The struggle of being present in the now and in the self.

There are so many lifes to be lived. There are so many rules to be followed. So many of which could be broken. There are so many scenarios to be acted out. So many settings to be arranged. So many conversations to be had. There are so many ways in which you could dress yourself. So many ways in which you could compose your image. There is no limit to anything in this world. And I must say I am greedy. Greedy to live five lives all at once. I want to be a poet in Paris eating croissants and sipping black coffee brewed in a glass chemex. I also seek to be an artist spending days and nights in a New York city studio. I want to be a business woman grabbing lunch inbetween meetings, always in a rush and a planner in hand. I dream to be a lover, a mother, a carer for those in need. I would also love to be a social activist and become the change I wish to see in the world. Sometimes it feels so overwhelming. There are so many paths to be taken and so little time. Everything takes so much time. I always struggle to catch up. I want to work hard, to fully use my time, to live at least a few of those lifes in a lifetime. But it gets tiring. I have too many ideas. Too many daydreams. Too many plans. Too little life. Even right now I am messing up words, mixing them together, spelling in the strangest of possible ways. All because I am thinking too fast. My brain seems to never stop. Sometimes I want it to stop, but then again... I must work hard. But chasing after five lifes seems to be depriving me of the one I have. How do I make the choice? What should I focus on? Probably just transfer to buddhism and gain a few more due to reincarnation. Seems the least overwhelming.

And now that I am thinking some more. At even faster pace. I must say I can cleary visualise that my loneliness will follow me whichever way. Because I can never imagine myself alone. There's always imaginary companionship. The one thing truly missing from my life. The one cause of my running away strategy of life. The one source of the ache of the heart.

Być sinusoidą czyli przemyślenia dni ostatnich.

Jestem osobą, która na porządku dziennym ulega licznym namiętnościom i fascynacjom. Zgodnie    z "Historią piękna" Umberto Eco jestem poetką idealną - i jest to jedyna okoliczność w której odważę się na tak bezwstydne stwierdzenie. Doświadczam głębiej, częściej, chwiejniej, w sposób bardziej natchniony i abstrakcyjny niż większość. Świat, który podziwiam faktycznie przypomina las natchniony symbolami. Zwykłam postrzegać naturę jako klucz teorii wszystkiego oraz od najmłodszych lat poświęcałam nadzwyczajną uwagę jej rytuałom. Dzisiejszy zachód słońca, za sprawą absurdalnego przypadku, stał się maszyną czasu za pośrednictwem której odbyłam podróż w głąb mojej podświadomości. Omawiając piękno rozświetlające przestrzeń naszej atmosfery, jak to na ogół bywa, rozjuszyłam ciąg zapętlonych myśli, symboli i skojarzeń. Początkowo na płaszczyznę mojej świadomości wkroczyły  banalne przemyślenia dawniej śledzonej influencerki, potem gorączkowo zapisałam następujące słowa:

"Z każdej dzielnicy widać go inaczej

W obrębie jednego miasta kilka zachodów choć jeden

Obserwowanych przez miliony oczu na sposobów milion

Powietrze wciągane innymi nozdrzami, kolory odbierane różnymi źrenicami

Miliony sposobów przeżycia jednej rzeczy"

