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free-write on college application essay

I was experimenting with the Free-write/mind dump idea for brainstorming, and this is what came out from writing for 3 minutes. Thought I'd put it on here because it might just burn the page in my notebook if I don't dilute is through mechanical reproduction:

My story is my own, why should I share my most cherished memories and painful past experiences with you, a faceless stranger? Why would you want to listen to a story of an anonymous wannabe? My family's problems are none of anyone"s business, my memories are my own to keep and judge.
The proper office of a university is to teach me and prepare me intellectually for the career I choose in the world. Not only that, but to help me reveal myself as a worthy member of society and to help me aid humanity in my own subtle way/ What could you possibly have to do with the fact that I like grapes, or that I'm an immigrant, or that I stil sleep with stuffed animals?
My experience with diveristy, you say? The first time I saw a black person I was 7. He was a student from Sudan. I was interested. He seemed like a character from an exotic fairytale to me. After that, the next black people I saw demanded that I call them 'African-American' instead of Negro, and they were yelling at me in an unfamiliar language at the Immigration Control desk at DIA.
How's that for awareness of diversity?
And Ukraine is a country where they speak Ukrainian and Russian. Not the 'Ukraine language' as my high school councelor called it.
I hate hypocrites, prudes, and helpless people, and it seems that the world is overflowing at the rims with them. It seems like you want me to be one of them, to show you my cards just so you could judge me worthy of your university, to complain abotu my struggles and to praise my own accoplishments.
What does the fact that I will study History of Art hate to do with the tears I've shed from loneliness, cruel words, betrayal, disappointment, pity, self-doubt?
I say it like it is.
I do it like it is, that's why this college application essay is so hard.
Why waste words?

Crazy person says hi.

Welcome to the environmentally-friendly windmills of my mind.

 Who knew that if a steamer is not working, the moment you put your hand near it hot, humid air will start coming out, as if to spite you, leaving your hand red, and eventually blistered.
What kind of a party story is that? "What happened to your hand" "Oh, I was steaming a shirt at work and the steamer attacked me"
How about "I got bitten my a poisonous spider while saving a small child?"
I like that better.
Looking at my two perfect blisters....I think I need to lose weight...
But everytime I do, I gain it all back.
Maybe this time will be different?
Doubt it, but I can never lose hope.
I've been sticking to my exercise routine for 3 days now, and my my watch that means the habit is here to stay.

I think I might have ADD. I also think that's not really an appropriate name for it. It's more of a Scattered Attention Disorder. I mean, it's not like people have not attention, that would kind of make them a autistic, they just have a lot of attention in a lot of places...all the time...constantly changing focuses.
And it's not like it's a disorder, it's a sign of genius!
Unless genius is a disorder. It probably is, because not everyone is a genius. Brilliant Talia.

Since when did I start calling myself Talia? 
Who started that anyway?
I guess it fits. Does it?
I mean, Natalia makes me seem way more mature and important than I actually feel.

I want a cape.
I tried on a really cool one made of....what's it called? Pressed velvet?
or something
It was red, and heavy and made swooshy noises.
But it was expensive.
Plus where would I wear a cape?!
I wish they were socially acceptable.
"Call me Countess Natalia"
SEE! With a cape I can actually use my real name.

I want to have a costume party now.
But my house if 90% glass, so that would be stupid.
unless I could have it somewhere else....how about 20 people in different costumes showing up to......Red Robin?
That would be quite a show.

I get paid tomorrow!
Who knew cute little Asian girls who go shopping with cute little Asian boys could steal?
I sure didn't.
It's not like I particularly care, but a little bit of the little bit of the hope I had in people just died. She was looking me straight in the eye, and she still stole.
I guess it wasn't a personal offense.

I want to go buy some shoes with the money I get.
Some nice high-heeled shoes....
I figues I'm already 5'9", and wearing heels isn't going to make me look any more like a tall freak than I already look.
plus I feel empowered in heels.
I am woman, hear me roar.

Jul. 7th, 2008

  I have returned after a dry spell of 6 months.
But nobody really cares, though you should.

