Author: lindsey

I have officially been accepted to the University of Hawai’i at Hilo.

Is it just me, or is it really weird to take a shower while it’s raining outside? I don’t know, it just kind of seems pointless, in a way. I’m really freaking hungry. My stomach just growled really loudly and I thought it was thunder. I’ve been eating a whole lot in the past few days though… like always becoming uncomfortably full, so being hungry actually feels good.

I did some yoga yesterday… very nice. And I don’t know if you’ve seen me, but I got a spray tan and I’m really dark. I like it, although… I kinda miss the white me. Lindsey, the other white meat. Hahaha…. cough As I compare myself to pork.

I cleaned out my closet the other day and decided to give my prom dress to charity. But not before I took a few memorial pictures of it. They turned out kind of weird because of the lighting. The dress is actually a light blue. I think the dress is really pretty but I look at it now and think that the person I am now would choose something more fun, more flashy, something I could really dance in. But back then, I was all about the fairytale prom, which actually, all that preparation and expectation made it suck. So… there ya go, life lesson. Don’t plan too much. Just have fun.

Yesterday Alesha, Becky and I were hanging out when the sirens went off, AGAIN. So what did we, as good Okies, do? We ran outside, of course. Alesha and I had our cameras ready, determined to get a good picture of a tornado. But Muskogee proper hasn’t been hit by a tornado in 60-some odd years (Not counting OG&E. That’s not in city limits.) and so it blew by us once again.

At one point we were trying to get on Alesha’s roof, and succeeded with her car and a stepladder, but the view wasn’t that great up there, and before we had the stepladder I tried to hoist myself up and really hurt my stomach. It’s all bruised now. We are such idiots. The storm made a lot of cool swirly-cloud-ness but no tornado. The picture up there is kind of bad. Why do pictures of the sky hardly ever turn out that good? Anyway, there’s some kind of spark or light in the picture and I have no idea what it is. Lightning? Rain drop reflecting street light? UFO? Ghosts? Your guess is as good as mine. But the clouds were really turning, and it kind of looked like a donut. Or the scene from Ghostbusters above the tower. I would just really like to see a tornado. Just once. I’ve seen several funnel clouds but no tornado. Argh. I should have been a storm chaser.

Gah!! I have posted all my pictures taken with my digital camera on the photography page, and therefore have none left to post on an entry. And today… was just not a photo op day, let me tell ya.

I’m tired… and a little sad for some reason unbeknownst to me… and my hamster Cosmo pooed on my hand when I was holding him earlier… that really sucks.

I have finished Alias Season 1, and I have to say I really love the show. Not as much as Roswell, or Buffy, but very close to ER and highly entertaining. I’ve also been watching Sex and the City, which is… okay. I guess. Kinda funny. I actually like it because the episodes are only 30 minutes long.

I need to take a moment and tell all my faithful readers just how much I appreciate you. I mean… yeah, I like to hear myself talk, er, type, but it’s just not the same if nobody’s there to read it. I really love you guys. little tear And I have SOME friends that don’t ever take the time. And although my purpose is not to count or judge, you kind of notice a difference with your online friends. It’s like you know each other on two sides, and I really like that. I’m just rambling, anyway. As long as I have internet access, I will have a website, no matter who’s reading. I’m not really sure when that became the rule. I think the 9th grade. Wow. Eight years. I’ve had a website for eight years. Well, not just one, but you know what I mean, I guess. I wish I had some pictures of my very earliest Geocities pages, but then again I kinda don’t. I bet they sucked.

So this is me… Lindsey… revealing personal thoughts to the unknown masses once again. Feeling a little lonely, but slightly comforted by the soothing mechanical computer hum once again. Changing and becoming a woman I don’t yet know once again.

Well, hello there. Yes, I finally changed it. It’s still not all finished, but I was tired of waiting. I hope this picture thing turns out okay. I’m tired of tweaking things. I feel much more focused since that last entry. And I really want to thank all of you that responded. It really helped.

The tireless question.

