This Morning's full Moon was called a "Strawberry Moon"

Yesterday I felt like leaving everything and crawling into darkness, I wanted to feel sad and alone. Marena, and this is fine, we are irrational. I guess.. she wrote on the whiteboard, "IF YOU SHIT FUCKING FLUSH IT" Sam and I hadn't spent much time with her, and she gets apparently all wanky when she hasn't eaten.. she's going raw foodist for a month.. I'm going to stay in the throwing studio for a month.. Sam wanted to talk a walk, we had spent 3 days together non stop ish. Like he arrived Friday night.. and left This morning. So he took a walk last night, and yesterday.. man, Whopper wanted to hang out, but I said it was Sam's last night here, so I'd hang out with Whopper tonight. I found myself alone in my living room.. with my roommate's lingering impulsive words, and Sam's significant absence, and the knowledge that I put Whopper aside for this experience. I had been expecting that people would be generally nice. I had not been though myself. I tend to get hot and cold with Sam. The coldness happens when I don't know who the fuck he is, or why I'm with him, and he does things that I find repulsive. He won't talk, he'll so solitary things, like going on the internet.. playing video games. He'll laugh at something to himself. I have to force conversation, force anything out of him. He came into the throwing studio on Saturday, and he got a slight, but not slight.. he lost his voice.. anxiety attack because he knew that people were listening to him. Holy fuck. You see? It's like.. do you know.. that this makes me feel bad, like you're making me look bad. Fuck. If I can't even have a conversation with you?? Dafuckingfuc. Let's just leave now. Good bye.

But alas.. Marena's on her own agenda.. she locked herself in her room for most of Sam's stay.. eating celery alone... I got a lovely chance at understanding Sam's point of view on the whole.. non-talking ness. You see, when he had gone out for his walk, and I was there alone.. I wanted to call Olivia. soo bad. But I knew I couldn't. Just like I knew I couldn't finish the wine in the fridge, or go out and buy a pack of smokes. I knew no thing of the sort would solve the situation at hand. Sam came back and he wanted to hugggg?? THe fucking no way. A hug. Ahem. I'm sorry honey, you don't fucking leave, and expect love. K? k. So I made him feel uncomfortable, and I was silent. Then we started watching Batman.. and he stopped it part way, and kept on pressing for me to talk. When he first stopped it, I was like.. looking to the wall, to the cieling. No eye contact, space between us on the couch. I just wasn't feeling it. Now, I'm super sensitive, Marena's super sensitive, and Sam's supersensitive, and it's the fucking full moon this morning.. so yah. There's enough give-way and fuel there to just have us all into watering messes of sadness and dependancy. Anyways.. Sam kept on asking what was wrong, and he encouraged me just to say whatever. I usually don't say whatever because I feel it's rude to tell someone what's wrong about them, because you should just whole fuckin hardetly accept them.. but so I did. I spoke of the "I don't like it when you laugh to yourself." I don't really find it cool that you can't converse with me. You finding my question asking as prying.. yes, it fucking is prying.. but it's also trying to get to know who the fuck you are. I like the kid, I do. Just, he is so unlearned at times that I become frustrated because I expect him to get it. Ah, but we're just learning each other.

He's been silent for 16 years, all he does with his friends is sit around them and feel present and therefore included. Mine is, talking or be cast out. Like, you don't have to talk, when you're comfortable and relaxing, and we all know you.. but you do have to talk.. if you're getting panic attacks in a room with other people and there's an exuberant awkwardness that cries from your eyes in pains of socialization.

Anyways, I'm not frustrated right now at him, we're good. This is just frustrating material. I mean, it's like reading a story... it's not like it's present, it's .. just being lived as each word is read. As soon as it's out and done and read.. that's it.

I am actually going to try and spend most of my time outside of the house.

This is what I meant before, and from where I was coming.. I wanted to just be alone and sleep and not eat for forever. But Sam was there.. and it was nice. We cried together, which was fun in some surreal way. I really dislike crying in front of people.. I really dislike any display of sadness and emotions.. well, for me, on me. I don't mind it for others.. But I feel like a bother when I do. No one should ever have to bear my weight.. I'll let the cigarettes and wine do that.




Naww, just joking. Speaking of it really helps, I'll just do that.

Okay, thanks for tuning in. You've been reading Kim's Weekly Passivity. Take care now, bye bye then.

