dedicated to benjamin hughes...

jamin is my friend from nac. he's the one on the right. we've begun to write each other in sarcastic, rhyming poetry. this stuff is too good to go unnoticed. im pretty sure we are the the cleverest people you will ever meet.

(the letters go in sequence by time, and please note that much of this is far-fetched and solely good humor)

jamin: what is a day in the life of Lauren like at this time?

me: a day in the life of lorena..i wake up but dont put on make up. i take the subte to shcool only to drool. i sit in class without smoking grass. i eat lunch, and sometimes brunch. i explore the city while looking pretty. i read and i write to stay out of fights. and today, today i search for a violin, only to make me a kin.

jamin: i hope you have the power to take a shower. please don't drool like a fool. smoking grass will get your ass in trouble fast.

jamin: I was sitting in my chair, giving the screen a blank stare, then I thought about you senorita, all the way down in Argentina, I thought to myself, “I wonder who she’s doing? What all things has she been smoking?”, and then I decided to write you this message, and i hope your response doesn’t contain many words of presage. Well things are pretty good here in nac, as I sit on my porch out back, I’m feeling a little sleepy, because last night we had a visitor that’s a little creepy, his name was Gay, but he wasn’t here to stay, I’m sure you would have liked to see him, he drank grape smirnoffs until his eyes were dim, but your in argentina where they make sopapillas(I assume). I hope you found some aboriginal friends, that are down with the latest Argentinean trends, I guess I should be productive, but I’m better at being seductive(bahaha), now I really should go read, oh and try not to smoke too much weed. Adios amiga.

me: so ive tried five times to write you back, but have only found that my creativity was on a different track. but when i found the train that had your lovely name, i thought to myself, ´´ókay, this might not be so lame.´´ ive been missin me some Ben-ha-mIn, so maybe when i get back we can make ourselves a little Justine. it makes me happy to know im in your mind, kinda makes me believe that youre somewhat kind, too, i was impressed to find that your poetry rhymed. right now theres yelling in my ear from a host mom who, at first glance, can instill great fear. because of that ive reverted to crack...okay, not really, but Mary has found her way to the ´´end of the world´´ only to notice that my lungs have already curled. she is not somebody who i care to accompany me, much less is she something that sets me free. i forgot i have to be somewhere, so this may have to wait but i figured what i already have is good-enough bait. i will await for you my dear, so please, please dont shed a tear. until then..

me: when you hear the chime that means its story time. this time the story is not so sweet and thats mostly becasue i have been beat. i went to the west in search of my left breast. okay, not really, im just being silly. but i was kneeling down and my purse was on the ground. i was stuffing my bag in a locker, only to look down and and scream "focker!!" my things were gone and probably headed to the nearest pawn. i lost my money, camera, music, and keys, and now my pride feels like its been stung by a million bees. beyond that tragic event, this weekend was a time well spent. we went to the Andes in search of quiettude, and after a few days i realized i smelled like a dude. we hiked, played, and camped, and this time youd be proud for i didnt not resemble a tramp. my sexual drive has been shut down, which surprisingly has made me do anything but frown. we should probably move on because im afraid this subject might make me feel like half of me is gone...so i was telling my friend roger stories about you, and because there are so many i began refering to you as my "clever little bennie-boo." i told him how you and i write rhyming lines and that our ingeniousness kinda makes us look like we're committing crimes. i told him about my dog and how her head still seems to be in a fog. i told him how you bought samantha the coolest gift of a blow-dart gun, and how i shot at you to watch you run. i told him we climb trees, and have yet to get stung by bees. i told him about my desires to date, but how we saw no difference because we already mate. then finally i told him that you sometimes bail hay, only to give off the impression that youre not gay. MUUUUUUAHAHAHAHAHAH

jamin: thats impressive... be ready for my response

a real blog

so ive been told to write more about events of my days here because thats the purpose of a blog. although i may get easily sidetracked, ill do my best to inform my small network of peoples lifes happenings... im gonna start with this weekend and backtrack from there...

i had a test this morning in which i missed due to my homeless-man stinch from my morning's return from a wild and pleasurable trip to the Andes and my stomach's constant disagreement with whatever unknown substances ive been eating here. since we're rewinding here, yesterday was full of distractions...i got on the wrong bus and no joke, at the last minute someone said 'thats my seat' (but in spanish) and then i ran down to the ticket guys and was like hey shmucks how did you let me get on the wrong bus? so i grabbed my bag and ran to the right bus and right as i stepped on we pulled out.

