fine art?

my eyes pop open on a sunday morning at 6:56. the sun shines bright through my window burning my face. the only thing i can think of is a show. i want a show. I want a show like a fat kid wants cake. I want to see my photos big and glossy, high and mounted, haloed with that perfect gallery lighting for everyone to see. Or perhaps shadowed and mysterious, in the modern architectural type. Quiet and intriguing. Im googling MOPA. Perhaps I've stumbled upon the wrong gallery for showing, or my bigger fear, perhaps i don't know art? All these photographs, so old, and strange. they do nothing for me. Does that means i don't understand? Maybe that means my taste is not fit for the art world. Not refined enough? Unappreciative of the prestigiousness of it all. Its the legacy not the look. Does that apply to those hideous Louis Vuitton bags? and Ralph Lauren polos as well? that classic timeless piece that everyone has to have but doesn't even like.

Reflecting: old pieces i found scattered about

I don’t know if I’ve ever been good enough

It’s like these defining moment in life. Where you stop. And look at all you’ve been through. Like some kind of movie, they flash by artistically, smoothly. Fluid. So beautifully in motion, as if god himself had arranged them. Timed so precise in your life.

One boy didn’t work out because the next ones better

You quit this race because the next one will be a breakthrough

You did bad but the next time will be amazing

There’s always the underlying hope

You always have the next best thing to hold on to.

But I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved

I don’t know if I’ve ever really loved myself. I don’t know if I’ve ever stopped to really think about where this life is taking me. I just ride with the current. Sometimes it flows. Sometimes it doesn’t

The last four months. Have not

But as usual. As Brie always does, and has. She will pick her head up, pack her shit. And move the fuck on. Because that’s what I do best. And when I do, it will be better. And I will be good enough. Tough shit in your life doesn’t implement unless you strive. Im striving.

Im fighting

But right now this battle is useless. My mind and body have overthrown everything. Im feel like a helpless prisoner trapped in my own cell. I have no control of any of this.

(listen to what your saying, you have complete control brie. Compos Sui Compos Sui)

this is what you have to realize. You have control of everything in your life. You are the master of your temple. You make every move, every choice. You govern it all. Make it count. Make it smart, and strong. Make it work. Make it win. Make it love and live.

Its easy to say these things, but actions mean so much more. Make it happen brie.

another day.

There are people that travel. And people that don’t. there are the people that want to live the adventure. And people that want to bask in all that is nothing.

Much like people that gamble, and do everything the wrong way. Much like people like me. who don’t go to class. Who dream. Who write. Who paint. Who never check their voicemails. And are always late. Who change their mind as often as they change their lovers. But really do love every single one. For different reasons of course. Who prefer wine over chocolate. who are always waiting for the next best thing. Who ignore your phone call because they feel like it.

Things are beggining to feel more and more surreal. And its not the wine. I feel something coming.

and another...

Zach,

I wish life always worked the way you wanted it to. I wish it sped up like the movies; time speeding up just were you need it to, and slowing down for all the right scenes. I wish it were as easy to be yourself and live the way you want as it is in your dreams. I wish you could paint reality with a brush. I wish I could click a shutter and reveal my life photo by photo. I wish the people I thought about, thought back about me equally. I wish I would never have to hurt another person. I wish I could be everything I play in my mind everyday. I wish I had savored the moments that crept by me. I wish I could speak up and tell things the way I mean them. I wish life would take a swing in my favor. For once. And grant me what I ache for the most. I wish I could hold grains of sand it my hands on a far away beach, completely alone and be one hundred percent okay with that. Alone. I want to be able to be me.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge. I’m jumping. I’m letting go. With a solid idea why but none at the same time. I’m falling and it feels so good. To jump into nothing, with nothing to land on. The adventure, the uncertainty of it all makes me feel alive again. I’m diving head first into it all with every intention of being sad, alone, and unsure. But that it what life is about. Chances. If we never jump well never see the bottom. And well never get another shot at the top. We never get to appreciate all it took to get back up there. Life is about the climb, and all the experiences along the way.

Were so comfortable in our everyday lives, how can you blame us? We are creatures of habit. We want everything and we rarely accept change. We fret over them until we simply fall into another ritual of daily life. I’m not usually the one to initiate these things which is why this is so strange for me. but Zach, this is inside me, deep inside me. I need some kind of dramatic change. And if it doesn’t happen now I know I will regret it. Ill regret for the rest of my life that I never fucking jumped.

In the end good things will come of this. I know this. I love you always. You will always have a piece of my heart Zach. And ill tell you a secret. I am much like a bird. You need to let me go sometimes, but I will always fly back. And when that happens the choice will be yours.

