rachel reagan

reminisce

2012-01-20T01:28:00.000-08:00

my brother Chance writing he and his fiance's initials in the sand (: awww.

That was probably the prettiest sunset I've seen living in L.A. thus far. Those are all sooc, and were
taken sometime in early February of 2011, very shortly after we moved here.

No idea when this is from, it was randomly tucked into
a folder on my desktop. Hmmm, curious.

(background in the above)

(overlay in the below)

These long exposure images are from a night in October 2010 when I wandered outside, sleepy and barefoot, just twirling around in my parents' front yard and snapping away. Self-portraits are from a shoot last May.

Huzzah for late-night-random!

P.S. I am starting to actually use my 500px account. Will be posting a few otherwise unseen

photos there in the future. If any of you have one, please let me know so I can check it out. (:

projections IV

2011-12-07T01:21:00.001-08:00

I liked this one in black and white as well.

and an experiment in editing; "ghosts"

part four of an ongoing series, "projections."

more to follow later this week.

projections III

2011-11-19T01:09:00.001-08:00

part three of an ongoing series, "projections."

more to come shortly.

projections II

2011-11-13T21:34:00.001-08:00

part two of an ongoing series, "projections."

keep your eyes peeled for more!

projections

2011-11-13T02:46:00.001-08:00

part one of an ongoing series, "projections."

more to follow for the next few days..

listen.

First time taking pictures in about three months.

I think I'm finally starting to feel like myself again.

sunday morning musings

2011-10-30T15:02:00.000-07:00

I wonder what I ought to be doing with myself instead of sitting by window light eating brunch, procrastinating my affections with apple spice tea and sweaters and pretending the air is cold outside. I find myself longing more and more for that crisp kind of air that fills your lungs with prickly fingers, like swallowing all those pine needles your feet drag upon. The north and east are calling my name and I can do nothing to indulge them, so I suppose I'll put another teaspoon of honey in my tea and keep clattering my fingers to see where this leads.

It seems lately there are countless ideas burgeoning in my mind; each proud and colorful and taking up so much space in my everyday thoughts. These notions are excitable and tangible and beckoning me like sirens, but there I stand at water's edge - perplexed by my reflection and convinced that the depth before me is impassible. (I wasn't always like this.) And now my heart's just a big ball of yarn, being pulled in one thousand directions; a web so vast and tangled that I'm tripping over my own limbs to compensate for the confusion within. All I have to work with are these two left feet, and hands that don't seem to be in sync no matter how long I plead. Or do they just seem so in the rippled, distorted version of myself I often gawk at in the water? Perhaps an amalgam, as if I see something long enough and believe it to be true, it bleeds into my physicality. Oh, but I am tired. I am tired of this.

...

2011-10-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

(first picture of me was taken by Derek :)

all others shot by me and my trusty remote

back in mid September.

A day of wandering, music, good conversation.

I need more days like this.

confession.

2011-09-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

I just can't seem to find the right words. My favorite pen has started to run dry and the scribbles in my notebook have become shorter, whether as a direct effect of my simple frustration with fading ink, or something else.. I honestly can't say. My heart seems full and writhing, but my mind stands quiet; there's simply no translation. There are too many tribes to even know where to begin.

I've experienced a few surges, especially late at night, or upon waking at 5am, moments that seem to swell, damp and heavy. Moments in which one thousand words swarm my chest and I feel full; inspiration flutters and the words make way to my tongue, but before they get there.. each just dissipates.

I feel at a loss with myself. Like I'm getting farther and farther away from the things I want to attain and do, the person I strive to be. I dyed my hair red recently, and can name several reasons why, but if I'm going to shoot straight I'll admit that the most prominent drive was because I needed, sincerely needed, to feel autonomous. I needed to feel young, and wild, and not inhibited by schedules, money, social graces, and the responsibilities others deem necessary to "be a grown up."

I need to get back in tune with who I am, what I want, and where I'm going. I need to be more diligent, and let my innate stubbornness have a little more reign; get back to believing that golden ideal that anything is possible. I honestly don't aim for extravagance in life, just the simple freedom to inspire and be inspired.

So here's a personal goal: Write everyday again. I'll even let punctuation and common sense fly out the window. Just to nakedly express whatever is going on my my mind and heart will be enough. It doesn't have to be beautiful, it just has to be raw. My apologies if the many words to come are not easy on the eyes.

(I know this has a lot of "I's." I am learning to be okay with that.
I need to focus on myself right now. Focus, focus, focus. Just don't let go.)

summer haze

2011-08-21T19:41:00.000-07:00

rrl

a few more from this series to come in a few days.

anew.

2011-07-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

crickets are chirping harmonies outside my window. the window in this house that we're all trying to make a home. the one that we couldn't open for some odd months because the screen was missing, and every time we'd spring for fresh air we'd acquire some new friends; moths, and spiders alike, all clambering in to this white washed room which is finally, finally starting to smell like us. my incense we so lovingly burn while talking in bed about finances, theology, and mystery science theater 3000. the laundry detergent and dry warmth that coats our bed sheets, because the laundry is always dumped out in a frenzy, half folded, half in a knot.. these are a couple of the smells that the walls of this house are finally starting to adopt. the den has also become officially 'broken in.' it feels cocooned in the nights of laughter and strange dialogue the four of us have spent down there, on our red couch. the couch my brother and I walked down the street and found at a garage sale. the one that still smelled of fresh leather. the one that Madison knows not to claw, for all the times we've already made loud noises and pushed her around when she got too happy and started kneading. the four of us have made our footprints here, and it's about time that I start to recognize where they're headed. it really is the people that make the home, and will always be, but there's nothing like making an impression on something tangible with other people that you love. something that even other people can see, and feel upon walking in our door for the very first time.

finally, the dust is starting to settle, and I can see that
no matter what happens here, we can only grow together.

