Sunday, December 27, 2009

Unfinished Mopery

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
One broken plan
Two broken hearts
Three broken promises
Four weak knees
Five angry dances
Six months of heaven
Seven days of tears
Eight words of anger
Nine thoughts of defeat
Ten resignations
Eleven hopeful smiles
Twelve months of novelty.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


I realised something yesterday. I've been ignoring my imagination. Somewhere along the way I sort of lost track of it, mostly. Sure, I still do some weird quirky things, and I think up crazy schemes, but I recognise it as weird. At some point in school we stopped doing creative writing and fiction writing and shifted to analytical and persuasive writing. Poetry and fiction became silly and inane. I'm not sure why this happened, maybe it's part of how they prepare us for the "real world", no more silly thoughts, no more cats in rain coats or shrink rays or magical melt-proof bowls of ice cream. Maybe it's a big conspiracy theory, they're trying to convince us that you can't be normal if you're imaginative. They replaced all the teachers with robots, or conditioned them to teach us to be normal. Somewhere on some magnificent island they have taken all the fun people, the ones who write silly stories and poetry still, and draw funny pictures of giraffes wearing boots to make people smile. If they fail to normalise you they haul you off to this island. There, they teach you to be weird, as weird as possible. Salvador Dali is there, in a giant egg, throwing yellow paint at people. They tell you that you are the normal ones, and that all those suburban dwelling suit wearing folk are a grand experiment. You attend classes that teach you to stand out, so that the "normal" populous will think you're bizarre, and it will scare them. Your oddity will reinforce their conditioning. After you're done learning to be weird enough to survive, they take you back to civilisation, and they swear you to secrecy. This all takes roughly a weekend.

Maybe, if I keep this up, I'll get to go too.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


I'm tired of pushing it to the back of my mind for fear of judgement. I don't care anymore. I have to know. I can't continue pretending there is nothing there anymore when I think there very well might be. So, I'm going to talk. I'm going to let things happen naturally, let the chips fall as they may, because there is no way I can continue to ignore this. It's too important. Even if there isn't, at least I will know. I already threw away one chance, if I have another, I'm going to make it count. How's that for a New Year's resolution?

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Evergreen Essay 2009

The essay response is strongly recommended for undergraduate applicants who would like to provide some explanation of their previous academic achievements. Your response should be as thorough as possible. Limit your response to two (2) pages.

Please provide us with information about your academic preparation and why you feel you’re ready for college-level studies at Evergreen. In addition, you should describe your educational and career goals and how you believe attending The Evergreen State College will help you reach them.

It began on a windy autumn day in 1996, I was five years old. My mother and I arrived in front of the two steps leading into the classroom, as I cried, not wanting to wear the floral jumper she had so painstakingly chosen. This singular event was the beginning of a thirteen year endeavour-- one which would take me many places. It began with the basics: sharing, the alphabet, addition and subtraction, reading and writing; lessons at the core of an education. As years passed, classes grew increasingly challenging, and the change from recess to responsibilities came swiftly. My passion for certain subjects- particularly English, art, and history-- have grown over these thirteen years, as well as my ability to strive in a rigorous learning environment. Through observation and immersion in the public education system, I have developed obvious qualms with certain methods, namely the "one size fits all" teaching method, as well as the traditional grading system. Achieving a perfect GPA often seems to be emphasised more than achieving genuine comprehension and learning.

I was lucky enough to have access to the Polaris program-- a small learning community residing on the campus of North Kitsap High School-- during my sophomore year, and having experienced this program after many years in the typical system, I was extremely impressed. Class sizes were small, and courses were integrated, with instructors collaborating in order to better the curriculum. Plenty of individual attention was available to students, and students were held to a higher standard. There was an expectation that students would take the time necessary to comprehend the material, and that instructors would aid them in the learning process. For the first time in my educational career, I was challenged by the curriculum, and truly connected the courses I was taking with the world at large. Unfortunately, with the building of the high school I currently attend-- Kingston High School-- the Polaris program was disbanded, with hopes of a new beginning in a new school.