Dzisiaj fascynują mnie zatem sposoby odczuwania. Na obecny moment naszą Ziemię zamieszkuje 7,6 miliarda osób. Spośród nich nie sposób znaleźć dwóch identycznych. Ale wszystko to są spostrzeżenia na poziomie ucznia podstawówki. Co dzisiaj zaczęło budzić moje wtórne zainteresowanie to złożoność ludzkiego organizmu oraz wpływ tej różnorodności na sposoby przeżywania świata. Czy znacie to uczucie, najczęściej po wizycie u dentysty, gdy wasze usta stają się odrętwiałe i z części twarzy, o której obecności normalnie zapominacie, nagle stają się ciałem obcym, intruzją? Pomyślcie o tym. Gdyby zamienić wasze usta z ustami przyjaciółki, zyskalibyście zupełnie nową umiejętność poznania. Nagle wasza świadomość posiadania ust wzrosłaby stuprocentowo. Tymczasem ona, tak samo jak wy w stanie pierwotnym, podczas podziwiania przykładowego zachodu słońca zapomina o ich kształcie, formie czy obecności w natłoku percepcji innych dóbr wszechświata. Do czego dążę to spostrzeżenie, że człowiek jest organizmem skonstruowanym z miliona mikroelementów. Każdy drobiazg - rysa, zmarszczka, blizna - oraz każda dominująca forma - usta, nos, broda, czoło - decydują o naszej percepcji. Na co dzień nie zauważamy obecności tych elementów, gdyż nasze bodźce prędko by wtedy oszalały. Ale gdyby lekko zmienić jedną z forem - zmieniłoby się wszystko. Dlatego nieustannie podtrzymuję wniosek, który omówiłam x postów temu - istnieje tyle wszechświatów ilu jego odbiorców. Moje oczy, moje usta, mój nos, moje dłonie, moje stopy, moje ręce, pieprzyk na nadgarstku, dziurka w uchu, pojedyncza rzęsa - wszystko to ma znaczący wpływ na wygląd mojego wszechświata. A co istotniejsze, wszystko to jest maksymalnie indywidualne, nie do podrobienia. Jak więc mam się odnieść do przeżyć koleżanki jeśli tak naprawdę, nie mam pojęcia jak to jest nosić jej usta, oddychać jej nosem, dotykać jej dłonią, a co dopiero przeżywać świat jej organizmem. Co człowiek tak naprawdę jest w stanie powiedzieć o wszechświecie? Wszystko... Tylko nic w sposób uniwersalny. I tak oto przyroda, po raz kolejny, stała się gruntem dla teorii wszystkiego.

Teraźniejszość.

Teraźniejszość jest chyba najtrudniejszym okresem do zdefiniowania. Jest to przecież miejsce w czasie niemalże bez punktów odniesienia. Nigdy nie wiemy do jakiej kategorii nasze życie przydzieli wydarzenia z tu i teraz. Może płacz dzisiejszego poranka był najgorszym co spotka Cie w życiu, może moment twojego największego załamania już miał miejsce, podczas gdy ty czekasz na coś większego, a może dopiero nadejdzie i wszystkie wspomnienia zebrane dotychczas tak naprawdę okażą się być niemiarodajne. Jak możemy mówić o tym co teraz gdy tak naprawdę nie wiemy jaki to będzie miało wpływ na naszą biografię. Jak możemy oceniać panujące realia jeśli nie mamy wyobrażenia o ich impakcie na pełen obrazek. I kiedy nastąpi właściwy moment oceny? Czy dzień ostateczny nie zdaje się być terminem zbyt odległym? Mimo, że teraźniejszość niezaprzeczalnie trwa i istnieje oraz  jest najbardziej szczerym historycznie okresem to określenie właśnie jej charakteru jest dla nas najtrudniejsze. Prawdomówność teraźniejszości sprowadza się do jej namacalnej i dowodowej natury. Nie da się jej zmienić gdyż trwa. Nie można jej przekłamać gdyż stale obnaża swoje prawdziwe oblicze. Paradoksalnie, mimo to nie sposób jest ocenić jaki ma ona charakter i wpływ na bieg historii małej czy dużej.

milk and honey

It's been a long road but we're finally here. The book has finally found its way to my hands. And I am swallowing it. It took me 5 minutes to get through the first set of poems - the hurting. The book is magical. And I feel an even stronger connection with the author. Milk and honey is amazingly straight forward yet private, simple yet complex. Balanced.


