Who Could Love Being A Dental Hygienist?

I'm not one of those people who can be found browsing the internet all day.
I don't have cool articles to link, I don't find cool art making programs, I don't find quizzes or funny jokes to forward.
So at times I have nothing to post.
I am sitting here, laptop on lap, where it should be, hence the name, drinking my decaf and trying to think of a story to tell, a circumstance to render.
I don't got shit, essay.

I'm looking at a photo of my sister and her fiance, propped up against a vase on my mom's mantle. They're getting married in less than 1 year. It's all very grown up.
They have a large, decorated house, 2 nice cars, 2 small dogs, new furniture, decent jobs, and cruises for vacations. I turned 22, 2 months ago. She turned 22, 1 month ago.
It freaks me out. Is she too grown up, or am I not grown up enough? Will I ever grow up? What the fuck does it mean to grow up? To bury yourself in responsibilities of the material kind?
To settle into marriage with someone you never could seem to fully let yourself love, over time either ending in divorce (thank god!) or eventually twisting you with such a bitterness that you vomit out a little each time you speak to that person? Does it mean you should attend 4 years of college getting your business degree, or maybe a trade school, so you can have a job that "pays well and has good benefits"? Is that what's important to a grown up?
Then I'm not sure I aspire to be one.

You know, it's easy to point at all the things you don't want to be. But what about what you do want to be? It's not so easy. And it's really not so easy to be those things. I think the ultimate pointing at the things you don't want to be is to be the things you do want to be and never give a single point to the things you don't want to be. You're living it. It's obvious to every one. You aren't just paying lip service.
And I'm talking out of my ass.

Let me ask a question.....What the fuck do I know?
Let me go ahead and answer that......Shit.

My plan is to go running again today. It's 10:22 in the morning and in Houston, at the end of May, that means it's fucking hot. I am not thrilled, but I'll probably go anyway.
I just have to summon my inner masochist.
She-it.

Just a Little Desperation, Nothing Fancy

Drinking decaf again.
I just can't seem to handle the caffeine.
I'm about to go running. I can't be expected to do it absolutely first in the morning.
It is the first day of a new attempt of mine to exercise. This time it's not for my figure, it's for my sanity.
I've been feeling like I'm having PMS some part of almost everyday, so I'm trying anything.
Exercise, no caffinated coffee, painting, walking.
I'm pretty desperate.
The approaching Mexico trip seems unimportant in comparison.

If anyone read this, I'd ask for any tips for recurring beastial, blackhole, depression.
I'd ask for tips on how to not be so negative.
Any suggestions for finding happiness and fulfillment.
That comes last.
You have to move the old out before the new can move in.

Deep Thoughts

Nothing like the smell of decaf in the morning.
I'm bouncing off the mofucking walls.
Am I sure I got decaf?

Tanglewood

I just can't help it...I'm addicted to Air...
I feel that if I'm listening to something I should share it with every member of my vast fan base.
So, I'm listening to Air again.

Tomorrow morning I trade one suburban hell for another of similar proportions.
Two more weeks.
I don't know if I can hang.
I'll be in Houston, and we all know what happens when I'm in Houston.
I won't leave the neighborhood, I'll make a few feeble attempts at exercise, I'll sit on the off white, still semi-new, leather couch my mom bought to keep up with the Hewlett Packard division of the Joneses, staring around the room, searching for something interesting to write about, since it sure as hell won't be the events of my day (uh, sitting around can be interesting, right?), and failing because my imagination doesn't function in a void.

I hope my mom never reads this. I think it would hurt her feelings.

Houston...
If only there were more than a single acre of forested land within a hundred mile radius of that city. I'm exaggerating. I'm displacing blame. The incredible suction of the black holes that are my mom's living room and Direct TV, renders me incapable of any adventuring beyond weed fueled walks around the detention pond.
Yes, I do plan on smoking while I'm there. Oh Lord I gotta!

"Cause it's just another day
You will lose it anyway."
Air

They're French. The simplicity of their lyrics is haunting.
They make me feel high when I'm not.
My soul feels light, clean. Airy.

Acid Brain Rain

Barely awake, well fed, teeth, unbrushed.
Awake all last night with James' mom's foster baby, (Sergio for short).
I'm seriously rethinking ever having chldren.
Sergio wasn't even crying. He was just awake.
Obviously my resolve was never that strong.

