Whoa. Over one year later, and realization hits me like a hammer, coming to terms with a truth which I already knew. Why today, why now? Why not the thousand other times I have agonized over every detail, attempting to piece together an explanation?
Your fragile overinflated ego and my very existence were at odds with each other, and when the choice came between keeping one or the other, you chose to preserve your ego instead of challenging some very difficult personal truths. And you checked my blog obsessively afterwards because your insecurity couldn't let you go without seeing what I might be saying about you; because your thin guise of ego must be constantly fed to keep it inflated. That's the difference between real strength and faking it: when something happens which poses a threat to your idea of self, it's seen as a threat which must be neutralized. True strength allows for the possibility of redefining self, because self is hardened, can weather the storms, even paradigm shifts, and still come out intact. You even cried out to me for help, literally, crying on your bedroom floor, saying you wished you had the core strength which the deep, honest places within you are willing to accept that you lack.
Of course, by then you had already made your choice. You made your choice a month before, sobbing in our hotel room, swearing that you'd make up for the things you'd done to me without meaning a word of it. Simply echoing the spoken words of strength which perhaps, at one time, were truly delivered by good men for just, honest reasons, and since repeated by lesser men without any true understanding of their significance, watered down and sodden, until they reached your impressionable ears, and you, eager to project an image of confidence with no true concept of it, eager to appear strong with no intention of following through, you greedily devour these processed, sugar-sweet remnants of greatness, now mere hollow meaningless shells, and you engorge yourself, then promptly vomit them back up indiscriminately to everyone you meet. On first glance you appear to be a fountain of excellence, but once my eyes adjusted in the low bar light and haze of cigarette smoke, it's quite clear that you're just spewing bullshit.
This chapter of my life is over. No, I'm not healed. But I can finally move on and accept the truth. Did it have to take over a year? Probably. I wish it hadn't. I tried to fix myself instead of accepting that someone I cared about would actually do something so horrible to me. The real lesson is learning better how to choose the people to care about.

At night, as I lie in bed waiting for sleep to take me, sometimes I experience an odd sensation. Although it is difficult to call it such, since I don't experience it with any sense.. I can't see or feel it, and it doesn't seem to be associated with anywhere particular in my body.. I just simply sense it, and I form an abstract image in my mind based on what I sense. Sometimes, it's rapidly pulsating, and while I neither see nor hear it, the feeling becomes so bright and so deafening. Sometimes, like tonight, it's closer to something I feel, something raw and visceral, a single uncontrollable feeling or action, like swallowing inadvertently. It repeats for a few minutes then stops. I picture it in my mind, but it's much closer to a physical sensation, even though I can't identify exactly what it might be. These sensations have been happening ever since I was a teenager, maybe before too, and always when I'm lying down to sleep. Someday, when my body dies, if my consciousness does indeed continue, I would like to know what these sensations are..

Dear humanity,

Please stop bringing people into this world until we can take care of the ones who are already in it.

Love,

An educated cynic

It's hard not to get caught up in the Olympic spirit. I found myself getting emotional watching some of the competitions today.. imagining how elated the champions must feel, cringing when someone makes a mistake, shedding a tear when hearing their incredible stories. We build up these people to be heroes, and especially for the US, we have a lot of heroes to be proud of.

One particular story which I heard today struck me. I remember being 10 years old and watching the 1996 Olympics, and, being a favorite of the summer camp counselors, we watched most of the women's gymnastics. I particularly remember the playful floor routine of the youngest member of the team. Searching for her years later, I stumbled across this video...

Meeting amazing people on my plane flights has become something of a habit; I've decided that I need to start documenting my awesome conversations just so I can look back and marvel at them.


My flight home after a month in Seattle left the ground running and never slowed. They always start off the same way, with the usual small talk about my cat or the weather. Then he asked about my profession.. And the conversation took flight. He was the former head of business management at Universal Studios, a staunch republican, and instantly fascinated by me. I always love watching someone's reaction as I shatter their preconceived notions without saying a word. He had already judged me to be intelligent and worth having discussions with; so, when I told him I'm a climate scientist, I watched his mind open up as words of labored skepticism melted into questions from an open mind, ready to learn new things. I was not the only teacher, though; his economic savvy gave me new insight about the innerworkings of the government and the major flaws of the economic stimulus. He told me that I should study law, because I have the mind for it. I told him that I might have the mind, but not the stomach. Overall he was a smart man, and save his unfortunate biases and preconceptions, he had a shrewd business sense but self-proclaimed too-high moral standards to apply it most effectively. I got a strong sense that his words had truth to back them up.