   ~ a quick post with a sentimental meaning

My first kiss with art,

I've always wanted to create under the influence of strong emotions but obviously I had to wait for them to snowball onto my consciousness. Well today was the day the avalanche has come. After several panic attacs this week I've had enough. You always see these tumblr posts about how painting can keep you away from negative thoughts, forms of self-harm, anything self-destructive really. Basically articles indicating art's healing purposes. Today was the day I gave the idea a shot. So I pulled out all of my art supplies and poured my feelings onto a canvas. A canvas dedicated to a completly different cause. A cause well planned. An idea. A concept of profanating arts in order to find novelty. I gave up my "try-hard innovator" attitude and really reflected myself. I am what's on the canvas. My paper thin visage in a visible, materialistic form. My feelings, thoughts, fears and auto reviews on full display. A very public, nude reflection of my soul.

The experience itself was very similar to "catharsis". As the paint was escaping the tube, my deepest, best-hidden emotions were escaping as well. The creation process of the piece was what has brought its title to mind. "My first kiss with art". My hands truly shaking, my eyes chaotically sweeping the surface & my breath gradually quickening. The experience was so deep and raw it was unlike any other creation process I have ever went through.

I decided to show what I was unable to say. And it is for the first time that I truly feel connected to the piece I have painted. It shows a supernova explosion, agitated ocean, the dance of defeat in "Wedding" and grains of sahara sands. It's brush strokes, swatches made with a spatula and nails scraping the canvas. It's an unworded complection of  a self relieved from a cage-like bodily structure.

How I feel about art museums.

Whenever I go to an art museum I always feel inspired, my soul is filled with a sense of belonging and happines but there are parts of my brain left empty and unsatisfied. Why is it that art exhibitions are so incomplete and so uninformative? I know that art is supposed to make you feel something. But that's only the perceiving aspect of it. There are so many SO MANY aspects of art. The process of creating it, the progress, the stages, the emotional torture of the artist, the techniques. I want to see a display of artwork along with the creators' comentatory. Why is the piece the way it is, how was such effect achieved, which techiques were used and how, what was the inspiration and is the piece the original thought or is it a crop of a blooming thought? Was the piece just a series of fortunate mistakes? As an ”artist” I am aware that there is a lot of emotional investement and thought put into every painting, poem, melody. Art isn't the destionation, it's also the process of its becoming. I can't stress this enough. Some of my favourites exhibitions where ones filled with quotations, sketches, interviews, video clips of the artists. It makes the experience ten times more enjoyable and art more accesible for a wider audience. You can get – as an recipient – a better understanding of what you're looking at. Yes coming up with interpretations is fun and important but it's such a shame when you don't understand the title and have no acces to its source, its point, the proper understanding of the work. I wish art was more informative. I wish museums provided more. I wish art didn't stop at the frame and the recepients' eyes. I wish it lived in writing. I wish it had stories and memories written about it. I wish it brought up more conversation. I wish for there to be a museum which helps artists better themselves not just comfort or inspire them. I wish that after seeing a great display of modern art I knew in what way was the wax shaped and how was the string attached to the canvas. I wish I knew so that I could figure new ways of my own. I wish I could grow from what's already there. But I guess art is constantly being shaped to be a lone path filled with questions and emotional ache based on the disparity between the idea and the material form of it.

But on the other hand I love how museums don't lie. There is no retouch. Just a canvas in a frame hang on a typically white wall. It's not digital nor improved in any way. You can get up close and personal with each piece. Discover it in every angle, from every perspective. See its imperfections, parts uncovered in paint, overapplied glue and uneven lines. You can see everything and find comfort in the fact that even the greatest paintings have some shortcomings. Museums teach you that it's okay to get lost. It's okay to try and fail. It's okay to profane a canvas for the sake of redefining art.

Art is not solely the destination nor the canvas, it is the creation process too.

If you really love him,

So I came across this tumblr post: http://kcastayclassy.tumblr.com/post/163099529214/if-you-really-love-her-you-will-always-try-if and really wanted to make a reply. Give it a read first, so you can fully understand what point I'm trying to get across here.

If you really love him, you will let him set his emotions free and make sure he knows it's okay for boys to cry too. You will give his feelings as much recognition as he offers yours and you will never make fun of him for it them in any way.

If you really love him, you will message him back as soon as you can because boys deserve fast replies too. They deserve to feel wanted and needed. Like oxygen.