Always,

Aubriele

...another

i breathe eat and sleep it. it crawls into my mind while i sit. It scratches through broken memories and dreams, clawing to the top. i work toward everything i want, but i cant work toward you. your gone. i just have to keep reminding myself of it.

all I wanted was a little bit of solid. I invite pills, alcohol. Anything that will let me drift my thoughts from you. Your driving me fucking crazy

nobody

He walks in and I feel his presence behind me, in me. It tightens my throat and makes my heart sink a little. Pin up girls and old English cover you from your rough fingers to your farmer tanned neck. Your burnt out, dropped out, loved out. I can tell, I can see right through you. Your quiet and pain stands still and silent in your black eyes. Your trying to recover from all this. All this shit you’ve put up with. Your done. All you want is a pillow for your head. An easy ride, no trouble.

Your remind me of a friend of mine. You hang your head and look straight ahead in hopes not to draw attention. You have these secrets you never bother to whisper. You have these stories you never need to share. Nothings a big deal. Nothing can shock you anymore.

I pick up your empty plate and it shakes in my hand. I can feel your black, cold eyes staring at me. not provocative but appealing and shy. I anticipated it, I felt it like ice down my neck before I even turned around. And I proceed to ask myself why I attract people like you? Why theres that magnetic sexual tension between broken and more broken. Your eyes follow me as i clean food laden table tops. So intense i can feel your questions. your thoughts.

why does this happen. i want to disappear, i want you to leave. And you do. You get up and walk out, leaving me with only the lettering on your neck. My heart beats quickly as you leave. I see you look one last time from my peripherals. A tear wells in my eye and i couldn't even tell you why. You bring stagnant memories that i could never even begin to tag. you bring a feeling that wells up inside of me like vomit after too many drinks. quick, sudden, and oblivious.

im still moving forward. The goals have changed. but its a forward motion. Im still standing, even though i didnt think i would breathe again.

When you give up your dream, you die.

minutes turn to hours

hours turn to days

days to months

months to years

Years that i have let my dreams slip through my fingers. Remember when we were young? and everything was possible. everything was gunna happen. We were going to conquer the world. Unfortunately, The older you get the bigger the world gets.

Its been an adventurous slip mind you. Its brought me to some interesting places. You see i'm not exactly the type to get homesick. I like to feel that turn over in my stomach, i like to feel the drop before i jump. Im ready for the wrong turn. its the stay that gets me.

Humans like it the way they have it. We dont want change. So if you can move yourself past the comfortable little niche you've created, let all your useless possessions go and get on with your sorry self, do so. I forget how useless my presence is here. I forget how short life is. I forget that if im not living and doing what i want today, and not tomorrow, I'm just wasting fucking time.

Once upon a time nobody gave a fuck...

I drive down a road made of water. Thick sheets of warm rain fall from above. I think to myself, nobody would believe this shit. Huge trees with multiple trunks hang, steaming in the tropical storm. Its branches sag over the water way, weeping into it. Large white birds expand their massive wings and take cover at the sound of the storm. I stand on the atlantic shore looking out into the sea. Im looking for an answer i doubt she will have for me. gust's of wind knock me backward, black clouds hang above, turning the sea into an angry grey. surfers run from their cars into the angry water, it swallows them, throws them, but this is all they know. this is surfing in Florida. hundreds of short choppy walls rise and break quickly on top of one another. i drop to my knees letting the coarse white sand run through my fingers. I try to see myself being here, living here, loving it, but i cant. I dig deep for a reason to stay, i want to stay. but all i've found was a deep sadness i've never felt. i guess its one of those things in life you'll never be able to explain. one of those epic life changing events you wish you could bottle up and take home. take home and show all the people close to you. But they'll never get it. No one will ever get it. So your stuck, alone and miserable in your silence.

Im stuck alone with coarse grains of sand, weeping willows, angry seas, and nothing but a salty taste left on my tongue.

rise.

I see a dark string with a glint of gold lay helpless and lifelessly at the bottom of my bag. Im looking at this bracelet and im trying to remember what it ment to me. The black string and the gold clover used to mean freedom, and life. It was a reminder that life is large, and open to whatever you might what to fit into it. it ment dancing like nobody was watching and crying like you cared. It ment speaking up and opening my eyes. It ment running with heart and soul. It ment loving with everything I had. It was my faith. My reminder that something good is on my side only if I wanted there to be.

Now im lost and there is no hiding it. Im searching for something, im stumbling in the dark. My eyes are wide shut, my mouth is sealed. I have no heart to pour out. I hold it all inside and Im about to burst with everything I’ve suppressed.