It never ceases to amaze me. I can see the most beautiful things. I can experience so much. I can spend hours with my friends perfectly happy, or hours at work on brain standby. I can go to class fully concentrating on my intellectual pursuits. But when I get home, flip the light switch in my room revealing that it is, in fact, empty, the same thing always happens. I feel a little sad, a little lost. Why? Because I don’t know who I am.

What makes you you? There are billions of people on this planet, and yet somehow we are all unique? Everyone has several “twins” out there, no thought is ever new or original. No matter how hard we try, there is a small group of people out there that like everything we like, hate everything we hate. How are you supposed to find your place in this world? Life moves at a flashing rate. When somebody dies, perhaps one or two will remember you regularly until they die. Even for famous people, people that have made their mark on this world, that mark quickly fades. In a century or two, no one remembers you. You’re just a name in a history book that students have to memorize for twenty minutes before a test. So what is it? What is the point? Obviously, to place yourself in the large scheme of things, to make yourself known in the world, would not be the correct path. That leads me to believe that the point of living is internal. Life is meant to be viewed and enjoyed in the short-term faculty of the temporary, narrow-sighted, easily biased and highly unobjective viewpoint of your brain. Therefore, who you are is who you feel you are, who you believe yourself to be. Life is what you make it.

So what if you have low self-esteem? What if you don’t know who “you” is? I certainly don’t. I wish that I did. Some people say it comes with age, but I’ve seen older people who still don’t know who they are and I’ve seen teenagers that are absolutely, truthfully sure of themselves. Who understand and accept human nature, including thier own. I have noticed that my opinions get more set as I get older. But is that not just the brain accepting and enjoying what it knows? Doesn’t that mean I’m just getting more narrow-minded and set in my ways? I never wanted to be like that. I’ve always prided myself on being more open-minded than most people.

I was thinking maybe it was heritage. People that know where they came from are people that know who they are. Maybe that’s why so many people today look to every conceivable distraction they can find, since so many of us Americans are a veritable melting pot of blood. Let’s see what I know. I know I’m Cherokee. I have the card. But I’ve never felt it and I certainly don’t look it. I’m pretty sure I’m Irish. I feel a little closer to that but not much. As for anything else, who knows? My dad doesn’t know his family. He could, if he wanted to, but he refuses. I don’t think he understands sometimes why I want him to contact them. I NEED to know who I am. Doesn’t he?

Another thing I know. I connect to the Japanese culture unlike anything else. I feel Japanese on the inside. Sometimes I think I’m like a transsexual, only I’m a Japanese trapped in an American’s body. If I wore a kimono, would that make me a cultural transvestite? I definetely don’t understand that. Despite my knowing how I feel on the inside, it only makes me more confused about who I am. Why would I feel these things? There’s no reason. I have this theory that somewhere along my dad’s line, like maybe his grandma or something, there was a Japanese. That would at least explain the feeling. Or perhaps I was Japanese in a past life. Who knows?

So as far as heritage, I’m screwed. What about the land I was born in? I do have to admit that I feel a kinship with Oklahoma. I’m at least the fourth generation that’s been born in Green Country, and I love the fact that the weather can change in an instant, that a tornado could blow in my path at any second, that underneath this layer of dirt there’s strong red clay. I love the hills and I love Muskogee simply for the fact that I know it like the back of my hand. (I’ve always hated that expression. Who stares at the back of their hand all the time? It changes as much as your palms, anyway. Which is constantly.)

Even knowing Oklahoma, I want to leave it. I desperately want to see what I haven’t seen. But neither of these things makes me me. I want to know myself. I look in the mirror sometimes, and don’t recognize myself. And other times I have this picture of myself based on what I feel like on the inside, and when I look in the mirror I’m sorely disappointed. My happy mood stumbles to a halt. In this world of anorexic beauties and the obesity epidemic, where do I fit in? I’m somewhere in the middle. And if it’s lukewarm, you spit it out. I’m constantly worrying I’m falling into one category while frantically trying to reach the other. Meanwhile, I don’t think either of them are beautiful. I just see sad people that don’t know who they are, just like me. And yet the struggle never ceases.