I have to do this for me.

sunkissed afternoons

2011-06-08T01:33:00.000-07:00

the other day my brother, his fiance, and I decided to go for a walk out in the back and take some impromptu pictures. (: planning on doing an elaborate shoot with them sometime soon though. and sarah is going to model in a few of my upcoming conceptual shots as well. gotta take advantage of the beautiful people in my life ;) they make the best models anyway. here's some random shots from that afternoon:

bumblebee (tuna)!

a few random shots of me.. I had so many

burrs and things stuck in my hair from laying down.

the beautiful miss sarah, my soon to be sister-in-law!

sarah and my brother, chance (:

chance again

and a silly selfie experiment inspired by insomnia!

P.S. I am, once again, behind on posting my writing up here .. I haven't stopped with the 365 project - but as I mentioned before, I'm accustomed to scribbling my thoughts on notebooks, the typewriter, napkins etc, so it will take some doing to catch up on posting everything here. May or may not happen this week; I'm just going to continue tomorrow as though the gap doesn't exist, and fill the holes whenever I have the time.

I hope everyone's week is splendid. (:

nights spent in the dark

2011-05-25T01:51:00.000-07:00

I always forget how dark the night really is, until I'm in the thick of it,
away from civilization - under the stars, or.. fog as the case may be.

this past weekend Derek and I took off into the wilderness.

okay, it wasn't that deep of a trek into the unknown but we did explore new cities, we did camp out in a park in the middle of a national forest, and we did make spontaneous and adventurous decisions. it did our hearts good.

annnnd so explains the last few nights of absence here. I did scribble some short thoughts down on my dying ipod while lying in a dewy tent somewhere in Ojai, CA. I'll share them here tomorrow - if time permits. I'm still trying to catch up on writing things here. So far, my habit is still to scribble my mind meanderings down in my notebook, or on bits of scrap paper.. Trying to fix that though (: I'll get the hang of this sooner than later, promise.

in the meantime - I need to get some well deserved sleep. plyometrics kicked my butt today.

more about the camping escapades later.. for now here's a few foggy pictures (:

the ever changing "I am's"

2011-05-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

I used to keep a notebook, in which (almost every day) I wrote an "I am." (Or two.) Candid, unabridged - simply attempting to harness language and understand myself, or at least what I thought of myself at the time. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure the idea behind it was less of a "oooh self revelation" thing, and more of a practice with language's potency (in that I wanted to say more with less, youuuu know?) It was an interesting project, and I think I'm going to pick it up again. Sooooo seeing as I'm utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, I'm just going to leave you with a few of those. (Which, be aware, is difficult enough at the moment as I'm having a pretty intensssssse reaction to the cuteness that is a cat currently living in our humble abode, named Madison. My eyes are nearly swollen shut, so erm, sorry if there's some of thisdj going on in here, I can't really see.)

As it stands, I have been numbering these little doo-dads. I don't remember the reasoning behind it, but I'm sure it was very, very sound.

79. I am an electric expectancy,
coursing through your fingertips.
80. I am the sweet savour of relief
on the exhale of your everyday.
81. I am unchanged by weather,
though storms cling on to me.
82. I am the melody that plays in juxtaposition
to the lullaby you hear as you fall asleep.
83. I'm broken and repaired: a mosaic heartscape.
84. I'm the last thing you want to come first.
85. I am not entitled to say any of this,
but why should that be the one rule not broken?
86. I am not going to wait on time to catch up with me.
After all, it's better to look younger than how old you feel.

2011-05-18T23:57:00.000-07:00

we leave the nest, eager to fly.

what happens after that is, well,

subject to gravity I suppose.

I take way too many silly pictures.

back into the light.

2011-05-17T01:38:00.000-07:00

For the past six nights - my words have remained private. I have written though, so this 365 project of mine is still rollin'. This week has just been kind of rough, and my thoughts have been heavy and jumbled, so I wasn't sure how comfortable I felt about them floating out here weightlessly...for any eye to see.

Then I remembered one of the most important pieces of this project - perhaps even the guts of it; No fear. No hesitation, no procrastination, no hiding. Here I am, chasing down these truths that would otherwise remain buried or running... I'm grabbing them viciously with both hands and wringing them dry until, at the very least, I can say that I tried to understand them. These moments, these minute epiphanies between diffident breaths need to be shared. I need to share them. This year is about letting go (letting Him) and learning to not only love my own skin but to feel privilege with each moment I spend living in it.

So by tomorrow, or at the latest of Wednesday eve, those six nights of words will be typed up here and left to their cavorting.

Sorry for the brief absence.

Goodnight, world.
Sleep sweet.

uphill.

2011-05-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

sometimes life takes you over, and you're suspended on a shelf. these erupting insides illustrate the tale of a dying mental health. my world's a vacancy, and as far as eye can see your world has done half as well. there's a tendency to recede, though long as time precedes me, there's certainly no need. the mind is mine to reign. I just need to move through this week; the negative reactions and sour transactions: things that cause cessation in my speech, and ability to leave. this is not the end of me. sometimes like takes you over, and you're suspended on a shelf. that's when you take a breath (no, it's not a test), just learn to save yourself.