This world used to mean something so much different than it means to me now. I’ve brushed shoulders with a larger part of it, and all I want is more. I look around me and I cannot stand what I see. I cannot stand what Im surrounded by. I want a bigger piece of life, and if I don’t jump now I never will. We are all so scared of stepping out. Were all scared of leaving our comfortable little lives. People are so sick in there existence. They could grow up, go to school, pay loans, bills, and mortgages, get married, have children, grow old and die all in the same town. They “vacation”, they talk about politics and going green, they drive their electric cars. They send their children to the best schools, buy organic food, and go to the gym 3 times a week. They sit at their cubical answer phones, type up reports and fuck off. But do they ever wonder what the fuck their doing? I don’t know. Maybe that is for some people. Picket fences n’ shit. Giving up adventure and chance for comfort and community. And that’s fine. But I cant stay here and burn my soul with books and classrooms. I cant continue to run this race with no drive. I need to feel the sand between my toes, i need to feel the pain, the cold, the wind at my back, the dirt in my face. Everybody wants to be different but they just all end up doing the same shit. How do you escape and make it different? Its so simple, but know one will ever do it. you leave.

Youll never know until you jump.

I have one person holding me down to the ground. Otherwise I fear id float away. Id loose all human connection. You might find me 3 countries away amoungst a faceless crowd. A pulsing sweep of people thousands of miles away. Between rivers valleys, oceans, fields and hills. From castle towers to shantys. Id follow you to the end of the world. You’re my home, my heart, my soul. You may be the only one that’s believed. That’s pushed through. Persisted. With it all. My love for you goes beyond what I even know love is. I suppose you see life the way I see it. Coming out on top, valuing the freedom to be above the world. To see it from every angle.

Im trying to not let you fall through my fingers.

vapor

a sociology class later and i see the deep, dingy, dark holes.

there scattered through my life like swiss cheese.

i see what I've done to not fill them. i see all the things iv never talked about that have made them deeper.

i see straight fucking through them. i can see the blood oozing in through the bottom.

is it possible the abnormalities i've felt my whole life aren't so abnormal. I live with these secrets, these pink elephants are coffee tables in my living room. they double as sofas for my guest's to sit on. and never till now, has it been so fucking clear. my problems, my anxiety. My longing and needing for everything thats not there.

my addictions, my infatuations, my desperation's.

but why now must they surface? why at this time in my life, when everything should sail by smoothly and effortlessly, after all this hard work, all i've fought, sweat, and bled for.

All i've endured, all i've fucking endured. i feel like i've been through so much shit. so much emotional stamina it has taken to get through my years. so much fighting, and struggling to keep my head above the water. And for awhile, i felt ok. i felt at peace. with myself. and my life.

and now this. this endless hole, the bottom falls out and its over.

and its true. as much as i don't want to believe it. i've always felt off. as a child. outcasted. spit out. wrong. bad. stupid. fat. ugly. there's been times, where things click for awhile. but its mostly been so sad. And i thought it was normal, something that would pass? get better? go away? but it just keeps drilling through. picking out the pieces it wants to hollow.

will i eventually dissipate into nothing?

Compos Sui

i often forget what im doing with myself. i forget who i am, i forget what i've accomplished, only to forget what i am capable of.

If there was ever a time in my life that i've been lost it would have to be now. my head spins, my heart sits cold and silent behind my ribs. there is no paint under my fingernails. my camera case holds four months worth of dust, grey and uninviting.
Yet my legs are sore, my back throbs. my hands pulse from my late night boxing sessions. red welts grace my elbows. Its the only thing that makes me feel alive and ready when running has not. my anguish rests inside two white gloves that wait for my blows of frustration into the humid night air. I sequence kicks and punches to a bag. our shadows stretch together, ghost like across the empty field lit only by private airport lights. My blows intesify as i think about every split i didnt meet on the track, i feel my anguish leave through poised shoulders, bent elbows and a perfect shot to the blue bag. My troubles spill out every pore. For a while ill feel mended, well, confident, sure.

I am the master of myself. My own director.

to overcome

its that wave of emptiness that washes over you. turning you over and holding you under its powerful grasp. But its so meaningless, this wave. You should be able to defeat it, and stand up. you should be able to breath, you are strong. this wave can not hold you under, today you will not drown. And now its all over, the pressure, the pain. All that it took to hold your self up, and not break down into pieces. All the things you've done to overcome. your legs are tired of kicking. your lungs are fragile porcelain structures. your hands shake with adrenaline. and your heart...

your heart feels as if its carefully been removed from your chest and opened for the world to see. But you don't care. because this is it. this is life. and you've defeated it.

push

i couldn't tell you what I'm doing here, or why i decided to make this move. being stuck i suppose. feeling out of options. for the sake of spontaneity. for the sake of my own sanity.

how ironic. now my sanity breaches the line of crazy. These flat stretches of Bentleys and Beamers, overdressed old people, and lifeless humid mid afternoons. Iguana's don't even lie lifelessly atop tree branches anymore.