So, shall we?

The saga of the teenager who has exibited free will by taking a year off after high school begins with a fitting room key. I wear it with pride around my arm. I'm becoming numb towards clothing, and will probably never be able to shop again.

So far, there has been nothing more to this story, a 770 (out of 800) on the Biology Subject test, a 36 on my IB diploma, and lots of idleness.

Now, I would like to discuss something that I'm interested in: ART.

That, my dear readers, is the Tate Modern Art Museum in London, located in an old power house on the Thames. It was empty for a long time, and when modern art was driven out of London by people who actually like art, that particular parasite on the aesthetic horizon moved into the factory.

What you see in the picture, is a crack going through the factory (it was abandoned for 40 years), The place is HUGE, and the crack is probabaly deep enough for me to put my whole arm into it. 

It also happens to be the most popular 'exhibit' in the whole museum which boasts Andy Worhol, Lichtenchtein, Picasso, Monet, and some other weird stuff that I will talk about later (actually, no I won't, but just take my word for it)

My question to you is: why is a crack in the floor so popular? I admit it's pretty august, it's a very large, empty room, the walls and the floor are the same color, the crack is not obscured by anything (if we don't count the Japanese tourists), and the artificial light makes it all seem a bit surreal.

Also, my visit to that museum made me ask a very peculiar question that has been bugging me for the 3 months that have elapsed since: What isn't art?

For the last two years that I was subject to philosophy class, I've been thinking about what art is, and why we feel a compulsion to view and create art, and I've had many theories and arguments with myself about this, about the sublime, about art being separate from the creator, but they always boiled down to WHAT IS ART?

Art, in a very vague and unstatisfying defenition, is a creation of an artist that reaches out to the viewer in a desire to create a reality that the viewer and the artist will share. I don't know if that makes any sense, but I know what I'm talking about, it's the experience between the artist and the creator (I'm not going to go into the the many aspects about the role of the artist, about the viewer not having any role in this saga, and the role of the critic). 
So where was I?
Oh, what isn't art? Everything, including the stylized, kitty-shaped ring holder that I'm looking at right now, was made to have its cute yet mildly distrubing shape to create a common truth between the creator and the one experiencing it, get it? 
Now let's take a step back and look at the bigger picture:
EVERYTHING is made to create a common truth between the user/viewer/audience! 

So if the common truth/understanding defenition is true, everything is art. The relationships you maintain (healthy ones, at least) are works of art, this blog is art, internet is art, television is art, language is art, even very common (created) objects such as...lotion, wine, and clothing are art.

Before I go off to muse a little more on this topic, I leave you with two questions: 
-Can art be an unsuccessful understanding of truth? (meaning if the artist meant for something else to be understood. In this case any art that the artist cannot stand by to explain should be tossed away, thus art whose creator is dead is obsolete. Fare well Mona Lisa)
-Is the sublime not art? There is no creator to stand by the sublime (well there could be, but we're not exactly going to question his intention any time soon)

Oh, and here's the Tate Modern virtual Museum, it's really cool, check it out.

And finally, just to throw off anyone who thought they were creating an art theory in their mind, I present to you with my own personal White Whale:


I want a narrator

Wouldn't it be awesome if you had a narrator for your life?
It would make everything so much more understandable:
-said Talia bitterly-
"no I didn't!"
-trust me, you did-

It would narrate what I'm thinking about, what I'm remembering, how I feel certain things, what I think about people, I mean, I think only I would be able to hear this narrator so it would just facilitate my understanding of myself more. 
That is my plan :-)

Because honestly, sometimes I wish I could be told what I'm feeling and what I want and all that jazz. Recently though I've been better at keeping in touch with how I feel about people, I've become more loving, brutally honest (more so than usual?) and more laid back, but still, I'm so confused most of the time. 

You can draw certain conclusions from the fact that I'm a teenage girl: yes, it is concerning a human being of the male persuasion, but knowing that I'm a teenage girl with a morsel of intellect (well, you probably don't know that, but I just told you) I have existential quandries arising from my romantic confusion.

