What Seems Like a 100 Questions

Do I live to far in the past? Is it to hard to understand what reality is now? What do I want to do with my life? Am I capable of greatness? Is there understanding in the world? Who is Racist? Are braces and Ipod's just status symbols? Can you have to much music? Today, is it really buy nothing day? Do you think it will snow? Do you think Christina and Burk are done forever? What does "Ave Maria" mean? Is that how you spell it? What does it take to make stuffing? What is the average calorie intake? Does any one know what they want to do after college? Is there life after college? What movie should I see? What is our family dynamic? Where is my cat? Where is my phone? Why can't school have a snow day? Are there still problems in Northern Ireland? Is living to 89 a blessing or a curse? Depends?

Its funny how things work out...the play that changed my life in high school was about a Jewish girl who died for her beliefs. The play that has changed my life right now is about a girl who dies fighting for Palestinian causes. Both believe in humanity, both suffer, both write, and both plays allow me a window and opportunity into myself expression.

Come check it out...Tomorrow at 8.

Oh right I'm directing it.

O when, all ways

Here we go another lame ass poem:

I woke in James' bed
to think on John-
but decided:
if I was going to think under heartache
I had to start at the beginning.

Owen. O when?

Not the first boy
not my first kiss
but the first to take apart
-myself human being little
105 pounds- my all
Dark hair in the dark night

In 5 I will give my hand

1



2


3









4



5
I will always give it. In All ways.
After this John seems a stranger
the bed im in distant.

A Connection To Letters

Today I spoke about how beautiful your name was.
I made people gasp at the sound of how it- could be said.
It was not how I said it,
It was how I implied

Your name. Beautiful through you.
I imagined for others how beautiful your soul was, your family,
your heritage, your relationship with me
with my hint of how you say

Your name. Is a clear indication of how much I love.
That two words can make gasps
because I said you say it better than me
because I said I love

your name.

-I never consider myself a great poetry writer so tell me whatcha think-please be honest, otherwise I might write more-

ain't no sunshine

Wrote this to Thales on Facebook:
"Life has moments that are scripted. Sitting, lying, leaning on the bed, words are, and then the awkward pause.... Where the sentiments of love should be. but are carelessly forgotten for the indulgences of making it. Anyway, on this bed, during this pause, Paul Simon says exactly what he, she, they cannot. "I just can't say I love you" Or some lyric close to that shit. This pause, this lyric, create a sensation that affects both movie goers and individuals alike. And once again the importance of the I-tunes play list becomes undisputed."

"I think I have been yours for a long time and not even known it."

Evilness in Strangers

It is hard in life to define what truly constitutes "evil". This term cannot include such pettiness as backstabbing friends, cheating boyfriends, gossips, ect. It does not define the assholes of the world or even those cold hearted individuals that one would like to assume as "evil". "Evil" cannot be someone who has only wronged you, it cannot be someone who has hurt you, but someone who has destroyed you in an intentional, purposeful, repetitive manor. But even then my definition is insufficient because there are those random evils that occur once in a life time, those random thoughts that are truly evil that only occur on occasion rather than routine. I wonder then I have ever met a "truly evil" individual? Sure I have known the person, been a victim of an evil act, but does that mean the person is evil forever?

Example: When camping two drunk men came up to the camp sight and started to taunt us. One of them went to the side bushes and there found a snake. (the poor thing) He then proceeded to smash the creature to death and then with its final agonizing minutes taunt us with it, by setting it on seat as if a king and then throwing its uncoiled body at me. Is this truly evil? On first impulse I say of course, not only was this man abusing his fellow human but in the process killed an innocent creature of nature. But on further reflection does this one action make this man evil to the core? There are instances such as pedophiles and other horrid crimes that constitute pure evil, but even then isn't it in our nature to just assume that they are mentally unwell. ?

Can a person in this day and age be considered evil then? By my own definition I feel I have only met one maybe two truly evil people in my entire life. I have heard of many more. But what does this say then, has humanities definition of "evil" laxed? Am I leaving out a whole group of individuals: the cold hearted bastards, the cheating x's, the unsympathetic bystander, the gossip, as un-evil because they are not the most horrid? Why is this?

My own personal opinion states that we have just become more aware of the evil within ourselves and therefore justify it in others. Because I have cheated, gossiped, been apathetic, I am much less inclined to view these acts as truly evil. I do not like the idea of myself as an "evil human being". I like to think I try to be decent. Therefore my conclusion is that evil must always be foreign to ones own self for it to be truly "evil". So by that note only those who are not me are evil, and probably only strangers can be evil because knowing someone allows for the same allowances we make ourselves.