I was cutting onions last night in my dark, empty apartment. Usually its the onion that makes you cry, it must have been the emptiness that finally got to me because i found my self on the floor, back against the ugly particle board cabinets, sobbing my heart out. For someone, anyone, to reach a hand out and tell me this wasn't a mistake. To tell me I'm only human. To tell me this life is meant for things like this. How else will you ever know what you really want out of it unless you have to sit in dark empty kitchens and cry everything you got left onto the hideous linoleum floor.

your that little thing busting your ass up hills, and down stretches on the 101. mastering the technique, of a wave, a race, a fucking sociology class. i wont stop until i get it right. even if that means making my way back to cali.

my hearts still a little broken, my confidence is still a little busted. but I'm still pushing hard.

everything works out in the end, and if it still hasn't worked out, then its not the end.

tell me what it takes to get to you

a vertical wall

writing. the only thing that makes me feel in control. and not so alone. maybe because it forces me to review all that is broken? all that is reality. all of what is happening right now. but it still lets my mind go. i can dream. and once again im dreaming of all the things i shouldn't be. my brain in shuffling through old memories. this current world i live in is meaningless.

i was talking to my old coach, im sick of school i said. Im sick of everything.

she said: Brie your a student athlete, student first. Running is a way to get what you want. Use it! Im so proud of you, you can do anything.

iv forgotten who i am. How have i let this happen? Iv lost some confidence on the way here. I fell and didn't finish brushing off the dirt.

Im Aubriele Fucking Rowe. i run 18's after two years of training.

I teach myself how to surf.

I paint.

Im a photographer.

I have an extensive knowledge of healing foods and health

I wear what i want,

feel how i want,

say what i want.

I love life. when did i become this?

this person that dreads waking up at 6 to run, this person that cant think beyond a homework assignment?

Ill tell you how. Im not following what i believe in. Im not doing what i was ment to do. im not enjoying 100% my life.

And thats how you slowly kill yourself. by doing things you dont bleed 100% of.

its not that i cant live here, i wont for the sake of my life.

Bad, Bad, Bad

big turn offs:

asian guys shoving little debbie snacks in their mouthes

Geology class

So Cal Holister shirts... when you arent from So Cal. Dont do it. shit, i dont even wear them.

cargos

...to be continued

better than geology

So im skipping class to look at surfline webcams and watch 3ft chest highs rolling in the Oceanside Pier, curled up on a bench in the wholefoods cafe, sipping an organic energy drink and looking up surfboards for sale on South Florida Craigs List.

there is something so wrong with that picture.

sometimes i think about those 17:00's but not as often as i should be.

instead im dreaming on the desk,

dreaming about San Francisco dance partys

Berkley trips, my 4th of july in Mexico

My 21st birthday in Vegas

101 runs down the coast

those familiar rollin hills

...My 3000 mile road trip back to California

its sick you know, if you ever plan on moving to Cali dont ever plan on leaving, the songs are true, that california dreamin shit, Phantom Planet WILL be your new best friend, your homesick soundtrack.

i gotta get that 101 back under my feet.

remember what you left, remember why you left.

remember what you came here to do.

remember what you came here to prove to yourself.

remember all the things you did that got you here, and embrace it.

know that your gone, know that this is a new chapter in your life.

know that there are tons of new people you will meet, know there are millions of new things you will experience.

so run a little faster, laugh a little longer, smile a little more, be a little crazier

let go a little sooner

this is your fucking life, LIVE IT

what are you waiting for

I Need You Like A Bad Habit

This morning i almost cried, i had a 30 minute run on the long flat boca sidewalk and never in my life did i think i would miss the long rolling hills behind my California home so much. So as i pounded the florida cement, tears rolled down my cheeks, while the concrete greedily absorbed them.