My interesting trip didn't end with the flight, though.. I got a cab ride home from a Somalian who was excited to hear that I'm studying engineering, because he is doing the same. It reminds me how important it is to treat every person with respect and kindness, because the fantastic conversations alone are worth the effort. I shook his hand at the end of the cab ride, and he gave me one of the happiest glowing smiles I've ever seen.

When I close my eyes and escape reality, I see myself running through a forest, standing on a cliff overlooking the world, with the wind in my hair, the feeling of exhilaration pervading every fiber of my being.. and I am at peace.

*How to be a model in two days*

Since my photoshoot turned out well, and the feedback was so positive, I figured that I did something right. I performed all of the following research and practice over the two days before the shoot: here are the guidelines I used to prepare myself. Some of the tips are my own nuggets of wisdom; the rest were found using a little research via Google searches and Youtube.

*Look good for the camera
These tips work well for photographers directing a model, too.
Body: Angle your hips toward the camera (about 45 degrees), rest your weight on your back leg, and exaggerate your shoulders either hunching them toward the camera or rolling them back away.
Hands: Keep your hands soft in most shots. Try to only show the sides of your hands to the camera, and hide your thumb whenever possible. Hands look best when they are each doing something different.
Face: Learn how to use your eyes to convey emotion. Eyes look more engaged when they are open wide. Learn the different variations of smiling and which suits your face best. Practice how to make a smile look real, not just with your mouth, but with your whole face.

A couple guides which helped me a ton:

Great tutorial for creating a basic frame and pose. Includes advice which I haven't found anywhere else, but I see every model using.

http://digital-photography-school.com/21-sample-poses-photographing-female-models
Lots of examples for poses (you can see which ones I copied in my shoot :P)

*Create model makeup
The idea is that you want a natural but flawless look which emphasizes the attractive contours of the face. This photo served as my guide to makeup:

Contour the dark areas with a color that is several shades darker than your skin tone. Highlight the light areas with a color the same as or slightly brighter than your skin tone. Blend the edges well, and voila, perfect makeup artist effect. (guide: http://theuntrendygirl.com/accentuate-the-good-contour-the-rest.html)

Your makeup should be completely matte except for the highlights on the eyes and glossy lips. A nice tip for keeping my face from getting shiny: I blotted my foundation with a tissue after applying it to remove the oil. I also apply my makeup in downward strokes to go with the direction of hair and look more natural. As for the rest of the body, oil makes your skin glow beautifully. I used almond oil on my arms, collarbone, and legs.

*Create model hair

When I thought of model hair, the first picture that came to mind was Victoria's Secret models. One of the most attractive styles for long hair is the light, gently wavy, tousled look, messily parted in the middle and curled away from the face. There are a bunch of ways to get the same look, and I took bits and pieces from lots of different Youtube videos (including backstage at the VS fashion shows). I washed and curled my hair the night before, slept on it (doing so minimizes frizz and makes it look healthier), then ran a curling iron through it the next day using tons of hairspray. I also backcombed the roots to give my hair more body.

*Practice
Watch videos of models in action. They never stop moving. They cycle through different poses, changing their position and expression every time a flash goes off. Find some poses, and practice them in front of a mirror, noticing how your face and body feel in a certain position.

*Be healthy and happy
The blogs and model interviews all tout the same basic principle: take care of your body and mind. Drink tons of water, get plenty of sleep, and avoid salt for at least two days before the shoot for healthy, radiant, and young skin. Just as importantly, prepare mentally: a happy, confident state of mind will shine in the photos.

It's amazing what just a couple days of work and research can become. I need lots more practice before I get good, but I was happy with my first try. Hopefully I'll be doing more shoots, and I can keep adding tips to this list!

