Surfin in Mental Poop For once in my life, school is relevant to what I care about. Pyschology actually matters to me and each subject is enthrawling and mind-rattling. For this I am truely greatful that I am persuing a high degree of education because now, I can hear a new view on the same old subjects i have been turning over in the oven that is my head.

Monotony is challenged daily more than any other conventional standard. What do you think the rage about divorce, affairs, marraige counsling, and the dismantalment of traditional values embodies? The youth, and the boomers, desire to break the chains of one man, one woman. Why? I have my own theories. All of which somehow filter in my personal values and beliefs, my dreams and hopes, my wild imagination, and my desire for freedom. By examining myself I can guess about others. But psychology offers the opposite approach. Examining others to learn about self.

Today, my professor stated "how lucky it is for the male that we practice monogomy as a society". At first, I totally disagreed. Everyone knows the bachelor squirms at the announcement of marriage, betrothal or anything confining. Must spread semon, says his loins, and the more the marrier says his mind. But further examination and discussion put a twist onto this train-reck of a statement. Every woman instinctually desires a man who will allow her prodigy to be successful and fullfilled. So, if left without social boundaries and moral binds, each successful man would have 3,5,10 women to his name. This seems all fine and dandy, especially to those modern day men who tend to marry all the fertile women in the world like J. Leno and the like, but then we have to adjust our view. What about those not so successful men? They would be left empty and eggless, no woman to impregnate and thus they would live a lonely existence. In my conclusion, about 5% of the male population would be getting the action and all those"boundless" penis loving boys who suggest the disarmment of monotony would likely be the ones left out of the gene pool.
But then again, that is just one opinion.
On a more moral level there is so much more to consider, and even more on the purely pleasurable level. But who really wants to delve into that. I think I've made enough people angry for one night

peace out from LA (that was gross, I know)  ¶ 10:47 PM 5 Comments

  the 4112986 Aloha and welcome to the land of sun and honey (because milk makes me fart). For those of you who don't follow my life like a season of Laguna Beach, I have left and am off at college down in Los Angeles, California. Life here is...different, but only in good ways. My place of residence is shared with 3 other females, two of which spend everyother night somewhere else. I don't mind at all because it makes my room a little more peaceful but I can't help but worry about the girls. The mommy in my comes out here.

People are in an abundance. I think that college may be the one true taste of how the world should cooperate, or just operate in general. Every looking for someone to get to know and love, and all the rest in turn finding friendship if not just simple companionship. Each day I meet about 30 new people, get 10 new phone numbers and laugh at the awkwardness in silence shared by complete strangers.

I think I am able to take it all in because each day is a journey, and enough to take in by itself. TYhinking about spending 4 years in this party riden, fast-paced, smog filled, palm-tree land is more than overwhelming to me. But waking up everymorning to 80+ degrees and the smile of friends and strangers, knowing the day holds a beachtrip, a full breakfast, and the chance to meet 30 more beautiful people keeps me alright.

However, I have a hard time adjusting to my new role. I still have a hard time leaving the dorm at midnight because I keep thinking that someone wants me to stay in bed. Everytime I talk to a boy I wonder how safe I am being. And each morning when I decide what I want to do with no consideration about a gaurdian or parent, I feel a little underguided. But I guess that is what this time is for. Me. In the opening chapel mass last night, the priest talked about how college was a time to be who you really are, and love who everybody else is. With limitations, mandates, rules, and boundaries at everyturn, I could see how being my true self hasn't come about until around the dawning of today.

So now, I have to go to a convocation, breakfast, meeting, and then Venice or Manhattan beach. I dont know how to get to 2 out of the three but I guess that is half the adventure. I miss everyone at home who is no longer home, and even those who are. Call me anytime, all the time and I promise I will respond. Hope life is blessing you all.  ¶ 9:13 AM 0 Comments

  So write a letter, Maria, and send it to my wife Kara Anne Girod
Loyola Marymount University
1 LMU Drive MS B-8013
Los Angeles, CA 90045-2659


Write to it and magic will happen
(thats a lie but hopefully it will inspire you!)  ¶ 11:36 PM 3 Comments

  Fapoooeee Today I looked under my bed for the first time in what seems like a long time so I might rid my space of everything personal. Doing this only so that future inhabitants of my soon-to-be-abandoned space may not share in my emotional AND physical dwelling, I attempted to sort, classify, save, toss, and recycle every peice of my past. Along with magazines, books that no longer interest me, sketches I forgot i had drawn, and pieces of string and cloth, I found 2 disposable cameras from unknown time frames. So I did what any glum, bored girl does. I developed them.

The entire process of developement sent me on an unusual tangent from relative contentness to utterly empty nastalgia (not empty in heart, but empty because I couldn't relive it all quiet right). I took the camera to Rite Aid, not because it was cheap, not because they were quick (in fact they took a precious 2 hours on my 1-Hour photo developement), but because I could almost feel your hand on my lower back as I walked through those automatic doors. I remembered how easily you told me it was to steal from this particular store, but also how you cautioned the stealth-like quality needed to successfully out-law the photo department. So I drew back and wrote an alias on the line labled name on the disposable's sleeve and thought of what name you would think of to give me. "Laila Sun Anew" was what poured onto the paper for unknown reasons and I smiled as I handed my film to the balding lady behind the counter.

