tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63082882007-09-01T18:50:44.904ZC. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-16257403748764712032007-09-01T18:32:00.001Z2007-09-01T18:50:44.938Z

alone. alone. alone. i don't know if I can do this. I want to be here. I want to be home. I need to be here. This is necessary. This is good. developmemntally. I tell myself. The happiest I have been the past week is when I was talking to my mom on the phone. hearing her voice made me burst into tears. hysterical yet glorious and happy tears. ergh. the dutch language is frightening

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-2480792468232954832007-04-12T16:20:00.000Z2007-04-12T16:21:18.148Z

“I have a friend who reads people’s auras. He sees all sorts of colors like green and red and purple. He says anyone can do it. All it takes is forgetting everything you think you know and just looking. I’ve tried it and even though I haven’t seen any colors yet, everyone I meet looks so beautiful when I stop knowing everything, that it’s pretty hard to go back to the old way.” beautiful.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-75408262562328726152007-03-16T02:40:00.000Z2007-03-16T02:41:46.057Z

“Every day, passion speaks to us through our feelings. That’s why when you allow yourself to become anesthetized by what others think, you literally block yourself from living the life you were called to live. I promise you that if you make a choice that doesn’t please your mate, your friends, you mother, or whoever, the world will not fall apart-the people who truly love you want you to love

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-10549021975932699322007-03-07T03:32:00.000Z2007-03-07T03:33:46.155Z

open up. open up. open up. this is what I need to do. breathe. open up to all. stop being so guarded. this only stifles the soul rather than being a vessel for love.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1171082278840639972007-02-10T04:35:00.000Z2007-02-10T04:37:58.840Z

messy. disgusting. embarassment. insecurity. tears. shame. secrets. are beautiful. eeeiiiiiieeee my ribs sing. break on out of this funk. funky lunky foot. with spangles. Edward Gorey makes my soul clamor to mother's shoulder in fear. These current trends will one day be vintage and these smiles will one day be memories. yours.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1170512884637819702007-02-03T14:19:00.000Z2007-02-03T14:28:04.636Z

this is just life. there is nothing else. I can't go back. Home. Slept more. Had actual dreams in my head at night that lingered with me through the early morning hours. talked more. laughed more. truly, rather. realized that I enjoy wandering around in my underware. there. gazed more. realized that I don't really have to do anything perscribed. but there is a reason that it

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1169079088026131282007-01-18T00:10:00.000Z2007-01-18T00:11:28.046Z

guess who spoke too soon? in some aspects... to do: -stop this pity party -do your shtuff -listen to Joe Cocker and feel okay because it is okay.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1168893309620092672007-01-15T20:30:00.000Z2007-01-15T20:35:09.636Z

ugly beatle and Chihuly blown glass. I believe what Uta says but I don't know if I am too inexpereienced to truly wear these words. only in your soul. project differently. I can breathe without choking. it's kinda nice. thus far. thus far. thus far. thus far. that could all change tommorrow. or within the next thirty seconds. more likely tommorrow. ha. that feeling makes

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1165812884198619572006-12-11T04:52:00.000Z2006-12-11T04:54:44.213Z

taking silence for granted. taking love for pennies on the dollar. I can feel the energy in my spleen and it is making me talk with rainbows. My words look like vomit. But they smell like that old book next to Arthur Miller's Timebends I am so reading all of you. every page. consuming your soul.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1164485757932758732006-11-25T20:10:00.000Z2006-11-25T20:15:57.943Z

arrghhhh... why am I having such a difficult time with this life? I shouldn't. I shouldn't. Life really isn't that horrible. It isn't. I know it. four months on the verge of tears has eaten away at my soul. let me go. now. please. give me a hug and let me crawl inside your soul. forever. I want this to get better. I am the issue. I am ashamed and I am sorry. I am going to

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1163899306687247402006-11-19T01:04:00.000Z2006-11-19T01:21:46.700Z

I approach the dining center. The smell of ish enters my soul and I know that I shall be led to the salad bar for a sampling of greens, pumpkin seeds, reds, whiteish-brown substances, and onions complimented with vinagrette. Which is lovely yet ceiling tile-esque. But wait! What is this? Hmmm...a dinner? A Thanksgiving dinner? Phuck yes. There isn't any poetic or faux-intellectual way