I dreamt, when I finally slept, one of those epic, awesomely fantastical dreams that, according to waking memory, lasted the entire night. Or in my case, from 5 to 11 am.
The only thing I remember is my breast tissue being removed (cancer, I guess) and replaced with implants, the left one bigger than the right. I had a mild interest in the fact that I then knew what it was like to have breast implants, but beyond that, I was unphased by the whole thing.
A silly souvenir from a night of hard core dreaming...

I like hard core.
So pleasingly cheesy.

I guess I have nothing better to do from this point than to recount my day, and my day before.
I colored a picture of Zazu landing on a log from my Lion King coloring book last night.
It was excellent if I do say so myself. I felt a real sense of accomplishment.
The sky line...:::sigh:::...muy magnifique.

In really good blog's that I read, the authors choose one story, sometimes only slightly exceptional, and tell only that, primping, fluffing and elaborating it along the way.
Sometimes I get this, and I'll make a decent job of it.
Other times, this being one, I lack the mental focus, and capacity, to relate even only a couple of the events of my day in a mildly interesting fashion.
Today my brain feels like a wisp of cloud. Or a little rotten fart of smog. In either case, nothing palpably substantial. And nothing, to my knowlege, comes from brain clouds, or brain smog, besides brain rain, or worse, acid brain rain.
Now brain fog is another thing. I can't tell you how many pieces of esoteric stoner art I've made with a mean fog on the brain.

I'm rambling. While reading the above paragraph, one might not imagine that it's long enough to constitute rambling, but believe me, it took longer to write than you think.
No, not because of the fog. Because of the smog.
Yeah, poetry time!
I'm a real idiot.
On that note.....peace....

Air and Crises

Two weeks to Mexico.
Two weeks to another chance.
A chance to allow my environment to catalyze me instead of vice versa.
Another chance...

Do you ever feel like you're running out of chances?
Through trial and error the options are being eliminated, that perceived window growing more and more closed.
Options for what?
For happiness...fulfillment?
And was it ever a chance if it was never the right one to begin with?
So, do you ever feel like you're running out of percieved chances?
I guess the answer to that is always yes, because if it was no, you'd be wrong.
You are always running out of perceived chances, and you never run out of real chances because there is only one.
One set.
There is one right way for me.
But is it in Mexico?
Who can say?

I'm listening to Air. A new favorite. Cherry Blossom Girl.
http://atomfilms.shockwave.com/af/content/air_cherry_blossom
Watch this video. Also listen to it.
I drew yesterday. I wrote in my journal.
I wallowed, felt guilty, bitter, hopeless.
Everyday is the same.
Not every day, but everyday lately.

Jesus, the things I write about some times.
They're so 22.
The spring time of my discontent.
I'm beginning to wonder if life isn't just one continuous crisis interrupted sporadically by "coffee breaks" of happiness and understanding.
The toddler years of domestication and potty training, puberty, the early 20's identity crisis, the "oh shit I'm gonna die someday" crisis, the midlife crisis, the "oh shit I'm gonna die soon since I'm old" crisis, and the pervasive "why?" crisis, which can span almost the entire length of your life.
And these are just commonly known crises.
I'm only 22. Who knows what else lies in wait for me.
(cue God)
:::ahem...God?...your cue:::

Just joking.

Absolute Crap

I'm just back from a run and I'm sweating like a mofucking pig. Or actually, opposite of a mofucking pig.
A month and a half of beer bingeing and 24 hour Jack in the Box, and I've put on about 7 more pounds than I normally have.
So now I'm being active and doing exercises and eating well. Kind of boring, but so is being drunk all the time, after a while.
I'm in Rockport. Been doing yard work and other kinds of work for James' mom.
I don't know why I'm writing down the details of my day.
I don't even write that crap in my private journal.
In fact, lately I don't write much of anything in my private journal.
Right now I'm interested in more active and manual persuits.
Like landscaping. And power tools.
When I get back from Mexico, I'm thinking I'll get a job with my uncle who does construction, and he'll teach me how to do those sorts of things.
I also have a friend who works doing landscaping and I'm thinking she can get me a job with that.
I've just realized what absolute crap I'm writing, and since I've already written it, i'm leaving it. And so you all know what I'm doing and where I am with writing, I leave you this piece of shit.