What a weekend. Lovely wedding, great people. It was a privilege to be a bridesmaid, and despite our hard work, I had a blast. I socialized nonstop, meshed beautifully with a group of people I'd never met before, got adopted by families, stole the heart of a married man, promptly broke it the next day, rubbed elbows with and fascinated rich and powerful people, and had an overall wonderful time. All in two days.

You were charming, handsome, and totally enchanted by me. Had I let you keep talking to me, had I agreed to your playful requests to stay in touch, you would have kept asking for more. Your offer to give me a ride was pure in its intentions, but without a doubt, you were falling in love with me. Somewhere along the way I learned a valuable lesson. It took a long time, but somehow, I learned how to say no. Such power is contained in the word "goodbye"....

Before the wedding, I had my first manicure and pedicure ever.. And it was a unique experience, truly. Not many people can say that a philosopher gave them a foot massage. Of all of the fantastic exchanges I had during my trip, the deepest, most emotional, most insightful conversation happened at a nail salon. Further proof that real beauty can be found in the most unlikely places. My shy Vietnamese wise man gave me advice on life, love, marriage, and the secret to eternal happiness. He prophesized about who I am deep down, and about what my future holds, all, he said, based on the quality he saw in my eyes. "Hold on a little while longer," he told me. "Something big is coming for you. You're going to be something great." I wonder how many rich, snobby women have paid him to pamper them and make them beautiful, without ever knowing that the most valuable thing of beauty at that salon lay inside the mind of the man cleaning their feet.. because they would never stoop so low as to talk to him. He said that no one before me had ever bothered. 

Sometimes, when the memories become unbearable, how badly I wish to just close my eyes and forget..

Mind = blown.
Watch until the end, and try it.. totally worth the experience.

Occasionally, in very rare moments of hope and optimism, I like to think that we're all working toward the same path, trying to learn to overcome hate and greed.. and during especially rare moments, I even consider the possibility that eventually we'll even figure it all out.
...then reality sets in again. But, for a short time, I relish the warm, uplifting thoughts. Sometimes they're all that keep me going.

Thank you for being there to breathe a little bit of life and beauty back into my dark world just by being who you are.

I've got a brilliant idea. Let's make Arizona one of the two states to ignore daylight savings time. Yeah! We're cool cowboys! ...well, except when the sun rises at 5:26 a.m., with the rays of the angry inferno of death hitting my eyes and heating up my room to 80 degrees by 6 a.m. Le sigh.
Since I seem unable to sleep more than 4 hours a night without turning the a.c. down to 70 degrees, my summer will surely be filled with caffeinated adrenaline-induced treadmill-enhanced working sessions. Oh joy.

Noble is he who loses everything yet still maintains his dignity and respect.

What are you more angry about, the fact that it was so easy to remove you from my life, or the fact that I barely notice you're gone?

I wished to push my own limits. Harder than ever before. When people ask me why I chose this path, I answer, "because it sounded like a challenge." Now, I stare the ugly reality of my decision in the face. The gut-wrenching feeling of doubt envelops me. The terror of the possibility of failure chokes my breath and cuts down my confidence. It lurks in the back of my mind, pervading every thought, lining the shadows of every smile. I hate the feeling for sucking the joy out of my life; I have not truly enjoyed anything in a while. I can never relax or feel at ease. And yet..... at the same time, I welcome the terror, drawing it closer to me, feeling the warm blood run from fresh wounds as it sinks its teeth into my mind and soul. I watch it rip shreds in my ego and my self-esteem, and I draw the feeling closer still. I see the fibers of my being fray and tear as the terror works its way into the deepest reaches of my subconscious, and still I draw it in, relishing the feeling of my own self-destruction.... standing in awe of what lay ahead for me. For within destruction lies creation, building myself anew from the pieces left behind.. far more beautiful and infinitely stronger than that which came before. Who am I? What am I made of? Am I weak? Am I strong? Will I be tossed aside by the torrential winds, or will I weather this storm? My limits are not just being pushed.. they are about to dissolve in a brilliant cascade of flames.
Eyes and mind open.. To whatever end may come.

To capture and tame something wild.. Oh, how men have sought to lay claim to that which roams free. For therein lay no greater challenge, no conquest more delicious and sweet, than finding something beautiful, and locking her in a cage. If the hunter has a tigress within his grasp, and while forcing her into his cage, she rears her fangs and wounds him deeply, who is to blame? The tigress, or the hunter longing to possess her?
You find me so precious because I am untamed, because I roam free. If you subject me to a cage, blame me not for the wounds you shall bear..

