"untitled." on purpose.

Untitled

Why are you in love with me? you ask
as the train weaves through the forest.
I just am. I don’t know. Quit asking.

It’s possible that it’s the way
you sometimes laugh to yourself
when you’re reading about medieval history.

I guess it’s that i don’t mind
laying with you when you’re soaked with rain
because you have too much faith in the weather
and our dryer is broken.

Maybe my love for you lies in the way
you tie your shoelaces,
but i can’t say for certain.

It could be how you swallow me with your silence
when i want nothing but to discuss the details.

It might be something entirely different
which i happened to have forgotten
because i forget things when i’m with you…
and it doesn’t even make me angry.

Perhaps it is because i never have to think about it.

I’d rather not tell you why, though,
because i fear the words
will make it less
or more,
and i think love
deserves to be left alone.

today was a beautiful day.

my old friend & i made up(the one whom the letter was written to in my last post).

i was acting in a friend's short film in rittenhouse square today when i saw gerard butler today and i told him i loved him and he waved and smiled at me. i can't believe i made eye contact with gerard butler. he's even more gorgeous in person, by the way.


i'm sorta seeing someone but i'm not sure if i like him. i'm more of a man than he is, i think. what sucks is that i have a strong personality, but the guys that are usually attracted to me don't & prefer me to be in charge...it seems like it should work (simple role reversal, really), but in reality i want someone who knows how to be strong enough with me to overpower me. i want to be fragile sometimes, dammit!

i don't know if i believe in love at first sight, but i met someone really amazing today and something just drew me to him and i can't explain it but i feel like were he not nearly 8 years older than me, we would be on a date as i write this. i think i want to write to him and say something like "here is my number. call it in two years." i wonder if he'd like that. i bet he'd appreciate that i was mature enough to know i'm not mature enough to be seeing him.

the weather was so perfect today i wish it would stay liek this forever. it made me unbelievably happy and i just felt so free and full of life. so please good weather, come back soon, for without you i am a mess.

happiness & frank o'hara.

i'm happy. and it feels strange. but good, of course.
appareetly i'm good at writing letters. especially apology letters. which is weird, but i guess it's a good skill to have. so, i broke off a friendship last year, and i miss it now. so here's the letter i wrote to the person just now. my attempt to make amends:

hey ----.
it's me....
i know. i suck. but things were shittier then.
i hope you're doing well. i mean that, too.
did you apply to kenyon? are you still writing? please send me something if you are. i'd love to see it. if you're not writing i am mentally smacking you, because you have tons of talent and i hope you're not letting it go to waste.
i just realized how much i missed being friends with you, because life was so hectic for a while and now it slowed down and i was able to sort things out.
i'm sorry. i really really am. i was cruel, i know that. it was just hard for me to take much of anything from anyone. but i've reached a balance and i hope we can be ok.
write back.
love, soph.


also, everyone should watch this. it's one of my all-time favorite poems:

i'm not sure what was going on but it looks like good memory, doesn't it? (CTY princeton '07)

diagnosis.

yesterday i got my blood test back and i have hashimoto's disease (an autoimmune thyroid thing) and also too much sugar in my blood and therefore am likely to be a diabetic unless i really really watch my sugar intake. that sucks. but i guess it makes me realize that i need to step it up and take charge of my life. apparently my condition was partially caused by stress, so now my parents are really careful with me. which is nice. but i don't think it will last long.

i believe that our health is heavily influenced by what we think, so now i'm looking for happiness. except it's hard to find. my mom told me i should go fall in love or something and then maybe i'd get better. i read about a woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer and believed she could cure herself with happiness, so she watched comedies every day and laughed a lot and did other things that made her really happy and stayed away from those that didn't. when she went to her next appointment @ the oncologist's, her cancer was nearly gone. isn't that incredible?

i want to be happy, but at the same time i know that i'm more inspired and feel more intelligent when i'm slightly depressed. which sucks. but depression somehow makes me feel deep.


