let's not cry over spilt car oil...
Saturday, February 7, 2009
you watched the aching in my face
turning into another source of your powerlessness.
unaware of the potency of my transparency,
i watched the wild colors in your eyes fade.
we removed the symbolism of our destiny,
and sought simpler means of happiness.
in the attempt to simplify we found
a liberated victory in removing direct interaction.
you caught me in a bind,
subjected to be the cause of my frailty.
we secretly weaved our emotions
into a dependency we could not handle.
and i'm just not too sure how many times
you should hear another apology.
before i finally change my ways.
and before i need to tell you about that one day
my psychiatrist warned me against
my discovery of passive aggression.
turning into another source of your powerlessness.
unaware of the potency of my transparency,
i watched the wild colors in your eyes fade.
we removed the symbolism of our destiny,
and sought simpler means of happiness.
in the attempt to simplify we found
a liberated victory in removing direct interaction.
you caught me in a bind,
subjected to be the cause of my frailty.
we secretly weaved our emotions
into a dependency we could not handle.
and i'm just not too sure how many times
you should hear another apology.
before i finally change my ways.
and before i need to tell you about that one day
my psychiatrist warned me against
my discovery of passive aggression.
Friday, February 6, 2009
[ny - nashville - new orleans - austin text dump 8]
ok. finaly pikd one. hehe. chian grill 60 west 53rd st. reservtn at 830. wil u n ur friend b able 2 gt der ok?
we're staying in in queens to eat. text me 30 min before u are done and we'll meet up.
ok so you two come over, we're gonna drunk whil i pack, then we go towards empire st? we just wanna go up and then we find a bar?i just bought this tic.
where are you these days! i miss you!!!
dude i'm in the middle. so wreeeiiird literally.
i think i just saw fabio on sawtelle.
going to bed just wake me if u need anything wen u get back...
the boys are gone........
he is a dumbfuck. get over it.
i can't wait til we're all together in la =)
i just wish i knew the situation!
def ill roll back after class lets out.
he i have class til 830pm. i've been really sick all week so my apt is all germed out and gross u prob don't wanna go in there haha. i can meet u in the city.
your 5 word updates are killing me cito. day in day out al. all i'm saying is breathe in breathe out rejoice in life. trying to do the same =). love, nothing but.
it's good. at the sausage bar. yes. call me later.
everything find, see you in a week.
bought my ticket for bed 17th and if i'm not in bako on the 9th i should be here to hang out with you.
was great seein you too, have a good drive. take photos=)
tell her, "stefo, you're a bitch. XOXO, lo"
ah! i'm so jealous. how is it!?!?! say hi to my peeps.
great. i got everything set and my bed is made. it's a good feeling.
thanks. can't wait to see u.
way to follow your stomach. do you like the food!? i miss you
it's great. we have a lot to build though so it's going to feel like home for a good two weeks.
get the fuck out of there.
at treehouse with all the boys for shahin's going away. kind of.
it's pouring in los angeles.
hey, i decided to postpone the lsat til juse so i hear back from grad schools. call me when you're around.
ok. finaly pikd one. hehe. chian grill 60 west 53rd st. reservtn at 830. wil u n ur friend b able 2 gt der ok?
we're staying in in queens to eat. text me 30 min before u are done and we'll meet up.
ok so you two come over, we're gonna drunk whil i pack, then we go towards empire st? we just wanna go up and then we find a bar?i just bought this tic.
where are you these days! i miss you!!!
dude i'm in the middle. so wreeeiiird literally.
i think i just saw fabio on sawtelle.
going to bed just wake me if u need anything wen u get back...
the boys are gone........
he is a dumbfuck. get over it.
i can't wait til we're all together in la =)
i just wish i knew the situation!
def ill roll back after class lets out.
he i have class til 830pm. i've been really sick all week so my apt is all germed out and gross u prob don't wanna go in there haha. i can meet u in the city.
your 5 word updates are killing me cito. day in day out al. all i'm saying is breathe in breathe out rejoice in life. trying to do the same =). love, nothing but.
it's good. at the sausage bar. yes. call me later.
everything find, see you in a week.
bought my ticket for bed 17th and if i'm not in bako on the 9th i should be here to hang out with you.