2011-05-11T21:09:00.000-07:00

I ate coercion for a snack today. Mulled it around in my mouth before swallowing it with a shot of 'who-gives-a----.' It was simply by willpower and a playful masquerade that no one could smell it on my breath; the freedom I was facing and the seclusion I was choking on. I do this to myself. I'm at a loss as to why. My mind was certainly inebriated enough to believe that my actions were justified. I felt a concordance with being primal. I set myself up for success. I spoke the acclaimed future on a breath rank with narcissism. Even when I'm at a loss, reality bleeds through.

Glitch. Reboot.

2011-05-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the clock falters and stalls, causing a day to weigh in heavier than the previous week as a whole.

Today was one of those days.

I got caught in the chest of a deep sigh ... lingering until its lungs were full, and then with the exhale I was released: tumbling out in rotten discord. Confused, inarticulate, glum. Altogether temporarily nullified.

- - - - - -

I am broken and deficient, yet still you find the glory in my existence. It's your heart that caresses me through your language: be it spoken or silent movement. It's your heart that swallows my burdens somehow, without the aftermath of nausea. You cause me to liven the trite life. This feeling surpasses gratitude. This feeling surpasses love.

I am yours.

Freaky blue eyes, wormsign, and hysterical misheard lines.

2011-05-09T02:13:00.000-07:00

We watched a movie called 'Dune' tonight ..

One which I wasn't familiar with at all, but can now say I'm baffled enough by to want to read the books. I'll have to admit, it was good to get the watching of this particular film out of my system, since for about a week now both Chance and Derek have been randomly whispering "thheeee spiiiiiiice" throughout the day, and talking about giant worms. Finally, a conclusion to my confusion.

This 1984 movie is pretty absurd, especially if you watch it with a marshmallow brain in a veil of exhaustion (aka: me tonight). Fat-floating-guy and his whole entire.. situation legitimately freaked me out, and I may never be able to look at Alicia Witt the same (all-out creepy mind warping voice-dubbed child). It also caused me to consider what I'd look like bald, and if there's a poster of Sting in this particular get-up:

Hilarity plays a big part in this film to someone who is too tired to really want to understand how they compressed 6 books into a 2 1/2 hour movie. However, even through my delirious haze, I can tell there is a really interesting and incredibly intricate story here. (Didn't hurt to have Derek there giving me brief explanations for certain seemingly inexplicable moments.) Yes, I think I'll have to find these books and give them a whirl sometime. This movie was full of too many intriguing things not to get a nerd like me going. One line in particular really stood out to me - and has been stuck in my mind ever since.

"I'm dead to everyone unless I become what I may be."

This notion seems to have burrowed into my brain - and I am definitely going to be writing on it soon. Perhaps tomorrow, if I'm able to muster up enough brain power. I became awfully sick with some short-lived but contemptible virus at 4AM Saturday, and my body is still recuperating. Why is it, that I feel a bit dumber after losing sleep, and nutrition, and physical strength? It's a mean effect, seeing as all I could really handle that night/today were actions requiring higher brain power than I was experiencing. This explains why my last journal entry 'wuz spld lyke dis.'

Anyway - I better lay down my head before it gets too much later. Tomorrow is going to be a full day, and I have a feeling I'll need my wits about me. Here's to hoping I don't dream of giant worms and desert sands tonight.

So, my friends, I leave you with this: please laugh maniacally as I did, or I will feel I failed you, at some great expense.

P.S. HE IS THE CUISINART HEART-ATTACK! (I still don't know what they really call him...)

[day 7/365]

Anatomy of a Dream

2011-05-08T01:24:00.000-07:00

this ripe, fair skin
bathed in moon-milk
has been grappled by phosphoresce lassos;
incandescent fingers of twine
that lurch from an admissible deep.

twitch tiny waist -
your sweet vanilla savor is wafting
'round navy turnpikes,
through dimly lit tunnels
along star dusted shores.

this uncharted territory
of cardiovascular topography:

where any notion is a nomad.

winking towers of cityscapes are swallowed
by Danube's capacious belly
whose proliferous tree line is evergreen;
ever glowing - every color -
every place - every

time one breath expires
linen creases like folds on a map.
my cerebral reality realigns
with celestial bodies,
loosening Orion's belt.

I am a sequence; sequined cosmos.

-----------------------------------------------------------

tonight you get a piece I wrote a few weeks back,
because I've been sick all day, and with a fever.

looks like I'll have plenty of "making up" to do in the next few days. hmmm

[day 6/365]

Oops.

2011-05-07T01:30:00.000-07:00

Well, I have officially experienced my first blogtastrophe. I was so tired last night, that I hastily wrote on my ipod touch while lying in bed, slowly drifting off. Apparently, even though it submitted and appeared to post last night, it is not to be found. Not on my page, not in the drafts, just... nowhere. :( And so, in the wake of such a catastrophic event, I am left with a missing day. I'll probably try and make it up by writing twice some eve this weekend, or when I have the spare time. Until then, this will just have to count as both days 4 and 5.

You aren't missing out on any literary genius, I assure you. If anything, look at it this way: the late night web monster rescued you from about 250 words of insomnia-inspired narrative. That is, if you're still out there keeping up with my drivel! Which, brings me around to something that I've been meaning to say:

Thank you to everyone who commented on my first day, it really blessed me! And to everyone who has taken time to read even a few of my words - thank you! I've had some great conversations regarding literature, poetry, and prose in the past few days, which is really fueling the fire. I can feel a surge of creativity coming, so beware. This might actually be a good place for me to share some of the short stories I've had brewing, once they are finalized. After all my life is not really interesting enough (right now) for me to stick to strictly non-fiction writing during this project. Eugh.