So here's the deal: I'm seeing a certain redundancy in my approach towards relationships, it's like I don't know what I want!
If a guy is too attatched to me I don't want him, even though I could have actually really liked him before. WTF is this? shouldn't it be the opposite? 

Anyway, I was hoping to finish my contemplation today, but i want to get some sleep, I shalst continue when I have thought about this a little more.

Fare thee well,

P.S. If you were reading this Pookie: the sleepover is a go, but the indian place is really nasty, so we have to figure something else out, soon, so we can make reservations, damn Valentine's Day. Love ya!


This is meant to sound like Juan Rulfo in Pedro Paramo, but it actually turned out to be something of my own making, maybe it didn't, I don't know. The weirdness of it came so easily though, I just had to share:

       The new streetlamp shed light into the room.
       "It's 6:20, you should get to bed"
       "There is only olive oil."
           I woke up, it was 6 am. The remnants of my distorted dream still grasping for existance in my head. Maybe if you wake up too suddenly your dreams can become reality. Something about olive oil.
           In a daze I wandered downstairs. I was dressed. My mom is making omlett. Something is omitted, am I still dreaming? My mittens,
        "Do you know how old those are?" my mother asks "At least twenty years."
            I smile, because I have to, because I'm happy, she smiles back.
            Outside my bones get cold.

            People are everywhere. Outside the trees are white with winter. Inside there is laughter.
        "I hope you're feeling better"
        "This movie I saw...."
        "Move out of the way"
              I sip my tea.

It's like haiku in prose form :-)
What are you looking forward to in 2008?
Having fun, getting a job, going to Mexico, traveling, falling in love. Living life!!!!!!

Devious Journal Entry

by *ivoryacidlust on deviantART 

Found this picture on deviantART, duh, that's why it says so just a centimeter above. 
I really like it because although it seems like there's all this fat on the woman, I mean she doesn't really have rock-hard abs (obviously) she doesn't come off as hideous. At the same time the hand isn't being gentle, it's like "I want this OFF". It's really interesting. Any thoughts?

So, apperently I have more time than I thought I had. Fantastic.
First off: Where is the freaking snow? It's frigid! but there's not snow! I'm dissappointed.

And now I have to cover an important point: How would I have been different now if I never immigrated?
Would I be smarter? Fatter? More flexible? A good piano player? Responsible? Skinnier?
Would I be more attached to something because I would have had family with me? Would I have siblings? Or would I be a failure at life and nothing close to what I am today? I have no answers, but you have no idea how much this is eating me up. I guess these "What-ifs" will just get worse as I get older and have more big decisions left behind me.

I'm psyched about the weekend coming! There are so many things that need to be done, but it's almost like I have time to do them! So, to organize my own thoughts:
-College essay
-History IA outline
-Buy books: Kim, Handmaid's Tale, Gatsby, Ethics of Authenticity.
-Find birthday present for Michelle.
-Write ToK essay
-Get a head start on Philosophy IA
-Catch up on English explications
-Write long-overdue Psych essay
-catch up on math
-Practive various musical intruments
-work out, a lot, I have 6 miles to go before the end of the week, holy shit.
-Make dessert for Thanksgiving party
-Go ice-skating
-Go to Michelle's party.

That's 14 things in the next 5 days. Great. Did I forget something?

And that's all I have to say about that.

~Forrest Gump.

*waves awkwardly*

I have finally lost my livejournal virginity. :) It took me 3 tries too. whoops.
 Internet, this is Talia. Talia, Internet.

Anyway, as the 20th....no, 21st century seeps into my consciousness, I finally convince myself that perhaps the best semi-creative outlet is this site. We'll see.

I'm kind of in a hurry now, but for those who were wondering, and if you aren't clever enough to catch my name about 4 lines prior, I'm Talia. No I'm not putting my whole name on here, not like anyone calls me by it anyway. Seriously people, you'd think one could change 3 letters in her name painlessly, but no....~


P.S. Why is it not snowing yet? I was so excited for it!