was great seein you too, have a good drive. take photos=)
tell her, "stefo, you're a bitch. XOXO, lo"
ah! i'm so jealous. how is it!?!?! say hi to my peeps.
great. i got everything set and my bed is made. it's a good feeling.
thanks. can't wait to see u.
way to follow your stomach. do you like the food!? i miss you
it's great. we have a lot to build though so it's going to feel like home for a good two weeks.
get the fuck out of there.
at treehouse with all the boys for shahin's going away. kind of.
it's pouring in los angeles.
hey, i decided to postpone the lsat til juse so i hear back from grad schools. call me when you're around.
at book.people bookstore,
i picked up this issue of foam magazine.
this particular edition: portrait?
questioning the portrait by marcel feil
"people are reader of faces. we are readers of faces. we do it wherever and whenever we see a fellow human being. quickly and usually unconsciously we register the facial expressions of the people around us and evaluate what these tell us and how this information can help us determine how we should behave in order to react adequately to a certain situation. throughout evolution humans, socially curious animals by definition, have become accustomed, or better still, programmed, to register the limitless palette of facial expressions, to recognize them and to react to them. it was often a question of survival. are the intentions good or evil, is he a friend or foe, a strong or weak member of the race? it is a process of assessment that take places instinctively and is seldom unidirectional. nine times out of ten looking also means being looked at. through the awareness of the presence of another and through the searching looks that constantly dart back and forth, the human face has developed into an extraordinary rich and complex instrument whose functions range from the organic to the emotional. the possibilities of the face may even go beyond anything words can express..."
i picked up this issue of foam magazine.
this particular edition: portrait?
questioning the portrait by marcel feil
"people are reader of faces. we are readers of faces. we do it wherever and whenever we see a fellow human being. quickly and usually unconsciously we register the facial expressions of the people around us and evaluate what these tell us and how this information can help us determine how we should behave in order to react adequately to a certain situation. throughout evolution humans, socially curious animals by definition, have become accustomed, or better still, programmed, to register the limitless palette of facial expressions, to recognize them and to react to them. it was often a question of survival. are the intentions good or evil, is he a friend or foe, a strong or weak member of the race? it is a process of assessment that take places instinctively and is seldom unidirectional. nine times out of ten looking also means being looked at. through the awareness of the presence of another and through the searching looks that constantly dart back and forth, the human face has developed into an extraordinary rich and complex instrument whose functions range from the organic to the emotional. the possibilities of the face may even go beyond anything words can express..."
bildungsroman
"a novelistic genre that arose during the german enlightenment, in which the author presents the psychological, moral and social shaping of the personality of a - usually young - protagonist.
the bildungsroman generally takes the following course:
- the protagonist grows from child to adult.
- the protagonist must have a reason to embark upon his or her journey. a loss or discontent must, at an early stage, jar him or her away from their home or family setting.
- the process of maturation is long, arduous and gradual, involving repeated clashes between the hero's needs and desires and the views and judgments enforced by an unbending social order.
- eventually, the spirit and values of the social order become manifest in the protagonist, who is ultimately accommodated into the society. the novel ends with the protagonist's assessment of himself and his new place in that society."
"a novelistic genre that arose during the german enlightenment, in which the author presents the psychological, moral and social shaping of the personality of a - usually young - protagonist.
the bildungsroman generally takes the following course:
- the protagonist grows from child to adult.
- the protagonist must have a reason to embark upon his or her journey. a loss or discontent must, at an early stage, jar him or her away from their home or family setting.
- the process of maturation is long, arduous and gradual, involving repeated clashes between the hero's needs and desires and the views and judgments enforced by an unbending social order.
- eventually, the spirit and values of the social order become manifest in the protagonist, who is ultimately accommodated into the society. the novel ends with the protagonist's assessment of himself and his new place in that society."
sorting things on the road.
road trip 2009. table of contents.
week 1 - bbq at citrus house
week 1.5 - drinks in dc
week 2 - new york, my camera finally dies.
week 2.5 - flat tires and scenic drives. tennessee.
week 3 - grubbing in new orleans
week 1 - bbq at citrus house
week 1.5 - drinks in dc
week 2 - new york, my camera finally dies.
week 2.5 - flat tires and scenic drives. tennessee.
week 3 - grubbing in new orleans
my big night on the town
siting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:30 a.m.
while
looking out over the city.
it could be worse.
we needn't accomplish great things, we only
need to accomplish little things that make us feel
better or
not so bad.
of course, sometimes the fates will
not allow us to do
this.
then, we must outwit the fates.
we must be patient with the gods.
they like to have fun,
they like to play with us.
they like to test us.
they like to tell us that we are weak
and stupid, that we are
finished.
the gods need to be amused.
we are their toys.
as I sit on the porch a bird begins
to serenade me from a tree nearby in
the dark.
it is a mockingbird.