I never thought I'd miss the feeling of wanting to hurl after reaching the top of a 500 meter hill. Or the feeling of winding quickly through tight elevated trails, hard frustrating, and confusing, but so satisfying to wipe the blood off my knees and finish the damn thing.

break free

If there’s anywhere that could make a California girl feel even further away from home, it would be 4 cold days in New York City. I sit on a big bus, passing broken buildings, broken people, that all have broken little worlds. I guess in a sense I feel ok again. I don’t feel like a rat scampering across a bride’s wedding cake like I do in Boca. My pink elephants are once again hushed. With each pounding step on the cold grey concrete, my worries flee. My heart beats to my pounding footsteps. Dead grey trees claw at Central Park’s winter sky. Shades of glistening blue and cotton candy pink of the Carlsbad shore are replaced with skyscraper navy’s, and gravestone grays. Everyone is just like the last; they are city drones, zombies, in black trench coats and business suits. They work the nine to five; they dine out for breakfast lunch and dinner with their friends. They drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes, then go to whole foods to confess their sins, throwing their sweet tea in the glass-recycling bin. Black homeless men stand on street corners bowing to the icy concrete waiting for anyone’s sympathy. Hustlers push carts dripping with unnecessary items no Local New Yorker would need. Women walk around with their fur coats and tall leather boots, Coach and Juicy rest gracefully on gloved hands. Honest innocents, sinners, prostitutes, crooks, murderers, addicts, homeless all uncomfortably coalesced in a grey melting pot. Suddenly my heart felt heavy, as if it would drop from where it rested in my chest and fall to the icy sidewalk. I imagined some cart-pusher swiftly picking it up and selling it for 20 dollars. My body yearned to run along Carlsbad’s rolling coast, Pushing 50 minutes with 20 to go, sweaty and determined, with the sun high in the sky, the waves rolling in calm and smooth. I yearned to smell the barbeque emanating through the air as I pounded through the camp grounds, I yearned to see the slim surfer boys with their sun bleached hair trailing down there tan backs. I yearned to hear “fuck you dude”, a middle finger, and some obscene music blasting out the window of someone’s truck. Surf racks, cut offs, ray bans, house party’s, the smell of pot, and my brothers dark beer drinking fests held on my patio nightly.

All of this sits on my heart, so heavy and exhausting. Did I make the right decision, is this what I want? Do I want to be stuck in school for 3 more years, only to battle bills and the work force when I get out. I am the anti norm. Tell me what you want and ill do the opposite. So why am I doing this? I want to travel through Africa, Asia, I want to live on the coast of Thailand and dance in Jamaica. I want to sit on the rainforest floor as it rains. I want to explore alternative health and hike, and run and race. I don’t want to work a 9 to 5, I don’t want to live in the United States, bow to Obama and pay taxes. I don’t want to watch people kill themselves on diet soda,fast food, and chemotherapy. I don’t want to have fat, spoiled, American children. I don’t want to go to the gym on Sundays and use the day care. Im above this, I have knowledge, and with knowledge I have freedom.

one true sentence.

I have so much so say, that i cant write.

I want to pour it all out into a puddle and just smear it across the page.

Why am i so detached, and feelingless. Why am i so uninspired. Im miserable. this is not who i am. I know who i am and what i want, why am i letting my life ride in every direction without taking control.

I want to be the girl that runs a 17:00

I want to be the girl with the long tan legs surfing

I want to be the girl that takes pictures, and makes art

I want to be the girl that has friends of all kinds and colors.

i want to be the girl that goes to rasta shows, dances and drinks dark beer on fridays.

I want to be the girl that didnt let anything stop her from who she wants to be

thats how i felt when i was on my own over the summer. i was free, i had no restraints and i could have or do anything i wanted. i was on top of the world, get that girl back

follow me, i know the way

I've left everything behind. Almost. my friends, my family, my team, California sand, and the west coast shore. My home, and a unbearable situation that still slightly sticks to my heart. I have one thing left. he comes with me most of the time, wherever it is I may be. I come with him, wherever it is he might be.

I heard, its not what your doing in life, its who your doing it with. Its who you make the Journey with.

I find myself staring at the ceiling, wondering again and again if i've done the right thing. As i open the door to my new strange apartment, as i chase a five foot three girl that takes two strides to my one. Im wondering if this is what i wanted as i wipe humid Florida air from my forehead. 11 miles, 12 miles, 13 miles. Im running on this road and i have no idea where its going. Im chasing Austrian girls with a running resume that boasts a family history of marathon runners.

A 2000 dollar college semester across the country

worth it? coconuts hang on the palms and iguanas lie lifelessly atop tree branches. Water ways lurk around every corner and humidity overtakes the afternoon air frizzing my hair, and wrapping my body in a hot sweaty mess. Slightly exotic.

East coast boys arent impressive, Hollister and Co. tee shirts, cargos, and crew cuts fortunately drive me up the wall. Girls are snobby, overdressed, and overdramatic.

But the scenery's always nice.