One of My Turns

"Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man.
Night after night, we pretend its all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun any more.
And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel cold as a razor blade,
Tight as a tourniquet,
Dry as a funeral drum."


pitter patter, eh?

-Mon

Because the headlines have been a mess the past few days,

Art is everywhere - and it can be crafted to be seen at first glance; or rather, noticed with enough time passed. So beautiful! So much potential! Now, off to read...

s/love,
Mon

A Plausible Finish

A plausible finish by Charles Bukowski

There ought to be a place to go
When you can't sleep
Or you're tired getting drunk
And the grass doesn't work anymore
And I don't mean to go to
Hash or Cocaine
I mean a place to go
Besides a death that's waiting
And a love that doesn't work
Anymore.

There ought to be a place to go
When you can't sleep
Besides a tv set or a movie
Or a newspaper
Or a novel about a woman
With her clit in her throat.

It's not having that place to go
That creates the people in madhouses
And the suicides.

I suppose what most people do
When there isn't any place to go
Is to go to someplace or something
That hardly satisfies them,
And this ritual tends to sandpaper them,
Into a dullness where they can relax
With out hope.

Those faces you see everyday
On the streets
Were not created entirely without
Thought: Be kind to them:
They have
Escaped.

Where is my mind?

-x-x-x-

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

-ee cummings

-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-

A light breeze, carrying the humid air like a newborn,
cradling it, as if in no time, the newborn will become bearable...
and stop crying tears of heat and muck.

Or maybe that's a little crude...?

Well, crude or not,
it's time for this babe to grow up and become tolerable,
because she's driving me mad.

Only calm when shushed at night,
letting out sighs of perfection,
and smiles of sweet, cool beauty.

Coo, coo?

[Time to be a night owl, perhaps]

................

Also, I sucked at updating my Europe trip, I know. Photos can be seen here: https://picasaweb.google.com/MonicaFinc/

-Mon

Firenze, Italia

Dia 2 in Italia

Come Monday, I will only have a week left of travelling Europe... what a crazy thought! I have gotten rather used to living the life of a nomad, stopping at a hostel to steal internet and crashing on stranger's couches. This whole experience, though quite surreal, has put a new twist to my daily routine. In a good way though... :)

A short recap, I suppose, of the past week or so is a must.

The adventures began in Berlin, just a little over a week ago, when I landed at the Tegel airport. In hopes of meeting my brother who just so happened to be in Berlin at the same time as I, my hopes were soon tested. Alas! The somewhat-twin-like-but-a-decade-older thing was nowhere to be found.

So I waited... and waited... and hopped on a bus! I thought to myself, 'well, he's just testing me to see if I can get to the hostel...'

However, I had not written down the information for the hostel, which eventually bit me in the ass. Having finally reached Alexanderplatz, what I considered as a good starting point, I began the walk of all walks. What do I mean by that? Well, let's just say I truly understood the enormous bubble of life that is Berlin. (And when I say enormous, I mean it.)

I walked an hour, attempted to hop onto every wifi network imaginable (damn Germans securing your network), and attempted to get to my one hostel (somehow) only remembering a map I glanced at two weeks prior.

(This is when everyone who knows me that is reading this blog will take a sigh, shake their head, smile and say 'oh Monica') I know, guys... I know...

Finally, after many hours, I entered an internet cafe where I heard some Poles chatting. I hop on the net, saw my brother online and he came to my rescue.

-x-x-x-

And yes, the whole trip has kept pretty much the same amount of curiosity, absurdity, luck, and so much more...

From doctor's offices to monk painters sitting beside me at the hostel (that one is happening right as I type this) to Italian horn dogs to phenomenal couchsurfing hosts to bike rides in airports from WWII to a DJ Shadow concert in an abandoned train station to eating nearly every hour of the day to not eating for a day, this has all been so ridiculously enlightening.

And there's only more to come! :)


I do believe, however, that the last day has been the most inspiring of them all. Getting lost in Florence and nearly bawling my eyes out on three occasions has helped me accept my vulnerabilities. Honestly, right as I stood there alone, as the sun set over the river, I took a deep breath and let everything out.

Trusted my gut.

and walked...

Until I saw the street of my hostel(coincidentally, Saint Monica street).