I am in love with mockingbirds.
I make bird sounds.
he waits.
then he makes them back.
he is so good that I laugh.
we are all so easily pleased,
all of us living things.
now a slight drizzle begins to
fall.
little chill drops fall on my
hot skin.
I am half asleep.
I sit in a folding chair with my
feet up on the railing
as the mockingbird begins
to repeat every bird song
he has heard that
day.
this is what we old guys do
for amusement
on Saturday
nights:
we laugh at the gods, we
settle old scores with
them,
we rejuvenate
as the lights of the city
blink below,
as the dark tree
holding the mockingbird
watches over us,
and as the world,
from here,
looks as good as it ever
will.
-charles bukowski, the pleasure of the damned (pg 426-428).
siting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:30 a.m.
while
looking out over the city.
it could be worse.
we needn't accomplish great things, we only
need to accomplish little things that make us feel
better or
not so bad.
of course, sometimes the fates will
not allow us to do
this.
then, we must outwit the fates.
we must be patient with the gods.
they like to have fun,
they like to play with us.
they like to test us.
they like to tell us that we are weak
and stupid, that we are
finished.
the gods need to be amused.
we are their toys.
as I sit on the porch a bird begins
to serenade me from a tree nearby in
the dark.
it is a mockingbird.
I am in love with mockingbirds.
I make bird sounds.
he waits.
then he makes them back.
he is so good that I laugh.
we are all so easily pleased,
all of us living things.
now a slight drizzle begins to
fall.
little chill drops fall on my
hot skin.
I am half asleep.
I sit in a folding chair with my
feet up on the railing
as the mockingbird begins
to repeat every bird song
he has heard that
day.
this is what we old guys do
for amusement
on Saturday
nights:
we laugh at the gods, we
settle old scores with
them,
we rejuvenate
as the lights of the city
blink below,
as the dark tree
holding the mockingbird
watches over us,
and as the world,
from here,
looks as good as it ever
will.
-charles bukowski, the pleasure of the damned (pg 426-428).
for amount a month i've been looking for a particular book of poetry
by charles bukowski called sifting through madness of the word, the line, the way.
i was at people book store in austin today.
and was surprised to finally run into it.
intimidated by the titles of poems in the table of contents,
i blindly opened to a page 313
and was struck by the appropriate nature of the first poem i read:
where was I?
I didn't know where I came
from or where I was
going.
I was lost.
I used to sit
in strange doorways
for hours,
not thinking
not moving
until i was asked
to move.
I don't mean that I was an
idiot or a
fool.
what I mean is that
I was
uninterested.
I didn't care if you intended
to kill me.
I wouldn't stop you.
I was living an existence that
meant nothing to
me.
I found places to stay.
small rented rooms. bars. jails.
sleep and indifference seemed
the only
possibilities.
all else
seemed nonsense.
once I sat all night long and looked
out at the Mississippi River.
I don't know why.
the river ran by and
all I remember is that it
stank.
I always seemed to be
on a cross-country
bus
traveling
somewhere.
looking out a dirty
window at
nothing at
all.
I always knew exactly how much
money I was
carrying.
for example:
a five and two ones
in my wallet
and a nickel, a dime, and
two pennies in my right
front pocket.
I had no desire to speak
to anybody nor to be
spoken to.
I was looked upon as a
misfit and a
freak.
I ate very little food but
I was amazingly
strong.
once, working in a facotry
the young boys, the bruisers,
were trying to lift a heavy
piece of machinery from the
floor.
they all failed.
"hey, Hank, try it!" they
laughed.
I walked over, lifted it,
put it down,
went back to
work.
I gained their respect
for some reason
but I didn't want
it.
at times I would pull down
the shades in my room
and stay in bed for a
week or more.
I was on a strange journey
but it was
meaningless.
I had no ideas.
I had no plan.
I slept.
