Pet drove sing to sleep

[...Two Weeks...]

Brief moment at ease

To rest from the broken bottles

Battling ground against the will

That broke the backs of many

Women before me.

Brief pause from the pawing of me

Breathe now because tomorrow

There'll be none.

My backyard is covered in claws

And a space laid out for where

You could have been.

A space for where you could have

Come to rest, for the 

Brief moments to breathe

With the pawing of me.

Breathe now because tomorrow

I'll be gone.

Found.

Jan. 3, 2010.

Being, thinking, feeling. What the fuck does any of it mean? Being, feeling, allowing -- none of it seems to have benefited me any. My feelings are outrageous and may or may not even come from within me. My problem is control -- I'm a bloody control-addict I am and yet my bloody world collapsed when I "let go" fell right the fuck in love and things just got right fucked from there. Control, bloody control is all I got going for me now - seeing things through. Accomplishing something -- that's all I know I want right now -- but before I just wanted to Be - and Be more Connected - connected to our true natures - But. Our natures appear to be maleable. Our psyches (even our perception) seems to be intimately bound to early experiences. We can never perceive anything that doesn't fit into our preciously conceived notions of reality.

Cognitive bloody psychology is freaking the fuck outta me.

Architecture. Architecture? Architecture!

Architecture?

EH?       May aswell - t'will be a pleasant job

Your natural snow light!

...

I accidentally ended up in "business class" on the train from Toronto to Montreal. It's pretty silly -- not something I would ever consciously pay for, but those who do seem to think they should act more civilized, but the only difference is a little leg room and some microwaved TV dinners.

Green tea has more caffeine than black you fools!

Magic plastic frogs.

I wish I were a real writer.

Then I could be in architecturally pleasing situations.

My life : Architecture and psychology.

Write lots of silly books.

Make Canada better and

I'm not very happier.

good at sticking to    Hurrah

what I'm supposed to be writing.

I should write a murder mystery about being on a train in Canada.

No reason to write like that.

FICTION YOU SAY.

Could I possible be a fiction writer.

But I am so tired.

So much caffeine.

Le mush.         Aesthetic

The story of a girl raised and artist in T. who decides to play the game of society and sees how for she can climb the ladder by playing the game.

What would be the conflict.

expected: loses herself in the illusion.

unexpected: doesn't work.

realistic:

la la plastic wealth of the [...?] - upper class.

Zee bourgeoisie .   HA HA 

Ha.

If I write fiction it has got to be Canadian.

PERIOD.

and contemporary.

THIS WORLD IS BIZARRE. 

I could never describe anything that hasn't happened to me and everything that has happened to me is too silly to write about.

Nevermind.

Can't sleep so I'll write about science

When people think about science, they tend to concentrate on how science breaks the world into smaller and smaller categorical and divisible parts, until all the world is is a mass of tiny particles. But what we fail to realize is that at the smallest level of ordered material existence, what defines one atom from another is precisely its capacity to relate. Whether it's the relation between the electrons, neutrons and protons, or the atom's capacity to bond with other atoms, were it not for the capacity to relate (and that potential being realized) there would be no matter, no ordered reality, no existence.

Many of the artists, aesthetics, philosophers and hipsters have inconsistent and confused reactions to my decision to go into the sciences. Perhaps they are turned off by the tacky colourful illustrations, the bourgeoisie-ness of scientific careers, or the assumed materialistic and reductive philosophical tendencies. Perhaps it seems dull and useless as they relive their memories of grade 10 science, their teachers trying to find a way to make cytoplasm and covalent bonds interesting and relevant to the lives of hormonal adolescents. Even I can't seem to talk about my academic career choice without a confused expression. It still seems so far from anything I ever thought I'd love or be. My entire identity is being challenged, and yet the only block seems to be what is a fundamentally social aesthetic that clashes with my artistic upbringing. 

But what I realized tonight as I lay in bed trying to defend myself in imaginary conversations, is that science is... well... beautiful. Really beautiful. If we forget what we know about the image of science, and look at it for what it is, we see that it is fundamentally a conversation about Being itself. It is a close observation of Nature, it is an investigation into the relationships that allow existence. It is, in spite of what we think, still what the Greek's referred to it as: natural philosophy.

In my previous defences, I've mentioned how much I enjoy being in an active dialogue with what I'm learning in the sciences. Philosophy started to feel like a game of ping pong that had gone on too long even after Hegel had already clearly won. That's why I decided to go into architecture. I wanted to be involved in a dialogue that questioned how we were really to design our lives, questions that needed answers because they would actually be applied to concrete reality. But I realized a career in architecture would fall short of this desire. The college was full of bizarre and snobby people, and the field would not provide me with the ability to shape our world for the better. If I was going to shape our world for real, I'd need to attack it on a conceptual level first, and I'd have to make my argument convincing. It's of course for more reasons than that that I'm going into science... but that's another... "blog."

I have so many questions, so many ideas, so many hypotheses and such a fascination with life, structure, relation and body. You wouldn't believe how much we don't know, how much we discover every day. It's kind of scary, and yet it inspires a kind of faith to realize how incredibly existence works on its own, whether we know how it does it or not.