Lagoon Monster Love

Things to do (that are slowly killing me)…

• Final Paper on the America Health Care System for American Studies (Due Wednesday).
• “What’s Gay Anyway?” queer children’s book to finish writing/illustrating for Popular Representations of Queer Subjects (Due Friday).
• Study for Spanish Speakers final on Monday.
• Write super late 4-pager for Spanish Speakers (Due ASAP).
• Perform my monologue for my entire theater class (Thursday).
• Attempt to sleep.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m even doing this. Then I look up at the NYU Tisch logo and the pictures from summer at NYCDA on the wall in front of my desk and I remember: 1 more year of this and then I can transfer to New York, where they take theater seriously. Just 1 year of prerequisites left, and then I can go become a real actress. 

It’s easier to be frustrated when you know you’re working toward something better, not just standing around being angry. 

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I’m not the same girl I was in January. (A Testament)

I’m better, faster, smarter, happier, cooler, stronger, warmer, lovelier, nerdier, sing-song-ier (haha). I’m 100%. I’m everything I wished I was, and half the things I’ve ever disliked about myself. My heart loveslovesloves, opens up, beatsbeatsbeats, desires, even better than before. I am a well-oiled machine with a few screws still loose, but triumphant.

I still miss the boy who made a woman out of me, and that’s ok. I still pick my nose some days, and scream when I feel trapped, and bite when I want you bad. My waistline is still too big, my bank account is still too small, but my outlook is just right. So…

I’m new, and I want to share with you. All of you.

(Obviously, woke up feeling good.)

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That’s my style. (A 6 a.m. observation.)

I used to think I knew a lot, but with every year that passes I look back and laugh at how little I knew. “All I know is that I know nothing,” except enough to get me by this moment in time. 

I like driving barefoot. I’d spend millions on gas to drive wherever my friends are. I stay up thinking and watching mindless television to stop the thinking. I can be so unrealistic; in everything I do I want permanence. I want irrevocable, irreversible, immeasurable love, friendships that last until death, and a career that gives me purpose and makes me bleed passion (and never ends). I want my favorite moments to happen in slow motion so I can chew on them forever. I want the people I love to move in slow motion (when I want them to) so I can lust over every minute movement their body makes. I don’t know who I am if I’m not trying to be someone else. I like to get rough, and always gentle afterwards. 

…And platonic love is my favorite (when it’s mutual) because it’s not tainted by lust or blinded by passion. It never stings if you treat it right, and it makes everything better.

Good morning!

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disregard the length and mememe-ness of this post. suuuuper personal this is my style. personal

There’s no use in beating around the bush.

I’m not good at dating. I’ll do it, but I’m not good at it, because I’m no good for “just now.” Like I said in my previous personal post, in everything I do I want permanence. I don’t like settling for someone who’s fun for the moment, because I don’t want my life to be a television series, with characters coming in and out, and cheap jokes followed by a laugh track (EW), and cheesy fully-lit establishing shots.

I want my life to be a brilliantly detailed film franchise, with beloved characters that are there the whole time, and witticisms, and fantastic cinematography (“with shadows” as Larry would say). “Dating” just doesn’t fit into that. I guess my movie can have a nice little one-minute dating montage, but that montage lasts a lot longer in real life, and I don’t like it. So I’m frustrated, because I’m seeing people like James and Lemur, and I like them, but I just know none of these people are long-term people. They’re guest characters.

Le sigh.

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personal deleting later so as to hide from Lemur

Just a little morning vomit.

I can’t think of inanities at a time like this.

I am distracted by the wounds of youth and bandages of time.

The rise of kings, the fall of pharos;

The taste of skin, the bitterness of loneliness.

I refuse to believe that I’m going anywhere but up,

Though I’d rather do it with you than without.

I feel a power that comes from a flutter of greatness inside,

Which is quickly growing into a swooshing of giant wings.

If I could express with what tenderness I would cradle you to my breast, 

My feathers, a blanket to warm you,

I would.

But I want the course to unfold unscathed by my desire for you.

I can hustle only in the direction of my personal fantasy:

A life so beautiful it takes my breath away,

A mind so active that thoughts are food,

A happiness so whole that fissures ooze love.

A passion so electric it could light up New York City. 

Because “destiny” is not a predetermined path set forth for us,

It is a creation carefully laid out by us.

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My eventful trip to Walgreens.

