Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goooooooodbye

I leave in the morning.
I leave. In the morning.

...

Nope, doesn't seem any more real by saying it differently. I almost backspaced back towards the top of the page because I couldn't figure out what to say after that. I'm exhausted. Naturally, I procrastinated till tonight to pack. And weed out junk I don't need. And re-pack. Seriously, how can a few skirts, shirts and necessities take up so much room?

I bought at top-loading hiking backpack from our local surplus store, and it's loaded to the brim with goodies to see me through various climates till summer.

I'm heading to San Diego first, then joining my mom in Puerto Rico for a few weeks, then hopefully on to Virginia till May or June. I've acquired a traveling companion who will adventure with me on the first bit of the trip. I wish my fingers could type the story of this acquisition as my body slept. I've decided to leave my computer at my parents' house, which means I won't likely get to tell the story any time soon. But I'm okay with that. Originally (and by that, I mean up until a few hours ago while I was packing), I was planning to go bloggo crazy on my adventures. I even made a new blog that I was all excited about (http://weneverwait.tumblr.com/). But space constraints of my bag made me stop and question how necessary it was to tell people what I was doing while I was doing it. Everyone knows I can't multitask--and I'd much rather be fully engaged in every experience than hole up somewhere with a glowing screen.

That's right glowing screen, I'm dumping you. When I come back from working on organic farms, maybe we can reevaluate our relationship. I'm hoping in the end, we'll stop goin so steady (I know, I haven't blogged in forever. But facebook and hulu have still been sucking my soul a little bit too much lately).

I doplan on staying in touch with people. Maybe I'll even learn to start answering my phone! Besides, hand-written letters are so much more exciting to get than an electronic comment on an electronic wall. Or maybe they're just more exciting for me. Meh.

Okay, I'm going to sleep now. And I'm darned excited.

P.S. my new favorite jam:

floatfloatfloat three times out of my mind

You're so ironic that it's ironic, and I can't tell whether or not that should be the opposite of a complement. I wish dada-surrealism existed outside of literature books, I wish passion existed outside of dreams. But it's all so rather cliche, and typing those words--about lack of creativity, passion, vision, adventure (I'm sure someone would whisper metametameta)--seals the deal. Yeah Yeah Yeah's have one up from Yia Yia's, and everyone thinks they're so cool--whoever they are. And who doesn't want to be cool? Outside is so hothothot with nobody able to match the sunshine's rayrayray radiance--so we all develop body shame with fears yelling I object. object. object. objectify. Let's not care that bodies are simply soulhouses and exploit the fact that souls are simply housing insecurities. I need some insurance, but the companies have already invested in my demise. And people say that I have such pretty eyes, like it's a great accomplishment. Like it matters. Because it does. not to you. never to you. always to me, this self-self-self (and) patternpanicked brain. And I'll never make sense, because this currency is so overated-outdated. I will not bind my feet bindmymind, and by my freedom am I bound? I read and read and read about it, let's all just talk about. Let's all just do something about it. And anti-consumerism is just way too cool, and being kind to the earth is just so in--so let's not do it anymore. Counter counterculture-ism, the new fantastic. And letting it be is a great escape from hollywood...i mean, it's just too hollywood. everything is too this and too that, and I don't understand the math--what's it four? Peace is War. Nonconformity is conformity. One of these is true. One of these is fuckingimportant (to fight with education against). And who cares whatwhatwhat anybody likes and does and is high shallow or hal(low)? Youcaretheycareicare but of course we're not the same. We are never the same. Theythem us. It's not like we spin on the same blue dot or anything--it's not like we're feeling the same blue emotions or anything. clichehowironiclet'slaughatthembeingironiclet'sseehowcoolwearefornotbeingcoolandstayingmainstreamornotstayingmainstream or just another stream of thoughts that no body is thinking (it's all about the brain).

I'm sick of the world (but never, never the universe) doing to do, not doing to not do -- forgetshit. let's just see whats helpful or hurtful. trend. no trend. that's what she said took over from your mom in being the trend. let's all become sociologists let's all care about society let's all care about human beings let's all be an all.

