staying strong and soaring

i cant wait to prove them wrong for myself.
i worked, i fought, i followed, i struggled, i lead, i perservered, and i will soar.
fuck those with doubt and no confidence in me.
i will be better.

blood - alternate lives

im not as family-oriented as id like to be for friends and fun are shamefully first priority. this 18 day stay has forced me to participate in many family activities that have given me a sense of completion as well as incompletion. ive learned about my roots and about my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmother, and father. my grandma; a great, frugile woman caught up in 80 year old gossip was abandoned by her father, her only parent, and her husband later died while she was pregnant with tata. my uncle, thannory, a chain smoking artist in secrecy dedicated to cambodia is caught up in the competition of status. his wife, my aunt, miserable at home with nothing else to do but obsess about but her children's safety and her appearance. my cousins, jonathan is waiting to escape the chains of the suburbs for the parisian lifestyle in the city; anthony is content with what he has and manages to balance two lifestyles without giving in to the common pressure of his friends; rebecca, a curious one, doesnt dare to question the boundaries. shes seventeen and lives the life i fought and knew until the age of fourteen. with a heart of gold and greater mentality - she "cant" and doesnt push the limits. many of her interests are identical to mine but her lack of exposure has made it impossible for her to view the other side i find so appealing and the greed that accompanies it. i got a taste and i wanted more, more, more. while she envies me for the freedom ive managed to attain i envy her for the simplicity of her life. i envy her for having that young, curious mind without the need of substance to be occupied with temporary happiness.
ive always wanted more all of the time. more, more, more. but this time around, i want less.

time's on my side

overcast and gloomy, noisy-le-grand hasnt been looking so great these days. yesterday, i visited james morrison's grave at the most unique cemetery in paris. surrounded by cobblestones, enormous tombstones, and dirt, his burial site was much less extravagant than the others. i liked it. after reading the history of his 10 minute burial, cheap casket, peculiar girlfriend, and the few words exchanged - i couldnt help but wonder the events that happened before his overdose. i guess its controversial like all other legends' deaths from the likes of kurt, jimi, janis, michael, etc. etc.
anyway, like all other touristic sites i was disappointed in the level of "intimacy" i received. mona lisa was small, covered, fenced around, glanced at, barely appreciatedm versailles was overcrowded, overwhelming, touristic, and breath-taking nonetheless; jim's grave was fenced around and covered by fans' gifts as a man threw a joint with the words, "this one's for you, bud"; a touching gesture.
the walk through the cemetery was grey, haunting, and beautiful.
i really enjoyed the stroll accompanied by my cousin jonathan.
i spent the night with rebecca to discover i laugh, talk, and snore in my sleep... lady-like and attractive.
today, i visited the andy warhol exhibition in champs-elysees which was infested with artsy tourist parisian wannabe fucks. however, i wasnt disappointed. the lay out was nicely organized and every piece was fresh without fences and plastic covers. it was incredible seeing his work in real life rather than a book and examining the layers and layers he went through.... or his factory workers went through. my personal favorites were his self-portraits in drag and his last piece before he died... the last supper. i loooooovedd seeing the clip tests of each subject he used for portraits. each person, out of his or her mind, adjusting themselves, and vain/gone as fuck. clearly, the poster people for the european teens aspiring to be "skins" characters.
the walk through champs-elysees was a different story. every girl dressed like the olsens' line of clothes - tailored blazers, heels, tights, messy hair, bones and skin, sitting at the cafes - bored. i hate how they take this for granted; this life and the wealth their parents possess. i hate how having a fortune and access to the nicest things automatically gives them a place in the field of fashion.
fuck this bullshit. its how the world works, i guess. born rich, live rich; born poor, live poor, and maybe if you spend your entire life working and get rich youll barely enjoy the luxuries. get rich or die trying.
the lifestyles nice, man, and ive got two sides to me.im bitter - i would kill to be alongside them walking champs-elysees thinking im better and having the time of my life. but they look sad. every single stick and bone - a clone to the next.

mj, mj, mj

ive always been a fan but never took the time to thoroughly process the one and only. post-death exposure to him is inevitable and im growing more and more intrigued as i see clips of his concerts, fans, friends, past, family, neverland, and funeral.
he has inspired countless as his talent is undeniable.
ive heard stories that i cant depict as truth or fable - but i do know he has an unbelievably captivating presence known to billions. fuck man, he is soo good. i have never been empowered through a television screen and seen such a remarkable reaction from an audience. his energy and persistence is unreal as he has perservered through an overbearing father and life of fascination.
his wardrobe and technique cant be matched as he was willing to take a risk to be different.
he was raised and pushed to be successful... and successful he was... is.
fame and fortune cant compensate for the insecurities and doubts developed at a young age. as an adult, living the childhood he missed in neverland, his sexuality is such a debatable issue since i cant see him sexually active with anyone... the mother of his children, a boy, a man, or a woman...
hes michael jackson. theres nothing and never will be anything quite like him.

i see paris, i see france

only 10 days has elapsed and this unexplainable feeling hasnt left. i havent felt this ambition in awhile - to learn this culture and live this culture. im so determined to eventually make this temporary residence permanent while im impressionable, young, and willing.
theres nothing like the struggle of learning the metro system and the strolls down the piss-marked streets live with people of foreign backgrounds. i want this so bad.
its impossible to take it all in as the nights turn into days and days into nights. i want it all.
this experience has started off completely different than the last as ive made several friends from a single cigarette.
i visited the modern art museum and stumbled across galleries exhibiting originals of john lennon, bob dylan, the beatles, student work, contemporary, traditional - the likes of what i want in my future.
this lifestyle is as surreal as within arms reach. just several tickets, and its mine. its hard to conceive it all within a short visit and i want it all.
ive been contemplating attending a university through the international program considering im one of dual citienship. but ive come to the conclusion im better off if im patient and achieve an education in the states - where our shitty educational system is expensive and easy.
today i watched woody allens film 'whatever works' and couldnt agree more with this director's satirical ideas. im glad i got to watch this film while i was here - a reminder of how nothing is permanent.
i can always change my plans as i leisurely stroll and discover what my future entails.