If you really love him, you will put up with his anger management issues. It will be your life goal to understand what calms him and know all of his triggers. You will take care of his mental health.

If you really love him, you will be curious about being a good girlfirend to him and you will worry about covering all his needs. You will try your harderst to give him the world and life he deserves.

If you really love him, you will be interested enough to ask him about what he wants to do and surprise him with dates built up around activities he enjoys.

If you really love him, you will remind him. Boys deserve cute long paragraphs too.

If you really love him, you will trust him and give him space as needed. You will try to maintain your jealousy and sarcastic replies. You will try your hardest to calm down your wild thoughts while he's hanging out with another girl because they've been friends since kindergarten. You will try to remember that he's yours and chose you and it's okay for him to have a wide circle of friends or like someones' pictures or do whatever you guys tend to fight about the most.

If you really love him, you will apologize first because you shouldn't want him to go to sleep sad.

If you really love him, you won't let him apologize and feel bad when you know it's you who messed up. You will own up to your mistakes. And you will never make him feel like he needs to say sorry for who he is.

If you really love him, you will give his feelings recognition and respect. No matter what is it about – who you meet up with, what you wear. As long as it's coming from a place of love and not controllment and superiority. Boys deserve to be heard too.

Van Gogh.

The rumor has it – happy things are addictive. Van Gogh is said to have eaten yellow paint to get happiness inside of him. The theory following the surprising fact is that we all have our poisonous sources of happiness – love, an unhelthy relationship with food, drugs, alcochol, friends who make us feel like nothing but something at the same time... The list goes on and on. And it is commonly believed that despite the hurt these feelings of happiness and fulfillment are irreplacable. I do agree with that statement. Things that makes us the happiest tend to hurt us the most due to strong attachement and emotional investment. But the Van Gogh rumor is far from truth. The artist didn't want to get happiness inside of him. He simply wanted to kill himself - commit suicide with the closes tool available - which happened to later on develop a symbolic meaning. There's nothing poetic or inspinational in his actions and vulnerability shall stop being glamorized. He was just like every other depressed person at their lowest point. He was looking for a way out and he found it in a small tube of paint. So in reality, the yellow paint doesn't represent a desperate journey towards the feeling of happines... or does it? Maybe true happiness can hide underneath the ground level (or perhaps above it)?  Maybe death wasn't so much happiness but relief. The best way in which pain could be stopped rather than the final find of freedom. And for some maybe that's enough? I mean at the end of the day I truly stand by the statement that – happiness isn't constant, it can only come and go, appear and dissapear. It's an impulse of euphoria or joy surrounded with all the other emotions. Happines is not a constant. Sadness is not a constant. Depression may be. And to those, just like Van Gogh, suffering and choking on a fresh, morning air – the impulse of happiness may be found in the actions of selfviolence and selfdestruction.

Disability.

Once upon a time it occurred to me that disability isn't always a metter of the eye. I can easily see a broken arm, a wheelchair, a cast, a bruise, dripping blood – all of the skin deep injuries and what comes with them. But what about the aching of a soul or a broken heart? Those can paralyse even more efficiently than an attack. Those may not be visible but are just as valid. Yet people with broken minds don't get provided with car parking spots. I am not saying that any disability is more worthy of attention than the other but... It bothers me. The social injustice. It's a natural instinct to help a person on a wheelchair to get into a shop but at the same time we never think to help a person struggling with anxiety to order food? Why is kindness offered only to those who visibly need it? I believe we all are disabled in one way or another. It may be due to an unfortunate event, our upbringing, our character or DNA, an accident or trauma... anything and everything really. We all have our scars, visible or not. Let's bare this thought in our minds - all people are fragile, all people are broken. Or have been. Or will be. All people are people. And we all deserve a parking spot.

Missgony.

The agony of missing another individual. The extreme suffering. The mental, physical, unbearable pain. There are three stages of missagony. One more ruthless than the other.