I just slept
and I waited.
I wasn't lonely.
I experienced no self-puty.
I was just caught up in a
life in which
I could find no
meaning.
then I was
a young man a
thousand years old.
and now I am an old man
waiting to be born.
by charles bukowski called sifting through madness of the word, the line, the way.
i was at people book store in austin today.
and was surprised to finally run into it.
intimidated by the titles of poems in the table of contents,
i blindly opened to a page 313
and was struck by the appropriate nature of the first poem i read:
where was I?
I didn't know where I came
from or where I was
going.
I was lost.
I used to sit
in strange doorways
for hours,
not thinking
not moving
until i was asked
to move.
I don't mean that I was an
idiot or a
fool.
what I mean is that
I was
uninterested.
I didn't care if you intended
to kill me.
I wouldn't stop you.
I was living an existence that
meant nothing to
me.
I found places to stay.
small rented rooms. bars. jails.
sleep and indifference seemed
the only
possibilities.
all else
seemed nonsense.
once I sat all night long and looked
out at the Mississippi River.
I don't know why.
the river ran by and
all I remember is that it
stank.
I always seemed to be
on a cross-country
bus
traveling
somewhere.
looking out a dirty
window at
nothing at
all.
I always knew exactly how much
money I was
carrying.
for example:
a five and two ones
in my wallet
and a nickel, a dime, and
two pennies in my right
front pocket.
I had no desire to speak
to anybody nor to be
spoken to.
I was looked upon as a
misfit and a
freak.
I ate very little food but
I was amazingly
strong.
once, working in a facotry
the young boys, the bruisers,
were trying to lift a heavy
piece of machinery from the
floor.
they all failed.
"hey, Hank, try it!" they
laughed.
I walked over, lifted it,
put it down,
went back to
work.
I gained their respect
for some reason
but I didn't want
it.
at times I would pull down
the shades in my room
and stay in bed for a
week or more.
I was on a strange journey
but it was
meaningless.
I had no ideas.
I had no plan.
I slept.
I just slept
and I waited.
I wasn't lonely.
I experienced no self-puty.
I was just caught up in a
life in which
I could find no
meaning.
then I was
a young man a
thousand years old.
and now I am an old man
waiting to be born.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
what i'm doing here
by leonard cohen
I do not know if the world has lied
I have lied
I do not know if the world has conspired against love
I have conspired against love
The atmosphere of torture is no comfort
I have tortured
Even without the mushroom cloud
still I have hated
listen
I would have done the same things
even if there were no death
I will not be held like a drunkard
under the cold tap of facts
I refuse the universal alibi
Like an empty telephone booth passed at night
and remembered
like mirrors in a movie palace lobby consulted
only on the way out
like a nymphomaniac who binds a thousand
into strange brotherhood
I wait
for each one of you to confess
by leonard cohen
I do not know if the world has lied
I have lied
I do not know if the world has conspired against love
I have conspired against love
The atmosphere of torture is no comfort
I have tortured
Even without the mushroom cloud
still I have hated
listen
I would have done the same things
even if there were no death
I will not be held like a drunkard
under the cold tap of facts
I refuse the universal alibi
Like an empty telephone booth passed at night
and remembered
like mirrors in a movie palace lobby consulted
only on the way out
like a nymphomaniac who binds a thousand
into strange brotherhood
I wait
for each one of you to confess
current lyrics.
bon iver - blood bank
shally shapiro - he keeps me alive
tokyo police club - be good
wilco - jesus, etc.
the boy least likely to - be gentle with me
animal collective - bearhug
amos lee - keep it loose, keep it tight
the replacements - adrogynous
radiohead - 15 steps
akron/family - shoes
portishead - deep water
high places - a sky for shoeing horses under
david bryne and brian eno - strange overtones
jinger just - sugarman
land of talk - it's okay
guided by voices - the goldheart mountaintop queen directory
nico - walking
The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory - Guided By Voices
bon iver - blood bank
shally shapiro - he keeps me alive
tokyo police club - be good
wilco - jesus, etc.
the boy least likely to - be gentle with me
animal collective - bearhug
amos lee - keep it loose, keep it tight
the replacements - adrogynous
radiohead - 15 steps
akron/family - shoes
portishead - deep water
high places - a sky for shoeing horses under
david bryne and brian eno - strange overtones
jinger just - sugarman
land of talk - it's okay
guided by voices - the goldheart mountaintop queen directory
nico - walking
The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory - Guided By Voices
planes of fiction.
