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.