write more.

1. http://writetotiana.blogspot.com/

2. i didn't think i could possibly be as content/happy as i have been/am. jeff is back on sunday. summer will officially kick off in 8 days. hooray!

want one? let me know! so comfy.

i honestly don't know how i've been getting by, but i'm glad i have. i feel like i'm living through the most trying phase of my life thus far. i keep reminding myself i made the right decision. it's hard but i'm right where i need and want to be.

on an unrelated note, here's a poem i'm working on:

"Untitled"

I've studied you long enough to know what you like to hear.
I've submitted to your preferences, indulged your passions, and waited
for you to ask what I love, though it rarely comes out. But

you would never embrace a voice like mine--
accepting, yet indifferent to your shallow, empty pursuits.
I anticipated a realization that you could find what you were missing in me,
but I can't live within your limitations.

This is a good one:

“Curse Three: The Riddance” by Cynthia Huntington

Go that way not this way.
Do not go where I am going. Do not walk
The way I walk. Where I am walking
is away from you. Go another way. Walk
in your sleep, but away
from where I am walking.
You may not brush your hand across
my head to wake me, or to soothe
me, or put your face down next to mine
to feel my breath again. Or see me stir
food in a pot or slide my coat from
my shoulders or reach down to pet a cat
or walk barefoot across the floor
in summer. You will not see me
anywhere; I will not be watching
you, or looking away. You will not hear
my dreams, my fears--my sadness
is not part of you anymore.
In the distance, I may cry out,
But not for you and you will not
know what I cry because our life
together had ended, and when you go
your way, happy or sad,
afraid or glad, I will no longer know
anything more about you.

the year ended well with the annual mammoth trip.







2009 has been good so far. this quarter might do me under. 20+ units, 2 clubs, internship, research, tutoring, biking 5 miles up and down hills daily to and from school? the next three weeks will at least! must get through this, all things i want to do!

here i go again. m.i.a.!

i welcome you.

happy nye everyone.

be safe and have fun!

I've been over here this past month:

http://writetotiana.blogspot.com/

Not sure whether or not I'll return to LJ.

On a side note: my roommate's dog is a cuddler. It's really cute. I've gradually been letting her sleep closer and closer. At first she slept outside my door. She never comes in unless I ask her to. Then she started hanging out in my room and sleeping next to me on the floor. Last night I let her sleep at the foot of my bed, and I woke up and she was totally snuggling up against my arm/leg. I thought it was sweet. She will never get under these sheets though. I need a layer to combat the dander and fur. She's been my sole companion lately. I've missed having a dog. They're so loyal and fun.

I'VE BEEN WANTING TO SEE THEM LIVE SINCE I WAS 10!!!

Do yourself a favor and read this short story. I read it this past summer and loved it, then the urge to read it again hit me all of a sudden again yesterday. I couldn't remember the title or author for the life of me but could envision the entire thing, but I needed the words. Then luckily I found it and reread it again. I love it so much.

( The Seventh Man )

i almost forgot my password just now. it's been weeks. how is everyone?

i'm getting kicked out of the library in 20 minutes. i don't want to leave.

kind of abandoning LJ for the month of november to document and write 50,000 words in 30 days. yeah it's nanowrimo's national novel writing month challenege.

blog:
http://writetotiana.blogspot.com/

i fund-raised monies for the cause which qualified me a seat at this "night of writing dangerously" event in san fran next weekend. should be good fun.

here is my fundraising page if you'd like to donate! anything helps. all the money i raise will go directly to the office of letters and light, whose free programs such as national novel writing month inspire tens of thousands of kids, teens, and adults to write books every year.

fundraising page:
http://www.firstgiving.com/tianamartin

so here i am, writing this book and working on a few short stories and poems, and reading until my eyes hurt, tutoring, working, doing club stuff. it's an amazing quarter and i never want it to end!

and now i am off to vote. don't forget about the free starbucks, krispy kreme and ben & jerry's for voting! NOMMERZ

with learning. am and always have been.

books can't let you down the way people can.

so i'm safe for now. i think. i hope. please?

words can't even begin to explain. . .thank you so much for all that you do, LRO.<33333333

there is nothing quite like snuggling up on a friday night, researching a bunch of interesting writers/scholars, and attempting to write work of my own, while the smell of a cool october rain sneaks into my room.

i biked another 10 or so miles this afternoon. monday i accidentally biked like 30 miles. i'll map it out when i have time. it was nice today though, even though the sun wasn't really out. scored some dark chocolate cherry granola bars today for $2. SO GOOD!

By Shira Erlichman

For Jake

We were platonic high school sweethearts that fucked in the front seat
without touching and with our eyes open the whole time.
Our questions locked at the genitals like children to bicycles.
Our distant tongues sparked like forks dreaming of sockets.
We were virgin high school sweethearts that fucked with the seatbelts on
and the headlights blazing, daring passing drivers to stop and peek,
challenging cops to pull over beside us and question how safe our conversation was.

We theorized about masturbation, weed, (and the combination), football players,
our parents, Bone Thugs’ rapping techniques,
and what percentage of wrong was it to think of someone else while getting head.

We could achieve orgiastic ecstasy on a pile of purple sweatpants.
Our bodies fit together without being in one another.
We were music.
We were honest.
And that is something World Leaders are too scared to touch.
And we got angry. We got scared.
And we weren’t enough for each other.
And we were lovers.

It’s true: you were a man and I was a woman and the birds didn’t care,
and the bees stung the both of us,
but the level of intimacy made slobbering couples at school seem like
they had the attention spans of goldfish.
We were Red Rock meets blue sky of Arizona boldness,
depth of mountains the color of dried blood.

You told me you wanted to die.
Parked outside my parents’ house, asked what kept me living.
I told you my brother’s name but you only had sisters.

You said it would be easy.
One acquaintance away from getting a gun.
Knew someone who knew someone.
You were inches from releasing your feet from under the rope around your neck
and I was there, and I wasn’t.
You were scattered to red needles across the sheet of your chest
and you were only a decision away from a vertical slice
that opened the drawers of blood inside you until you were empty.

How could I tell you: you never wear sunglasses and I like that about you.
You look like a muppet and that alone still makes me smile.
You are curious yet patient.
You never make me feel ugly, gendered or crazy and that is huge.
This is friendship I keep in a drawer I will never unhinge
and spill out.

I felt you tremor from across the cup-holder
as a closed door on the left side of your chest rattled,
which must have been frightening
because the days were all empty rooms you waited in,
and the women were laughter that lived outside your walls,
and the men were impossible to be.

Jake, you look at me like I belong only in my skin,
and you ask questions, which is the biggest compliment anyone can receive.

So in the car we’re constantly in, outside our parents’ houses,
I swallow your keys to prove my commitment to finding a new way,
another road, a life you can live with.

i just need space.
time to myself.