Anyway, since my brain is on the fritz, and I'm quickly losing motor function, I think I'm going to wrap things up with an excerpt from the Introduction of 'The Fountainhead' by Ayn Rand (one of the writers who I've become fascinated with lately) because it inspired about a 3 page scribbling in one of my notebooks, which I think will sooner than later become one of those short stories I mentioned. (:

"It is not in the nature of man - nor any living entity - to start out by giving up, by spitting in one's own face and damning existence; that requires a process of corruption whose rapidity differs from man to man. Some give up at the first touch of pressure; some sell out; some run down by imperceptible degrees and lose their fire, never knowing when or how they lost it. Then all of these vanish in the vast swamp of their elders who tell them persistently that maturity consists of abandoning one's mind; security, of abandoning one's values; practicality, of losing self-esteem. Yet a few hold on and move on, knowing that that fire is not to be betrayed, learning how to give it shape, purpose, and reality. But whatever their future, at the dawn of their lives, men seek a noble vision of man's nature and of life's potential."

If you've never read any of Rand's work, I highly recommend it. Check out her novella 'Anthem' as a jumping off point.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmzaslkdjfoiiwfljzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[days 4&5/365]

fragmented.

2011-05-05T01:36:00.000-07:00

we may not have all started broken, but somewhere between the sweet naivety and the morning after - we each found our way down a staircase, or the side of a mountain, or seated in a plane that's plummeting towards the ocean; sweat beading down our foreheads in fear of all the things we've never done. somewhere along the way we were tossed around like lost luggage and left broken, scattered, and homeless. then we spend the rest of our lives either stagnant or searching; stuck in a haze of falsified glory and indignation, or wandering - lustful and hopeful with a belly full of fire that will either burn you from the inside out or keep you from settling. I guess you want to be both. or one and then the other. I've found it difficult to hold on to things when I'm always getting restless, and looking for another (new) way to satisfy my wanderlusting nature. I was lost at a very young age; broken before I really understood what it meant to heal. and I've been walking around grabbing on to pieces of things I found beautiful in the world, and pressing them in my chest to fill the gap; the stolen chamber. I've been running around in circles bumping into people and taking a piece of them that inspired me or scared me and pressing it into my chest like warm clay. I'm trying to rebuild myself with the whole world, my whole vast experience (and yours) because I don't think we have to remain broken. and sometimes we need other people and other things, charming things, stupid things, cold things, small things, to fill in the holes. we're a charitable race because we were broken. we step on each others toes and spill secrets and truths and observations and trade parts with each other (even when it hurts). my courage for your wisdom. an arm for a leg. we compress all of the fights, the laughter, the kisses, and the tears down into gleaming silver charms which we toss into our (still cracked) chests. for better or worse, I think it's beautiful.

then again, we are taught not to listen to (once) broken minds.

[day 3/365]

day 2/365 - a nonsensical review

2011-05-04T02:19:00.001-07:00

Alright, alright. So before you get your panties all in a wad let me say this: I have not already broken code, and fallen behind. I, in fact, scribbled this little mind meandering on notebook paper earlier, and have just found time to post. Everything's okay. You can breathe again :)

Today was one of those days that seemed to hold a lot of secrets in its palms; tiny microscopic mysteries that blend all too well with the lines and wrinkles of an aged hand. Slightly aggravating, but more than anything bustling with under-ripe thoughts and mumbled words and pure, insatiable intrigue.

It was a windswept kind of day ... I welcome those every once in a while.

The cherry on top though, of course, was the mind-numbingly awful movie that Chance, Derek, and I watched this evening. It taunts my mind, even now, with its tasteless dialogue and numerous unecessary slow-mo(mg) moments. It is indeed a menace, a cliff-hanger with no real height, and surely a regret; its name: SKYLINE. Now, generally, I'm all about some not-meant-to-be-hysterical bad/cornball movies. But this was actually the bad kind of bad. Please, avoid this flick, or find yourself thinking way too much about Donald Faison and the different means by which he may reincarnate in alien form. Srsly.

And now I really ought to go lie down in my comfy bed before my limbs fall off. P90X is like the ex-boyfriend you still kind of want to be friends with, but then everytime you get together you're reminded incessantly why you broke up to begin with.

Really though, if one of my roomies wakes up to find me crying at the top of the stairs, it's because I was too sore to go fetch my breakfast.

:)

Stay healthy, sweat bullets, and avoid temporary paralysis, kids.

Goodnight!

TWENTY - and the beginning of something good.

2011-05-03T01:29:00.002-07:00

What I'm Doing Instead of Sleeping:

Keeping a promise to myself (which will be explained momentarily)
Contemplating how on earth I ate that much brownie
Re-reading all of my lovely birthday comments/notes/texts (:
Wondering if, now that I'm 20, there is no longer hope of growing a few more inches D:
Procrastinating since I don't really know what to write in the body of this entry
AND
Taking stupid webcam pictures* in the dark, just for posterity's sake

*Proof of said pictures to follow.

Okay... Who else can't believe I've just left my teenage years behind? Granted, I never put much stock in these numbers we get stamped on our foreheads, but c'mon now. I still run around the house in my Wonder Woman undies when no one is home, and watch Saturday cartoons, and proudly know the lyrics to most classic Disney songs (which are common for me to sing in the shower, character voices included). Many respectable women of my age may not admit to dirty little secrets like that, but I kind of feel like they make me more dignified somehow.

