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The Journal of Trisha De Gracia

I wrote something
10/02/2010 04:34 a.m.
:) Hooray!

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It's just that...
08/11/2010 06:08 a.m.
It's just that I feel like you've taken me for granted over and over throughout the years, culminating in this. I worked hard that day to take the worry off you, to make everything go smoothly, because I wanted it to be special. You didn't see all the things I did, and I did them for you. You treated me rudely, made no attempt to include me in conversation, you were short with me all day- and you didn't treat others that way. Only me. And then, when it's all over, you break the first plans we've had together in ages without so much as an apology. You still haven't apologized. I looked forward to that day ever since we made the plans, and you broke it off seemingly on a whim and with not so much as a sorry. You told me to take the bartender instead of you.

I'm sorry, but I can't open myself up to that kind of behaviour anymore. I expect that when you read this, you'll be relieved, and I guess that's a good thing. And if you never see this here, well, I guess the words are pointless anyway. But you have no idea how it felt that night to truly wanted you to be happy, and to not be able to shake the hunch that you felt I was an obstacle in the way of that. Eventually, I have to stand up for myself and for how I think I should be treated, especially by the important people in my life. I won't wait to be treated like that. And I am sorry.


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Time gone by
11/29/2009 07:35 a.m.
I have been written here since I was 15 years old.
Never deleted a single thing.

Oh how time just flies and flies and flies...

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I wrote you (another) poem
09/24/2009 04:46 a.m.
This one was about Sept 12, but then I thought it was coarse of me. Anything about a day so monumental as this would have to go to you, and just to you.

And then, of course, to her if you pleased, which, of course, you likely would :)
And that is fine. That is wonderful. I think she'd understand, and I know you would.

So if I ever get it right, or nearly right, then you'll get it.

How interesting this journey's been...

The most joy and love to you both

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You all Make Me Feel Like Singing
03/12/2009 07:57 p.m.
Thank you SO much for the kind words on A T O N E M E A N T. Not to mention POTD.I feel very blessed that something I feel very strongly about, something that gave me a rush to write, could affect you all too. Thank you.

On a side note, I am changing the world. Or at least my campus. If all goes well.
More on this later, but here's what I'll tell you: It involves publicly naked women. And later on, head shaving. And yes, that includes me.

Stay tuned :)
I am currently Blessed

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Poetry "classes"
01/06/2009 12:17 a.m.
I am sitting front row of a 3rd year university poetry class, waiting for it to start. This could be great, or a complete shit-waste of time. Either way, I intend to learn from it. Anybody ever taken one of these before? Does it kill it for you?

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12/28/2008 11:46 p.m.

The thing I've noticed the most is that word God makes people's hair stand on ends. Really. And it doesn't matter what you believe. Atheists get smug. Christians and Catholics and Jews and Muslims etc. start to pick apart the three letters. And what for? Why is that people who want to call something bigger than themselves "God", regardless of their religious standpoint, people who don't use the G word get all tense? Who cares what you call it? You want to give it a fatherly persona, call it a Him or a He, give it a will. Great. I want to incorporate it into science, call it consequences, action and reaction pairs, Newtons apple, gravity, life and nonlife. Ok. My friend wants to call it karma. Why not? Why get fussy about letters? Do people really think that their God worries about the earthly name you call "Him" by? That a force you claim to be the creator, bringer, destroyer of all things in the entire universe,including the universe, is really that attached to the name "God?" Or "Jesus?" Or "Tao?" Or "Jehovah?"

Let's put it this way, and bear with me for a second: If god is an elephant, and we all touch a different part of him, say the ears and the tail and the skin and the trunk and the tusk, and call each piece a different name,each feel something very different... or maybe split up the categories and call each one a God or a Goddess, do you think that the Almighty Elephant really minds? Probably not. He'd probably be a hell of a lot more pissed if we each took a part of the Elephant (each piece being just as much "Elephant" as the next), ripped them apart from one another and started bashing eachother over the heads with the pieces. Which is exactly what we do when we get into wars over who's set of rules and names and ideas is better. In my opinion, this is beyond silly. I refuse to believe that the miracle of life's greatest purpose and intent is to destroy life. It makes zero sense.

I am not religious. Obviously. My family is a heady mixture of Roman Catholic, Mormon, Jehovah's Witness, and Agnostic. I think that as a result, the idea of a said religion does not fit my worldview, personally. That is not to say that I am without morals, without a sense of right and wrong, or without respect for those who do believe. I am only a human being. The world is in front of me just as it is in front of you, and we all can take from it and construct with it what we please. I am in no place to judge right or wrong what you choose to put your heart into. But I am entitled to my opinions too, and I believe in two things, above: Kindness and Honesty, melded as much as possible. I am not always a kind person, and I am not always honest. But I strive to be. Note, too, that there is a difference between lying and producing fictitious works of art. There's a difference between words and deeds, art and intent. I try to live honestly, and that's never given me trouble, no matter who's church I walk into. Until, of course, I open my mouth, like this. But I do think it is rather difficult to believe that your own mind is the highest force in the universe. After all, how many times have you lost your keys? How much control have you exerted over the movement of the clouds today? I'm not saying there is a dedicated "Cloud Mover." I don't think there is. All I'm saying is hey, it happens, and we don't do it. That's all. Lack of evidence disproves nothing. Some theories take fewer unnecessary leaps than others, while others don't take enough. And, hey, if there WERE a dedicated Cloud Mover, Sun Maker, Famine Controller, etc etc then I'm pretty sure He, She, or It would be able to remember where the keys got to, you know what I mean? That's all I'm saying.