I try to collect things. I lust after the material hoping to build a wall around myself. ‘See? This is who I am. My collection of these things.’ It doesn’t work. And it leaves you broke. So no.

I have obsessions. They serve the same purpose as the things. When my friends are describing me to other people, they can say “Oh, Lindsey, yeah, she’s the one that loves insert Japan/Hello Kitty/Splashdown/indie films/Halo here.” I don’t want to be described like that anymore! I can’t believe I seriously used to believe that this is what made you you. I really did. Ugh.

I don’t know who I am, but I know that she’s in there. My mind. I just have to find her. Maybe it’s in the way I think, the way I see things, the way I write, the things I think about. But I can never express those things the way I want to. And the only time I was in any kind of co-dependant love those things were never brought up anyway. Wait. I just mentioned the unimportance of my mind in relationship to love. No. See. I want love. I miss love. And I know the reason why I want it so badly is because I don’t know myself. When you’re in love, you don’t have to know, because two people become one. You only half to work half as hard to be an individual.

I think if I knew myself, I wouldn’t be so lonely. But then I ask myself if that’s the only reason I want to know. To relieve the loneliness? Seems like a terrible reason to try to figure out the most important question of your life. I had begun, once, sitting on the Fine Arts stage in a class my Junior year, to truly be content with myself. I had taken the first step to being a completely autonomous individual. And two weeks later, Randy told me he liked me “like that.” And when it was over, the precious little success I had made at being myself had been lost. I had stepped backwards, even. And now, two years later, have I really gotten that much further? There are moments when I want to scream at that girl sitting on the stage… to hug her and cry and tell her to just keep going the way she’s going and never let anyone stop her. But I can’t. And that makes it that much harder.

Why am I leaving? Why do I feel the need to go so far away? I’ve been asked that, several times. People truly don’t understand why. And I don’t expect them to, because they have different lives than mine. So why? Because I’m smothering here. I leave my house and I just see memories. I go to work and I realize that my ambitious, intellectual self is dying inside of me. Because although I truly love my friends and my family, I’ll never know who I am if I don’t leave my heritage and my birth land and my memories and my life as I know it. That doesn’t mean I’ll never come back. It just means I have to go, as scary and thrilling and sad and hopeful as that may be.

Maybe I am just a ball of delusion. Maybe I’ll reach a point, years from now, having done all these things and realize that I am no closer to knowing. Maybe so. But no one ever succeeded without failing. And sometimes just the trying is enough. So I’ll take that knowledge with me. And maybe, sitting in a strange environment, surrounded by strange people, I might just realize that I’m the strange one, and be absolutely comfortable with that.

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Okay, this is really bothering me. I made a guestbook entry on Duane’s website, and then I tried to make another one, and it won’t let me. Anyway, here’s the gist of it:

The below comment has the attitude of all in good fun laced with truth. Although the writer may be serious in her views, you’re not supposed to see it that way. Below comment + grain of salt = avoidance of conflict. Thank you.
Okay… I was reading Froston’s entry. (My curiosity got the better of me.) He’s only had two pieces of fruit in his entire life?!! That’s the boy’s problem!!! Eat some fiber! Take a shit! You never know what might fall out. You know, like… sticks… and stuff.

So there ya go. Duane, you should put this in your next entry. And “What a choad.” is the second phrase of mine you’ve used!!! I’m not going to be original anymore… sniff Well, technically, I stole it from Matt, and Alesha stole it from me. But… it’s still mine. MINE. My precious.

Wheeeee….

I’m tired.

Sometimes I lose myself.

Sometimes I need to know everything there is to know in the whole world. I need it, as if knowing it meant it was mine. There is no outside, only this entire inner universe which I possess. Then would I be satisfied? Now, the not knowing just leaves a bitter metallic feeling in my mind. Sometimes I crave more knowledge so badly that my entire body aches for it. It drives me more than anything else in this life. It’s not that I care for it more, or that given a choice, it’s what I would choose. I just need it.

