I need to post a self-portrait to remember how I look.

it's the morning of my last day of my senior year. I'm going to be a super senior in the fall... 1 more year of school and then i'm done whoa. Marlon's coming on the 26th! I can't wait. I got the internship for Superfly; so excited. Well, I should be going to sleep now. i was cold tho so i had 2 get an extra blanket from outside. i dont want to get sick. i need 2 do laundry. my room is messy; yo i gotta get my life together after tomorrow. thank goodness i'll have the energy and time... and the gym! I haven't been there in awhile; i need it badly. i've eaten too many muffins as well; this lifestyle is almost in Mai...almost donneeee

It's been raining a lot here in New York. This weather has made me extremely melancholy, and I find myself listening to Billie Holiday's "Lady in Satin" on repeat. RIght now, thunder and lightning are on their way towards the south of Brooklyn...I wish I could take after the sky, so that I could empty my mind and let out my tensions, to blare out all that I need to; then my skies will be beautiful again. The school year is almost over, but I'm staying at school another year. I'm still not sure how I feel about this, but it will work out in the end, I'm sure. All is well, but today was not, so looks like I'm writing again in a gloomy post-midnight mood. I never wrote here that I bleached my hair so I will post a picture now.

I haven't flossed in weeks, not since Marlon was here in New York. I finally went out and bought fancy floss from Duane Reade and I slipped it through the spaces between my teeth. It's fancy for a reason, because it makes flossing seem like the easiest task of the day; but I can't help but think I'm becoming a materialistic fool who can only live with nice floss and endless supplies of expensive coconut water. I can't do work unless Evirob, my desk figurine, is watching me. This figurine was 10 dollars, I'm so disgusting. I have to fill my life with countless objects to feel comfortable, because somehow, I'm searching for something to fill out my life. Maybe it's the new hairstyle I plan to don, or the ear piercings after a successful job hunt; why can't I ever be happy after my birthday? I question a lot of things after my birthday, like what direction I've gone and where I'm going. And I'm physically sick and mentally sleepy, and this questioning becomes really muddied and confusing, and I have to gasp and sigh for air like it's a chore. This is the last of the sickness I hope. I think it's trying it's hardest to get out of me all in one moment, but might as well get it the fuck out so I can go on living like a functioning homo sapien. I know that things will be better; I just hate being sick.

I haven't written in awhile, i always write sporadically like this, and much of the time, i write after a major event in my life. My birthday was Feb. 15, and I turned 22 this year. Two days later, I took molly for the first time at the Loft in New York, because I said what the hell, might as well try something new in my new year. It was euphoria as I danced in the excellent vibes of New York strangers, passing glances to unfamiliar faces, and moving my body as if it were taken over by a dance maniac of the 1980s. Balloons of all sizes and colors fell from the ceiling as "Love is The Message" by MFSB injected itself into the room, like a lovely scent that everyone could enjoy. We all smiled as we pushed balloons into the air, flying like balls of energy, and we held onto some balloons too, my lovely red balloon. Cake and Peppermint York Patties were passed around; it was the ailing DJ David Mancuso's birthday party, and even though his physical body wasn't present, his music and those who love him were packed into the room, and the cake, the food, the music was a medium in which everyone was on the same level, sharing a body like the bread broken at the Last Supper. I ran into a professor Joshua Fried, and we shared a dance and there was no hierarchy, just a smile for the enjoyment of a tasteful groove. I'll never forget the characters: the big-breasted Black woman in a honey colored dress with fly golden sunglasses, greeting me at the door, saying something along the lines of "Hey Sugar"; the Japanese people so infected by the music, but still having the slightest moment of greet my eyes, smiling; Lisa, who brought out of me a dance I could have never conceived on my own, it really does take two 2 tango.

Molly is great and all, but I think it gives a greater message, that love is all around us, and we need to see that it's there, whether or not we're on some kind of drug. The real drug are ourselves, and we need to embrace each other's chemistry, it's the only way we'll know and see what's real.

I am writing on the 31st, the last day of 2012. Today, everyone was looking back on how their year has gone.

2012 for me was not being afraid to do what I know and explore things I don't know. It meant having a boyfriend, breaking up, getting together with someone else, breaking up, and getting back together again. It was Berlin. It was an internship, new friendships, rekindled high school memories, and feeling both like an outsider and someone who is loved. What made 2012 so special was how much I wanted to change, how I wanted to be straight and clean, but how I wanted to embrace my identities, the true self. How much I don't want to be set in such a thing as a "true self," because it's always changing.