but here's a happy memory (since i said i'd try to post happy memories in each entry):

this was during my summer in new york. we went to a museum and there was this random list of instructions in a box. so my r/a (who i had a crush on at the time) and i followed the instructions. the point of the activity was to basically become one with a wall. and at the end the instructions said something like, "you basically just had sex with yourself." good times.

foreign beauty.

this is me in philly on the last day of sophomore year. probably one of my happiest moments in life. i think i'll share my happiest memories on here in each entry. that would be nice.

beauty is a strange thing. though everyone has a different “type,” i think separate beauty ideals exist in different regions of the world. i know for a fact that i am considered more beautiful in russia than i am in the united states- i don’t fit the cheerleader image.
what i’ve noticed is that i can pick out russian people in a crowd because of their eyes. their eyes seem deeper and somehow colder. i have these eyes. my face doesn’t hold the friendliness of freckles, a warm gaze, or soft olive skin. i’m not “america’s type.”
as soon as i land on european soil i feel fresh and uninhibited. the language barrier may frighten me to an extent, but i feel more at peace on foreign ground somehow. i love how different another country feels before i even get the chance to speak to anyone or go anywhere. each country seems to have a different spirit, so to speak.
granted, i love living in the states; i feel safe here, i’ve mastered the language to the point of being comfortable with the idea of becoming a writer. but something is off. i truly can’t explain it. you’d have to be a foreigner to know, i guess. even though i’ve lived in the states for more than half of my life, and i feel entirely at ease here, i am somehow not fulfilled. something about this country makes me irritated.
i want to live in europe someday. i plan on studying Italian so i can do a semester abroad in rome or milan. i hope i fall in love with italy and stay there forever, but i’m afraid that my fear of the unknown will get the best of me and i will settle for living here, as if america is a “safe choice” of sorts.
i wonder what would be different about me if i had never moved to the u.s. i wonder if i would be on my way to becoming a chemist (like one of my grandfathers) or an architect (my other grandfather is one of the best architecture professors in moscow. he also has his own talk show. needless to say, my family is a wee bit disappointed in my choices.), or perhaps i would take over my dad's software-translating company rather than being an aspiring romantic novel-writing sex therapist. maybe i'd have a boyfriend. maybe i'd have a pixie cut. who knows.
thinking about that scared me, though; if i had lived somewhere else i would be a totally different person. i'd definitely be less liberal. maybe i'd mock gays. i honestly don't know. i wonder if there is a set right place for everyone where they can flourish and be who they were "meant to be" but majority of us simply haven't found that place and never will. hmm.

i think i'm going to go paint my nails "cherry nice." fuck you sally hansen, get better names for your products.

forgiveness.

listening to: "wild horses"- the rolling stones
eating: chicken noodle soup (i've cought the flu, ick.)

i wonder if the choice i make in forgiving someone or not reflects on my belief in change and in the fact that people deserve a second chance... or my masochism. i like to think it's the first of the two options, but i can't help but wonder if i'm a masochist if i give a third or fourth chance? i can't even remember how many chances i've given this person. i can't decide if it's worth it. i'm eager to jump into any sort of potentially risky emotional situation simply because i've been so empty lately and i'd rather be experiencing any sort of feelings.

how can i know if i can forgive this person? i'm trying to recall an instance when i have asked for chances repeatedly and meant it. perhaps with my mother. but relationships with parents are different, the bonds stronger. i have the nerve to fight with my mother because i know she won't leave me no matter how harshly i lash out at her. i would like to say i feel the same way about her, but i believe that it's only the fact that i currently depend on my parents that keeps me from breaking ties definitively. it's sad, really. i don't wish i loved my parents, because it wouldn't be fair, considering how they've been to me so many times. buying me clothes or paying for college can't make me love them. my mom says i'm shallow and unthankful because i'm only nice to them when they give me something. i like to think this isn't true, but even if it is, how are they any better when they counter all of my arguments with the fact that they pay for everything and therefore i should give them more respect? why is it always about money? i hate money. i even hate touching it. i hate loose change. i won't complain about it any more than that, i know money makes the world turn and there's nothing i can do about it. it just pains me sometimes how dependent we are on it.

so back to forgiveness...how do you know when to give someone another chance? what have you done in the past?