The first one. Mental. When your mind runs back to the last time you saw them. When your fingers scroll back to relieve the conversations of the past. When the memory of them is kept on replay on the whiteboard of your mind. When your thoughts are tangled and everything's a blur except from one picture. Of their smile.
The second one. Physical. When your hand aches and your chest starts to get heavy. When you finally loose all control over your body and it starts shaking. When the pain spreads to your forehead, your lips, your arms and legs and you can feel it consume you.
The worst one. The unbearable. You no longer miss their touch, it's not about their presence anymore. It's about so much more. It's their voice. Suddenly you can't remeber, can't recall the high pitched tone of them singing their favourite line of that song you hate but love at the same time... just because it reminds you of them. Only way I could describe it is that it's like trying to hum that one song you liked on the radio  but didn't catch a phrase long enough to find it. It's like the blind leading the blind. Like smoke taming fire. It's a choking sensation in your throat. Your words start to burn because they're nothing alike theirs.

Shouldn't

After the first kiss, the first intimate moment, the first hug after long days of pure hankering, it is quite common for the lead character to say or think „Now it is us against the world”....

... but when you truly, truly love someone shouldn't it be the opposite way? Shouldn't the world turn from an opponent to a friend? Shouldn't you be seeing the stars in her eyes as they sparkle? Shouldn't you be seeing the overwhelming beauty of the world in her? In her looks, in her touch, in her lips and in her habits? Shouldn't you be drunk in love and thankful towards the world that yours and hers paths have crossed? Shouldn't you be on your knees thanking for the goddess the world has molded for you? Shouldn't you be seeing her support in your failures, her laugh in your tears, her love in your reflection? Shouldn't your world be so filled with her that it becomes just as beautiful as she is?

It's been a while

Everything I've ever hoped to see abroad I ended up finding home. It's just that I needed to experience something distant to appreciate what's nearby. There's nothing better than the sense of belonging, acceptance and understanding everything around you. It's comfort and safety. Just what my heart and soul need to focus. Differences are fascinating and travel does make you rich but I think the true milk and honey are hidden in plain sight. Chaos is good for art but coming in terms with your reality might help you to truly experience freedom of spirit. Not much of this post makes sense but I guess what I'm trying to get across is that we should stop looking and start seeing. I used to think that the world outside of me is the end goal, the desire but recently I came to the realisation that this way of thinking completely misses the point. My first big goal should be to contemplate my everyday surroundings and truly understand them. Balance is good, there must be a mixture of crazy and tamed in one's life for it to not be wasted and I think I've found my perfect recipe.

A girl exploring her city.

Pep talk.

You. An amazing individual who is capable of accomplishing every goal desired. You. That girl who hides her face under makeup or covers it with her hands in front of a camera. You. A lonely seed of sand which doesn't seem to make any difference. You. Essential to the existence of the universe. You see we all have different ideas when it comes to how the universe appeared. There's big bang theory and many others following. And personally I can tell you that I have no clue how it happened. But it did. And you did appear just as magically and cryptically as everything else. You are tied in with every other individual. I strongly believe that in a complicated way you have a connection with every single person living on Earth or at least you're capable of having it. Remember the man that selled you that coffee in Starbucks? How you wished him a nice day? Ya it cheered him up and he decided to buy his girlfriend flowers that day. All because of the good mood you put him in. He bought the bouquet from a street stand and gave the owner a big tip. The owner bought his kid a new toy with the money and the kid shared it with his friends. This scenario goes on and on. You make a difference with every purchase you make, every breath you take and every smile you give. Anything you do is percepted by others and affects their life. If you weren't here, all of your impact would be gone causing the universe to miss something. You take up some of the emptiness. You change people's days. Everything is related to everything in a way. Almost as if our universe was a spider's web. I hope it all made sense but yeah, you are much more important than you think you are. Take up the power you have and make others smile, but most importantly yourself.