sidenote: as you will notice, and i will probably mention several times, there have been rare things that have happened without my doing. with that said, i think those who read this know who im giving thanks to.

so here's the crapy part of yesterday's distraction. my purse was stolen. i had my camera, music, wallet, and keys that are not my own. im still hostile at the moment so its best that i leave out the details of how it happened because i will most likely speak about the person with utter disgust. i acknowledge that possessions are solely possessions and theres no need in being so angry over something beyond my control, but i just cant get the image of a smoke-filled room, that looks and smells like mustard, with a bunch of druged out shmucks having a grand old time with my camera while jamming out to my mp3 player. thats what makes me pissed. then again, i can only hope that thats pessimism talking and whoever took it is selling it to buy food for their twelve children. theres no point in me dwelling on the matter, but then i was thinking long and hard as to what was in my wallet that was so important....money? no, im too frugle. social security, license, stuff like that? no, im too freakin smart and took all that goodness out the day i arrived here. so what then? oh yes, the number to my newly found colombian lover. mmmm okay so maybe this go round he's not my lover, but hes my only real spanish-speaking, native latino, who just happens to be tall and beautiful, that i have here.

continuing back..based on our last evening in the mountains, let me quickly describe the well-rounded individuals i was with this weekend. koby has the ear for good music, which brings people together. jimmy is the warm-hearted caretaker. roger is the oblivious observer. and mateo.. mateo is the alpaca "gayboy" who entertained us with his newly discovered talent on the drums, except that they werent really drums.

i dont know that right now i can write about the rest of the weekend bc im still smiling and dont want to analyze it to form written words, but i will tell you of last thursday which is the day i left for mendoza. the day has already been noted, therefore im simply transferring it to you..."today was wild. absolutely wild. it was incredible because i had absolutely nothing to do with it. class was about normal. but wait, lets back up just a bit...i stayed out till 3:30 or so last night, so in turn i woke up late yet just early enough to make it to school on time. usually when i know im in a time crunch, im like the rest of the world and run around as if the worlds about to end, but this morning my anxiety withheld itself. i didnt rush nor did i lag behind, i just assured myself to do what i can and the rest will work itself out. so i did everything very calmly and without force - brushed my teeth after putting on the same clothes as yesterday, washed my face with this incredible body soap (which one wouldnt think such a good idea, but my skins not half as dry as it would normally be in the cold weather), put on the essential for the absense of a shower, missed breakfast but put my headphones in and adjusted myself (boobs and all) and exited. so class was normal as i already mentioned. then i went to ISA, told Guillermo its a no-go on switching houses, then had an inkling to check and see if my package had arrived yet, which technically it still hadnt, but the 'dreadful' paper slip was the replacement. i say dreadful because thats the tone people take on when telling stories of waiting numerous hours in long lines with bitchy people (mostly just intailing the individual themself) at the buenos aires one and only post office. i picked up my slip and made for home. like normal, i figured id just walk home, but if i did that would exclude any option of picking up my package. so as i was strolling towards the subway i impusively decided to head down and 'give this thing a shot.' i was pretty sure in my mind that once i got home id probably become lazy and not think twice about making any efforts to do anything except to work out. but when i got home i just couldnt see myself being patient enough to do absolutely nothting, so i grabbed my passport and left at 1:30. took the subway, got there around 2. didnt know where to go or what to do once i got there but decided to grab a ticket number in the meantime, thinking it might be helpful. walked around looking for the workers to lead me in some sort of direction, but of course they were nowhere to be found. asked a lady who knew about as much as i did. then i just stood in a space inbetween two seats. there was a 73 year old lady named suzanne whom pulled out two number tickets and proceeded to hand me one. my new number 28 was thirty closer to the one i had originally grabbed. i thanked her and from there converstion began. she was there to pick up seven kilos of dirty clothes from her last trip to europe and i was there to pick up two kilos of clean clothes and six kilos of dried fruit. mind you, i have waited for dried cherries for well over a month which explains the heart of my inspiration to not be lazy. anywho, she helped me thru customs, we had lunch while waiting, which she graciously paid for, and had some good spanish convo. found out that she loves to travel, knows all but a handufl of countries. found out she has two kids, a son and a daughter, whom the latter is divorced and now living with her. found out her husband died four years ago due to a heartattack, and while she spoke of him, i watched her tear up. i thought about not pushing the subject, but something inside of me cant help but to think that its not such a bad thing to see people become vulnerable and open up. found out she still works a lot with the company she owns. and lastly, found out that she lives seven floors below me in the same apartment building. crazy huh? once we realized we're two genius' living in the same place, we finished up lunch and got our packages, which i realized my parents gave an arm and a leg to get shipped down here and then went home, together. neat. we split the taxi more or less and i offered to pay but she refused. "causualiamente" le dijo.