The challenge proved too great, however, and the Polaris program was put to rest. I have since reentered a typical sized high school, opting into Advanced Placement and Honours courses in search of challenge, but lacking that environment which I found so beneficial. In looking at potential colleges, I have unwaveringly recalled my experience with the Polaris program, searching out those elements which made such an impression on my education. Having courses with integrated curricula allowed me to connect the information I was learning to society, and to comprehend it in a way that I hadn't with typical courses; thus finding a college that offered integrated courses has been a paramount concern. Another concern was identifying a college which offered an alternative grading system, one which was more practical than the letter graded GPA system employed in public education. Despite my relatively high GPA, I have found that I am able to earn high grades without really learning any valuable or useful information. The only courses I have found to be an exception are Advanced Placement, which I find relatively challenging, and with a workload that requires keen study skills and organisation.

With these qualities in mind, as well as an ever-growing passion for writing, story-telling, and literature, I took The Evergreen State College into consideration. The program system offered at Evergreen seems to fit my needs perfectly, and with a range of subjects that will allow me to reach my eventual goal of working as a journalist or in the media and communications industry. Creativity and self expression has always been something of utmost importance in my life, and since the day my hands were dexterous enough to form lines on paper and my mouth to form semi-cognitive syllables, I have been reasoning and expressing thought. It started with simply drawn animals, backward letters, and an ever flowing onslaught of questions, forming a basic understanding of the world around me, and spending every waking moment pondering, exploring, and learning. Every pen, pencil, marker, and crayon was a medium to deliver a message, to tell a story. With a world full of stories waiting to be told, I go forth with that medium. By furthering my education at Evergreen State College, I hope to gain the skills and merit necessary to explore those stories and the world.

Hey Hipster

I think I might be a hipster. I'm getting too close to that stereotype, sans PBR and republic bike. I can't even afford to be a hipster, being a hipster requires some level of monetary support, because it takes money to look like an artsy homeless person. I'm just a broke ass art student. Most of my clothing has paint on it. I perpetually have paint in my hair, or between my fingers, or on the back of my elbow where I don't notice it. Everything I own is covered in a fine layer of clay dust, paint, graphite, ink, and eraser nubs. I can't help it.

Talking about myself in third person forced me to be introspective, thanks Evergreen. I'm bored. I'm genuinely fucking bored, and not even because I am a boring person (which I definitely can be, because nothing sounds better than Sudoku, coloured pencils and comic book art, and a ton of coffee in bed all day). I don't even own a bed. I sleep on a beat up old futon that has seen so much interrupted sleep it's not even funny. Well, maybe it is a little funny, but only because it completes my long standing dream of sleeping on the floor.

I'm scared too. I'm afraid of losing all that I have worked for, but then, it wouldn't really matter if that happened anyway, I could just figure out a way to work for it all over again, or work for something else.

Chloe is worried about time, she feels like she never has enough time, it goes much too fast. Chloe is terrified of what might happen. Chloe is afraid of her own potential. She fears that if she goes out and does something she'll have to recognise as remarkable, she'll be proving herself wrong. Chloe worries about things that she has no control of, and she should simply let them go.

Chloe needs someone to talk to about things, everything.

Chloe misses being in love. She falls too easily, she's been hurt too many times, but she keeps falling anyway. She's in love with love, even when it hurts. But hell, at least she has plenty of material to base melancholy stories off of, and happy sappy ones too- God forbid, I prefer to avoid such fluff.

Chloe hates it when people use apostrophes wrong. Also when they use ellipses wrong. These insignificant details drive her mad. It is not a proper ellipsis with only two periods.

Chloe is awkward and shy. She is introverted out of habit. Chloe is not insincere or cruel, she is simply afraid. Her lack of eye contact is not something to signal bad character, just nervousness.

Chloe is listening to rain on a tin roof.