My Mind

Music: Motino Unit, Andain, Rabbit in the Moon


I'll say that this hasn't been the most creative of times for me...
And contrary to the time of Toni's and my trip to Pennsylvania, I am neither making leaps nor bounds in the evolution of my ideas and beliefs.
But in the evolution of myself, (ideas and beliefs included), I am moving along steadily.
I am a turtle. Turtle good. Rabbit too crazy.
As in all areas of life, I find that my personal progress is best kept out of my hands.
Not being omniscient, I am obviously incapable of knowing what is best for me, and would, therefore, be making descisions and assumptions based on incomplete, and more than likely, incorrect data.
So slow and steady it is.

I am a mere physical facilitator.
I ask myself questions.
I read books.
I interact with the world.
I think on things lightly and put them to bed in my mind.
And always, sooner or later, what I wanted to know, or needed to know in some cases, occurs to me.
Maybe my mind needs time to assimilate before it can fully understand the question, and then goes through my brain, picking through pieces of stored information like tomatoes in a supermarket.
If that's the case, then these answers that come to me are, just as the info stored in my brain, likely incomplete and incorrect.
But I don't believe that.
I think they are from somewhere beyond me.
Call it what you want
.Argue with me if you think you have to.
But to me it's not debatable.

This is a relinquishing of power. A giving up.
Not only do I not know everything, I don't know anything.
So I give up my puny mental faculties and let the universe answer for me.

But am I strong enough to give up in every area of my life?
Because to even hold on to one thing, it still holding on.

In my higher moments, (no, not that kind of high), I am aware, and I try.
I suppose that in moments higher than that, which I don't really have yet, "there is no try, there is only do," to quote Mr. Miyagi.
In my normal moments, I forget and I make plans and get pissed off in traffic.
In my lowest moments, I am a snotting blob on the floor, crying at the terrible failure I've made of my life.
That's usually only during PMS time, when my defenses against the monster of my inner cesspool are too low for me to stop it.

But my attachment to plans thins, and I make less and less all the time.
I'm learning.
Change is slow.

And then there's the attachment to these ideas, these concepts.
Oh flow impeding attachment, why is my grip so strong?
(At least I'm not displacing blame.)
Hard to hang on and go with the flow at the same time.
Ask a swimmer. They shave everything.

So maybe I have been creative lately.
Creating my self.
Or maybe I shouldn't take credit for that.
Definitely I shouldn't.

So maybe I've been a cleaner conduit for change lately.
A conduit for the creative force to manifest.
But then aren't we all, all the time. Little catalysts.
I guess it's just about being open. Declogging your pipes.

Switch Open.

I really don't know what I'm talking about.
It's just feeling good to write.

Listening to My Mind by Motion Unit, getting goosebumps.
Now Make Me by Andain.
It's a new mix cd I made for myself, and it's worth its weight in gold. Platinum. Plutonium. Uranium.
That Motion Unit song is very obscure.

I'm leaving Seattle tomorrow. Not that I mentioned that I'm in Seattle. I'm going back to Austin, and I'm very much looking forward to 4 days of solo time on the drive home. Time to sing, see some beautiful country, practice my seated rave dancing, and to then arrive in Austin to my boyfriends open arms and hard cock.
Good times.
I'm hungry.
Peace out.

So long since I've written
I don't really feel like it now
Changed all of my links
Into a spotted cow
Toni: drinking coffee
Russ: playing guitar
I: wanting some coffee
Don't want to drive my car
Don't want no instant coffee
Don't want no gd tea
Don't want to write no posties
And tweedle deedle dee

Listening to: Motion Unit- My Mind (in my head)

My life...consumed by scarves

Ever since I learned to crochet, I haven't really stopped. I've already developed a mild case of carpal tunnel.
Is that how you spell it? I don't give a shit.
Two scarves and counting.
And now I have this new burst of learning confidence.
I'll be able to play piano relatively well in a week, if some one shows me how, and doesn't fuck around.
No baby steps.
My brain isn't in writing mode really.
It is deeply attached to my fingers and their weaving rythm now.
Typing is good.
Thinking not so good.
Ug not like think.
Ug want bang.

9:00 a.m.

Purple sweater, dirty teeth, dirty tongue, dirty gums.
Water for tea heating.
Stomach grumbling, (she's not a morning stomach).

