come, light me

the music

she always makes the best, girly songs - and exactly how i like: sexy high girl voice, smooth as hell, banging piano, and always a down down beat. hearing her songs make me feel alive.

i have been afraid that if i let go now, i would never be able to continue. but maybe friendships are like paths, that once revisited, though the dirt may have settled and the weeds overgrown, will come back to life.

dreams

i wrote (above) a very long time ago, at 6. now it is 8 30. in between, there was a nap. and a dream.
i was at a mall, with a girlfriend. like relationship girlfriend. and we were eating with her friends at one place, and eating somewhere else with mine (going back and forth). it was a good feeling, eating and being with her. thing is, i don't even know who this girl is. i don't know who i saw. but i know she was chinese. LOLS. and it was a good feeling. it was weird because for like two weeks, i've had no desire for prawg or to prawg. and now, i woke up with an incredible desire to meet this girl. i remember holding her hands. strong and gentle. i remember hugging her. her hugging me. it felt like i knew her for a long time, but i never took her for granted. everytime we touched, everytime we talked, everytime i saw her, it was as if it was for the first time, it was as beautiful as things could be. it was perfect. perfect perfect perfect. and then (here's the part of the dream i rememebered vividly, therefore, i woke up pissed) harry kim bought an 8x8... it was like 8 patties and cheese, in two piles (so 2 4x4), and a knife. the meat looked raw. he asked me to protect him while he ate. i did. and then i got hit and hit and hit. and josh like stared down another one of the older guys. it was weird. and then, i woke up. but that girl. my muse. ah. :)

and i keep hearing the words run over in my mind. "what if fine isn't good enough? what if i want extraordinary."

and now, i am deeply desiring to know you, whoever you are. Lord help me. i guess it's time to get on that prayer. hopefully He answers favorably.

now the real deal.

life

whenever i talk to people about wanting to be a lit. major, many say "oh im not good at that kind of stuff." or, "why?" (the why is reasonable, it's just an icebreaker). and i've probably written this somewhere on this blog before but i have to write about this again.
start with a quote.
If I read a book [and] it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. - emily dickinson (fitting, she inspired this half of the post)
A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself and the world around him. - dylan thomas
apparently, the quote i was specifically looking for does not exist. but this one will suffice.

previously, i wrote that reading allows one to live vicariously. it allows me to combine lifetimes into my one lifetime, gaining the wisdom, the smile, the tears, the joy, the love. the best books do that. they take you to that place. i just finished reading lord of the rings, and tolkien did that. i felt like i was a flea on the back of aragorn, gandalf, sam, pippin, merry, and frodo. but today is for poetry. a poet writes about anything and everything he or she thinks is of significance. and they, like the people of the world they belong to, are quirky and will write about anything and everything. the best poets create a moment, a very specific feeling, a very specific attitude, a very specific microcosm of humanity. from emily dickinson:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If i can ease on life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

and so poetry hits you. the beauty of the words must lie in the meaning. a poem without depth would be like a church without God.

i read poetry because i know the poets are humans too. and when i read a poem, and i feel chills to the inside, it's because i have a revelation. "That is EXACTLY how i feel. i just couldnt' say that!" for those living life with purpose, poetry is the gateway to expressing LIFE. how can words compare to pictures, to memories, to life? Yet, with the imagination of the reader (i love that, the good poets work as hard as they can to make the readers work!), it is possible. in that moment, two things happen. first, you realize that in your insignificant life (if you think, with the history of the world as your backdrop, that you are significant, you really are not. of course, you are on the more personal level, but that isn't what i'm referring to right now), there is life indeed. that we experience things, whatever race, gender, or status, we feel the same life, we experience the same life. here am i completely excitedly agreeing with emily, YES YES YES! I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU FEEL. it is this connection born between the reader and poet that humbles the insanity of the poet - yes mr or mrs poet, you are alive, you feel, and you feel as we do; except you can make it into art. we, the insigificant, breathe the same air as those who are more fortunate. and that, is comforting. we all die anyways. and second, and more importantly, give you something to look for, a new perspective, a new vision, but something new. look at the world through my eyes. open up your tunnel vision. it's like 5 dollars to be another person for 3 hours and 29 minutes. it is simply beautiful.

pre-dream
wow. last post, i had a pre-dream and it was the cal grad. speech. i swear i had a good pre-dream thought going on in my head, and i said, you know what, i'll remember just like i did last time. then, i remember specifically thinking about a poem from buddy wakefield -- the quote goes,
I know there are times
when you will lay your head to rest
and have a moment of brilliance
that grows into a perfect order of words
but you will fall asleep
instead of painting it down on paper.
When you wake up,
you will have forgotten the idea completely
and miss it like a front tooth
but at least you know how to recognize moments of brilliance,
because even at your worst
you are fucking incredible.

and i was thinking, HAH i escaped one of those moments. and then today, i think the pre-dream thoughts were MUCH more significant because it was about a friendship and a person, and i FORGOT. THE POETRY GODS HAVE GOTTEN ME THIS TIME. so now i have to use priming (ap psychology<3). the computer gods got me this time -_- so basically i spent like an hour writing this section, then it got erased. now im pissed off as hell because this was the section that i was journeying. i eventually found out that i was writing to and for____________________ please look at your blog file for the rest.

in conclusion

come light me.