy. Expect so many photos.

Time Traveling

December has been an intense month for me.

It marks the sixth year since my dad died of brain cancer.

So strange how time passes, but in an instant can fold in on itself. I’ve felt so far from that time while also unbearably near. Suffering from  physical and emotional pain so all encompassing I felt like I’d time travelled.

Flashbacks, heartaches, headaches.
Days where I couldn’t stop crying for more than 20 minutes at a time.
Days where I was fine one minute and hyperventilating the next.

I started to call it ‘death aches’.

Like my insides could rip through me at any time. Like not being able to look in the mirror because my face reminds me of his. Like I didn’t have the ability to hold myself in this present world. Like nothing, my sanity included, was safe.

December has been kind of scary for me in that way.

Feeling like I’m “closer to the crazy” (than usual).

I’ve forgotten if last year was like this.
I was completely caught off guard by the effect the anniversary would have on me.
It’s like I’d somehow forgotten how much grief can hurt.

Karen (my art therapist, and friend) says that my body remembers. That we live in cycles, that the time lapsing-seasonal-triggers make a lot of sense.

After working with her this fall, I feel like I may be more self aware. I’m closer to raw, but I’m also closer to strength. I am quicker to identify the things I’m feeling, more trusting in asking for help and being honest with myself. The pain may be just as awful as it was then, but I am quicker to bounce back, I’m learning what helps and what doesn’t.

After having so many in my life and especially this month, I’ve sort of developed a system to battle breakdowns:

1. Call a friend.

– In my experience, I will often spiral quickly into completely irrational thoughts if I’m alone for too long in breakdown world. The sooner I surrender my despair to someone who can reassure me that I’ll be okay, the sooner I can feel like myself again.

Also, sometimes it’s enough just to have a conversation about every day mundane things, or say nothing and just be held by someone.

Note. My friends are incredibly supportive and open. (thank you thank you thank you!)

2. Write about it.

-When I can see my thoughts and emotions on the page, outside of my mind, cut and paste-able, re-visit-able and safe, than I can begin to let them go. I can accept what they were and my helplessness begins to disperse. When I’m creating from my emotions and experiences than I can more easily accept their purpose.

Note. I don’t usually read back (usually at least) until I’m in a new head space.

3. Look/read through old journal/sketchbooks from a similar crisis or time of year.

-Shortly after my dads death, when I was deepest in my depression, I used the image of the person I wanted to be to guide me (and I still do this). I knew what direction I wanted to go in, but didn’t know how to get there. So when in doubt, I would ask myself what I thought she would do, sort of like my own made-up-fairy-godmother. Now, looking back on the self that had the strength to live through those things, is incredibly comforting.

I feel like my past and future selves are considerably wiser than my present moment-living-experiencing self, if that makes sense.

Here are some of my favorite pages (of no specific theme) found while looking through old journals.