When I ended this blog, I did not intend to continue posting. Unfortunately, I needed an outlet which I was otherwise unable to find. The quality of my posts never rebounded from almost year ago.. While a broken heart usually inspires and channels creativity, a tired soul does not. Nor is the recovery easy. It's been nearly a year and I still feel the anger. The hopelessness. The general inability to take care of others, to give love where needed, to receive it openly. I'm broken, truly. I reached out to savor experience, aware of but ignoring the warnings my instinct felt, yearning desperately to feel loved and needed. The cost was more than I could bear. Now, all that is left is the empty shell of my former self.
Avoid those who seek self-fulfillment through their interactions with others. I was one of them. Only now do I see the danger of relying to heavily on others to determine self-worth. Even worse, I've seen the effects of people who make it their goal to achieve some kind of self-actualization from other people.. More often than not, those people are the liars, the players, the manipulators, the self-inflated megalomaniacs of the world. The good people are the ones who enjoy the company of others but do not make it their goal to actively seek it. The good people are the ones who have something to show for their lives and accomplishments. As for me, all I have left now is the slow process of rebuilding and setting my priorities straight. My love is true; don't take that for granted..

Determine how much you're worth, and never, ever settle for less.

If you think that you're not worth much, ask yourself why, and work on making yourself worth something.

If you think that you're worth a lot, then spend every day SHOWING it by treating others, and yourself, with respect.

My posts over the next few months will probably not be very bright or optimistic. I apologize for the departure from what is usually my outlet for expression and positive energy... Instead, I fear that doubt and frustration will consume the majority of what I'm feeling. Fortunately I'll only need to suffer for another 3 months. After that, my path will be clear, one way or another. Until then, my usually bright, sunny exterior will be lined with shadows..

My love is vengeance that's never free.

We struggle against the pain, the hate, against the ebb and flow of madness which envelops us at every step. We push on against the flood of negativity.. resisting the urge to let go as our hearts and minds become weakened, battered mercilessly by the waves crashing down.. resisting the urge to victimize ourselves, to take the easy way out, to surrender what little truth and beauty we hold dear. 
Tonight I mourn the loss of those with whom I once walked, whose hand I clutched as we together stood strong against the tides, until I watched them become weak, overcome by hatred and pain, and then slip away... Here I stand, in the wake of the fragments of beauty abandoned, and wish dearly to touch your face once more. 

His shadowed eyes descended upon her, scrutinizing her cold, pale face. Sauntering toward her, he jeered.
"When did life lose the magic?"
Solemn eyes blinked, distant, as if coming out of deep thought, then focused on him, taking in his sarcastic smirk. A ghost of a smile, a remnant perhaps of another time, touched her own lips, then vanished.
"Life didn't lose the magic. We're just looking in the wrong place."

When you measure time in centuries, not days, the slow procession of each moment becomes unbearable.

Time and again.. life has cut through my confidence and challenged me with lessons of temperance and patience. Neither of these qualities suit me at all, and yet, here I stand once again, bearing their weight against the unrelenting tides of my volatile nature. 
Consumed with doubt, I allowed myself to believe the worst, and in the process, I nearly committed the very crime I feared. As a friend recently told me, we're smart enough to convince ourselves of anything, no matter how incorrect it might be. I stand humbled once again. 
And.. it's so easy to forget how much others rely on you, when you're busy dealing with your own problems. We don't even realize it, but the fabric of life for the people close to us has become inextricably interwoven with our own. The severing of one thread can unravel that fabric in ways we can't begin to imagine. So much more may depend on you than you realize. And once again, my compulsive desire for self-destruction is tempered only by my love of witnessing growth and beauty and strength in those whom I hold dear. 

Hello scrublings! Since I'm halfway through my first semester of French, that automatically makes me an expert. Tired of being an english muffin? Well, today you're getting french-fried!

Learn to Speak French in 5 Minutes

Just follow these few easy steps to start your journey to frenchiness!