I had several unexpected dreams last night. One was unexpected because it contained someone I think would understand my thirst for knowledge. I haven’t even seen him in years. And even then, we were never even friends or anything. But I appreciated his mind. I appreciated his mind from afar. He looked completely different in my dream, but I knew it was him. I always expected him to do great things, but I think I saw him a while ago with a family. A normal guy. But now that I think about it, in my malfunctioning memory, that might’ve been a dream too. Maybe he didn’t even exist. Maybe he’s just that aspect of my personality, showing up in my dreams and working its way back into my memory. I’m starting to think there are several people that don’t really exist, they are just different angles of myself. This has happened before, where my memory gets confused and I can’t actually trust it. Surprisingly, it doesn’t scare me.

The fact that he was so changed in the dream means that that part of me must have changed dramatically too. I didn’t like what I saw. It wasn’t right. I wish I knew what this hunger was. It feels like greed. At times like this, it seems like listening to Massive Attack is the only way to make it feel better. It helps me to believe that I’m really not crazy, just… sensitive. Like an ultra-emotion-receiver.

It’s funny, I always know when I’ve lost myself, but I don’t actually ever realize I was ever found until I lose myself again.

Ugh. I am working on the new layout, and I have a TON of new pictures, but I’m so tired. I’ve been going nonstop lately, seems like. Just so you know, I probably won’t be doing much of anything online until next Thursday, because now through Monday my schedule is packed, and my term paper is due Thursday night. So bear with me. It will happen, eventually. Ja ne for now.

The website I mentioned yesterday, which used to be http://a.lifeuncommon.org is forever gone, but the woman that made it created another site, chicago uncommon, where she sells her photography. The layout is still clean and simple, like the other one, but it’s pretty different, so I feel okay about having a tribute to the old one. (It’s not layout borrowing when it’s a tribute.)

Okay, I have seen a lot of weird things… and accepted them. Many things that the rest of the world thinks is weird is normal for me. But I have to say this. It really shocked me, but I thought Princess Mononoke… was WEIRD. Like a really strange weird. Like just a little bit over Spirited Away weird. I still liked it as a whole, and there were certain things about it that I loved (the little tree things!! kodama? kawaii! i want one) but it doesn’t make the top of the list. Why am I critiquing it so much? I think I just refuse to love it because it is mainstream.

What is my deal with that? Is it because I feel that my mind has to be superior to the masses and therefore understands things on a higher level? Well, yes. But I don’t think other people are less smart than I because they like something mainstream. I don’t immediately judge someone ELSE because they like something everyone else likes. So why am I so hard on myself? I don’t know… I guess I’m just weird. Really weird. Like… Princess Mononoke weird.

Oh, and by the way, I thought the celebs did okay on it, especially Billy Crudup and Claire Danes, but I thought Billy Bob Thornton did a terrible job. Hardly any emotion in his voice… very monotone.

Egads. I have spent about three hours now on the menu of the new layout. Just the menu. It’s dynamic HTML, and I am suddenly much closer to it. You guys better appreciate this. Wait… no… I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for me, right? Well, I appreciate me then.

I have pictures!! But I’m not even going to attempt putting them up tonight. I’m going to veg out and watch Princess Mononoke, which I have never seen before. I’m sure I’ll hate it because it’s an anime in English. Yeah, yeah, celebrity voices. Who cares? I’m putting subtitles on it anyway. I think I just like subtitles.

Now that I have the menu down, it shouldn’t be long. I hope. The new layout is simple but nice, and it’s a tribute to a website I used to love which has been gone for quite a while. It had a very similar layout, and she had lots of lovely pictures.

Oh, yes. Also I got a Siberian Dwarf Hamster. His name is Cosmo and he’s the cutest thing EVER. Let’s hope I have better luck with hamsters than with turtles.

Songs on Continuous Repeat: She Wants to Move – N.E.R.D. and No Matter What You Do – Benny Benassi