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I close my eyes
And all the world drops dead
Created on 2007-02-06 21:52:31 (#12224352), last updated 2007-08-14
182 comments received, 134 comments posted
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59 Journal Entries, 3 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 5 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Mad Girl |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1983 |
| Location: | Los Angeles |
Bio ...I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantine and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet
-Sylvia Plath "The Bell Jar"
This is the honest and true, day-to-day etchings of one 20something girl living in La-La Land. Honest. Raw. Open.
Inspired by the way Plath journaled her life, so I will record my life as often as I can.
Get in, or get out.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantine and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet
-Sylvia Plath "The Bell Jar"
This is the honest and true, day-to-day etchings of one 20something girl living in La-La Land. Honest. Raw. Open.
Inspired by the way Plath journaled her life, so I will record my life as often as I can.
Get in, or get out.
ConnectInterests (54):
acting, art, baking, broadway, cats, chocolate, comics, cooking, designing, drawing, e.e. cummings, eternal sunshine, flowers, harry potter, heroes, house, j. d. salinger, journaling, knitting, laughter, lost, love, metric, mixed-race issues, modwheelmood, muse, museums, music, musicals, neil gaiman, nin, nintendo, non-profit organizations, ok go, painting, performance art, photography, psychology, radiohead, robert frost, sandman, shows, singing, smiles, social work, spoken word, stars, sushi, sylvia plath, the discovery channel, volunteering, whitman, writing, zelda
External Services:
 | oh_sylvia@livejournal.com | |
 | OhhhSylvia |  |
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