Today I turned 20, and I have never felt so young.

This year has held a lot of change for me - moving out, for the first time, across the country and out of the safe and familiar home I was raised in, chasing my dreams, nipping at their heels, holding my first retail job with a GM I'd like to throw a wet sock at, paying ghastly utility bills, and being excited when I have $5 extra to buy that yogurt that's on sale. It seems like last year that I thought I'd neeever turn 16 and get my driver's license, or say that I can stand on my own two feet, and yet this has been a long time coming. I had felt overdue for a change, and even all of the difficulties that have bombarded me in tandem with this new life I've acquired are beautiful. Life is beautiful. /endcheeseball

To get to the real point of this late night jabber - I am starting a 365 project of sorts. For every day of my twentieth year of living/learning/dreaming: I am going to write. Right here. I've had a lot of creative goals in the past 3 years or so but somehow responsibilities and fear and outright laziness coupled with a lack of inspiration have thwarted such endeavors. I'm kind of over that now though. Not the reasons (excuses), just the giving up and letting go part. I'm also doing a 52 weeks photography project (which can be seen on my flickr dun dun dun) - one self portrait a week for the duration of a year... Along with other random and sundry artsy-fartsy things I'm sure I'll be sharing with you. Yes, that does kind of act as a warning. (:

There are several reasons for my taking up such affairs. The most personal and core notion being, in short, that I want to document my life. I want to remember the small things, and push myself to unveil the things that would otherwise go unnoticed. I want to create, to inspire, to fall down, to struggle, and to pick myself back up and not only keep going, but to keep striving even higher. I'm out here in Cali to pursue a "far-fetched" and difficult career - my passions lie in things that aren't particularly easy to make a living at - and during this paramount shifting state in my life I want to revel in each small victory and respect the wrong turns and learning curves. This will serve as a record; a testament. However, these projects are not only for myself.

I hope to catch some wandering eyes/ears/hearts/minds, and I'm asking those that do stop by for a read or a gander - please leave me a little nugget of your mind. It'll be good to know you're out there, otherwise I'll start feeling a little nutty. Well, more nutty.

Ahem. So - here's to making the rest of this year mean something. Let's shake the dust off our heels and start running again, what do you say?

I'm going to get some shut eye now, and hope that the first night's rest of my 20's is splendid, cause Lord knows I could use it. Also, in response to all the b-day love I received by various means, my face did this numerous times today:

That is all.

Goodnight world.

Rachel Reagan

fall, falling, fallen

2010-08-18T20:19:00.004-07:00

(click to enlarge.)

that's the first thing I've done with watercolor paints in years.
and the scanner made the painting look more yellow-ish.

this is highly aggravating me at the moment. ignore it and go

to sleep. ignore it and go to sleep. ignore it and go to sleep.

goodnight, moon. (:

P.S. I have been working on my "visual journal / scrapbook" thing.. but I did fail to write and photograph every day. There's just too much going on right now, I haven't been able to dedicate even an hour daily to this endeavor. I didn't quit though! I just haven't been posting every "entry," for various reasons. Apologies to those who followed this project. Assuming there are people that did.. er.. do such.

...

Hello?

late night cocktails.

2010-07-14T18:13:00.001-07:00

(click image to enlarge)

unhinged.

2010-07-13T20:21:00.001-07:00

(Click image to enlarge and read.)

in lieu of something coherent.

2010-07-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

There was a dull murmur of voices surrounding me… the voices of strangers in a strange place; strangers whose mere presence thickened the night air. We all gathered around empty chairs, and dewy lawns, and wide sidewalks - all staring up at this creamy blue awning - waiting. Waiting for a familiar phenomenon. One that intrigues me more and more each time it falls before my eyes. It was that particular moment of patience in the summer heat which threaded us all together. We were all looking for the same thing, with a palpable anticipation dripping like sweat down our foreheads.

(When it comes, you don’t even really notice it.)

Blossoms. Cocoons. Galaxies unfolding right above me, flashing like lightning and then disappearing, leaving only some crude inverted shadows burned into my retina. With each one my heart beats faster until there are so many colors in the sky, my mind mistakenly tells my body I’m dreaming. My rhythm steadies and falls into a booming cadence with the colorful explosions. Red, blue, grey, orange, green. Little golden hornets. Popping. Pop. All of us fallen under a trance to this giant static tv screen in the sky.

It’s the same kind of enchanting feeling I used to get as a kid.

-_rrl
***

June 21st twentyten

2010-06-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

June 18th twentyten

2010-06-17T21:35:00.001-07:00

June 14th twentyten

2010-06-14T17:17:00.000-07:00

may 28th twentyten

2010-05-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

2010-05-27T18:47:00.001-07:00

no more

2010-05-26T20:00:00.005-07:00

click image to enlarge (and read).

the finest frenzy

2010-05-25T22:43:00.005-07:00

click to enlarge & read

©RRL

when we were young, we were small but we didn't know it.