I learned to crochet (single stitch) last night.
I made about 1/6 of a scarf with rough baby yellow, blud, and pink yarn.
Forget about the other 5/6's.

Harry is chasing James' shoelace around.
Harry is a cat.
This is normal.

I'm going to swim some laps in the Rockport outdoor heated public pool later.
Believe it or not, a pool does need to be heated in the Corpuc Christi area in Fabruary.
Nice typo. I'm leaving it.
Because isn't February just Fabulous?

Then, later, we're going to "town".
Which means Corpus Christi proper.
And I'll be getting real soft yarn. Oh yeah.
And then we'll see about 6/6 of a scarf.

Okay stomach!
Damn.

Desperation Dissipating

Feeling good.
Got no plans.
Only sketches.

But you know, I have a dream.
I just realized it about a week ago over Mr. Gatti's pizza buffet.
(Not very good pizza.)
I felt it up and down, squeezed here, poked it there, sniffed it a little.
I realized that it was infact, just as I had feared, some silly fantasy.

I felt like a 6 year old boy, looking longingly after a passing fire truck.
That is a dream.
To want to do something, or to be something, just because you get a very deep happy tingle when you imagine it.
Just because you think it's that fucking cool.
And it is not something to be embarassed about, so you never have to bullshit when someone asks you why you want to do it.

Someone: "Why do you want to travel Candice?"
Me: "Oh, you know, experiencing different cultures, meeting people, see the world....(more generic cop out answers)"

And those are just the one's I tell complete strangers in light conversation.
You should hear the bullshit I whip up in heavier conversation with my friends.
Lordy lord.
But what do you expect. I've only just admitted it to myself.
I want to travel because I want to be a traveller, a wanderer.
Here's what I wrote in my real journal.

"I want to be a world wise, seasoned traveller, with friends around the world, always getting into adventures, with a million stories, who visits her family, but never for long, because something inside her says she needs to leave.
A wanderer who follows her gut, with scars and their tales, experiences of danger, close calls, magic, whimsy, discovery."

I want to travel to be that person.
Maybe I've invented that her.
No passing fireman for me to emulate.
I guess that's why it's called a dream.
And I feel pretty lucky that I still have one.

Alone Day

Today is my day alone.
James is doing some dork HFS thing, and I spent almost 4 hours at the gym.
Why?
I don't exactly know.
I'm at the library again, and as my computer time ticks away, I am realizing that that's okay.
I didn't even really want to write on here anyway.
I'm doing it out of some ridiculous imaginary obligation.
I'm going to head over to Book People after this, maybe get some coffee, maybe a sweet, and wait for James, because that is where we are meeting.
I have to pee.
I'm going to have to work this week.
I am not thrilled about this.
By the way, my job, which usually I would try to be discreet about, is as a stripper.
Yep, there you go.
I'm feeling kind of blunt right now. Maybe too honest.
But I am really waiting for the day when some one asks me about what I do, and I don't cringe with dread.
Some day I won't be a stripper.
Who know's what I'll be then.
Maybe a diving instructer.
Mayeb a Grand Canyon rafting guide.
Maybe a National Geographic photographer.
Maybe a CPA.
Or maybe I'll stop, for real, identifying my self with what ever I have to do to make money.

"I can't afford to waste my time making money.".........Agassiz (or so I've heard)
I think I'll make a t-shirt.

Austin to Mexico

Back in Austin now.
I was so apprehensive at first to come back. Back to the same things, same places, scared of falling into the same routine.
But now I am here and I'm excited, because although I could practically drive around Austin blindfolded, it is my favorite of the places I've lived.
I like it here. I think my problem is that I haven't been on a good long adventure in a year and a quarter.
So right now I am in Austin, and I'm liking that, and it is a stepping stone. I am trying to get out of Austin.
Here is the land of my opportunity. I am going to collect money, read some books, and work on becoming a stronger swimmer (for surfing), for the next month and a half. Then it's on to Mexico.
I am so excited about Mexico.
I am ready.
To wander for a couple months, surfing, learning spanish, meeting people, trying food, being dirty, probably getting the shits a couple of times.
Oh my god! I am at the library right now, and right as I was writing about getting diarrhea, I smelled this smell behind me. I truned around and saw a homeless person walking away from me, with a big shit stain on his/her pants. So gross!
Yeah.... Mexico....
I am ready to travel out of America. Seen too much of her. And I know that her soul and mine do not match. I will never feel at home with her people and I will never share the same desires with them. But my place is out there, and my people live there. Maybe. Maybe they're just pieces scattered throughout the planet, and it is my lot to collect them, wandering until I die.
Right there. That is a topic I want to elaborate on, alot. I'm not focused enough here, so I'll do it later.
Oh yes, Mexico.
I am in the door way to the rest of the world, looking out, ready to take my first step. But I'm taking baby steps. I've got my whole life, and I'm feeling very very happy now.
Mexico, here I come!