Mono - Poly - Plato

Now I'm not a cheater, but my heart, or mind, does wander with the next kind soul around. I do like tests of loyalty, and my mind and probably heart is full into Sam. Actually. I feel weird when I write all "myheart myheart" because it's Gel pen diary book nonsense, and I naively believe I have become above it.. whereas, I'm not. But I feel silly. So there we go, I feel silly.

Shaun and I in throwing class put clay in our hair. I had said to him earlier that class that I thought it'd be a cool/neat/funny idea.. and so later he's like, "Let's put clay in our hair." I said no, not me, not now.. he did so anyways. But after I had finished my bowl, I did it. My hair is actually quite soft right now.. remarkable.

We are attracted to the other, honestly, it's people meeting people. If Sam and I weren't getting to know each other, I would be with Shaun currently. But.. with an instinctual fall back, I do feel. I want to explore his body, and spend time with him, but he's far too adventurous and stimulating in a sorta terrifying way.. I think? But he's very shy and likes to clean and he's slightly talkative, but with odd breaks. At least with me. And I'm apart of that too. I'm afraid I restrict some of my conversation, because I don't want to seem forward. But then, I don't speak of Sam, because.. it hasn't been brought up.. I think it's a liking of the attention, and a liking of the guy, generally. But combined with the liking of Sam, and the liking of the Sam=something-combo. And a general going with the flow.

I got anxious last Long Weekend because Shaun had invited me out to a party and I could hear myself laugh-flirting, freaked me the fucking shit out. But so I told and asked Sam, what was what, and he said, "don't be afraid to be you, you know." And so huzzah. I feel confident in my own choice of actions right now. I'm going to add Shaun on facebook so he can check out my status, lmao.

And then we can all be friends and live together forever! Fucking rights, hah.
Passiveconfrontations

The line begins to blur

I could write this everywhere,

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here.

There are days when I'll just relive my memories through photographs. And then you keep on going back in time, and then you see some photos from the more recent of memories, and my skin feels translucent. I told Jake a couple nights ago about my temper tantrums, and he's like, "You? Really?" sorta thing. Things that you hold to be definitive moments of you, and then it doesn't exist outside of the realm of your head. I should do some fucking homework. Like, if I want to find the essence of me? The pure and stableness to my identity.. it doesn't exist. Because I'm only here in this moment, and things are happening around me and i'm reacting to them, but so they don't define anything stable in me.. i guess. So those temper tantrums don't even exist now? Unless I do them? If a mole's on your skin one day, and the next it's gone, do you still point to that spot and say, "Look at this mole." Of course it's gunna be like.. there's nothing there. But to honor the mole that was. Why do we visit graveyards.

You know when you're resenting life a bit, .. but it's nothing serious, just super inconvenient. I've got a health reminder of a bad choice in the past. The fucking butterfly effect man. If I could rip my sexual reproductive organs out, but still have sex, and still reproduce, I fucking would. But alas.. we are one and the same individual, body, and active choice maker. Action taker.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckffffuuuuuccccccccccccccccccccCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK

Most of the time when I say "you" I mean "I"

You know when you're sitting there, hoping, wishing and expecting someone to act a specific certain way for you to you with you.. and you can only measure time passing, because nothing is coming. For those moments, that waiting just leaves you hung and you don't know why your head isn't effective when it reasons with you, so this range of branches in your chest, in the centre of your torso, goes up in flames. There's an ignition that can't be denied, because you're just believing what your feeling, and maybe your need pushes forward the clocks at a greater speed, so that sometime itd be helpful if you could simmer down a bit when it comes to these cravings. I read in to the pauses so much that, well after they had replied, given back, shared again with you, that I'm left with a feeling of shame. It was nothing big, and nothing grand - it just , the pauses, or at least me sitting there waiting (because I choose to), they accumulated into...

I try to be 'communication-efficient', long holdings out, in my romantic-view of the past, I guess they were more heartstrong - depending on all those pigeons and mailmen on horseback with funny hats.

I'm eating anchovies, and remembering how I said years ago, "I don't think I could ever be not vegan, because it just seems like the right thing to do in all ways." Yet, I am not. But I have learned more, about aspects that surround and influence me. Or maybe I'm just thinking differently without a true cause. But so with this... I wonder if there's something false about what I say, or how I feel right now. I'm told nothing lasts, and I nor does anyone else (I'm sure) have actual proof of eternal-ness, but how does one test eternity without letting it run through. It's like watching a movie, stopping half way, and saying, "it has a good ending." But maybe there are ways beyond the physical and beyond time.

I haven't said much about any of the things I've wanted to say, for a while.