-x-x-x-

It's funny when things work out - no? That is yet another recent realization I have had. Actually, there have been quite a few:

- Don't forget to smile. Everyone will appreciate it. A little kindness will go a long way, and a simple smile can cure a multitude of doubt, unhappiness, anger, etc.
- Learn a little bit of the language! You will be surprised how far you can go with knowing so little... and the locals will love that you give it a shot.
- Stop looking at the clock. It isn't about cramming everything in the city within a given time slot... plus, you need something else to come back to.
- Get lost. Curiosity may have killed the cat but getting lost will not only satisfy your curiosity's desire but force you to think for yourself.
- Step onto the beaten path. Paved roads are boring. Test your instincts and explore something that has some wear and tear.
- Thank everyone who has helped you. If you let them know your gratitude, they will happily help the next passer-by.
- You are no better than any tourist.
- No local is any better than you. Rather, we are all equals, collected in a city expressing our thanks for being here, in this given moment.
- Take a nap in a park. Let the sun's rays tantalize your body and rejuvenate you. Your sanity and legs will thank you. :)
- Talk to people in the bathroom if you're in a hostel. Ask them what their plans are. Exchange ideas. It will give you insight in the most unlikely of places.
- Eat out!
- Eat in! Try to cook a native dish with native ingredients.
- Ask a local where their favourite restaurant is, whenever you feel your stomach turning. A bus stop, a church (well, maybe not there), a park...
Most importantly
- Trust your gut. Your instincts are present for a reason.

I know, I know, i'm becoming extremely idealistic again. I think it goes farther than that though... this trip has forced me to open up. After forcing myself to never get attached to those around me, I am re-evaluating my past decisions.

It's a nice feeling to care. It makes you feel human, y'know?

So, i'm off to my next couchsurfer's home, a little ways away from Florence's city centre, where I hope to meet more inspiring people. The sun is shining. The breeze is light. The birds are chirping. The gelato is melting.

Another day in the Mediterranean...!


Ciao,
Mon

'ello Brussels !

A better update soon...

-mon

Berlin, the beginning

And, I manage to get lost in Berlin already. Thankfully, brother dearest is meeting me at this internet cafe-ish (more-like-a-casino) thing.

I must say though, this place is lovely.
-Mon

A Culmination, Almost

Here's for a brief debriefing, because I cannot study at the moment.

I. Love. Cal.

There are some amazing people here, and I am happy to have made this decision, even though I haven't slept for more than 3 hours each night.

It's truly a magical place. Perhaps the bay area in general? Either way, it's been a fantastic year (give or take a few emotional turmoils).




So, here's to all the beautiful who made this year happen! :) All of you have so much passion and life within you, that inspires me to keep going no matter how much I hate academia more than half of the time. A petty piece of paper is worth it so as to be enduring the same state of flurry you guys are.

So much love, life and light for you guys and this place in general,

Mon

More on Europa 2011

Having a personal renaissance in Rome and Florence after Brussels...

:)

-Mon

It's nice being happy.

-mon

Forget About Your House of Cards

I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine
Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine

And fall off the table, get swept under

Denial, denial

The infrastructure will collapse
Voltage spikes
Throw your keys in the bowl
Kiss your husband goodnight

Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine
Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine

Fall off the table, get swept under

Denial, denial
Denial, denial

Your ears should be burning
Denial, denial
Your ears should be burning


-x-x-x-

I had dinner with a beautiful individual today. She shared her wisdom as I spilled my soul onto the table amongst, arguably the worst, dining commons dinner imaginable.

A new approach began today: living in the moment [as I used to] and loving freely [as I am not used to].

Here's to appreciating all of the beautiful souls that surround me in Berkeley! <3 You all have been under-appreciated and I sincerely apologize.

So many incomprehensible changes in just a few weeks! I will hopefully be taking plenty of pictures and blogging every aspect of my life when I backpack Europe in 3 weeks.

"Are you ready?" [I ask myself]

... I sure fucking am. I need a vacation, stat! A break from my emotions, routine and current lifestyle. :)

So stoked,
-Mon

In the stacks

Such a monotonous routine, in my eyes. Sitting here, amongst a plethora of strangers, as we all scramble to cram as much information as possible in hopes of refuting it all come the next testing period. Surely, this determination is noteworthy, and I am thankful beyond words to have this opportunity; however, as I step out of the bubble, it also makes me laugh how everything seems so cyclical, routinely... patterned?

My mind is all over the place.

... and I don't know what I want.


Back to Los Angeles, tomorrow, for a bit - and jumping back into my old routine if only for 2 days.


A part of me feels almost silly to return for the weekend; as if everything down there is slowly being packaged into a little box labeled "the past," only seconds away from being shelved away. I feel like i may have been moving backwards...

no worry



Time to start running towards something, anything, up here.

Ready. Set. Go!


Soon, so soon.
-Mon

E. E. Cummings: since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other:then
laugh,leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis


-x-x-x-
... but where comes the period? I guess e.e. cummings never really believed in punctuation.

-Mon

[space]

Nothing more, nothing less.



-Mon

Nothing to do but Believe

April 9th
Location: Moffitt Library, 5th floor (because the scenery is aesthetically pleasing)
Headspace: ?