Last Night

James and I walked four times around the detention pond. That's 1 1/3 mile.
We were very stoned. I kept forgetting what we were talking about. It was dark, no street lights around, and the markings on the cement made by rain and use, looked like sidewalk chalk. I stopped and bent down and looked at it, and it still looked like neon sidewalk chalk. But for some one to color 1/3 of a mile of sidewalk is a ludicrous. So, I was hallucinating.
And when a hallucination still appears what it appears upon investigation, it's a little, I don't know, unsettling.

I also came up with, what is very likely, the most awesome cat name ever.
"Fishes"
I was having a fantasy about having a cat called Fishes that I would pet and sing "I love fishes cause he's so delicious!" to.
You know, like the goldfish commercials.

Question: My Stepdad and James were talking outside, drinking. My stepdad asked James if he's with me because he feels bad, or something to that effect.
What the fuck does that mean? I know what it sounds like to me, but I'm going to pretend that that isn't what he meant. Any suggestions? Toni?
Yeah.

The water is back on today and I'm still in Houston. We'll probably leave today.
And go to what?
I don't know.
I just want to go surfing.

Leaving Houston!

So, I wake up this morning, excited to begin collecting my things, and to organize them into the van so we can get the fuck out, but, strange girl that I am, I decide to brush my teeth first.
I go into the bathroom, scoop the sleep from my eyes wih my ring fingernails, and lift the faucet lever, so the water will run, and after a minute, become hot. But the faucet just farts a little squirt of water, and then...nothing.
I check the other faucets. None of them work. I check the front door. There is a notice that the water service has been disconnected.
Super.
Leaving may be delayed.
I have laundry to do, and hair to wash, and teeth to brush, and oatmeal to eat. So many things, all requiring water.
Where is your holiday spirit Water Works?
Ham peddlers are very busy this time of year.

Thank the lord for toilet water tanks.
I'm drinking coffee my mom made early this morning, reheated.
Need I say more?

Subject change...

Let's say, hypothetically of course, that my period of desert lust had passed. Where would I want to go?
Mexico, baby.
Damn you James, always getting your way.
But for some reason, I really really want to hang out on the Pacific side for a while, taking dramamine and surfing, (hypothetically of course).
All day in the salty water, rising, falling with each passing wave, waiting for the one to ride, all the paddling, the sultry tropics, the midday rain (this time of year), the spanish I'll have to learn.
I don't know if we'll be able to take the van, which sucks.
I'm also excited about the van.
Oh well. One thing at a time. First, money.
That part is gonna suck.

Pattern Recognition Test

What they said:
"Sir Francis Galton, the cousin of Charles Darwin, first popularized the notion of measurable intelligence in the late 1800s. Charles Spearman later discovered that all mental abilities tend to correlate together when statistically analyzed. He called this G. Modern researchers tend to agree that there are two kinds of intelligence, crystallized intelligence (learned knowledge) and fluid intelligence (abstract processing ability). Most non-verbal intelligence tests measure the latter. Some research suggests that fluid intelligence may correlate best to G.

Your overall percentile is 87% which means you scored higher than 87% of the people who have taken this test. The internet population tends to be more intelligent so your percentile might be higher if the test taking sample was perfectly random. Keep in mind, taking this test more than once will render your percentile score inaccurate because the percentile score assumes these questions were fresh to the test taker.

The point of this test is to challenge you and show you how you compare to other test takers on a set of novel questions. Consequently, I need to keep the answers secret to protect the integrity of the test."