1. "Alors"

Don't ask what it means. It doesn't matter. Just say it often, anywhere in a sentence. Preferably multiple times.
"Alors" is pronounced ah-lore. (Don't forget to gargle your "r"! It's the french thing to do.)

2. "D'Accord"

Pronounced similar to "decor," it literally means "in agreement," or the frenchie equivalent to "okay." Should also be used often. Combined with "alors," you have just made your first french sentence. Congratulations!

3. Liason everything


"Liason" is french for "slur your words together." You should do it with every single word.
To use a proper liason, the last sound in a word is combined with the first sound in the next word. Thus, "it is" is now pronounced "ih-teez." Practice it out loud with the following sentence!
"Alors, French is the coolest language, d'accord."
If you said:
"AlorsFrenchisthecoolestlanguagedaccord"
très bien! You are now extremely french.

Stay tuned for Lesson 2, and keep eating those snail pancakes!

Swirling, dancing, utterly carefree, I am but a leaf caught in the wind.. catching one dream, then the next, carried high, soaring gracefully.. with the sky around me, sharing company with the moon and stars, I worry myself not with the cold, hard ground below. Still clinging to the warmth of summer, I worry myself not with the approach of winter's chill. For as long as I ride the winds of dreams, I may soar forever..

As per request, and since I had such an awesome time, I wanted to tell the story of my concert on Monday :)
When Chantell first introduced me to the artist, Emilie Autumn, I was excited.. but since the only videos we could find were bad Youtube clips probably taken at concerts with people's cell phones, I wasn't prepared at all for how incredibly good the show would be. The whole thing is done performance-style, quite charmingly, with a rather dark and gothic twist.
Just to give you a taste of what I'm talking about, here's a clip of one of the performances they do at every show. One very lucky female member of the audience is brought on stage to play the "Rat Game," to be deflowered by Naughty Veronica...



Sadly, Chantell and I weren't picked. We'll have to find other excuses for "cheating" on our boyfriends with another girl. (Oh, that won't be too hard, we've done it once already. Sorry Christophe and Andrew!) <3
The story behind the show is that it's set in the 1800's, and Emilie Autumn runs an insane asylum for wayward Victorian girls (her performers)..... so the songs are performed like circus acts with a dark, deranged twist, complete with dancing with flaming hula-hoops, over-the-top costumes, and... whatever you'd like to classify this as.....



During another song, they performed a "teatime" by pouring themselves cups of tea and taking bites out of cookies and cupcakes, then throwing it all at the crowd.. both the tea, and the half-eaten sweets. Delightful.
Definitely an experience, thank you Chantell <3

I made the mistake of eating a banana while walking to class. 
Random jerk: "Oh yeah, that's my dream girl right there."
Uh huh. Keep dreaming. 
I have to wonder though.. Did he even look at what I was doing to that poor banana? I was tearing off sections with my teeth, then chewing them to a state of utter pulverization. How is it sexy at all? If I was a guy, I'd cringe every time I saw a girl eating a banana. Just sayin'.

As I pick myself up from the pavement, the taste of dirt and blood fresh on my tongue, I laugh bitterly, and a grim smile takes my lips. I realize that I'll never be good enough. Ever. I can give myself wholly, selflessly, until there is nothing left but a cold, empty shell, and I still won't be good enough. I can work until exhaustion and sickness take me, and my youth and vitality slip away, devoured by the monster within, growing, spreading death and decay, and I still won't be good enough. I can love truly, endlessly, until the thieves and liars prey upon my heart and divide it up like lions at the slaughter, and I still won't be good enough.

The nightmares will never stop, because I will never feel safe again.

Even though it's probably the 300th flight I've ever taken, I still get chills when we take off and land.

It's not often that I am rendered speechless.. I'll simply say thank you. I have some incredible friends.

Words can be beautiful, but true beauty lies in that which you show when it matters the most. What makes a man great is the sum of his actions.. and I have yet to find a person who has proved himself to be truly great. I have seen men commit acts of greatness, however, in the most unlikely situations.. in a noisy bar, on a crowded campus.. a simple gesture or act done on impulse, without forethought, as a reaction to circumstance.. which betrays their purity of purpose and intentions.

So ask yourself, who are you? What are you made of?

"You have been added to the following group:"

Wait.. what? 10 year high school reunion, wtf?

