Color archive, 2001-2004

Kings Canyon:

Driving out of the canyon in the morning after it had rained all night.

Sequoia National Park:


Yosemite:

Series IX, Roll 3 (Pentax ZX-5n, T400CN):

Joshua Tree National Monument:


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1557 Noe Street, San Francisco

I think I’ve reached the point once again that I am thoroughly sick of my life. I’m trying to reach 34, but it seems so long away. I think of the end of my life right now, but I think of things that I want to do before I leave. It’s a contradiction. Which is closer to real? Neither. Leaving is closer to real in respect to attachment to being here, but “leaving” is already an attachment. These are the contradictory paradigms that comprise my life.

No one gets me. I had a talk with Josefa this past week which made it clear that no one gets me; she certainly doesn’t. She couldn’t emphasize more that I am different. I’m incomprehensible. And it makes it hard for the people around me. And she’s right.

I’m taking a few days off for vacation. I’m heading down to Southern California for the first time and I’m visiting Rosalie, taking in some sites – Joshua Tree, Kings Canyon, Sequoia National Park, maybe Manzanar, maybe Yosemite. I doubt I’ll hit them all.

I’m filled with anxiety about this trip. I don’t know why, I just have been on edge all day because of this trip. I hate my life, I hate living it, I hate being here, I hate existing. I don’t know how I’m going to survive. But why am I distressed? Why do I care? Why can’t I break through? This is so maddening and I’m so confused. I want to leave but...I’m not.

In My Cube at Work

Taken with my new digital camera. Photo by Joyce.

11:56 A.M.

Visible in my cube: Poster from the Southern All-Stars CD "Young Love", lyrics to Modest Mouse's "Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset", poster of Akira Jimbo playing Yamaha Beech Customs in the same color as mine, Buddhist mandala calendar.

1557 Noe Street, San Francisco

Am I true to myself?

That has been the litmus test of my spirituality since I formulated the connection. If god is part of us, within us, a reflection of us, then being true to oneself is the foremost duty to god, above and beyond materialistic morality and devotion to a god that is other than us – a means of avoiding responsibility by placing judgment in the hands of a higher authority rather than in ourselves. It is a paradigm that breeds hypocrisy.

The realization strikes in full colors of glory and irony that, no, I do not. In fact, could I live my life farther from my true self? It is a deluded life I lead, keeping myself hidden, avoiding the truth, not letting people see me.

But it gets complicated if I separate me in respect to the world around me and me to myself. Me in respect to the world around me is a complete lie, and no one in the world around me has any idea what I’m about. On the other hand, me to myself isn’t quite that bad. I don’t lie to myself. Even when my own mind is playing games with me, I admit it even if I can’t figure the game out.

But is there really that separation between me to the world around me and me to myself? Or is that something I’m creating so that I can isolate the me to myself and say that I am true to myself, and the me to the world around me is insignificant?

I don’t have an answer to that, but as long as the doubt is there, I assume that there is no separation. If I’m not true to myself in respect to the world around me, then I’m also not being true to myself to me. So now what? How do I approach this so late in my life? Do I need to? No, that’s not my style. I’ll keep the question in my mind and go about my daily life.