What I said:
"Aw yeah"

More on Truth and Illusion

"People are seperated from God by sin."
This is a quote from a book James was reading called Examine the Evidence, (which was anything but an examination of evidence), which caught my attention.
I think that it could more clearly be said, "People are seperated from god by the belief in the illusion that people are seperate from god."
So I guess, to me, to sin is to believe in illusion.

I've been talking alot about illusion and truth lately. I suppose that's because I've been thinking about illusion and truth alot lately.

I was talking to Toni one time, I think, about the ego being the only thing that seperates us from everything else, and that's only because it makes us believe that we are seperate from everything else.
So I guess, to me, the ego is a vehicle for "sin".

I'm weird.

Another quote:
"...only time stood between one face and another.".....Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
Maybe this doesn't make as much of an impression out of context, when you haven't read the book.
I won't try and explain.
You should read Siddhartha. It's one of my favorite books. I've read it 4 times. I will read it again.
(The quote is on pg. 150)

In response to Tino's response to my blog entry

"Truth is pain, that's why God banished Adam and Eve, they ate from the fruit of knowledge and you can't have critical thinking in a Utopia. Hence the term, ignorance is bliss. So now massive organized religions and spiritual groups, leaders, and cults have given us the opportunity to taking this burden from us once and forever by forgetting our critical thinking and accepting their beliefs without question. Heaven is just a metaphor for the lack of truth, so that makes Heaven a beautiful thing.
You want the truth, you can't handle the truth. Significant other cheating on you, you're dying soon, the emperor is not a god, physics makes us look small in the universe, biology (other than our brain means) proves we are no more superior than a pig." ......Tino's response.....

Ignorance is only bliss for some. Ignorance is a constant searching and restlessness for others. And there is no truth in the illusion of thought. Thought is like a veil. Truth is beyond thought, behind that veil.
And either you misunderstand with I mean by truth, or you disagree with it. Truth is what is not based on perception, it is what is not illusion, it is something you can find burried deep under the dogma shit of religion.
It is not what the president really did, because the president, his position, the things he did, are all illusion.

Truth is real reality, not perceived reality.
I am looking for reality.
I am looking for clarity.

And really think about that Adam and Eve thing. Think about how layered that story is. Think about all the different ways it could be interpreted. It can be an amazing myth, and there are many different ways it can be understood.
(I will give some ideas if you're actually interested, but it will be way too long to put here.)

And I disagree with you about heaven being a metaphor for lack of truth. In fact, I think it is opposite of that. Heaven is lack of illusion, total truth, being completely connected to what is real.
Truth.
Hell is lack of truth. Hell is ignorance. It is where most of us are. It is a place of ego, of ideas, of "knowledge".
Truth is truth. It is none of those things.

You wrote: "Significant other cheating on you, you're dying soon, the emperor is not a god, physics makes us look small in the universe, biology (other than our brain means) proves we are no more superior than a pig."

These things are not truth. These things are illusion.

Everything I Need To Know, I Don't...

The older I get, the more I learn, the more I experience, the more I realize I know nothing.

There's this:
Light always travels at the same speed relative to some observer, no matter what the relative motion of the observer. So, light emitted from a moving airplane does not travel with the speed of light plus the speed of the airplane, it travels with the "speed of light", no matter what the speed of the airplane! In a vacuum, light always travels at a speed of 299,792,458 meters per second, no matter how its speed is measured.

So, if I'm travelling at 299, 792,458 meters per second, then light is travelling at 299,792,458 meters per second faster than me.

That's how it is with the things I need to know.
No matter how how much closer I feel, or how quickly I feel I'm accelerating, I am still the exact same distance from wisdom. From truth.
The prophet Mohammed said something, which I'm probably screwing up, like the closer he is to knowing God, the farther he realizes he is from knowing god, or the more he realizes he has to learn.
Something like that.
(In my opinion, Mohammed, being an enlightened man of sorts, when saying "God", means truth. To me truth, or all that is not illusion, is God.)

So the more I think I know, the less I realize I do.
I suppose that's the problem with thinking.
It is all illusion, so rarely can truth be found in the mess of it.
So I suppose even more that the only way I will ever make progress, will be when I stop thinking about things, stop seeking, and start being.
And then I'll understand something about truth.
And then I'll understand that I really know nothing, that nothing is not me, that there is nothing to know.
That there only is.

Does this make sense?
No, not to me either.