after all that goodness, i packed and got dressed to go excercise and do some painstaking pilates. whoever came up with the idea that muscle strengthening is a good idea is freaking tidiot. with my disdain is that my pilates experience here has a way of embarassing me, not only do i look like a white pregnated fluffy poodle decked out in spandex, im having to watch the intense instructor the WHOLE time bc i cant fully understand all the commands in spanish. there have been one too many incidents where i catch myself like four exercises behind.

a short, simple list of my gratitude towards time

time.
use of time.
time to look inwards and out.
time alone.
time with people.
time to cook.
time to listen to music:
instruments,
voices,
the earth.

times inverses and the various ways of viewing them:
time's infinity,
and time's rarity.
the compressed, efficent type of time,
which comfortably goes along with the expanded time to produce a sense of triumph.
then there's the somewhat controlling and more widely accepted suggestion that time exists,
and then the more enjoyable concept that it doesnt.

my personal favorite, which as a whole is not linked with any inverse or highly thought-out concept, rather it is a pure goodness in itself...
the time it takes to produce milk.
milk is by far the most satisfying drink on this planet. thank you cows for your involuntary input into this world.

neato bondito

here are a few that i think are neat.

rays

of the many men who i am, who we are,
i cant find a singe one;
they disappear among my clothes,
they've left for another city.

when everything seems to be set
to show me off as intelligent,
the fool i always keep hidden
takes over all that i say.

at other times, i'm asleep
among distinguished people,
and when i look for my brave self,
a coward unknown to me
rushes to cover my skeleton
with a thousand fine excuses.

when a decent house catches fire,
instaed of the fireman i summon,
an arsonist bursts on the scene,
and that's me. what can i do?
what can i do to distinguish myself?
how can i pull myself together?

all the books i read
are full of dazzling heroes,
always sure of themselves.
i die with envy of them;
and in films full of wind and bullets,
i goggle at cowboys,
i even admire the horses.

but when i call for a hero,
out comes my lazy old self;
so i never know who i am,
nor how many i am or will be.
i'd love to be able to touch a bell
and summon the real me,
becasue if i really need myself,
i musn't disappear.

while i am writing, i'm far away;
and when i come back, i've gone.
i would like to know if others
go through the same things that i do,
have as many selves as i have,
and see themselves similarly;
and when i've exhausted this problem,
i'm going to study so hard
that when i explain myself,
ill be talking geography.




(pablo neruda. we are many.)

heres a thought that ive often disregarded for the sole reason of having no simple solution...

i went on a long walk tonight to explore more of the city. unsure why, but its getting colder everyday and even more windy and cold at night. there are little flower stands at like every other corner and i decided that i wanted a flower to watch in my room. as i walked to the stand, i passed by a homeless woman. i thought, 'hey you should give her a flower.' i think i thought that initially bc i dont really have anything efficient that i can physically give her, much less emotionally, and i dont speak spanish well enough to hold down that sort of conversation, . then i thought, 'why the fuck would she want a flower? how would that brighten her night? why not give her some hot tea or food, or something useful?' and then i got real mad at myself bc its like even i would to have given her something she couldve possible used, whats being done? like most, i thought that itd be renewing my own consciense, but then i realized, no, not at all. id give her one thing and then itd be like an addiction and knowing me, id be giving things, even if they were words, thinking that i could help just enough to get her off the streets. its such bullshit. it makes me angry that im at such war with myself that i dont even know how to give selflessly and effectively. its easier to give something when its not needed, theres no obligation beyond that. and then today i went walking the same way but much further and there again was the same woman. and then another, and another, and another, and then there was a man and small child and this time i became enraged. if older people are homeless then thats just the way it is, but thats absolute barbarity to take a child into your hands and continue to beg for money. for gods sake, put the child in adoption or something. things like that make me want to slam their heads against a wall and scream, 'stop acting like an idiot and get better, damnit!' but its until i look closer that i notice the bruises covering their bodies and realize that someone had already tried that approach.