New year, new me

Okay so it's 2016, great. This year I'm starting off as a vegetarian and overall fit person (let's see how that goes haha) But nothing's really changed since yesterday... I still suck at texting, enjoy dumb pop songs just as much as "good music" and drink everything through a straw. I'm literally just as weird, I swear.
But there is one thing that goes well with the entire "new year, new me" saying. You see, last year I ranted about how stupid that statement is, this year Imma attempt to give it some clever reasoning. It might be a brave statement but there's a 99% chance that you've changed throughout last year. You might have a new best friend, favorite colour and a few additional features that came with experience. So I assume you were a completely different person on the last day of 2015 than you were at the end of 2014 and so on. And that's how you can justify the statement so controversial right now... "new year, new me" :)

The best time of the year

Snow flakes, white trees, snowman smiles

Gift exchanges, ginger house

All the christmas songs play loud

Time to laugh and sing with crowds

There's no stragers, let's be king

Every person gives some love

That's why christmas always will

Be the bestest time of year

 

Life is crazy.

Who would have thought that I would end up having pink hair?
Who would have thought me and my best friend would go to class together through the entire schooling experience?
Who would have thought my once so loved idols wouldn't be my main interest in a matter of few days?
Who would have thought my first F wouldn't mean a thing in high school?
Who would have thought I would end up wanting to be an ad designer?
Who would have thought the need to live in LA once so consuming would fade away within years?
Who would have thought my goals would change so drastically?

Everything's changed so much. People came into my life and left it. There were things happening both so sad and happy. There were dreams come true and the biggest disappointments. And I still don't know what's waiting on me around the corner.

This post is inspired by one of my best friends which I've known for 9 years. We became friends in junior high and now are still going to class together in high school. Over the years we became almost inseparable and today while hanging out in my room we decided to look through my old notebooks in which my primary school classmates wrote little notes for me. Her's said "I hope once we go our seperate ways you won't forget about me" We weren't even best frinds at the time, we thought we would go to different schools. It was in primary school. We had different goals, problems, life values and ideas of our future. And now we barely remember the day this note was written. We are in a completly different place in life, best friends, high school classmates chillin in my room reading something once so relevant... in primary school. Life is a mistery, you never know how it's going to be. So just fasten your seat belt and go with it. It's worth to see what will happen next.

Another poem.

AUTUMN.

The wind sweeping me off my feet

The scent so soft and me so petite

Another year, another day

The season changing everywhere

The leaves once so green, now go into red

My thoughts once so free, and now tangled instead

The weather is changing and so am I

That's why the seasons both go and come

~Alexa

I wrote a poem?

SCHOOL.

Step by step

Heavier chest

Fear in eyes

Grey the skies

Open doors

Teacher shows

Lesson time

Not so fun

Harsh words

Saddest thoughts

Meet dead line

Never cry

Barely sleep

Faster eat

Get grade A

All again.

~Alexa

Rainy days, smiley face

I went a little crazy with the buttons etc. haha

As you can probably tell fall is pretty official now. Leaves have gotten in touch with the ground and the air is filled with rain scent. Surprisingly I've been really missing the season, so it's great for it to finally appear. I can't wait to throw a halloween party, watch movies cuddled up in blankets and sing along to christmas songs (still pretty early to do so but fall is definitely more appropriate than summer). This time of year always reminds me of comfort and coziness, and is a very joyful period of the year overall, so I'm thrilled to see it at it's best from outside my window (can't leave the blankets alone duh). Maybe tomorrow I'll convince someone to go for a walk and hot coffee with me, because that's really the best you could do with the yellow and brown tree crowns.

High school

Junior high is no longer, I'm officially a freshman in high school and so far it's been a great experience. I absolutely love my class and the vibe of the school I chose. It's how I imagined it to be, perfectly balanced. I have a livable amount of work and somewhat of a free time. Livin the dream hahaha Hopefully things stay as great as they are :) Also can we please take a second to appreciate the double rainbow I captured on the picture above? AWESOME. Soon after I took the picture the entire sky turned pink and looked like cotton candy. Let's just say my snapachat story was extremely long! But hey a 100 seconds never hurt anybody every once in a while. Especially since the timer got removed :P

Till the next time, yo girl Lexa!