Shes not so u

I am doing one of my favorite things right now. Eating veggie soup, drinking a Dr. Pepper, and watching a live concert dvd of Jason Mraz. hmmm nice.

The Conversation Went As Follows:

" Look at those kids they think they are so cool what are they twelve?"

"Yeah I was certainly not a cool kid, i mean I thought I was a blue faerie in kindergarten"

"Alex, no kid who goes to CC was a cool kid"

(Phish comes on in the back ground)

"true"

Once again my summer ended with jack johnson and javier ortega...God I love summers

If My Life Was A Movie This Would be The Soundtrack (Stolen From Jess)

Opening credits: Sir Duke- Stevie Wonder
Waking up: Bang Bang - Dispatch
Average Day: Right Me Up- State Radio
First date: Love You Madly- Cake
Falling in love: Im Yours- Jason Mraz
Love scene: Get It On- T. Rex
Fight scene: L-O-V-E -Natalie Cole
Breaking up: Please Me Like You Want- Ben Harper
Getting back together: Cecilia- Simon & Garfunkel
Secret love: Weight Of The World
Life's okay: Sympathique- Pink Martini
Mental breakdown: Escape (pina colada song) - rupert holmes
Driving: Surfwax America- Weezer
Learning a lesson: Grace is Gone- Dave Matthews Band
Deep thought: The Widow- Mars Volta
Flashback: In the Summer Time- Mongo Jerry
Partying: Dirrty- Christinia Agulara
Happy dance: I Know What I Know -Paul Simon
Regreting: Sittting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson
Long night alone: Tired of Being Alone- Al Green
Death scene: When She Believes- Ben Harper
Closing credits: I will follow you into the dark- Death Cab for Cutie

I saw Owen tonight. He held my hand."I guess those types of emotions never really go away." I didn't say that. I understand better. When one person ruins your trust another restores it, in an odd way. However I still feel pretty lost on what to feel at this moment.

I do understand though why people hate each other after relationships end. Its easier. Teena is right I am easily hurt and too sensitive. This was viewed as a weakness. But its not often others just don't know what to do with a person who feels openly.

The Last Chapter Shall Be Called "How to Find What You Love Only To Constancy Loose it"

Sometimes its to hard to know where to begin.....Start with the dreaded absence of John, Teena telling me I was too weak and sensitive for him anyway, being shot at by drunk hicks, the end of camp,or my being a bridesmaid with a variable wedding date who called at 2:30 in the morning to say he couldn't come on the wrong date, his broken collar bone and all, or mention the amazing new state radio CD? Really they are all worth a mention. Nothing here has changed me as Always I'm not knowing exactly what I need. The only difference is now I might trust people a bit less. Which is truly sad on my part. So it is that time again...On to Chapter three.... "The adult Alex whose trust is on empty but hope still points to full"

-alex (the name never changes)

"Hi, You've Reached Alex..."

Do you ever have those days where you are just flat out disgusted with yourself?Today I drive in from the mountains. Immediately I turn on my phone and wait for a signal. I am shocked when I have no new messages. I call John. No answer. Call Rachel. Nothing. Try to remember Jav's number but the only number I can remember is Renzo's. Thank god.Drive home call my mother. I plug my computer in almost immediately after walking in the door and wish I had brought my external hard drive filled with 56.1 gigs of music that I really don't listen to. I did have six new messages all of them from dear friends...I think I will change my message machine to "only leave me a message if you are a boy, confessing your love for me, apologizing or telling me a shockingly good piece of gossip." I then hold my cell phone in hand while stocking people on myspace for hours, then face book, then I redo my myspace page. My break from this was to go out and buy a new ipod, develop pictures with a digital CD so I could paste them on face book, and rent the OC. I then proceed to watch three hours of the OC while texting John as to why he hates me and then end up getting online again. Waiting to have an online conversation for the second time today with renzo.....God I hate technology and boys.

Little children really do grow up to quickly. one minute they are small fresh, and scared buds. The next they are primping flowers all grown up.

You Know you are in New Mexico When:

1. Starbucks is out of decaf, creme base, chia, and caramel. Thank god they had ice.
2. Your grandma asks if you know that man in the purple pimped out escalade, who is waving.
3. You have to order water and but not green chili.
4. Roads are blocked off for non-existent road construction.
5. And the classic "Gusty Winds May Exist"

I'm Home! Sometimes it feels very good to say that.