2010-05-19T22:53:00.001-07:00

the sun is at my back and I am swollen with anticipation to feel its warmth on my face; to be kissed again by that splash of golden favor, like it is to be kissed by you. that day on the beach, with the sand under our feet, and the wind whispering secrets through our hair - you were my sun, and I stared straight into you, squinting, like I wanted you to be the last thing I ever saw. daylight passed between the cracks of our hands, holding on to each other as tightly we could bear to grip while still so new and excited and scared. the fear we shared at falling into each other was beautiful and mysterious, both of us sure it was the sign of something so big, so real, that we were made to be subject to its glory. and I ~~was~~ am subject to you. out of fascination and adoration and the sheer power of a trusted love. I am always trying to find a new piece of you to take with me, to wrap in my heart-folds for safe keeping. we walked and talked and kissed and laughed and while staring up at the awning of stardust that covered us, my head in your lap, struck by your strong, gentle profile, I had the sudden notion that you were my angel. I asked you what the brightest star in the sky was, and you answered sirius. I told you that you were my sirius: the light in my deep, life-filled sky. and there are all of these moments that are so small and sporadic that you forget to notice them until they're gone. until they're spiraling off into the atmosphere like day old exhales on some long lost high way, with you in the cracked vinyl passenger seat wondering why the stars look so lonely. and you think about how they seem like they're some broken bits of something that was so much grander once. and you think about the way he made you feel when he held your face in his hands and sang to you by the ocean side: no one in sight but the bone-white moon. and how he made you feel like you were some broken bit of something so much grander. and when you're alone in your bed at night you try to drag those moments out of their coffins and quicken them, give them back their names. because it's the most important part of who we are and why we're here. we're always striving to figure out who we are and why we're here, aren't we? all of the snuggling, the words, the chalk drawing in parks, the games, the crying, the falling asleep on the phone, the prizes, the failures, and what is it all for? I think we all wrestle some innate desire to understand what it's all for. we come out of the womb questioning this strange place, desperate for our cries to be heard. we dance around in circles, not knowing what it means when we hear someone say "to be truly alive" for the first time, and from that moment forward we strive, with every fiber of our being, to achieve that sufficiency - that "truly alive." we dance around in circles, running into each other while taking pieces of this place and trying to embed them into a living mural, our living mural, our own personal masterpiece. because we're all so desperate for our hearts to be understood; desperate to be a part of something grander than this one universe, this one life, this one voice. seeking for the highest mountaintop with the greenest grass and the bluest flowers, to stand upon and scream "I am here. I am right here. I am young and restless and naive, but I'm still something. I am right here, and I feel everything. Can you find me?" Can you find me?

discrepancy.

2010-03-28T13:25:00.002-07:00

I find myself burdened by the nonexistencies. (Yes, I can make up my own words.) The weight of emptiness upon emptiness grinds itself into my shoulders: blistering reality.

I dearly miss the lamplight coos that only seem to come when eyes receive the glow of skin. I wonder what beckons the words out of your heart and onto your tongue. Is it not Love, with all of its tendrils gently wrapped around your waist? It all began with questioning Distance; its width, breadth, height; I ask - do we ourselves not create its most terrible grievance?

I miss resting in bed. Even without sleep - being rejuvenated by the placement of home. These nights Time itself stares at me through the midnight hours. I think on laughter, comfort, brief deep sadness, loving silence, and the drift of satisfaction that sits on my sill. A friend's importance, reinforced tenfold by absence, intensifies the need for understanding.

There's yet a shadow of Fear at my tail, whose grip I care not to question. I know that if I am to slow down, his claws would surely rip my heels. And now: it is not my want to keep running that has caught sickness, but my vision. Direction means no more to me today than the day I was born. My dreams move the street signs in the dark, so that the only people who can find their way are the children, who never pay attention to signs anyway. Am I to run back towards my youth?

I miss the quality of life that dwells in the aftermath of good communication. I seem to have lost it all within my quaking season.

cognitive dissonance.

2009-11-29T01:38:00.002-08:00

Sometimes it makes me nauseous to be stuck inside revolving answers. Answers that often contradict in language and in action. The evolution of rights and wrongs is pretty hysterical. I want to know that you accept and love me without feeling guilty that you do. Carrying an indistinguishable weight can make one's appearance very unattractive, which only furthers my misunderstanding as to what it is you see in me. Do I have a lack of integrity because I often want to abandon my opinions and adopt yours? Does patience, once it out-steps a certain confine, become a fashion of fear?

When does just enough become too much? Wanting, needing.. is there really even an appropriate boundary to be placed on said things? The definition between the two is arguably not concrete; the nature of each differs from person to person. What about desire isn't selfish, yet what about desire isn't natural? Is there a definite line that marks where philanthropy and self-preservation meet? Are they separate entities entirely? Are they simply woven together? After all, how can you have one without the other? I've a very muddled view of everything at present. I feel light-headed and weary. Too weary to sleep. Oh, the axiomatic insomnia: very anti-climatic.

In a completely disjointed conclusion: here's some nonsense.

I'm an eruption of color and madness,
Skating along the brink of sanity
Reading the questions that lie
beyond what you
approve.

Mint blades of grass etch the soles
of my feet with their whining,
and through the vale shine
sprouts of truth.

My thoughts were taken up by the night,
Devoured in disarray, without cessation
in between the sky's chomping lips.

Each idea now falls down from this tree of
idealism I'm sitting under. Overripe and
seedless fruit; an amalgam of rights who
wronged, resolved into red delicious.

Sometimes when I am lonely, I take a bite,
and rest assured I'll lose myself sour in
investigatory taste buds. I digest an
indescribable desire ---

a misdemeanor
of sorts.

This could explode a conglomerate mess,
Sculpting identities with molten modesty,
And falling behind the faces of a
Convenient cognomen or two.

Until then, I mull the texture in my mouth,
and remember to nearly forget to swallow.
I would answer tomorrow's query
if it weren't for your swift
apprehensive stare.