in an attempt to construct something new,
i loaded a car with all my belongings,
to follow someone
who needed a friend just as much as i did.
we stopped by to homes i've never been
but always intended on visiting,
and drove hours on roads i've never been,
you quietly sleeping until the sun came up.
a brief encounter
with what was supposed to be my new home
came crashing down in the lyrics
that made me homesick.
and so i drank another glass,
waking up early the next morning for a new destination.
passing by night-lit crosses on the road, i drifted off
and awoke to a city of lights on the gay bridge.
i sat awake alone on the still iced highway,
watching exhaust fumes come through the window i smoked my cigarette.
i lost you in the crowd and experienced the most unreal
moment of history, alone.
then burrowed through the cold
to find new warm homes.
and myself
i found something new on a roof,
making wishes again over the manhattan water towers
i talked over the skyline
and sang that song quietly to the sound of footsteps down below.
i drove a long way,
to find that i missed you.
that life wasn't the same
now that we couldn't speak.
with three broken cameras in my bag,
i bought a disposable,
and for a minutes wandered around the
monochromatic rooms of foreign antique shops.
i saved all these stories for you.
i was just wondering when would be a good time
to sit down to tell you about this wild life we live.
in an attempt to construct something new,
i loaded a car with all my belongings,
to follow someone
who needed a friend just as much as i did.
we stopped by to homes i've never been
but always intended on visiting,
and drove hours on roads i've never been,
you quietly sleeping until the sun came up.
a brief encounter
with what was supposed to be my new home
came crashing down in the lyrics
that made me homesick.
and so i drank another glass,
waking up early the next morning for a new destination.
passing by night-lit crosses on the road, i drifted off
and awoke to a city of lights on the gay bridge.
i sat awake alone on the still iced highway,
watching exhaust fumes come through the window i smoked my cigarette.
i lost you in the crowd and experienced the most unreal
moment of history, alone.
then burrowed through the cold
to find new warm homes.
and myself
i found something new on a roof,
making wishes again over the manhattan water towers
i talked over the skyline
and sang that song quietly to the sound of footsteps down below.
i drove a long way,
to find that i missed you.
that life wasn't the same
now that we couldn't speak.
with three broken cameras in my bag,
i bought a disposable,
and for a minutes wandered around the
monochromatic rooms of foreign antique shops.
i saved all these stories for you.
i was just wondering when would be a good time
to sit down to tell you about this wild life we live.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
reworking. rethinking. editing. subtracting. adding.
exposing myself to new thoughts and ideas.
i'm taking my time in austin to think about my photography, to begin reading through books that i've own for years and have never picked up, watching foreign films (and countering the required brainwork to do so by watching the OC and heroes), experimenting with writing, and reshaping my creative voices.
in terms of my site, i've taken notes down on photographs i need to remove and selecting new photographs i wanted to add. in reworking the format of the site i'm toying with this following format:
PORTFOLIO - i'm thinking that maybe i should limit myself to a maximum of 15-20 photographs per section (perhaps compiling similar works into a single image), rework the caption and titling of photographs to contextualize things better) and update it with newer photography.
- portraits
- documentary
- travel
- abstracts (things and places)
FOREIGN ENCOUNTERS
- "bringing europe home" europe. fall 2005 (england, ireland, barcelona, rome, venice, copenhagen, prague)
- "exploration of self." spain. summer 2006
- "at the root of it all" philippines. spring 2008
THE TREEHOUSE. a place. a people. an idea.
- in the beginning
- a treehouse dozen (exhibition)
- the afterglow
HOMESPACE - post-treehouse (an attempt to find a new home)
- bakersfield
- castro
- sirerra bonita
- sunset house
- citrus
- hayworth
COLLABORATIONS
- intricate machines
-kumquat clothing
- coppercunt clothing
- rerax LA
- animal play (need to develop film!)
COMMERCIAL/EVENTS
- events (garrett/alicia, malibu, lisa's wedding, baptism)
- headshots and portraits (scattertones, chris's headshots, etc)
- fashion (jess in spain, pre-travel photo shoots, etc)
PHOTO JOURNAL (to be used once i have gallery access on my blog, etc)
current music: animal collective. michelle's mixed albums, intricate machines.
current movies watched: the professional. solom (120 days of sodom)
current books: siddhartha (read aloud), annie lebovitz: at work, charles bukowski collection of poetry.