Thinking On How Many People I Dislike and the Reasons Why

I feel like I have completely lost myself. I don't know who I am anymore. I am really the way I am described? I agree I am. But when did I become so angry, so filled with hate, so quick to blame, to be OK with manipulation. When did it become OK to judge so quickly? When did I loose sight of other human beings?

I think my mother is right. Its not depression or sadness or disappointment. Its a grown-up temper tantrum. I was a good child...why am I a bad adult?

I am utterly and completely heartbroken and embarrassed. And not over a boy. No boy can make me feel this way, only acting.

That Lovely Art

This time of year is dangerous. One becomes hopeful and nostalgic. The sunshine, wind, and approaching summer allow others to be weary as well.My eyes are open searching for the sun.

Most people spend their Easter Sundays learning about Jesus' resurrection. I spend mine learning to punch with my left....Oh what joys are to be found in acting. Can I go to hell for acting a sin?

Grey Poodle Black Hair

Im watching a poodle tempt fate.... he's shitting on a lawn by a busy road. Running freely. Sometimes I wonder if maybe Im not a poodle tempting fate. Running freely shitting on who I please because it means nothing to me. There are no immediate consequences....but I know one day I will want to cross the road.

Why did the poodle cross the road?

To Shit On the other side.

Do you still read this? every entery? Or have you grown smarter than to listen to this girl?

One Finger Hit Reverberates My Soul

One finger hits reverberates my soul
Another. Drops of condensation fall
each bead runs down my glass pulling its tole.
My one heart held in music’s artful all.

The rhythm ties, souls, beats binding out hearts.
Singing, begging me with loves empty case
tasting sweetened lyrics- glutenous arts.
Delicate song starts as engorging lace.

Strung, miscast upon you romantic rook.
Each note played for the tripartite:
you, me, and that guitar. Six strings create that look
six strings sink through my skin, soul- notes harsh bite.

Its not me you love- not three souls but two
the duo of love: that guitar and you.

ok so this is my first sonnet ever give it a break.

something to make everyone laugh

Anger, Procrastination, Dancing, Relaxation :Wonder

I am in an odd mood. I am angry for no reason...Unfortunately this sounds illogical so I am searching for someone, something to be mad at. First Renzo, then the trash can, now my bra. All bothering me making me want to scream. I hate this type of anger, its just rage without reason.

I can't bring myself to read. I can't bring myself to want to go to that show. Nor can I bring myself to shower. (OK so that one isn't abnormal per say)

I saw an amazing dance concert I woman danced with her unborn child, and a egg. Miners searched for who they were, shadows moved larger than life, Gypsies shook their way through the audience,three lovers moved in completeness and I saw what a faun does in the afternoon. If you go to CC my high recommendation is that you see the faculty dance show.

I have had a real urge to play violin today...Man does that not normally happen! But somehow through this urge I realized I just had to relax.

I woke up thinking this way and I will fall asleep this way. All day the thoughts and emotions have just kept coming.

Oh Not Another Excuse.

My first reaction to the message was to call back as soon as physically possible and relay my emotions to the sender (preferably on a message as well to add the coldness). But the thought occurred to me: when bruising another's ego it is best to have careful witticisms of poignancy that sting on contact but swell even more when digested. This thought of course led to me planning my angered, would be message. There is an enjoyment taken in combining words that are sure to at least puncture the heart of any human, never mind how cold hearted or stoic they may seem. I had gems in my possession. My speech was going to start off very strong with hints of disappointment, but no tears or obvious signs of anger. It would not bring up instances from the past (that might look like I was harping on the matter) but would only focus on now and the future. Slowly throughout the duration more emotion would become involved and blame put on myself for the problems at hand, guilt being my manipulation in intent. It would end with me pulling from all sources to create a problem, to search for a solution, and to hurt another person.

And then It just hit me. I had nothing to say. So why call? There will be no call back, no explanation for my abrupt silence. At first in my mind this too would have its own poetic, vindictive result. I wouldn't be there anymore...what could be worse?

But that is not what I want. The truth is I want to be left alone or loved and the latter I'm finally realizing can't happen, and that isn't any one's fault. So why place blame where there isn't any? Why hurt another in response to being hurt? Why ruin another person's day to make my hopeless one feel better. All I ever wanted is in the words of Ben Harper:

"please please me like you want to, not not like you have to. Oh wont you just go on and leave me? You know leaving me is the least you that you could do."

An Actress Acting As If She's Not Full of Shit

Its always interesting how according to Bridget Jones when one part of your life is going inevitably well another part falls is a horrid mess.

