*This is one of my favorite musicals of all time. I’ve seen it thrice, cried thrice. I think it’s relevant in a time wherein others try to villainize people who are different, and victimize them in doing so. But I’m no victim. Here’s to the things and people trying to bring me down:

Don’t be afraid

I’m not
It’s the Wizard who should be afraid
Of me

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes
And leap

It’s time to try defying gravity
I think I’ll try defying gravity
And you can’t pull me down

So if you care to find me
Look to the Western sky
As someone told me lately
Everyone deserves the chance to fly
And if I’m flying solo
At least I’m flying free
To those who ground me
Take a message back from me

Tell them how I am defying gravity
I’m flying high, defying gravity
And soon I’ll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down


Tie it together

Something’s gotta give, an impossible numerical value against a system I may not get around to complying with, or the culminating and most important work in my student life. I think I’ve chosen the latter, but it’s not to say that I’ve given up entirely on my clerical work. I’ve put off behaving as though the paper meant a lot to me, but it does.

Something’s gotta give, and I gotta give the best of what I have in spite of the late start and the temptation of tapping out and being contented with mediocrity. I have a chance to do something relevant, and perhaps surprise myself in the ways words, thoughts, theory, and an attempt, can tie itself together. How will I tie it all together. I want to be able to create something a sensible yet bold set of verses that I can be proud of.


You can be the greatest
You can be the best
You can be the King Kong banging on your chest

Run the mile

schtudThere’s an impossible list of things to do before the paper of papers is due. If not for a fear of being intellectually inadequate as in not smart enough, it’s an even greater test of my discipline and ability to stay focused. I can submit a mediocre thing, but I’m not sure if I want to.

For the longest time I’ve been told and it’s occurred to me as well that I’m unfit and it’s often felt I wasn’t cut out for this. I may have taken a zillion detours to the many things I’ve wanted to do most in college and even in philosophy, but here I am and there’s an opportunity to make a little dent in our theories of thought. And maybe I’ll surprise myself.

You can go the distance,
you can run the mile,
you can walk straight through hell with a smile

Coming soon

*Been getting sick lately as I’ve been diverting my attention to my senior research which is due too soon, hence it’ll determine the rest of my year. I’m just gonna keep saying this to keep me going

Not long until I get to do the things I really want to do


So I went under a slump, therefore self-proclaiming writer’s block and ultimately I’ve been very distracted for about a month already. Surviving meant not doing a single productive thing I can say I’m proud of. When I wanted to get out of it, it’s only gotten harder because I just found myself at the bottom of the pile of things I have to get done and change. But I’m going to get out of this for sure, one way or another… one thing at a time. There’s much I wanna do.

Featured photo: © Joe Webb 


*So today existentialism class was pretty interesting and I’ve had random interesting conversations too

The Übermensch translated as an overman or superman, is a human ideal that strives to overcome the bad and the other. Setting oneself apart and aside from society’s many influences and everything the world throws, ûbermensch paves the way for one’s own destiny as it dances with life to its own free spirit. Although not perfect, it’s second to it.

“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”—Nietzsche

“Humble beginnings. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“But I wanna be Ireland.” — {the strange things I say}

I wanna be strong and happy. I wanna be better.

In line with everything, I just have to share that like a number of places in the Northern hemisphere, there’s a place in Ireland called, the Dark Sky Reserve, wherein every two years, the stars line up with a trail on the ground. This place is called The Heaven Trail.

I wanna be strong, happy, and freezing plus dancing plus probably freaking out under these stars someday.

Featured image: Winter constellations over St. Finian’s Bay near Ballinskelligs, Ireland © Steve Owen, International Dark Sky Association


one of the world’s rare wonders © NotaReindeerr

More than words on a wall

*I felt I just had to share this.

Last night Dana Goodyear wrote a beautiful feature published by the New Yorker. It’s one of the best articles I’ve ever read.

This kind of writing reminds me of why I wanted to be a journalist in the first place, which is really what I’ve been needing for a while. I someday wish to dig out stories like this. I want to meet people who are unafraid to share their brave, beautiful lives no matter how messy and risky. The article is about three artists, much of their art, and a whole lot about their story through the years.

“Like children playing away from the adults, Kilgallen and McGee occupied a world of their own invention. They lived cheaply and resourcefully, scavenging art supplies and furniture. Pack rats, they filled their home—first a warehouse building and then a two-story row house in the Mission—with skateboards, surfboards, paintings, thrift-store clothes, and other useful junk. At night, dressed identically in pegged work pants and Adidas shoes, they went on graffiti-writing adventures. She was daring, scaling buildings and sneaking into forbidden sites. He once painted the inside of a tunnel with a series of faces so that, like a flip book, it animated as you drove past.

In the studio they shared, Kilgallen and McGee worked side by side. He showed her how to make her own panels, and she brought home from the library the yellowing endpapers of old books, which they started painting on. She worked on her women; he painted and repainted the sad, sagging faces of the outcast men he saw around the city. They worked obsessively, perfecting their lettering, their cursives, and their lines. “Barry is busy downstairs making stickers,” Kilgallen wrote to a friend. “I hear the squeak of his pen—chisel tipped permanent black—I have been drawing pretty much every day, mostly, silly things; and when I feel brave I have been trying to teach myself how to paint.” When he needed an idea, he’d go over to her space and lift one. Deitch likens them to Picasso and Braque. From a distance, Rojas, too, idealized them. “That was a perfect union, Barry and Margaret,” she says. “You couldn’t get more parallel than the feminine and the masculine communing together.”

As recognition of Kilgallen’s and McGee’s work grew, they tried to retain the ephemeral, pure quality of paintings made on the street. Little pieces they recycled or reworked, sold for a pittance, or let be stolen from the galleries. Wall paintings were whited out when shows closed. When Kilgallen became fascinated by hobo culture, she and McGee started travelling up and down the West Coast to tag train cars with their secret nicknames: B. Vernon, after one of McGee’s uncles, and Matokie Slaughter, a nineteen-forties banjo player Kilgallen revered. The cars marked “B.V. + M.S.” are still out there.”

“He didn’t want to own it; he didn’t want to own anything precious, sentimental, or nice. He’d be afraid of losing it somehow.”

—Dana Goodyear

I guess it’s true that while some people spend their whole lives trying to make art, others really make an art out of living. 

Featured image: © Clare Rojas’ Horse Walks Into Field print

Barry McGee’s 99 Bottles installation, Art Basel, 2009

Installation by Margaret Kilgallen

Decks designed by Margaret Kilgallen 

Barry & Margaret working together

Graffiti by Carrie Marill who pays homage to Margaret Kilgallen

© Clare Rojas, who references native American, American, and Russian folklore in her prints