Firstly, Marena's quite kind. And most of the disfriendly conduct was decided through mis/un/discommunication. If we need to resolve something, I will block the pathways to get to this point of resolution by seixing my words up. Now.. how's that for constructive roomatism.

2ndly - Sam is quite nice. I adopt, as with Marena, different ways of seeing something. "If something is broke, we fix it" is what I read on this marriage/relationship picture thing from the web before. Sounds promising, and enduring. Ahh, so I'd like to keep that in my mental filing for further review, when it comes to my future 'broken'ness and dilemmas. Just meaning the obstacles I'll most definitely face later on. Well I guess that saying goes beyond Sam, in to all my relations with people. Because, let's face it... shocked by my expectations not being met.. I'll just disconnect from any one, for a long period of time. Call it the hurt ego. Well anyways..


Today I have this gear in my mind that says I may accomplish whatever I want today. To plough over the past difficulties I've been met with daily. There is actually this persistant one, that no-one actually knows, except God and Sam. And today, I'm making the move. Well, I made the move already, but the folks on the other line weren't there, so.. I'll be making my move again. It's quite settling.

Charles for the first time went for my hand through the glass.. fuck - he's hungry. I'll thaw out another one tonight.

I have a new phone that reminds me about things, and keeps me on track - which is very nice. Very.


Peace and Adios.

I invite you to see my process of self-acknowledgment

Fuck man, I'm super stoked about my last 2 Final projects I did for Drawing and Paint & Print.

The only thing that is certain, is that nothing is ever certain. I'm standing at the back of my hallway set up - I'ma call it pseudo-exhibition, and I've gone through each piece, from the 2 triplets, to this piece imaged here, and then my paper embodiment. There's a desire that I have to know me, I'm trying to think of a name for this Exhibition, and "Who am i" comes to mind, because it's always in the mind. But it's not the title, so don't worry. (It's super evident-obvious? I would guess) I'm being super critical of the title idea.. but I'ma move on.

There are 4 pieces in this arrangement, 3 for Paint & Print, and one for Drawing. My first one is the prologue to the set up. Hairs stick out on the first head, and then my Image looks at you, and then I look away further along into the hallway. A construction of a.. I don't know what to call it.. but think about the shape of stairs. Right angled, and equally sized rectangular shaped faces.. if all the steps on one axis were of the same image, completed with all the steps on the other axis with another image, and if you were to walk by this form (the zigzagged stairs are being looked at in bird view) .. so you're walking by this collection of different angled images.. you will see the image change. Similar to those billboards made of triangular prisms.. sorta like that. But anyways.. I had 3 prints of 3 photos of my face whilst in NSCAD, none of which I truly identified with. Like, I could never have them as my profile picture, because I do not recognize that person there. Then we come to my painted and masked self. My image is superficial, and what I'm being recognized with, and identified with is flesh, and is determined by what another sees. But what's underneath the mask, is what I've created. Whatever I really am, I guess, is trying to make an actual self-portrait. My last piece is my drawing's sketchbook-project. I deconstructed what sketchbooks I had used that semester, and made them into a wall piece that had a figure trying to reach with its outstretched hand, my masked self-portrait. My understanding of a sketchbooks is that each drawing and page is a cell that makes of your existence. But the image and contents are of your.. creation. So they're all bits and even smaller bits of what/who/how you are who you are. In theory they're you, just dissolved and leaking out at certain times. So this habit of trying to understand who you are, through your drawings (I should be saying, me, instead of you) I understand how i've felt and seen myself and others, and my environment during the times when i've used my sketchbook. So this attempt/process of self-discovery.. why my trying embodiment is reaching for my artistically-created trueness, if it's even true.


A lot of hums and hahs, maybe. I think I might be trying to make it sound all deep. But this whole thing is like an attempt of trying to see what I am. You are what you eat - dear god then, eh. But you are who you are because of your actions and thoughts - holy shit then. You are above/below/separate from all things that you can ever know. CAN EVER.

Identity / Self Recognition / Comfortability with the instability, and with the desire for a changing self, is like eternally wanting to live forever, but die young. And then I don't know how else to enjoy myself without this internalized energy. Maybe that's what I am. A lactose intolerant person, will eat cheese, even though they will liquid poop it out. But it's neither the cheese nor the intolerance that they prefer, or the consequential diarrhea that will occur. It's the process. Then maybe the desire for the process. The desire is the combination of both their external world, and their internal world, neo-oneness with the universe, lol. I know I'm one with the universe, because from what I eat of it, I poop it.