I am so happy because I am doing well in what I long always to be doing well in....Acting.(Thought I'd say love didn't you?) I am playing Satan in the Buntport Theatre show and will be performing in Denver in their sitcom. While the other section of life...The love section...Its the horrid mess.

But secretly if I could be good at acting I dont need that. My mother was worried that I would transfer schools for a boy....I told her she didn't know what type of person I was. My first passion is drama...Any boy ever will always come second. That's a bold statement but I believe it is completely true.

The Horrid Word of Friend

I have come to hate the word "friend". It covers all manor of sins.

I went to coffee with Owen to catch up and see how he was. We ran into some people he knew and each time he introduced me as such "This is my friend Alex". The whole time I thought: I am not/ nor was I ever your friend. We were not friends before we dated and were certainly not friends afterwards. Why don't you call me what I am "this is my x-girlfriend Alex". Mannie and Miguel did the same thing even though I was with both of them each time I was always introduced as "a friend" if I was lucky "a really good friend". The most obvious memory is standing in a parking lot holding hands with Miguel and him introducing me to Stephanie Dallness as "a really good friend". Once again I wanted to be honest and say: cut the bullshit..She knows I'm not just a good friend, I know that, and you better know that. "Friend" has become the lazy word for the unexplained. The word for a relationship that no one wants to take the time to define. Friendship is not being with some one, friendship does not involve kissing or sex. Friendship does involve talking, it involves secrets. Friendship is a bond between people that is pure. Relationships of a romantic type are hardly ever pure.

My suggestion for words to use besides this horridly misused word of "friend":
is to use the word that discribes that person for real in your eyes. Even if it becomes as crude as "This is my hookup buddy Alex". If one is not happy admitting that to people because it sounds sleazy well then the relationship should be redefined now shouldn't it?

Of course after looking into the word "friend" (thanks to dictionary.com) I might be completely wrong. It means:

A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.
A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.
A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.
One who supports, sympathizes with, or patronizes a group, cause, or movement: friends of the clean air movement.

Word History: A friend is a lover, literally. The relationship between Latin amcus friend and am I love is clear, as is the relationship between Greek philos friendand phile I love. In English, though, we have to go back a millennium before we see the verb related to friend. At that time, frond, the Old English word for friend, was simply the present participle of the verb fron, to love. The Germanic root behind this verb is *fr-, which meant to like, love, be friendly to. Closely linked to these concepts is that of peace, and in fact Germanic made a noun from this root, *frithu-, meaning exactly that.

However truly one might be justified in the use of the word friend when discribing a lover..I highly doubt this is understood by most people.

Seriously lets take a moment how much better it would be to say: "This is my bedfellow Alex" or "my armpiece Alex" "This is the girl I am secretly in love with, Alex.", "This is Alex the person I would be with but don't want a relationship","This is Alex a girl I used to love but now just think is creepy" probably the best "This is my well-wisher Alex".

From now on I want to be honest in my relationships and if I don't know what they are I will introduce them as "This is so and so". But do not be fooled if you are not a friend of mine I will not say that you are.

A Break From Boys To Worry About The Weather...

The sand covers the ground here. The cold wind creates a chill. There is no rain. There are no real trees. There are mainly junipers and what is left of the pinons that were not destroyed a couple of years ago. I have grown up accustom to being able to see a horizon. I have grown up knowing that there are hundred of miles between me and where the world suddenly begins to drop away. Being a drama major I sometimes wonder if the mountains are not really elaborately painted flats.

Every now and then a thought will posses me for a while, as of late it has been the difference of my home compared to others. My land being as above described. My home being a consolation of dryness and sunshine. But there are those who go home to the ocean or to giant trees, or to a city, or rain, constantly grey, with no horizons, all from a very different type. There are homes where the majority of color is green or blue, or grey. Not here, here it is brown and tan. I have always loved how ancient people, especially natives always live near the place that is holiest in the world. Isn't that what home is in an extreme since? The place you know where you came from, the place that began it all? The place that if you are allowed to go back to provides security?

Loving New Mexico is as simple as loving culture and as complicated as loving it as well. There is another type of person here with another history. These histories often have very little to do with American History. They relate much more to a family, a direct place, a beginning in travels from Spain, from Mexico, from the center of the earth. Most true native New Mexicans are related to each other. There is an understanding. A bond.

I was told I was from Colorado Springs the other day and was quite dissatisfied. I corrected the mistake politely and said "I go to school there. My home is Santa Fe." But as I write that I wonder what exactly besides being grown here allows for such a name?