This past year has been a whirlwind, both personally and as a whole...
new places, new faces, new mistakes, new realizations -
more risks, more social unrest, more liberty, more awareness -
everything, both catastrophic and revitalizing, moving rhythmically with one another
like a dance.

And, though the emotions vary from pleasant to tumultuous,
it's a beautiful sort of dance.
One that makes you cry because you know everything will be alright,
one that makes you laugh because you know there's only so much time left.

But how much time is really left?

And that, we never really know-
Both personally and as a whole.

So you just keep dancing,
["as if no one is watching"]
Or maybe you're an observer?
[to which you're watching in an unobtrusive manner]

A waltz of sorts,
with life, in the lead
and you, quickly picking up the pace from behind.

But don't hesitate -since we're all dancing the same waltz,
and tripping over our left feet.
Just take it all in,
and laugh, because you have only so much time left...

before the music stops.

-x-x-x-
Words of wisdom:
"The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts."
John Keats


-Mon

Things Are Turning Up!

"If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is."
— Charles Bukowski



Spring calls for new beginnings, no? Alright, it's time for mine. How is there only a month left of this beautiful city...?

-Mon

p.s. Berlin is so soon!




Living in Cloyne next semester - huzzah!

HEY, THE SUN IS BACK!

The Egg By: Andy Weir

The Egg
By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

-x-x-x-x-

I like that concept... the fact that you are a part of everything and everything is a part of you. Some may call it a more selfish perspective, yet I feel it's more realistic and practical.

Why?

Well, we know what makes us as happy as a singing songbird, and we damn well know what grabs us by the gut and slowly wrenches out the pain like a wet cloth. Also, all we have is ourselves - one day, maybe sometime soon, a moment will manifest that makes us realize how alone we are. Until then, we're caught catering to the magnificent souls in our lives that may also, one day, let us down. This shouldn't be a sad thought though... we're learning about humanity and what it has to offer, as well as what it has to take away.

So, you helped the old man find his key because you remembered, you too, lost your keys a week ago and therefore, saw a piece of yourself in him. So, you fought with your best friend because you saw the disgusting nuances of yourself in him. And, you even kissed the person you love because not only did it make you well up with happiness, but also a greater sense of self.

It's a comforting thought - to know that we are all so different and embarking on a completely different trail of life, yet somehow, no matter how treacherous the hike, we constantly cross paths with other travelers on the same involuntary adventure. Or, I suppose, maybe we're all on the same trail just at different points?

It all does make me wonder. And think. And ask questions.



And [as a closing thought], I can honestly say, I like the way things have been going lately.

I really do. I like the view from this point in my hike.

<3
Mon

Parallel lines

While walking down the street today, scrambling to get to the Food Collective, I overheard two men talking.

"So, that Jenny girl, are the two of you working out?"
"Yeah. She doesn't think for herself, so I can mold her into whatever I want her to be. She's smitten, but in the best way possible. Nothing will tear her from me."
"And if something does..?"
"Well, then I'll find another girl, as naive as her, that I can craft into perfection."

And, though I wanted to jump into the conversation and share my own opinions, the time clock pulled me into the storefront sooner than my words could make a statement.



So here's to all of the ladies, who occasionally come off "too strongly" or "unapproachable" because of their undeniable interests in literature, music and the arts. Here's to the ladies who won't change for a man - who love themselves for who they are. Having passion is a scary and beautiful thing.

(In Response to Charles Warnke’s You Should Date An Illiterate Girl.)

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

-Rosemarie Urquico


Have a beautiful weekend,
Mon

<3

We Must Supply Our Own Light

PLAYBOY: If life is so purposeless, do you feel that it’s worth living?

KUBRICK : “Yes, for those of us who manage somehow to cope with our mortality. The very meaninglessness of life forces man to create his own meaning. Children, of course, begin life with an untarnished sense of wonder, a capacity to experience total joy at something as simple as the greenness of a leaf; but as they grow older, the awareness of death and decay begins to impinge on their consciousness and subtly erode their joie de vivre, their idealism — and their assumption of immortality. As a child matures, he sees death and pain everywhere about him, and begins to lose faith in the ultimate goodness of man. But if he’s reasonably strong — and lucky — he can emerge from the twilight of the soul into a rebirth of life’s elan. Both because of and in spite of his awareness of the meaninglessness of life, he can forge a fresh sense of purpose and affirmation. he may not recapture the same pure sense of wonder he was born with, but he can shape something far more enduring ans sustaining. the most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death — however mutable man may be able to make them — our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.”

Interviewed by Eric Nordern, Playboy (September 1968); later published in Stanley Kubrick: Interviews (2001)










And some music, which goes accordingly: