Maybe it was inspired by the way I was looking at you.

Walking across the Commons, you had determination in your steps, and in steps it spelt love. Whatever that meant. And investment, a willingness, a sense of compassion. Your footsteps were the reverberation of someone else's calls. Not to say that you are subservient, or willing.. but you were definitely willing. Definitely there and willing to answer. And so you did. Your tiny steps making loud pronounced call of, "I will be there, I am coming"

Not to say that this was because of a certain person, but because you have a certain aspiration within yourself that wants to be expressed. Like we all do, what with our own personalities and sense of self... you expressed yourself in your decision making.

Why do I write about it? Because I stood there watching you. Proud. So willing. Vulnerable. You were making a large butterfly effect of investments with your tiny steps. Tiny, only because your feet are small. But not tiny in their presence, in their sense of self, in their impression.

Step on, and step forward, into the reality that you desire to create... and in turn which you create.

I love you.

Be well, be safe. Know that you are sturdy and still.. flexible. A tree let's say.

A sturdy tree.

2 4 u

Release your poisons

"We have to get the toxins out to even allow the nutrients to get in...
you can't them in there if they are full of poisons
You can't get two things into one space."





Mmm. I would do this in the mornings before I would start biking; drink water.
The greatest and most memorable and general routine I carried was waking up a bit after the sun had risen. The heat of the morning would start to create a humidity in the upper bit of the tent. Sometimes.

Sometimes it would still be cold, really cold actually. And my first hurdle of the day would be realizing and acting on the fact that if I wanted to soonly as possible release the built up fluid pressure in my bladder - I would first have to pack up my tent. But before I pack up my tent, I must change out of my clothes - into the good old sweetly sweaty biking clothes - the essentials, the lean-on-me's, the original, foundational, and ever so casual, biking clothes. I would have to have my skin be exposed to the cold frigid morning air - less warm than my emergency blanket thin sleeping bag concoction of warmth. Goodbye that phase of time. But before I think of any of this - I say to myself - just fifteen more minutes. So I would lay for five, and realize there's no point in the other ten. Getting up - the stark air would shock the warm chest - dank cold sweat from the night still lingering on my bra - and I put it on. Greatly goodness - let it sink in. And somehow, I liked it. I really liked it.

Not finding a place to piss for about another forty five minutes after my mind first rose - you betchya, I can hold it in. I have been fully trained - in this method of contained expansion - it is not the bladder that bursts, but your will to control it. Heh.

*25 years later, Kim would develop a condition.

Let it so be!

I bought a chin-up bar today, and I did a few meager ones, here and there - any ways! There was some effort! Hah! It looks really silly - but it makes me look tough, lmao. To myself.

Furthermore I'm deleting my other facebook account again. I did it on Monday. I know - epic. Many things trigger it - it's just a temptation for me to act on my insecurities and on my evils. Does more harm than good I say. Uncomfortable. I tried to figure out how to hack facebook accounts - not successful - because I didn't try it fully - I didn't want to resort to plan B of actually.. trying. Who knows though if that method would work too - in  any case - so much full of shame - deleted. Gone. I do not want those thoughts in my head - so why tempt myself? Why train myself to behave in those ways and think in those ways. Toxins to the brain. A disruption of focus.

I'm fishing for other things to write - but I'll leave with this:

Explore Program, 2012
Dana and I juggling

Trying to not have vain regrets - and making that glimmer of a silver lining grow.

Black Orpheus

http://youtu.be/YWxgn7AASTg

Kim's Lament

Growing up is a full time job,

Things are more interesting with a brother and sister.

The viewable life.

Listen to this, as I just click off of Facebook. Having yet not know what hypocritical fallacies I have done.

Yes, hear me now.

As my fingers dance on this keyboard, my coughs, dry and unnecessary – I wait, until some good thought flows into my mind. The only one being, a projection onto others, how I see mself - viewing Facebook too much, too often, and using it as a justifiable tool for the inquiry of sociological judgment.

Hi, my name is Kimberly Watson. And I am judgmental. Watch as my fingertips dance across this keyboard.

I had searched up kids from elementary, now seeing their facial hair grow. Their beards, red with growth, are... echoes of insanity. Echoes of insanity... Because I am here, now still curious, still fraught with my own memory of the past. I knew them as kids, and I know not them now.

Distance, is amazing.

How time and space may stretch the delicate frames of reality . The fabric of reality itself.

I know you not. I know you for shittily not. I know most for not.

Because, I create space.

I love space

And by love, I mean, I create space.

Enough distance for me to think of myself as weird.

In all my relationships.

With enough space between us, I may judge us, and feel not any weight on my conscious because of how I decide my hammer shall slam down onto this oak wooden desk. Shelf. Pavement.

I watch, as my nonexistent car, in this nonexistent life, carries on, without me fully initiating on how it must be carried out.

Without any job, I judge myself.

Without any humility to those whom I judge as .. Fools, Ludacris, insane sons of bitches... I leave myself alone with my own pickiness of isolation.

I watch as my friends leave me, and leave me as they no longer become friends, but mists of a memory.

I will miss you, but I will tell myself not to.

A lesson in becoming bitter.

You recognize and hate in people what you hate in yourselves.

Today, and for the past couple of days, I have had a conversation in my head with a fellow classmate Joe, that he is too.. bitter. Too bitter for my life. As by me dismissing him, I make my life greater.

Seriously.

I have chiseled and carve my own pedestal out of the own.. Real kindness, real authenticity of broken yet perfect and whole humans, the raw materials, the raw genetic materials the raw psychologically infected materials of this earth. – I carve them away into spoons.

From which I may suckle and sip all the sorrows this INGENUINE life has to offer.

For now, I leave this abruptly unfinished – as any “life” may be.

SEE – YAH.

(FACK.)

I am shaking

Is it because I'm not eating breakfast?

It's hard to say where control, handling it, and then losing it comes from. Where is drama, melodrama, and boredom.

Where is my reality and insanity.


Are you handling things? How do you handle things well.

In my Ayurveda book, it says it's good for Kapha types to skip breakfast every now and then, this is optional. So I assume I am a kapha type - but not assume.. I'm not sure.

In the last two days I have been a bit.. in a mist? A cold damp fog. Or maybe not.

Many things.

I need some stability and strength, as always.

I hope I get my place Sublet.
I hope I get able to move.
I hope there is money for this.
I hope I learn.

I'm seeing the house viewing in a bit.

Life - taking risks. Letting your wrists and hands shake.

Do you feel weak too?

Last night I ran home in intervals from school. It made the commute quicker, and I didn't feel as light or continuous as I have before. The other day walking up my street's hill, it felt .. more.. sluggish? Why am I breathing heavily? Is this just winter? Is this just in the context of my memory remembering going up long ass inclines with a good load of weight beneath my feet, hamstrings for survival.. yet walking myself up this hill, and my min believes that I am under performing.

I feel like my arms are shaking. And i think they are.

Maybe it's from the coffee I had this morning.

I'll get ready for the viewing.

Good bye

I love sweat pants. I love what Rocky wears when he works out.

The background/foreground noise: Keziah Jones - AFROSURREALISMFORTHELADIES


Back again, and it feels normal. Anti-climatic. And I mean that in a non-derogatory way. It is now routine, which is alright. Anything exciting planned? Just gather the material things, and read some things. I actually seem to have a lot of expectations for the next few days and what not. Of tasks, completely minor, which set the foundation for fulfilling other tasks coming on.

In the last couple of days I have allowed myself to get caught up in thinking about things that bug me. Personality disorders to be exact. Yet, I find that term completely misleading. Well wait, I am getting caught up in the connotation of personality disorder. Someone isn't acting quite right, they're probably acting crazy, whatever that means. Loopy, extremes in behavior and mood.

(The other day, I wrote down, "by critiquing we expose ourselves.) We come to "know" the world, in how we know ourselves. We paint the world with our filters. That being said...

These personality disorders. Conversely, are there any ordered personalities? What is order? What is order in relation to chaos? Chaotic order, and ordered chaos. We could look at the colour red and call it blue.

Nominal, is a cool concept. By using the word red, we are addressing the word, and not the object. There is no objective red. Objectivity. Abstraction.

Do you ever wonder what you are talking about?

I have brought this up in conversations with Mareena and Shaun. It's refreshing. It's remembering the train that you ride is on tracks. Who put the tracks there. Who's initiating the conversation.