Dear time, where did you go? Love, Eshae..

I promised you that I would save your beautiful gift for a special occasion. Tonight certainly qualifies as such. Here's a toast; to the rich, colorful minds of the incredible people with whom we may cross paths on this journey of ours.

.... Damn, he stole my idea. Now I'll need a new platform for when I run for president.

Welcome back, scrublings! It's painting tutorial time! Where were we.

Ah, yes. Last week, in a coffee-induced stupor, I made the horrible mistake of going over the horizon with paint to get a brighter effect.
Why was it a horrible mistake? Because I used watercolors. And when the paint dried, it cracked and flaked and looked awful. In a state of panic, I scratched the paint off the canvas.. and left the surface completely unable to hold pastels. Tragedy.
Fortunately, they make cool stuff which you can paint on a surface to give it a texture suitable for holding pastel pigment. Art supply stores are like candy shops for me; each trip is an adventure filled with delight and rainbows and happiness. Really expensive happiness.

So one week and hours of frustration later, I completely reworked the colors and ended up with this. I'm leaving the images at their original size so you can see extra detail if you wish..

Now the terrifying part begins. Painting over the pastels with acrylic paints...... One mistake ruins the whole painting. Pfft, easysauce.

... Alright, admittedly, it scared the hell out of me.
I included a closeup of the sky so you can see how I took some creative liberties with the colors and details and enhanced the original..

Easily the most difficult part was painting the tree. I figured out the proper technique pretty quickly, thankfully. All you need to do is think like a tree.
... No, seriously! Think about it; the way a tree branch grows is in segments, and each segment on a branch is the same width through its length. As long as you paint a branch in segments, with long, sweeping strokes, the process goes rather quickly, and surprisingly, without any horrible mishaps this time.

Just a few final touches....

Et voilà, c'est fini! Easy, right? I hope my tutorial was useful. Might try sleeping for a change, now. Love ya, bai~

Unfiltered, unbridled, unabated passion, unabashedly unveiled, undoubtedly unparalleled.

You said it, Success Kid meme. Leaving for Seattle, be back in a few days. Love you all.

I posted this song on youtube just to share it with a friend. That the world was lacking access to this stunning piece was a travesty I couldn't allow. I used to play this song back in the days of working for KCLU jazz radio, and it'll always be one of my favorites. Listen to it before youtube takes it down!

Let it be known that the iPhone is far more durable than it looks. Mine took a swim and lived to tell the tale.. the only damage seems to be that the phone thinks it's permanently connected to a docking station, so it won't play most sounds on the speaker unless the headphones are connected. Very strange.

My trip to Quebec seems to have been as much of a hindrance to learning French as it was a help. My professor is impressed with my pronunciation, but she says that I have a Québécoise accent! Argh. Fake frenchies strike again. Apparently I didn't leave the country without at least getting partially french-fried...

The good news is that I think I have perfected my recipe for tarte au sirop d'érable :)

And my weekend of hell was brightened by a care package from mon cher qui est le meilleur...

Amazingly delicious throat soothing tea, bath fizzies, and my very own sore throat bacterium <3

I sought solitude this weekend after a humbling realization of what my life has been lacking in an attempt to figure out how to get it back. Between blaring music and comfort food, I holed myself up in my apartment with the intention of talking to no one to help start my long painful process of "self-rediscovery." Thanks to a phone mishap and my contraction of the worst cold/strep/flu/whateverthehellthisis I've ever had, solitude was unfortunately much easier to find.. And yet I'm still no closer to an answer than I was before. 4 days of nonstop coughing and fever has worn me down, and I feel my resolve beginning to crack. I feel lost. Was solitude really the answer to my questions, or can I turn to the people who care about me for help? Just this once, I wish I didn't have to do it alone anymore...

Tutorial for making art stuff

by, Eshae

Step 1. The proper setup

I'm a professional, so I don't expect you to have stuff nearly as cool as mine (see the graphing calculator? Yeah. You're jealous.). However, make do with what you have, and get extra materials ahead of time. Good art is good preparation, as my art teacher used to say. As an artist, your most important tool is, of course, your drug of choice. Today, mine is coffee. Your second most important tool is music. Play it loud enough that it's damaging your eardrum, but not so loud that it causes your canvas to vibrate, as that might detract from the artistic process.