Edit: It all just clicked. (Restorative) justice compass > everything else.

Science and Buddhism/Meditation

 I found this excerpt about an article dealing with the interactions of the right and left side of the brain on The Buddhist Blog:

Enlightenment has been described in many ways, but what is common to most descriptions of enlightenment is a change in the sense of ‘self,’ and a sensation of a release from suffering. An enlightened person is said to no longer identify with herself as the individual she once was. She is also said to no longer experience negative thoughts.

Our feeling part of our Self is located in the limbic system, in this case the amygdala. In most people, the left side feels pleasure or positive emotions, and the right side experiences negative emotions. In each case, the right (positive) and left (negative) components are synaptically ‘wired’ to each other. Thoughts and emotions are communicated back and forth between both sides of the the brain along the synapses. Now here is where meditation impacts these processes. Most meditative practices involve techniques to de-emphasize, defuse or reduce negative thoughts. Over the long term, what this means in the brain is that the transmission of electrical impulses into both the right side (negative) of both the amygdala and hippocampus is reduced. Fewer negative feelings and thoughts, less activity along those pathways.

Published studies support the idea that long term meditation works by ‘starving’ the brain of negative emotions and expectations. So meditation not only trains us not to respond as intensely and frequently to negative thoughts and emotions, it also causes an ‘atrophying’ of our brain’s ability to process those thoughts and emotions. But the caveat here, is that it takes a lot of consistent practice over the long term.

I'm staring at your words and absorbing them. I've taken them. I've swallowed them, but certainly not whole. Nobody can have all of your words, because I'm sure you're still thinking them. They just haven't made it to a piece of paper (or electronic confessional box) yet. And we can pretend to know one another, and I wonder how good or bad I am at pretending. I'm an awful liar, but wish I had time to try out for the spring production. Not because a play sounds terribly exciting, but just because I wonder what I can do. Do you ever wonder what you can do, where on the line of personal reality subjectivity becomes objectivity? I suppose it doesn't. So the me I know and the me you know--maybe they wouldn't even be friends. I wish I had your words in my hand. Not in my pocket, because they'd fall forgotten like all my lost dollars. Not in my mind, because there's too much swimming about (or maybe not enough) and your words will just drown one way or the other. Please place them in my hand, but not in the palm. Lay letters that shy away from non-ironic alliteration onto my fingertips. Symbols. I see you, but you're just symbolic of a friend I'd like to know. I'm going to stop staring at your words now.

You sing about touching the sky, instead of implications. Nobody sings about implications.

There are concepts floating around my mind, bumping into each other with such force I'm surprised each are not shattered. TropeofMarginalityEssentialismOriginoftheUniverseSymbolicViolenceCriticalRaceTheory...

The infinite lines they create press hard, through, down, around, beneath me. Can you feel the pressure building? Because once knowledge arrives, the force to do something about it quickly follows. Usually, however, the how remains MIA.

I let my fingers ramble--this is what my mind looks like:

I'm going to let music seep into my spinning skin, tingling like my toes do in the face--no, eyes--of excitement and sheer terror. Is terror ever sheer? I think it's dark and tangible, slipping wooden coils (because fear can create such a device) over the bitter throat of any sort of harsh word. In the end, evil in the guise of ignorance and hate, jumps off the block that looks just like the tops of heads belonging to a million of shapely (and not so shapely) blonds (I'm not stupid, they cry). Not shapely? How can they have blond hair while lacking any sort of discernible shape? Maybe they're the dark matter of the universe, screaming loudly that YES THEY EXIST. But who doesn't exist? You can't answer that, because--well, try naming someone who has never been born. Orphan Annie? Yes, but she was born into the imagination of Harold Gray who probably stole her from some other mind or some other woven basket. Isn't the world woven (just look at the concept of wormholes), and every new thought just a disgustingly lovable regurgitation of past ideas?

I'd like to continue this. And dammit, why didn't I do that case study for PR Principles instead of blog random words that actually make (much more) sense to me?