Ah things have been happening so fast lately! It’s like my life is on a cocaine binge.
Been trying to make time for everything but it’s getting hard.
Plus I got a new ride (LOVE IT) and money is funny but I can’t sit still.
SMH I can smell the (potential) bad times a-coming.
*Dear God, Let the New Year come soon because the AF will be hooking me up. Amen
This is something I wrote one day when my family was here and I was (as usual) hiding out in my room for the most part. Nothing amazing, just something to read. I calls it 20
I look around my room and it looks like one of a 20 year old. I mean I am 20 so it’s not surprising. A dresser with make-up and body sprays to choose from. I sit on my beat up chair, feet on my bed, reading Tokyo Cancelled by Rana Dasgupta and listening to Boys like Girls. My bed is messy, my air force CDC book and note cards scattered all over. TV with lots of DVDs from Little Mermaid to Chappell show (seasons 1 and 2). Jackets piled on my other chair in front of the desk I should be using to do my homework. Loads of magazines and clippings of music artists and fashion models on the closet door and wall. A picture of my best friend who is in Florida, now next to my lap top where my Twitter page is opened. It looks like the room of someone who could actually do something. Books piled on the nightstand and writing ideas on my desktop. But yet I feel like I am going nowhere most o the time. Like I am in the “waiting place”, if I can quote the late Dr. Seuss. I feel the potential inside of me; I just have to apply it. But with that comes focus, which I have been lacking recently. It’s getting better, I study more and BS less. A slow climb to the top, but a climb none the less. Anyway, back to my book…
I FEEL BAD! Because I haven’t posted anything in so long, it’s not because I haven’t been writing. I have been working on a lot of stuff (I will post some) but just been too lazy to actually put it on the blog. For that, I say sorry to anyone who actually reads it =].
<3>
I want to get inked again, my first two tats were spear of the moment (like this blog post) or an act of rebellion. The next will mean something special. What is it, you ask? A patch, on my shoulder. Why? Oh, thanks for asking. The story behind it is this:
Tell me and explain how you feel
If you want my input, I will give it
If not you can talk yourself to a solution
I offer myself to friends and strangers alike
I hate to see anyone going through anything alone
You are sad?
You need to cry?
Take this, it’s my shoulders
Take a moment and let it all go
I apologize if it’s a bit worn
I have offered it to many and many have accepted that offer
Tears from teens and adults
Tears physical or hypothetical
Tears through the phone at 1 am
Tears through my tee shirt causing make-up to smear
Never be alone in your problems
Never try to deal with everything on your own
I am here
I always have a worn out shoulder for you to cry on
“She will do anything for everything.” 90210 by Wale
Sooooo Wale’s new album just came out. I will be honest and say that I haven’t listened to a lot of his music, but most of what I have heard was enjoyable. Today was the release of his album and a lot of down talking was going on about it, so I decided to go ahead and judge for myself. I went to I-tunes and listen to a clip. I didn’t know which song to pick (16 tracks btw) so I just clicked on number 7.
“And she throws up whatever she eats, she leave the bathroom with a nose bleed. Regular girl/celebrity dreams she is…90210.”
The song is all about sex, the “look”, money, fame, drugs, and dreams.
Again, I’m going to sound stupid, but I almost cried while listening to this song. Sadly, it gave me a very scary glimpse into a part of my own life. I have never been the most honest about what goes on with me. I deal with the problems of my friends and family (I’m dealing with one as I write this) and just kind of leave mine to solve themselves. I still won’t be specific about my issues (I don’t feel like being judged) but I want to be clear that I was going about things ALL wrong. I am a strong believer that for any achievement to mean anything you have to go through some pain and sacrifice. Yet you have to have limits, without them you don’t know where you will end up. Chasing your dreams is one of the most important things, but what are you willing to do to catch them? Hurt your body? Hurt your mind? Lose yourself? Who you are is important, but who you want to become is probably more important. Be sure, and be careful. Things can turn so bad so fast, simple phrases like “I’m not scared, let me try”, “Just one more drink” or “I’ll just do it once” are the worst. That one time can become the first of many. And if (and I do mean if) you make it back from whatever crazy trouble or addiction you’ve acquired know this: you will never be the same.
Change is good. But when you find yourself looking out a window at a scary thin/red eyed/dirty/almost scary looking person who keeps mimicking your every move and then you realize… that window is a mirror…and that person is you…you’ve gone too far.
Find help, because if you don’t know you who else will? (God always will, but your friends and family might see a stranger)
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, whisper words of wisdom, let it be.
Such a hard thing to do; but sometimes you just have to let it be. Let things run their course and just deal with it. Blunt (yes) but the only way to explain it, that’s how life is sometimes.
Their are a lot of people who come to me for advice from time to time. I’m usually pretty good with it, but sometimes I just have nothing very comforting or constructive to tell them. That’s when I pull out the “it will all work out, you just have to wait”. It may sound like I am giving up, but when you can’t do anything about a situation you just have to let me be. What other choice do you really have? Mope forever? Lock yourself in a closet? Don’t let one (or 10 for that matter) thing, big or small, stop you from moving forward. A delay is normal but completely letting something bring you down isn’t healthy. I know when I’m really sick or in a lot of pain (mental or physical) I barely remember what normal feels like. Looking on the bright side is the toughest when all you see around you is fog. At that point their might not be a bright side. The sun might seem like its gone, but you always have it with you. In life there are those simple moments: a hug from a family member, a beautiful emotion you felt, the prettiest spring day you can remember or a fun day out with friends. Recalling those events or feelings turn you into your very own bright side and you can never forget that.