It's interesting how conversation takes place. Instead of speaking of one truly singular object, it is two (yet more) sources, blending in all their experience and ideas, into one. A melange. Maybe the singular comes out afterwards. On the recorded cassette of the interaction.

At times I want to record a lot of my interactions and conversations with people. I love being able to go back through texts. I love how conversations never die. Always changing it seems. Reading things more than once is epic too. Each time you go through the words, just totally different. You, the words, the temperature of the pages. Somehow, always meaning different.

Shane and I got stoned the other day, and that was lovely. I really like thinking and wondering about ideas with people. Sometimes I feel like they're not as into it as I am. Or it is strange. Just sitting down and wondering is an amazing thing.

Yes, think. But we all think about different things. I'm not saying that I'm a miraculous genius, and I feel I must say this, because I feel a bit self-conscious, interesting, that strangers are out there reading this. Not really though, this site is quite inactive. But, interesting.

There was a book today in Chapters that I was wanting to get for some fleeting moments. It had a title something along the lines of, "in an interconnected world: establishing the boundaries" Might is right. Just because you can, should you? There is temptation to say that, "well, we put our shit out there, so people know that trash is public space." And, know, that I am talking to myself in these moments. And the world.

Curiousity.

There was also this book, "The Good Book. A humanitarian bible." or something. Sounds interesting. I didn't much like it though, I read barely anything of the text, but i like the idea of me rewriting the bible into how I saw it, and agreed with it. I'm still hovering around the sexual orientation stuff.

Daniel once said (something along the lines of) What makes more sense for a religious society to gain power, but to condemn non-heterosexual relations, to make as many children as possible, and thus sexual reproduction becomes not about hedonistic pleasure, but pious, only to brew more of its like.

I feel like there are four of me inside of me.

Maybe that's why I have to speak out the thoughts from my head. The noise inside becomes so congested. Which do I listen to?

I love words and communicating. I love having a lot of stimulation. What is boredom?

I can get bored outside doing things, I can get bored a lot. In any experience.

You can just think outside of the experience, and you may become bored of the experience.

I watched the second Hunger Games in theatres last night. Last night was night. I was angry and couldn't fall asleep, my mom comes in and asks me what's up, "Can't sleep?" "Yes, because I am thinking of all the things that make me angry." So she gets me to vent. And I do. And after a while I become conscious that we have just been talking about me for a while, with me doing a lot of the talking. So I ask her what's up.

I soon become tired, and wanna fall asleep. Mm, love those moments. Went to bed at 2am, and woke up at 9. Oh, maybe that's not as crazy as I thought it would be.

But the Hunger games is a good movie, and it has a good plot, but i was bored within it. I was not bored when it came to...fighting the monkeys? Something along those lines, where my mom and I were busting in our seats and whatnot, tense, all our bodies tense, readjusting, and trying to find comfort. Holy, so scared? yikes. That was nice. Good involvement.

It was the plot that didn't get me. The formula and how they filmed it was good and effective, I just didn't care about it. I could not have been there. That's how I feel about sex, and talking to people at times. When and where I am not present. Oh gosh, should I be present? No. It's just that, I like doing things sometimes, and for however long or not. Boredom man. Need a change of .. pace? Stimulation? Environment? Yes.

Which brings me to ideas, they can changed so quickly. And also painting. The image changes so quickly, even when it's done slowly, but the involvement is a constant revealing.

Cigarettes and meals, a lot of the times I don't need the rest beyond the start, yet I continue.

I got bored thinking a lot during the biking trip. A lot of the times I would want to read, something more than billboards, and perhaps sit and play some piano and music. Most I did musically was sing with my voice. Zoning out, when it happens/happened, was/is awesome.

I think I am done writing for tonight. Thank you... abyss.

Of people, robots, spy agencies and whatevernot and inbetween.

just because someone is willing to do it, or you have them wrapped around your finger, avoid the temptation in asking them to do it. Why are you asking them? What are your intentions? And what do you want? What do you want them to want? Though, you know their intentions and reactions behind the direction, why play the victim (i [pre]suppose) when they play out their cards.

is it there? or is it just me.

Thanks! Bye for now.