I want to go to the ocean. I want to go swimming. Like when I went to Ocean Shores and I went swimming in my last dry jeans (I went swimming in the other pair the day before).

I want to stand in the waves.
I want the cold water to crash against my warm skin,
create the sensation of thousands of small antagonising needles.
To be washed of the weight of the world
and the dull numbness of monotony
by the feeling of being cold and alive.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Verdant Creativity

There once was an Old Man with a beard
Who said, "It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen
Four Larks and a Wren
Have all built their nests in my beard!"

I feel better today. I'm going to do something about this damned insomnia though. I think I'll start taking Melatonin or something, I researched it a bit today. I think it would help. All I know is that I need sleep. I hate my ceiling after staring at it so much. Despite sleep deprivation, I'm happy. I feel like things are falling back into place. I'm going to start doing little watercolours and selling them or something, I already sold one through Suhyoon. That was awesome, I didn't get much for it, but it was still cool to buy a soda with money I made by doing nothing but doing what I love to do. Best feeling ever. I'm going to be late for my meeting though. No helping it now, it's 10 minutes off and Jake still isn't here. Damned traffic.

Dismal Calculations

I've already written so much today. I have actually written an absurd amount and I'm not entirely sure how I could possibly have more to say at all, but I do. Life is weird. College is weird. Moving is weird. I feel so damned homeless. I hate it, I'm right back where I was this summer when home didn't feel like home anymore. Then the dorms didn't feel like home either. Then I lost the only semblance of home I had here on campus because I have breasts. I don't want that. Lust makes me feel weak and helpless, it makes me feel awkward. I don't want it. It's self destructive and just makes a mess of everything. But I keep getting myself into situations where that's all that the guy is interested in. What's wrong with just talking? What's wrong with just sleeping? Spine to spine, two human beings taking comfort in their similar humanity and proximity. Sure, sex is fun, but since I've gotten to college it's lost its lustre, it's just this arbitrary thing here, it doesn't mean anything. It's a liminal thing that people engage in without thought. Inebriated, messy. The general issue of being a person with protruding hips and ribs and shoulders and elbows and collarbone, and striking the perfect balance of elbow-intrusion-less sex.
I don't know. I'm just rambling and complaining. Today has been less than excellent, despite promising to be good. I want to paint. I want to move into the house, all the way. I feel so isolated in the dorms. When I'm alone in my dorm I just stare at the wall, thinking about how many states I haven't been to. I've lived in this state for 83.3% of my 18 year life. I've been to 12% of the 50 states. I am 100% unsatisfied with those mathematical calculations. I think I'm going to try and live in Boston or something over the summer. Line up a job over there and see if I can crash with Keith until I find a place. I want to see the Atlantic Ocean. I want to see the country. I feel like I'm missing out on something, that something is lacking from my college experience because my actual life experience is so limited, geographically speaking. Maybe I've just got Wanderlust. That's distinctly possible. In fact, that's it. But I don't care. I'm legally an adult and goddamnit I want to see the country. I want to struggle, I want to live. I'm tired of living here feeling numb. Smiling and laughing to survive. Dancing in the rain because it's what there is and damnit I am going to make the best of it.
I mean, in the grand scheme of things I've got it good. I have a family (albeit a crazy one) who loves me, even when they don't understand what the hell I am doing or saying. I have friends, even if they are often petty and inclusive. I have good health, despite insomnia. I'm in college, and I was able to afford it, by the skin of my teeth. So, really, I shouldn't be bitching and moaning about everything. But I'm human, I can bitch and moan. I'm entitled to be angry and hurt sometimes. I just don't care anymore. It happened, everything happened. The timeline of the past three years and the damage the events therein incurred has happened. So I deal with it. There's no point worrying about it, even though I will. Right now I just have to focus on school, and on living. On taking comfort in the small similarities. On taking comfort in the little things like soda from vending machines at 2am. On huggles and potential adventures that are just as fun to daydream about as they are to follow through with. I want to see the Ocean. I need to see the Ocean. It makes all of my problems seem insignificant.