i wish i knew how to respond to such situations. theyre everywhere, not just on the streets and naturally im incapable of passing people and my surroundings without some sort of recognition. i dont know what to do and it makes me angry.

div>

a vast fish tank

day of beauty, cold, and believeable contentment:

days should always be listed as such.

day one and two and three were especially difficult here in the city, and here in another country not so much bc they dont speak your language (bc thats what i came for), but bc of the initial unwelcoming feeling i recieved and the inferiority i could no longer sluff off. in coming here, i had to come to terms with the fact that i dont fully know how to socialize with people my age, and when they are my age and i really become close, or they to me, they tend to be strange but loveable people. chip. james. katy. stewart. stewarts weird. he probably things i dont notice but i do. in my mind, that sounded a bit creepy...so i guess, all in all, im a lot like the ones i associate with. i never really thought that until maya lemon told me im a strange individual, and she wasnt just saying it as like 'oh you precious and lost child,' but very matter-of-factly. took me a sec, or day, or until now to really register that.

register? wait, and just who exactly associated a human emotion/realization with a machine?

if old people can sit by themselves in public, why cant young people? whats so different? why cant i not be in a rush? or simply enjoy my food, and a book, or watch people, or train myself to tune them out. why not? will you please stop looking at me with your judgemental eyes.

i went to la biblioteca nacional yesterday. wasnt true to the pictures, but it was pretty neat. six floors: one jam-packed with students, two off limits, one an art exhibit, one a history exhibit plus a concert hall, and the last with haughty, preoccupied guards, (except the woman). so of all of my options, i chose to go to the concert hall. there was a show at seven with a group of students playing the music of tango. its was good, good for me, it sparked my imagination and allowed my mind to flutter in pleasant thoughts, with the least bit of control. i wrote during it though. heres what i came up with....

words without music would be so much more sensational. if you really think about it, wouldnt it be more fufilling? our minds could think, our hearts could not be told what to feel and what not to feel.

(that was one thought/question, the next i was thinking of writing to a particular someone and i was planning on asking them what they thought on the subject and then i realized...)

one might think its nonsense, another might not. oh yea, and dont forget the one who may think nothing of it at all. life has more than two options. who knew?

(moving on...)

i really enjoyed watching this one particular young gentleman (at least he seemed like he'd be a gentleman if ever introduced). anywho, he had some curly, wild black hair, kind of like mine when i began to grow it out. its at the stage where it looks goofy and is all over the place, so much so that no one takes you seriously. he was playing the accordian and was just so into it, not in a pretentious way, but he had an obvious feel for the music and whatever that may entail. but i fell in love. oh yea, and i must admit, i do catch myself often in my own mind, asking every tall, beautiful passerby if we can marry. my goodness.

these people are too stylish.

guapisimo

almost

this might all be a bit mangled so bear with me..

'when pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge"
i felt i have sought out knowledge about love, kindness, purity, pain, and most importantly love, but whats saddening is that i have not sought those things out solely. why? mostly bc i believe i am trying to imitate the one who i am supposed to, and often times i mistake Him for another. i have listened to those who have demeaned me, and far worse, i have believed them. i have served ungrateful masters. i shall no longer. too, i shall never imitate. for how will i know that i may not imitate evil, for i am blind. if i were to imitate what is good i will always fall short.

i have become mute. my lips only move and bring forth spittle. i never thought i would let mediocrity wash over me. i now weep for my self-esteem that has been corrupted by failure. i week for my potential that i have been bartering for security. i have come to ask myself - 'where is the grace of my manner, the beauty of my figure, the clarity of my mind, the brilliance of my tounge?

by grace, it has been told to me to "weep no more. all that has gone before is like unto no more than that time .

its contagious

i am raging with apathy and laziness. i am deeply rooted in greed - not greed for money or possession, rather for the affection of others. contingently i await to be loved, but only in the way i see it feasible. i want to see the results before i put in the effort. who am i? everything i do is for myself. for so long now, i have desired to live for others but unsure of how to go about doing such a thing in every aspect of my life. for instance, my college education will most likely plant me a job in helping people, yet i have been wanting out since day 1. pretty lame i must say.

there is excitement and refreshment in coming to know others, yet for me, there is an obsession. i am too easily influenced. i am too largely dependent. i hallucinate the person i am and disregard the epitome of who i trully am.