This is a year of curiosity, like a puppy who's sniffed around, but hasn't tried.

2013 will be a year of doing

I am back in California, taking in the beautiful breeze and 72˚ temperature. It's hard to complain when everything is idyllic, especially the warm yellow sun that nourishes all the delicious tomatoes. I get to freely wake up whenever I want, go outside and get the morning paper. After throwing the paper on the table, I turn on an automatic espresso machine and set it for two shots. Foamed milk goes in. I occasionally tease my morning brain with Sudoku or with a couple of pages of 1Q84, by Murakami, a recent purchase. After coffee, I usually need to go to the restroom, so I do and then I feel awake and hungry. I can eat a croissant or impromptu Eggs Benedict before my morning run. My running playlist consists of Grimes, Róisín Murphy, and Azari & III, among others. I run approximately 20-25 minutes around my neighborhood, usually stopping by my elementary school, where I was once a different child. I see the same janitor from when I was young; I wonder if he is still the same, or even recognizes me. I then occupy my time with a few things: make music, photograph, step onto the scale, masturbate, whatever I can do to pass the time. By 3:30, I'm already sleepy. So I nap until 6:30 or so, eat dinner, and make my rounds on the computer. My little sister went back to school, so it's very quiet around here now, not like New York, where people are coming in and out.

I go to Berlin in less than a week. I will start a new blog different from this livejournal.

New York is hot. The piss stains are starting to evaporate, exposed legs are ubiquitous, and cold-brew iced coffee is all the rage. I'm wearing sunscreen, but it's inevitable that I already have a farmer's tan. I lay in the park today. My body, already warm from my naturally high thermogenesis, was celebrating the absorption of the sun by secreting large balls of sweat, but I also felt woozy and tired; a kind of OD on Vitamin D. But finally!, I can wear shorts and not be an idiot; I like the wooshing of air through my leg hairs.

I feel like I'm in a sauna where everyone is experiencing the same heat. Also, the act of sweating makes people so much more beautiful; like, just let it all out, baby! Speaking of letting it all out, the thunder clouds can be just like New Yorkers. Just waiting forever, being super passive-aggressive, holding everything in; then finally, BOOM, you hear some thunder and a huge downpour of rain hits you. It's a little bit like therapy for the weather, I suppose. Mother Nature, just let it all out!

I've been pretty solitary these days; the cat is out of the house, my roommates weren't in town for quite awhile, so the heat is kind of my companion, demanding me to do things. For example, I felt Heat nagging me imperatively, "Get outside! Read comics! Go to Strand! Read more comics! Go to the gym! You know you want that espresso!" as if I had nothing better to do (ha). Another good one Heat said was "Make lemonade and let it drip down your chest!".

I've been reading comics by Los Bros Hernandez. The worlds they create are just amazing. And the characters are so real, but at the same time, inhabit such a comic book world. It creates distance as well as makes me feel relatable to them. Like some kind of mythology...I dunno, it's all just really enjoyable to read! It's an artform both human and godlike. And the women...

Well now I'm babblin'. But I saw someone I hadn't seen for awhile and just ran into her on the street. We talked under my umbrella. Isn't it amazing how much people change, but yet are still the same? I wanted to know what happened within the past two years, the change in hair color, the more mature stance, all this stuff. The meeting, though, will forever just be a little caption in time, and I'll never have continuity with her story. You know, I'm okay with that though.

This semester, I took a class in computer programming. We learned the basic flow of the Python language as a tool to understand basic computer programming. The writing/reading of a program was like figuring out a math problems. If we look at 2+3*4-(10/2), we use the PEMDAS method. In programming, we read down the line of code, breaking apart each function or expression until the whole program is finished (unless one aborts out of it). The functions are like little problems within the whole program. They loop, read outside data, add to lists, etc. At its simplest, it all comes down to numerical values: how many times we should loop, which numbers we read, and which position in the list the data should be placed.

The logic behind programming is remarkable; there is elegance and complexity in figuring out everyday problems through computer engineering. The end user, however, sees only the part that is intelligable (ie a computer programmer programs, and the end user see an iPhone app). This disconnect between the program's perfection and the part that human can understand makes me believe that programming is art. I believe art is a way to understand the perfection of God, or a greater truth, and to acknowledge that there will always be a disconnect between God and human. But by writing emaculate pieces of code to understand logic and the flow of time, we get closer to something that is holy, perfect, yet we construct something that humans can understand.

Boom shakalaka