*i've decided to wait to write about my travels until i have my photographs from my roadtrip developed (hopefully soon!)
just some thoughts and lists for now.
exposing myself to new thoughts and ideas.
i'm taking my time in austin to think about my photography, to begin reading through books that i've own for years and have never picked up, watching foreign films (and countering the required brainwork to do so by watching the OC and heroes), experimenting with writing, and reshaping my creative voices.
in terms of my site, i've taken notes down on photographs i need to remove and selecting new photographs i wanted to add. in reworking the format of the site i'm toying with this following format:
PORTFOLIO - i'm thinking that maybe i should limit myself to a maximum of 15-20 photographs per section (perhaps compiling similar works into a single image), rework the caption and titling of photographs to contextualize things better) and update it with newer photography.
- portraits
- documentary
- travel
- abstracts (things and places)
FOREIGN ENCOUNTERS
- "bringing europe home" europe. fall 2005 (england, ireland, barcelona, rome, venice, copenhagen, prague)
- "exploration of self." spain. summer 2006
- "at the root of it all" philippines. spring 2008
THE TREEHOUSE. a place. a people. an idea.
- in the beginning
- a treehouse dozen (exhibition)
- the afterglow
HOMESPACE - post-treehouse (an attempt to find a new home)
- bakersfield
- castro
- sirerra bonita
- sunset house
- citrus
- hayworth
COLLABORATIONS
- intricate machines
-kumquat clothing
- coppercunt clothing
- rerax LA
- animal play (need to develop film!)
COMMERCIAL/EVENTS
- events (garrett/alicia, malibu, lisa's wedding, baptism)
- headshots and portraits (scattertones, chris's headshots, etc)
- fashion (jess in spain, pre-travel photo shoots, etc)
PHOTO JOURNAL (to be used once i have gallery access on my blog, etc)
current music: animal collective. michelle's mixed albums, intricate machines.
current movies watched: the professional. solom (120 days of sodom)
current books: siddhartha (read aloud), annie lebovitz: at work, charles bukowski collection of poetry.
*i've decided to wait to write about my travels until i have my photographs from my roadtrip developed (hopefully soon!)
just some thoughts and lists for now.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
seeking independence was something like:
finding an income that fit my lifestyle,
establishing myself without the context of my past,
getting over you.
replacing guilt with hope that things would change,
calling my dad for advice instead of money,
learning to not ask from my family what they could not provide,
removing expectations of my friends knowing i need them without asking,
long drives across the country to think,
learning to be okay with indefinite goodbyes,
reestablishing what it meant for me to be a "man,"
learning to stop relying or hoping in wishes,
living with my decisions and the consequences of my actions,
accepting that others' lives don't and have never revolved around me,
removing the desire of needing to share everything i think with you,
acquiring my own taste in film, literature, and music,
not allowing money (or lack thereof) determine my worth,
removing any need to be needed,
disappearing,
reappearing,
displaying to everyone that i am worth something,
giving myself a reason
to keep going despite the fact that everything familiar is now lost.
seeking independence was something like balancing the need to start all over
while dealing with all the mess that i left behind.
something like growing up?
finding an income that fit my lifestyle,
establishing myself without the context of my past,
getting over you.
replacing guilt with hope that things would change,
calling my dad for advice instead of money,
learning to not ask from my family what they could not provide,
removing expectations of my friends knowing i need them without asking,
long drives across the country to think,
learning to be okay with indefinite goodbyes,
reestablishing what it meant for me to be a "man,"
learning to stop relying or hoping in wishes,
living with my decisions and the consequences of my actions,
accepting that others' lives don't and have never revolved around me,
removing the desire of needing to share everything i think with you,
acquiring my own taste in film, literature, and music,
not allowing money (or lack thereof) determine my worth,
removing any need to be needed,
disappearing,
reappearing,
displaying to everyone that i am worth something,
giving myself a reason
to keep going despite the fact that everything familiar is now lost.
seeking independence was something like balancing the need to start all over
while dealing with all the mess that i left behind.
something like growing up?
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