I need a violent violet remedy,
I'm beginning to feel sick

Hickory Dickory Dock

2009-11-05T00:45:00.006-08:00

I

Behind gaping mouths await secrets,
Embedded in molars: untold gestures.
Clown-like truths that haunt the bearer.
Lets talk ambiguity -- bright and charming.

Lies pucker valiantly atop the corner of lips,
Scorching conversation with imaginative advances.
Flying outward with seemingly perfected cadence,
Creating faulty foundations beneath trusting feet.

Truth rests nonchalantly, leaning against tongue,
Near the tip he dances, to and fro: remaining.
Glimpses caught through hasty dialogue,
Right sided visions of fights inevitably lost.

Within each throat, deep and circumstantial,
Linger families whose morals sway.
Algorithms commonly accepted throughout.
Beloved and Unwanted bleeding with one accord.

Naked hearts were never my specialty;
Faults provided silver lined on dishes of gold.
Now humbled and regretful, seeking fresh horizons,
I surrender truth and lies altogether.

I'm sitting here in a dimly lit room in the far corner of a metabolic square, meandering through a steady stream of cursory thoughts, wondering what hypocritical happenstance I may dream up next. The alphabet forsakes me: this frame resembles a loss: dietary malnutrition through simple lack of appetite. Must night taunt me with its flickering star flaked sky? Every nurturing word wouldn't be enough to satiate the hunger of a dying light. My day is being swallowed down tonight's long, sequined throat –-- soon now will be then, leaving only question marks to marry ampersands in recompense for the future.

III

I? I? What am I? I am such a selfish paragraph...

I am the one who likes to think that you appear by my side,

vivid by the light of the celestial onion whose head hangs low,

merely through sincere delight, and a sure desire to be truly known.

Whatever you do: please don't let go.

too many personal pronouns.

2009-10-13T02:04:00.002-07:00

Since when has emotion been less of a fuel, and more of a fire? I’m weak, tired, lazy; I’m abrasive, cruel, over reactive. I’m speaking out of both sides of my mouth apparently, which curls at the corners without instigation, foaming and Vaseline sickly. I feel simultaneously like a monster and a sallow victim. And I kind of hate that word: victim. It has such a derogatory and negative connotation these days, at least in the environment I was brought up in. Less a person who has fallen prey to misfortune, more a person whose weakness drives their decision – whose complaints are filed superfluous. Fight, fighting, fought: A continuous cycle of which I’m familiar, and previously content with. Perpetually content with – if fighting for people I love, things I adore, ideas I believe in. But when I am left fighting simply to stand upright in a publicly acceptable demeanor…I would almost rather put down my sword. What a complexity, that I can fight for those I love, but not for myself. Not with justification as my shadow, at least.

It hurts very much for someone to “diagnose” you, especially when you already spotted the symptoms, and recognize that they are right. Even more so, when this person is incredibly close to you and someone whose opinion you respect highly. It stings in a very healthy manner, and I’m currently wiping my eyes from the tears of such a cleanse.

What constitutes a ‘correct’ decision in the wake of intricate tribulations? The line between taking care of yourself in the now, and taking care of yourself in the future – has been terribly blurred for me. Am I carrying burdens that will forever bend my back, or will time allow me to alleviate the pressure in an appropriate way? For everyone involved? I stand in awe of Fear and all of its tributaries. I stand as a conjunction; I stand in half.

The phrase “home is where your heart is” has been branded in the back of my mind tonight. How much severe truth six small words can hold. I will always be intrigued by how easily time and experience can change or amplify the meaning behind even the most commonplace of phrases. Language allows for ambiguity and certainty all at once. Rather, language is the one window in which certainty evolves without losing its value. Anyway. The notion that home is where you place your heart – where those things are that you’ve fervently invested yourself in – is a riddle in and of itself. Firstly one questions what “home” really is: because it is widely understood that ‘home’ is not a tangible object, but more a sensory impacting emotional placement. And to each his own: Home is not something we all share in exactness, but something we are able to connect with through a similar comfort. Be it creature comfort or soulife comfort, the word “home” is able to convey an effectual feeling we all experience: not the cause itself which actually triggers said feeling. Then there’s the bunny trails one inevitably travels when trying to find things to invest in. As a child, ‘home’ is ingrained with certain parental comforts: support, safety, familial relation in general etc. At a certain age we start to branch out and begin living our autonomist lives – and home gets stuck somewhere in limbo. Not for everyone, obviously. Some people find a new home quickly in their work, their school, a lover, a friend – and they submerse themselves within. In my case: I am aware of what things I am invested in, the people, beliefs, and actions… but I am separated from them in a very real sense. My heart is currently invested across the country in my acting career, a few hundred miles away with my brother, up state with my boyfriend, across town with my best friend… And unfortunately the physical house in which I’m living has very much lost any sense of home. There is a very faint lingering comfort, but its dim light is almost haunting, and its smell has begun to sour. Every childhood happiness morphed, every expectation rattled, every blanket of security shrank. I’m totally rambling now. This is a subject to further delve into at another time. The whole thing reminds me of the lyrics to a song Belle sings in Beauty & the Beast:

“Is this home? Am I here for a day or forever? Shut away from the world until who knows when. Oh, but then: as my life has been altered once, it can change again. Build higher walls around me, change every lock and key. Nothing lasts, nothing holds all of me. My heart's far, far away. Home, and free.”