Thoughts? Opinions? Feel free to contest what you please.
I am currently Bemused
I am listening to The fridge hum.

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I can spell
12/23/2008 08:10 p.m.
Yes, I know it's atonement and not atonemeant, but I like at-one-meant. Yes, I know the difference between allusive, illusive, and elusive.
Sheesh guys, a little faith? :)

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See you in 8 days!
12/11/2008 08:06 a.m.
You come home soon and it's exciting because you've been gone for four months and that's pretty much forever when you're not quite sure if everything you've made with your hands and your words will stand on two feet.

That sentence had 39 words, one period, and one capital.

Anyway, you come home in 9 days. In 19 minutes it will be 8 days. Which is one more day than 7 days. Which is a week. Which is soon.

Worry is a cancer of the mind, I know, so here are my malignancies (malignancy being one of the most beautiful sounding words I know, actually):
1. You come back and find me changed not to your liking
2. You come back and you've changed not to my liking
3. You come back and things work for a while but then slowly start to erode and implode on us.
4. You come back and then you leave again, which would be like 3 above, without you falling out of love with me.

Chances of these things happening? Relatively small. You told me the other day to make myself a post-it note that reminded me you love me and to put it on my wall. I'm taking that as a great sign, and I didn't even feel the need to do it, to boot.
What does that expression even mean?

You don't know I write here, or at least I think you don't. I drew you a picture in red ink (as always)and hid this address in tiny writing in it. I don't think you looked THAT close, which I dont blame you for, as most pictures are simply pictures and not pictures with hidden messages.

But I wonder what you would think if you did know. What you would think of the almost 400 pieces of me scattered throughout this site. We don't talk too much about past relationships with other people, not because we're jealous, but because it isn't relevant. I am to him, and he is to me, and that's all. You've never really seen me upset, let alone ravaged by depression, anxiety, and heartsickness. It's all here. Every profound emotional state of me since I was 15 years old has been romanticised and rearranged on these pages into metaphor and alliteration. And the only time you've ever seen me cry was 4 months ago when I woke up beside you and realized that the next morning I would be waking alone. You don't know who I was when I was with Him. Any of the Hims that come up in my writing.

You don't know who the Orange Girl is, or what being a Sabino Girl is, or the dilemma of heeding or not heeding the unspoken rule that all comments must be followed with a thankyou note, lest you receive no more comments. i picture you asking me if i ever keep secrets from you. No, I don't, I don't keep anything from you. Ask and ye shall receive.

The people who know me here know me in ways that people I am intimate with don't, which is an interesting comment. The people here, right now, reading this, have a piece of me that you don't which is odd to me. But the more people who know who I am, the more my freedom closes in around me.

The Orange Girl, by the way, knows me in both worlds. That makes her pretty high up there in my books.

Anyway, the point is love, if ever you happen to ask I'll give you the key, let you look around. I have nothing to loose. You love me, and so, here I am. And if you didn't like what you found, well, then you wouldn't love me. And that could provide me with enough ammo to finally win a member spotlight, put my name in all 10 top poem slots simultaneously, and maybe even get me honourary patron status.

It's a win win situation really.
See you in 8 days, love.

I am currently Lovely

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12/05/2008 07:42 a.m.
I can't really explain it, but I think taekwondo is, other than writing, the closest thing I have to God. The blank page and the empty, mirrored room are like altars. They are both waiting to be filled, one with thoughts, one with deeds. When you do each enough, it's like they reverse. What started as thoughts, you realize have become a kind of action, a kind of motion. What started as deeds and motions are really just physical manifestations of thoughts. Except neither is on purpose. The ideas on the page are akin to the whole of my mind pressed through the pinhole of language, one letter, one word, one phrase as a time. A serial stream of idea after idea, like bricks coming together one by one to make a wall. In the same way, all the things that my body can do are focused into the action at hand, the watching of an opponent and the feel without seeing of where each limb and joint reside. Your mind has to be there, in that space, and no where else. You think with your muscles, your head is clear. You are not actively trying not to think. And you're not not thinking. You are just being. You just are, and your body just does, and all the while you are paying attention. Same with this stream of thoughts. I am not editing. I am not backspacing and I am not pausing to make sure that when you read it it has flair or style. I just am. These words just are. This is where I find my tao. These places are where I find the closest thing I've ever felt to the thing that people with easy faith call God. I envy them. I find that I find the most repose, the most centre, the most calm in the middle of these things. When life gets too hectic, or too off the path, these are the places I go and the things I like to do.

I hope surgery becomes this. This is what I aim to make surgery into when I am a doctor. The flow. The focus. The unhurried "zone" that athletes know, where every instant is pregnant with the thousands of things you could mold it into. You have so much time its like there is no time at all while the ball speeds at you and you catch it with perfect form. I will be the hand that holds the knife I am. There is no stress here. No worry. No anxiety. Just do. Even when things go wrong, you know, you know where to leap and you know what action you must execute to save a life and you do it with perfection, a guided hand. I want an exciting job that I can sink into like that. That I can become.

The more I explore it, the more I realize the world turns much smoother on the wheels of relaxed readiness. Not tension, but poise. A coiled spring. I need to cultivate more patience.

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