The best and worst days of my life are the ones that are most vivid in my memory. The more extreme the more it sticks. Honestly, in some ways I like that I remember the worst ones. I can analyze them, learn from them, and try to prevent them from happening to me again and anyone else in a similar situation. All in all, life…is life, and that’s just the way it has to be. All the hard times are tests, no matter what you HAVE to pass. Know that you aren’t perfect and sometimes not as strong as you wish you were. Life won’t give you an A for effort, but remember that a C is passing so don’t give up on yourself.
Down but not out
Uh, so this is a poem that I wrote a WHILE ago, just found it recently and decided to post it. Basically, I'm scatching the surface of cheating and how it makes sence sometimes. CHEATING IS BAD! But I can understand why people do sometimes. So yea, that was the intro.
With boundary lines blurred they kissed
I cheated again he thinks
We are terrible people she says
He thinks of his girl and she thinks of her boy
The physical contact is only a substitute
No real passion behind it
All saved for the real thing 700 miles away
He places a hand on her lower back
Inches away in her back pocket was a note from her boyfriend
I’m going to miss you and I can’t wait to see you again
No self control they kiss once more
I don’t feel anything he thinks
I don’t feel bad she thinks
The lack of emotion is almost impressive
Holding hands they understand each other
We’re fuck ups but that’s ok they agree
She gives him the look reserved for her boy
He uses the charm that got him his girl
All the time confused on how to feel
I like out of control he says
I don’t know what I like she says
Lips meet
The clock strikes 10:00 and they part
Only to face each other the next day
Nothing will change because everything was meaningless
She pulls out the note and reads
He lies in his bed before falling asleep
We’re fuck ups they laugh
When i write i usually have some background music...this was the music for when i wrote the previous
All I Wanted- Paramore
The Fire Song- Company of Thieves
Street Lights- Kanye West
Pressure- Company of Thieves
Back- PacDiv
Well i finished it early haha. A rough cut, may be changed but with no more excuses...I call it Pierced...
The first time he told me he loved me was the day I got my belly button pierced. We were at some little tattoo and piercing place next to the gas station (where I started smoking) and across from the bus stop (were the strangest things always happened). He asked me to be his girlfriend despite the distance that would inevitably have to happen. In our “types” of lives it always comes with distance, unless we get married…which was way out of the question. “It’s like your first time having sex, except at least you get a nice piece of jewelry out of it,” words of the stranger that pierced my body and left a bit of metal and pink shiny jewels. My first time (like many others) was the worst, too drunk to feel or care enough but not drunk enough to forget it happened. I cried and felt sick to my stomach for days after. At least he wasn’t a stranger, but I did find out I didn’t really know him.
My piercer told me to keep it clean, estimated time of healing: unknown. “Depends on the person,” he said, “sometimes it never really heals completely.” My boyfriend was there when he said it, he heard it. Neither of us knew that that healing process would be go hand in hand with the one of our relationship. From that day to the time I left for home things were either up or down. We had no such thing as a middle, we loved each other, we kissed, we hugged, we where the couple to be. We were mad, I couldn’t do what he wanted, he couldn’t be who I wanted, we were drunk, and we were cloudy. With each day my wound puss and never healed; I laid on it in my sleep or pulled my belt to tight and caused it to bled. He hugged me too close and sent pain through my body. The pain was minimal some days, less puss and no blood. I wore cut off tanks to show my jewel, he kissed it. But, none the less, it still wasn’t healed, still wasn’t through its process of regeneration.
The day I flipped that place the bird goodbye was just like the day I got pierced. That last kiss on the cheek was the stab, the card he put in my hand was the ring. And the pain was something new. It circulated from my heart to my head and back again. Just like the piercing I had my bad (I thought about him, I kissed a guy and wanted it to be him, he talked about his ex, I drank and thought about him, I drank and cried over him, I called him drunk) and good (we had a sober conversation, I didn’t think about him). Even with our new found distance I still couldn’t let go entirely. I fought with myself about new potential relationships or even just being alone for a time. I admit, the feelings were fading, but they needed to be gone. A few months passed and for the first time, I truly WANTED to be healed.
A few days ago I was at Target, just picking up some things and wondered into the greeting card section. There I saw it (cliché), the perfect card for you. The perfect way to wish you well, the perfect way for me to let go of the emotions completely, and the perfect way for you to know that we will always be friends. I signed the card with love, I’m not in love anymore, but I do love you. It’s lying on my nightstand, addressed and with a nice little stamp. The next day I took a shower and my belly ring had no scab, no puss, no pain and no blood. It had healed. I thought I was wrong, but the next day it was still perfect. It was healed, I was healed. I know it sounds stupid. I know some will not get it, but that’s really how it happened. Slow and painfully, but it finally healed. My belly button and my heart
Now, I walk to the mailbox and let you know that I am healed and I am here. AKC
I suck at this blog thing, but I’m working on it. Hmm so I’m working on a few new writing projects.
One will probably be a short film about two girls and a night of potentially bad decisions. The second is a book (maybe) about a boarding school, pretty much drama. And finally a prose that is kind of close to my own experiences. The idea came to me; I want to say, yesterday morning. I woke up and my belly button piercing was finally healed. No more of the grossness of blood, scabbing and re-scabbing that I’ve had for the past 5 (yes 5) months. Not only did that heal, I healed as well in a way. Me, not completely but I feel like a huge step has been taken and I feel pretty good about it. Any way…that’s coming tomorrow kiddos. I really hope a lot of people read
<3>