I’ll be able to assume control over my life sometime soon, and then I will be capable of making those things which trigger my point placement my own: my every day: my home. In the meantime I’m going to build a stronger armor in attempts to resurrect a sense of belonging in the here and now. Pray for me?

The night is making a halo around my windows. Most rational people are sleeping at such hours. I can’t even rightly call it night anymore seeing as it’s nearly 4 AM. By the time I’m done writing, I’m sure it will be well after. Though my limbs are heavy and my eyes are blurred, the simple human desire to sleep has not yet enveloped me in a weary fog. I’m resting upright in bed, mind churning one thousand thoughts a minute, fingers twitching in anticipation of translation. What am I to do? My body’s chemistry has made a slave of me. I need to show it who is boss. Perhaps tomorrow.

Have you ever felt like a purposefully hypocritical accidental hypocrite? How about a walking fable of oxymoronic value? I have! Actually, I do would be more accurate. It’s a hoot, seriously. I keep putting myself on a leash and walking in circles, and even though I have good intentions you know what they say… And I don’t exactly want my road to be headed that far south. Nor do I want it to be paved with what are essentially masked truths. I want to face the music, with my nose to the staff, close enough that my exhales cause a melody change if I’m not careful. Question is: what instrument do I choose?

It’s never too late to change course, but lately I’m thinking it’s probable to be too early. Ah, the way my veins bubble with the thought of wronging you. When I think about my very existence laying a burden on you, my blood singes the skin on its way to my heart: whose beat is erratic and lame. The traits of a worrisome mind are found more prominent than desired at the notion of holding you back from being all that you are capable of. I was taught at a very young age that being catered to for a personal emotional pain is not only unnecessary, but a drag for the person doing the catering. I know, through practice, that when you love someone – helping them in any fashion is fulfilling, enjoyed, desired, welcomed etc. What I did not realize, until recently, is that said rule applies to the people that love me as well, and even more so – that someone now truly does love me with that brand of altruism. It may seem a silly revelation, but that’s the beautiful brutality of Rachel mechanics.

I’m slowly, but surely growing out of the self-loathing habit that has plastered itself to my being over the past 18 years. It’s proven to be a difficult experience, and one that holds many avenues of enlightenment. As much as it hurts: it heals. Never before have I known equality between pain and contentment as I do now. Life is pretty incredible, curve balls and all.

Hum, wellllllll. Now that it is officially 5 AM, I believe some sleep is in order. Should I accomplish what I want to accomplish tomorrow, a good 6 hours of unconsciousness is to follow my immediate posting of this here blog. Goodnight, world. Curl up under a star flaked sky, and dream. I know I will. (:

sleepless & untamed.

2009-10-07T00:52:00.002-07:00

How do you like the new page everybody? (Isn’t it just too cute that I still pretend I have any kind of “following” to speak of? Hehe.) Apparently I wanted to do some writing today, because I spent the better part of my afternoon, more hours than should be mentioned, sitting in front of this computer screen, incredulously concocting a blogspot.

Whohuhwhadidyasay?

In my defense: I'm sick as an old, fat, dog. I've head a headache behind my eyes for several days, I go through bouts where I down-right CANNOT breathe through my nose, I'm coughing up a storm, sneezing like a weasel, and have had my fair share of blood from the nose/throat areas. I wouldn't rightly call it a cold, because it is accompanied with nausea and intense light-headed moments, in which I find myself looking even closer to the undead than before. Yes, folks, I look like a zombie. No exaggeration. I am sleepless, dirty, wheezing, and greenish in color. If that description does not send your imagination into a sensory explosion -- try this on for size:

+

+

= ME. I actually tried meshing them on morphthing, (HA!) but my patience wore thin. Just look at that second picture though...I'd be worried if I did have a lot of patience. Ahem, anyway. Let's see if I can't actually accomplish something here. (: Huuuuuuuum.

It is currently 4:20 AM, and though my body lags with exhaustion, my mind won't seem to rest. There's enough going on in here to satiate several conversations at once, I swear. Granted, some of them are less intelligent than others, but nonetheless entertaining. I wonder what particular emotion is shying away from proper expression this morning. I can feel it hiding, sheepishly, behind the bolder shoulders of broader spectrums. Come on, come out little one! I can't wait forever, and my eyes are growing weary.

At least I have a fitting soundtrack to such a circumstance: a confusion of thunder, and a steady downpour of rain. I've yet to see any lightning, but it can't be far behind. I love the sound of rain. Whether mild, or unforgivable: there's something about the way it resonates within...Nothing can truly imitate the sound of a sudden downpour.

Mmm. Tomorrow is Wednesday, rather: Today is Wednesday, and I had set a list of things to accomplish today that I'd written out at some point last weekend. Sad to say, from my sickly position atop a futon covered with "remedies," I don't think they'll be achieved. My toes still have a pulse, and every time I turn my neck -- I feel I'll faint again. I never knew one could experience this sensation for such a lengthy period of time, without actually reaching the climax of fainting. A strange thing, really, and I'd rather not revisit. Point being: I don't know what my day holds, but it's not likely to involve chemical based cleaners and dust bunnies the size of my face. That wouldn't be smart, now would it? Sorry Avalanche, you'll have to wait another day. Damn this peculiar flesh!

Well, I guess this is going to be a random-has-no-point-cliffhanger-lameass-rachel kind of entry. ;) I can't seem to navigate my way through the mob that has rented out my thoughts for the evening. Fret not, tiny scholars! I'm sure I'll be back soon. Tomorrow. An hour. 25 minutes. After a potty break. Who knows.

Sweet dreams, world.