Like always, I came onto an epiphany of sorts through the mystical disguise of an analogy while I was driving late last night. We are the human race. We run the human race. In all races, those that fall the least, make the best and most well-timed decisions, and run the race smart, win. But in this race, those who "fall" come to the end first. Metaphorically and physically, failure is built into the coming of the end. But in another perspective, the end could be seen as fulfillment and enlightenment. What is odd however is that even from that view, those who tremble and stumble the most recieve the prize that much quicker and stronger, for they have true conviction and motivation. With that said, I think my life will end in about 28 years. Long enough to glaze the perfection that has been my beautiful childhood, my blessed life, and the loving and tender relationships I have. Short enough to show that I pain, have pained, and will pain because with the deep and lovely relationships I establish, an even deeper piece of my heart is given.


Run like the wind Puke Skywalker and never look back, only up and onward. yahoo.  ¶ 2:18 PM 1 Comments

  Karma Police Bummer.

And so it begins. The long journey from here to the end of goodbyes. As much as I enjoy avoiding emotions, I have found some resolution in allowing myself to just live through them. As for today, I am trying just that. I went to bed, hair wet with tears and I wake up puffy as a balloon but no thoughts in my head, only memories. Mom knows to avoid me: I know to attempt the same. All these feelings are extremely unfamiliar to me but just the same, I already wish they would stay that way, distant and anti-empirical . Looking on the bright side, the next ten days will give me countless opportunities to become familiar this new side of relationships; adieux that is.

I took a walk earlier. Not just because my front right tire is so low that steering is a chore, or because I am finding it more and more hypocritical of me to try and preach recycling while driving the biggest waste of fossil feul around a 2 mile circumferance of my home. More because moving my body always boosts my endorphins and connects me to something else besides my lame mind. So I walked to the nearby store and normally, I would engage with every living thing I pass but I found much more resolution in focusing my eyes into the sound flowing through the headphones. But still aware of my social obligation to be somewhat courtious and genial, I would remove my phones to talk to the bank teller, buy some catfood, or order my Americano.

It was at these times I realized that people can tell much more about you than you would ever imagine. Never before having seen a single one of the people with whom I engaged, all of them responded to me in a way unusual to the normal consumer-worker relations. After having paid, ordered, or handing over my money, they each asked "How is your day going?" Now, I don't think I am all that special and i know it is somewhat customary to make small talk to customers, but very rarely does this occur after all business is finished. Of course, I would reply quietly and politely with a small "pretty good" and then make small talk about the weather outside but I think they saw through it. This makes me think one of two things: Either I wear my emotions on my sleves and I wasn't, afterall, doing too good of a job hidding my glum mood and heavy heart, or that people have a very deep connection that is sensed by some 6th sense. I prefer thinking the later mostly because I have used this sense before. You know what I am talking about, when you pass a boy and although his head is not low and his pace is steady, you know that deep in his heart he is hurting but you will never know why. Or the woman who sits on a park bench looking at her child and you feel something growing inside her that pulls you close and forces you to make eye contact. Maybe Phoebe was right when she tries to clear the negative karma surrounding tense or uncomfortable situation. Perhaps its something in the air that we can pick up, kinda like pheromones. I just wish it was as easy to do as her hand motions make it seem.

For now, I need to eat a salad.  ¶ 12:09 PM 1 Comments

  Am I Too Dumb to Reply I lay my head down and feel the expanse that lies between what is my life and what is his. Never will I understand what makes everything that is so unexpressibly human so truly baffling. I know that in short time, the depth of connection between me and every other being will be more of a block behind me than a brick in front of me. Because I have come to this place where to live today is harder than looking at tomorrow, for at least tomorow I know that I can be with myself where as everyone else? They could go missing. So I choose to try to grab tight onto the thoughts, feelings, sounds, sights, smells, and love that flows between our complex and intricate systems in order that I might not one day remorse, but one day remember: So to all these passing moments, I write to remember.

The still, thick air lies heavy on my face; cinnamin, spice, apple, butter, smoke, and (unfortunately) the smell of ass pollute my nose. Between exaggerated sighs and breaks of laughter, we all sit in silence, too tired to stir, too happy to complain. I know that I am thinking about what I need to write to him before I leave so that I can in some shape express what it has been like to live so close and be loved so much by such an amazing friend. I bet he is thinking how good that ice-cream sunday he just ate tasted and how much the car reaks. I know she is thinking about her stomach ache and the episode of Friends that always makes us laugh, so much so that she giggles to herself. But nobody moves, nobody questions, because everybody in my little car in his little driveway knows that these moments will be, from now on, few and far between. And that's okay..


New time

I smuggle my face deeper into the musty smell and try to breath into the depths of my lungs to choke the struggle I feel pulsing in my chest. Inscents make their smokey way into my nose and then even further into my heart and beyond. Although I am in pitch black, I feel no more alone than if in the womb of my own mother. Because I can feel love, I can hear the music of freedom, and I can touch the warmth of skin and cloth and breath and air that tells me I'm alright. The drums beat into my head as I taste my salty lips and blink slowly. My head knows that this will end, my intuition knows that this will hurt, but the rest of me says what the hell. Today is not tomorrow, so stop. breath. and let be.

again anew

My bags are packed, I am ready to go. Mom is sitting on my bed, holding me too tightly to move. She kisses my cheek and whispers "I Love You" and then retires. As she closes the door to my dark room and leaves me sinking into my sheets, I remember being 5 years old and feeling this moment. A moment where you know you are home, where you feel complete, and the night can take you without a struggle. I turn to the red walls that house me and look hard at the concentrated color. Each time before I sleep, this very color seeps so deeply into my vision that without closing my eyes, the world turns dark and today turns its page to reveal the blank slate of tomorrow. And tonight, this saturation occurs more slowly, more meaningfully than before as I hear my mother's footsteps reach the kitchen's wooden floor. For once, today doesn't end. I simply close my eyes and begin the nocturnal continuation of my life under the pressure of my down blanket.


God be with you as you live today as a memory for the future  ¶ 2:01 PM 1 Comments