| infinity rooms |

probably my most memorable time at an exhibit aside from dale chihuily's glass and garden show at seattle center

| infinity rooms at the SeattleArtMuseum |

yayoi kusama is a treasure. and i had the best time at the infinity rooms at the SAM on monday. sold out advanced tickets. going back in september.
the feeling of vastness as you are merely a dot in this universe.
it was very overwhelming and as quickly as it came it was gone.
you are allowed 20 seconds in each room per the request of the artist. while i did take some photos as evidenced here, i tried to just take in the experience as much as possible.
you are allowed to re-enter the rooms once you are in the exhibit - however, lines are long and patience is a must. my good friend april who works at the SAM was able to invite me with one of her tickets. i am going back again in september with my sweets. now i will know what to expect and can allow myself to be immersed once more.

pomegranate

motherland devouring

look it's me! hating on your choices with kisses.

not. 

i'm circa 2012. march to be exact. my bangs were it. style to the ceiling. i can't bring them back though on account of: they're a mess to keep.

important >>>>

"I grew up hard and am still hard and I don’t care. I did not choose this face or this body and I have learned to live with it and love it and celebrate it and adorn it with tremendous drawings from the greatest artists in the world and I feel good and powerful like a nation that has never been free and now after many hard won victories is finally fucking free. I am beautiful and I am finally fucking free.

I fly my flag of self-esteem for all those who have been told they were ugly and fat and hurt and shamed and violated and abused for the way they look and told time and time again that they were “different” and therefore unlovable. Come to me and I will tell you and show you how beautiful and loved you are and you will see it and feel it and know it and then look in the mirror and truly believe it. If you are offended by my anger and my might at defending my borders and my people you do not deserve entry into my beloved and magnificent country."

— Margaret Cho

yes, and thensome

“What men mean when they talk about their “crazy” ex-girlfriend is often that she was someone who cried a lot, or texted too often, or had an eating disorder, or wanted too much/too little sex, or generally felt anything beyond the realm of emotionally undemanding agreement. That does not make these women crazy. That makes those women human beings, who have flaws, and emotional weak spots. However, deciding that any behavior that he does not like must be insane– well, that does make a man a jerk. And when men do this on a regular basis, remember that, if you are a woman, you are not the exception. You are not so cool and fabulous and levelheaded that they will totally get where you are coming from when you show emotions other than “pleasant agreement.” When men say “most women are crazy, but not you, you’re so cool” the subtext is not, “I love you, be the mother to my children.” The subtext is “do not step out of line, here.” If you get close enough to the men who say things like this, eventually, you will do something that they do not find pleasant. They will decide you are crazy, because this is something they have already decided about women in general.”

- Lady, You really aren't "crazy"

got some books back from the house so friday night

consists of reading my old babies.

don't be jealous of my party life.

coke fiend up

so you know sometimes you spend hours with your friend on camera talking about nothing, posing as a porn star you once dreamed of being at the ripe age of 'child' and everything feels good. no holding back, just loose. it's even better when you're filming each other with an incredibly crappy camera and when you try to take screen shots it ends up blurry and grainy and no amount of patience or photo - shop can salvage it. i actually think these look good. disco queen good. 70's polyester good. whatever that means. i just think it's wicked so - share time it is. if only i could look this grainy and blurry in real life.

still trying!

(olga kurylenko)

How wicked wild to find something that reads familiar.

"Suicide is just a moment. This is how she described it to me. For just a moment, it doesn’t matter that you’ve got people who love you and the sun is shining and there’s a movie coming out this weekend that you’ve been dying to see. It hits you all of a sudden that nothing is ever going to be okay, ever, and you kind of dare yourself. You pick up a knife and press it gently to your skin, you look out a nineteenth-story window and you think, I could just do it. I could just do it. And most of the time, you look at the height and you get scared, or you think about the poor people on the sidewalk below - what if there are kids coming home from school and they have to spend the rest of their lives trying to forget this terrible thing you’re going to make them see? And the moment’s over. You think about how sad it would’ve been if you never got to see that movie, and you look at your dog and wonder who would’ve taken care of her if you had gone. And you go back to normal. But you keep it there in your mind. Even if you never take yourself up on it, it gives you a kind of comfort to know that the day is yours to choose. You tuck it away in your brain like sour candy tucked in your cheek, and the puckering memory it leaves behind, the rough pleasure of running your tongue over its strange terrain, is exactly the same. The day was hers to choose, and perhaps in that treetop moment when she looked down and saw the yard, the world, her life, spread out below her, perhaps she chose to plunge toward it headlong. Perhaps she saw before her a lifetime of walking on the ruined earth and chose instead a single moment in the air."

Carolyn Parkhurst, The Dogs of Babel

Without batteries - I can't.

not in the mood to socialize. Not in the mood to talk about mundane things. Not in the mood to have to put on a show. it is what it feels like. Mentally exhausting. I have to put on my 'people' face. 

After a while I need to recharge. Escape for a minute to be by myself. Listen to my music, read my favorite book. Do something in private. People don't always understand this. My mother especially. She continues to believe I have bad manners when I don't feel like coming out of my room to greet all the random people that come through our house.

She's different. She doesn't have to be on. She's always on. It comes naturally to her. Natalia & Leo understand me. They know that if they barge in my room and I am not smiling every 5 mins - it's okay. I am in my own bubble and they respect it. They let me be. Quiet, in the zone, in my own world. They don't question it and they don't make me feel bad for it.

I cut out on my friends yesterday because I just couldn't bare it anymore. When I'm not feeling it, I'm not feeling it. No amount of jokes, smiles, or talks about hot dicks in adorable clothes will get my mind to change. Not to mention the delirious state I'm in. Happy times are not for me right now. I'm not even going to fabricate it. It's too hard.

Back to what I was saying though. These next few days will be dark and gloomy and very private. I want it this way.