So getting there was weird because I ran into one of my aunts on the way (wtf is she doing in this part of town???), and she literally slowed down in the middle of the road and rolled down her window to talk to me, saying that I never answer my phone (it’s true though, I hate cell phones and texting and shit, so I tend to ignore calls or texts until I feel like it and I often neglect to charge my phone. Idk why, I just do). So I stopped and had a long discussion with her about plans for tomorrow and then she lectured me on why I need to pay attention to my phone (and then told me that if I want to communicate with letters and carrier pigeons I can travel back in time because this is the new millenium, “girlfriend”.  I was about to punch her). 

Then I go inside and end up waiting maybe 15 minutes in line at the redbox behind this really adorable couple who kept play-fighting about what to rent. I got so annoyed at the fact that they were taking their sweet-ass time (and because they were all in love and shit) that I leaned over and suggested they rent Blue Valentine. I feel kind of bad about that, because they could end up having a fight and getting all upset; or they could end up crying and being all sweet and have awesome makeup-like sex (because of all the fighting they’ve just watched), and then when they’e cuddling they will both think that their relationship will inevitably reach its end, so they better take advantage of how much they love each other now. I wish them the best, because I did that in a really bitchy moment.

Finally, and probably most surprisingly, I got hit on in the checkout line when I was getting my tea. Gave a fake name, fake everything because this man was standing in line WITH HIS CHILDREN, wearing his wedding ring. Do you think I’m a fucking moron? Go die, dickshit, your little boy watched/heard you being a sleezefuck! 

My week has been so boring that this is the kind of shit I find eventful. 

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Warning:

I am going to spam your dash with my personal photos. Nostalgia time.

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nostaligia personal pictures of you pictures of me

I suppose I, too, would post a new picture of myself on Facebook every day if I were a pretty blonde girl. But alas, I am a large-breasted troll with a weird hairline and a family of stretch marks living on my ass.

Guess I better go back to attempting witticisms, making suggestive jokes, and overexposing my cleavage to win over the erections of the socially awkward and bearded. *Shrug*

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New life goal: Own an island and fill it with intelligent, awesome people that reject normative thinking

…and ride a giant lion away from a castle on fire while wearing super awesome armor, and film it. Yeah.

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A letter from 11-year-old me.

Yesterday I opened a time capsule with my old Girl Scout troop. I remembered writing a letter to myself, but of course I didn’t remember what I had written. Well, to  my surprise, I was the coolest possible 11 year old, and I want to share a bit of my letter with you (and I do mean a bit, because the letter was three pages long).

Dear Chelsea,

Hi! What’s up? I hope the future is awesome! Do you still have libraries or is everything on the computer? That would be a bad thing. The library is my favorite place to hang. Do you remember Ms. Del Rio? She is the nice librarian that lets me take out 5 books, even though I’m only aloud [sic] 4. She said that soon everything will be on the computer. I think she knows because she’s always on the computer! There are some mean kids that call her Ms. Dorito, maybe because her hair is a little bit orange and so are Doritos.

[…]

I hope you have a really cool car. I want a beetle with flowers on it. I like flowers. I don’t know what they’re called, but there are yellow ones at the grocery store with weird petals. Get those, if you remember them (I drew a picture of them on the bottom for you).

[…]

I guess if you want me to tell you what you are supposed to be like, I can’t do that. You’re supposed to be like exactly what you are when you read this in 10 years. But try to be an actress. Ms. Kays didn’t put me in Annie, but I think I am good enough. I don’t know why she hates me. 

[…]

Your crush list is…

1. Michael Quinn

2. Robert from camp (NOT from school)

3. Michael Barroso

4. Harrison Pearl

Yowza! They are sooo cute! Try to marry 1, 2, or 3. 4 isn’t husband material. He kicked a soccer ball at my boob then screamed at me for not getting it in the goal! He kicked it to my boob! He’s still cute. 

[…]

I have an alterego [sic]. That’s what I think it’s called, dad said it’s just a voice in my head that makes me feel insicure [sic]. I hope the voice goes away in 10 years, because it’s mean. I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself because you are awesome. If the voice is still there, try playing a game of checkers or watching Scooby-Doo. Scooby is silly! It won’t make it go away, but it will make you stop listening for a while.

[…]

Love, Chelsea (you at 11 years old)

So aside from a few super dorky things I wrote, I was pretty cool and insightful. I included some other stuff along with the letter, but I’ll keep those to myself.

I hope someone enjoys this. If not, this is quite a fun thing to document anyway. :) Can’t wait to read the letter I wrote to myself yesterday in 10 years! 

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personal me time capsule letters from a decade ago children