(this next part is two days later)
oh but today, oh the beauty and wonder in knowing i had anything to do with my own life. ive been really down on myself bc i fail all too often in academics. ive always thought college to be very inwardly focused and just another something that will bring comfort and allow fear to subside - basically becoming self-sufficent. yet what ive realized as of late is that although college might/might not be a a very worldly standard, it doesnt have to be. nothing i invest my time in should be about me. i desire to go in the peace corps, i desire to love those who are unfamiliar with the concept of love, i desire to help people in some way, shape, or form - and if a degree, if a peice of paper is really my ticket to do such things, to open doors that i alone cannot open, then i accept it. i am beginning to see what it is i need to do and need not to do. it is unfortunate that i am such a slow learner, but regardless, i am not stagnant. whats incredible is that my parents have enough faith in me and in my character to not only financially support me "recieveing" an education, but verbally with love and enthusiasm that i may actually do something with my life, i may actually have a positive impact on this world. humbling to say the least.

i have never felt more freed than i do now. the timing of everything is impeccable. thank you.

ahh tonight and the power of storms. i called sam. made him go outside. it hadnt yet rained. lightning was everywhere. the sky was blue and red and grey and black and darkness only increasing. it came up quickly. i remained standing there as sheets of water came down. now it was right over me. lighting struck and the sky roared and i stood there laughing in amazement. laughing as others ran. it struck over me and the sound made me jump. you could feel the heat and smell the burning. ive never been quite so close. frightfully amazing.

did you know that on google in parenthesis theres the amount of time it took to find whatever it is you were searching? thats fucking nuts. (.21 seconds) was my latest search. thats just so odd to me. we are quite consumed with the falacy that we have conquered time.

mountains beyond mountains

'bondye konn bay, men li pa konn separe' ... God gives, but doesnt share.

this saying is in creole. its the haitians belief as to why they are in the state theyre in: poverty, complete and utter poverty. i cannot imagine such a life. one might not think so, but theres still beauty in it: they believe in a god, and apparently in this case, they believe in God himself. i think that says something about the real needs of humans. those of us who are self-sufficient in everything we do seem to easily disregard any diety, let alone the One we claim to live our lives for. im not saying theres complete absence of faith in the lives of self-serving wealthy individuals, but beyond wealth, there seems to be a striking contrast between the two : the true poor dont play God.

i realize what is written is limited in the people it pertains to and in fact is a rather bold generalization, but thats how i am feeling at the moment.

forfeit

indolent...habitually idle; causing little or no pain; slow to heal, develop, grow.

nolens-volens....to be willing and unwilling.

probity....complete and confirmed integrity.


i have these three posted in front of me above my desk, one is painted, two are on sticky notes with 'probity' in lowercase and 'indolent' in bolded, uppercase letters. they were all made at different times. its strange what things stick out in certain stages of a lifetime. like music, how differently you can relate to different types of music as time passes. like books, what different ideas or theories that appeal. like people, the various types of roles they serve.

perception...."oh dear, oh good, my life has changed. i think theres a point where you realize the wold has just been revealed to you. its like realizing your parents are both good and bad. its sort of, Oh no, things will never be quite the same again."

it is not in our nature to love.

elephant gun

strange. i write often, but its to an inanimate being, its to a close friend who i can trust, its to those who i can easily hurt, its to serve the illuded concept of thinking i am some grand being whose mind is capable of grasping something outside of the world we live in, its to relieve myself of insanity, yet that never avails.

id like to be honest.

into the wild...chris mccandless...stillness...control of the mind...far away from temptations of the world....but not far away enough from temptations of your own flesh....fear...complete freedom....surrender....he mustve surrendered to something....himself....society....death....reality....fantasy...failure...the being that he didnt mind calling 'God'....he was a slave to something....right?
by living for yourself, are you not your own servant?
i know its all been embellished to a larger degree than it should (and to most it appears to be irresponsible), but it seems to be a repeated instict of man: to pick yourself up, take nothing, go nowhere or somewhere, and live. simply.
he, too, is ashamed to recieve a gift, even if it is well-deserved....he too, had the most difficulities not giving love but rather, recieveing it.
humbleness....theres a lack of.
the thought process...its backwards....still on the same track as the rest of mankind....just working to get away from the solution, whatever it may be.....money...love...ya know, the two that are easily interchangeable.
striving for simplicity seems to be more difficult than one might like.

i am dumbfounded. still.

i used a lot of periods..
.