Step 2. Apply your medium lovingly to the canvas

Yes, lovingly. Trust me, the canvas can tell. Show your medium the proper respect. Today I'm using pastels, applied first with a dry wash using cotton balls, then with my fingers.

The dry wash will come out much lighter than intended; that's ok, because it's just a base color for one of many, many layers which will be applied.

As my art teacher used to say, the process of shading is extremely important. Starting from the darkest regions of the canvas, work your way to the lightest to gradually build color. Shading properly, he would say, is the key to good technique. Always shade from dark to light.

.... or was it light to dark? I could never remember. That teacher was a jerk anyway.

Step 3. F#&k step 2

You know what? Art is much better when you're angry. Let go.

Oh God I'm bleeding

Step 4. Forget everything else, including bodily functions

I tried to get up and eat at some point, but the canvas kept begging for more. Goddamn needy bitch. It's alright though, because hunger actually helps the process. Ever wonder why we're called "starving artists"? It's not (only) because we're paid mere pittance. It's actually a choice. Hunger makes us bitter and angsty; quite beneficial for art. I'm too cool to eat. Ooh, so artistic.

That's all for today. Apparently the Day Star only shines during the day (who knew?!), and blending colors/shading by artificial light sucks. See you tomorrow.

Love, Eshae

I felt it then, burning within me.. a fire, untamed, wrought into melody as it poured from my fingertips, consuming all in its path.. beautiful, in spite of, or even because of, its inherently destructive existence..

How I long for my days of passion, when love, and hate, flowed freely.. when instinct overpowered reason.. when I cared enough to fight, to win, to succumb to the wild desire and unquenchable thirst which drove my heart and soul to madness.

him: "So how are you doing?"
me: "Pretty good, actually. Can't complain."
him: "Seriously, how are you doing?"
me: "I'm fine! Things are going well!"
him: "No, really...... how are you doing?"
me: "Well, I guess I've been pretty worried about my research..."
*10 minute conversation about the bottomless pit of sadness that is grad school*
him: "Alright, so really. How are you doing?"
me: "............... how did you know...?"
him: "I always know."

God I love you. I don't tell you that nearly enough. This is why you're my best friend.

Eyes and mind open, unafraid.
To whatever end may come.

"I see no need to take me home
I'm old enough to face the dawn.
Just call me angel of the morning
Just touch my cheek before you leave me.."

Just call me your in-between girl. I'll fix your broken heart. I'll wipe away your tears. I'll build you back up after the world breaks you down. I'll take your world of darkness and let in the light, illuminating the beauty which you've never before seen, teaching you how to love and be loved. And just when your wings have mended, I'll open the door and watch you fly away, renewed, strong, and ready to make another girl happy.

"I dreamed of you last night. You were afraid, and I held you safe in my arms.

You must be about 12 now, on the cusp of womanhood, about to embark on a journey to discover yourself. Older and wiser perhaps. I imagine you to have thoughts and ideas of your own, perhaps a wild streak, perhaps a love and zest for life just hinted at when you were younger, now blossoming as you age.

But I can only imagine. In my dreams, in the last fragments of your existence that I possess, you'll always be a child.. frozen in time in the pages of my memory."


Nearly a year has passed since I wrote this post. Would I have believed, back then, that now you would walk.. no.. plunge back into my life? Would I have believed that talking to you would be so easy? Certainly you are light years beyond the shy, quiet girl that I was at 13. And I couldn't be more proud.

Perhaps you're back in my life at exactly the right time. I'm at the point now that I am proud of my choices and the life I live. But I still have a long way to go and plenty of lessons to learn.. Maybe this time, I won't have to do it alone. And you could be exactly what I need right now. What better way to stay focused and make the right choices than to have someone following your example. From this moment on, I have something more to live for. From this moment on, I live for you.

I had something incredible happen on New Years. For those of you who know my story, you will understand just what it means to me.

My sister sent me a message..

Three days ago, I wondered if I'd ever see you again. Now, I'm texting you about sleepovers and shopping and pillow pets. It's like the last 5 years never happened. I'm ready to have a family again.. I hope I'll make you proud to call me your big sister.