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1163261321895178162006-11-11T16:08:00.000Z2006-11-11T16:08:41.910Z

yoshimia. pink robots. Flaming love.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1163191404387240822006-11-10T20:41:00.000Z2006-11-10T20:51:51.363Z

such a vibrant burning in my soul. performance. theater. art. is is love. my love. ugh how cliche to say. but how passionatly true. turns my frown slanted, replaces the garlic between my teeth with snow, and sticks a glow behind my spleen.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1162949240966318332006-11-08T01:12:00.000Z2006-11-08T01:32:00.136Z

There is a certain attractivness to this. this "loner" status. Like being a boho child picking apples in California when all one can feel on their fingertips are the pesticides seeping into their spirit and corrupting their mind as they drive to Starbucks on a caffine crazed love affair with the cocaine of the housewife. Starbucks. business men in starched suits with birds. and savvy

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1161657101688968572006-10-24T02:29:00.000Z2006-10-24T02:31:41.703Z

I almost wish I hated them so it wouldn't be so painful to say "goodbye." Attempting to create familiarity through smiles, music and art. But I still miss their pages and phrases. tears shall cease, I hope, I pray, I wish. I know they will. I know.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1160793499017098002006-10-14T02:30:00.000Z2006-10-14T02:38:19.030Z

This is elementary school all over again. When I cried in the corner because I couldn't fill in the right answer on the fill in the blank. Failure seeps the hope from my soul. When I was so damn proud because I could spell "vacation." "V-a-c-a-t-i-o-n.." When trips to irvine park adn eating dilly-bars on the sticky-sweat ant-playground steps with my mother and brother made me giddy to no

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1160236210746366532006-10-07T15:46:00.000Z2006-10-07T15:50:10.793Z

Talking about theater with that wonderful individual always makes my soul smile and emotional genie weep with happiness and hope. thank you for a person as amazing as she. thank you for having the grace and selflessness to talk to me while I am sobbing the midnight oil away. I feel honored to have worked with her. maybe it's homesickness or just the smell of velvet curtains but I worry

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1159553819286559812006-09-29T18:16:00.000Z2006-09-29T18:16:59.296Z

the leaves are not changing yet. The ones that are falling are burnt to a crisp by the sunlight. regardless, I like them.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1159034577350385962006-09-23T17:55:00.000Z2006-09-23T18:02:57.366Z

that emotion makes me swoon. I am the rain. Let me flow not into the sewage but evaporate to the sun. You think it's ugly but I think it's you. oh these floods... etah, backwards it looks more like apathy and this is the conclusion I have come to within these four walls. Those who don't care shouldn't be cared about. I didn't think it was possible in this skull to feel this, maybe it's a

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1157771426367849712006-09-09T03:01:00.000Z2006-09-09T03:10:26.366Z

This isn't what I wanted. There isn't room to express. It amazes me that this faux-metropolian wasteland is bigger yet it lacks so much. can I really handle the next years trapped in this tomb of boredom? this is my fault. I am the one who is bored and anti-social and boring. smile. other people have done this before. let me escape somewhere where I can smile in some fragment of culture

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1157770605690472182006-09-09T02:55:00.000Z2006-09-09T02:56:45.703Z

this is claustrophobic. can't handle this. there is now where to go. happiness isn't found in broken sidewalks.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1157160487326225212006-09-02T01:26:00.000Z2006-09-02T01:28:07.340Z

Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virute that I do not posess. I am falling into the same cycle and it is causing my feet to rot as I walk. Thus I cannot skip. Only stumble. this water tastes like chlorine, not clear. Ha!

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1156685226700622202006-08-27T13:24:00.000Z2006-08-27T13:27:19.276Z

Biking to find basic necessities took me half a mile away from Kentucky when all really wanted was some toothpaste. I cried. It was almost poetic. Ha! vagabond. rather. lost soul. that's true. how valid. Validate my soul border of Kentucky. Thank you.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1156089809683412162006-08-20T15:34:00.000Z2006-08-27T13:29:47.443Z

boho soul? I am such a fake. This question keeps seeping into my mind. It's in the preliminary stage. Can I ever truly committ to myself when I feel as though I am judged or not good enough? This city is faux-metropolitan. I am the plastic fur coat rotting in the gutter. As this city is only a tiny slice of something much larger, something that I am quite ignorant to. He said just to be

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6308288.post-1156081336429861312006-08-20T13:41:00.000Z2006-08-20T13:42:16.443Z

shaking many new hands thus letting go of others I wish I was myself.

C. Kerstenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12373224921174957751noreply@blogger.com