Silver Lining

Silver lining: the shimmer of light dancing beautifully in the midst of shadows. Too captivated with its own sparkle to fear the darkness encompassing its space. Recognize without opacity, it wouldn’t be. In order for there to be light, there has to be dark. In order for existence, there had to be none. Life without death couldn’t be, and death brings life its gift. Duality, and the beauty of it. Each interaction is an expression of your wholeness. Understand the dream and see it as an opportunity. Roses are no longer divinely scented flowers scorned with piercing thorns. They are opportunities; opportunities to appreciate your sense of smell, your eyesight, and most importantly your ability to bleed. Because without your ability to bleed, you wouldn’t be alive. We so often label pain as something to escape, but try to understand the power of its embrace. Just let it be.... If you can do that, you allow the creative power inside you to revolutionize your suffering into something truly magnificent. It is a revolution, I must say. Choosing to transform struggle into triumph is truly a radical feat. Choice presents you with the freedom to create. A diamond isn’t made without pressure, and coffee isn’t made without boiling water. The art of coffee is the transformation of pain, and the value of diamonds is priceless. So go boldly into the darkness. Your light was made to pierce through it. And always remember, there would be no silver lining, without the clouds. Without clouds, there would be no rain. And rain brings something nothing else can, life. So go live yours. 

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. This is what life is all about... giving thanks. Today couldn't come at a better time of year. Most of us are behind our goals for the year or preparing for a stressful couple of months ahead. We so easily can get distracted by the stress and sometimes the discouragement that life seems to throw our way. And then Thursday comes, the last Thursday in November, and we're smacked in the face with all the things we tend to ignore about our lives. "Oh hey there! Remember us?! We still exist in your life!!" All of your life's blessings are waiting to be recognized and appreciated. Hopefully the day of thanks is just that. A day, a full 24 hour day, to stop and be grateful for all the beauty in your life, all the love that fills your heart, and all the laughter that fills your soul. And I hope even more that this serves as a beginning of a new habit. Giving thanks doesn't have to be a once a year type of thing. It most definitely can be a habit that's incorporated into a life worth living. Being thankful, living in gratitude, is the key to a beautiful life. And I must say that I am so very thankful for this beautiful life ❤️

Humans Pt 1

Humans. We. are. humans. We all are humans. We tend to forget the all piece more often than we would all like to admit. I can’t really blame us either… with the countless amount of isms running around classifying us in this category or that category. 

“I’m American, so that puts me in this category” 

“I’m a ‘senior’ that puts me in that category” 

“I’m nerdy, so that puts me in this category way over here” 

“I’m gay, I’m black. I’m a man. I’m this and I’m that… so that puts me here, and this puts me there and this is my life, my identity, my destiny…

The very words used to describe us have some how managed to divide us. When we let the isms of this world control even the smallest part of our lives, we are hindering the revolution. When we create these slogans branding a certain group of people worthy, in a hope to create unity and equality, we are deepening the separation between us. 

When we concentrate on the things that make us different, we are, by default, forgetting the very thing that is going to eradicate all this hate. We revert back to our fear of the absence of our basic human desires. Because if they are different, then by logical deduction, we are different.And different adds a variable to our perspected pessimistic probability of never feeling connected, and our fears grow lines of separation disguised as fingerprints. 

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? Limit ourselves, and our love? Do we forget there is strength in numbers? We all want the same things in life… to be loved, to be accepted, to be respected, to be trusted, be able to trust, to love, accept, and respect… right? We do understand that in order to get, we have to give. That is the only way it works. We reap what we sow; some call it karma. So if we want to be accepted; accept, everyone. Don’t want judgment; don’t pass it. Want to be loved? Love first. It comes back; it has to. For all of you secretly scoffing right now, it’s called the Law of Attraction. You get what you give. It is truly that simple.  

Remember, we are all fighting the same battles. I’ll say that again… we are all fighting the same battles. They just have individualized faces and personalized names. We create a separation between each other, built around the wrong ‘what if’s’ that are rooted in fear. “What if I can’t trust her? What if he doesn’t love me, respect me, understand me?” The irony in this is that we are all asking these same questions. 

When we finally realize that we all want the same love, the same respect, the same trust, and the same acceptance, we inherently have empathy. We know how much it hurts to lack the four fundamental human desires, so why try to rob someone else of the very things we crave the most? It seems counterproductive to me. 

Remember, it’s a “you get what you give” type of universe we live in. So why would we ever put out something we don’t want coming back to us? Send out the love you want to receive, accept people because you crave acceptance, respect people because you deserve the same type of respect, and be trustworthy because you are searching for someone you can trust. 

Be the person you want to find, and they’ll find you. The people who understand their roll in creating a better world aren’t attracted to the people who don’t. Be love. When we shift our perspective from different to similar, division converts into unity, war evolves into peace, and hatred transforms into love. 

And we finally realize that we are all simply human.

Lessons

Lessons, lessons, lessons. Single file line, please. I can’t take all of you at the same time… or can I?

*Sigh*

Life is truly a beautiful catastrophe, isn’t it? Each painful event, if given enough time (and honest reflection) can become such a magnificent story. There’s a lesson to be learned there. I’ll repeat the statement without all the fluffy wording. Everything bad can become good if an adequate amount of time and honest hard work is put into it.

Events are neither good nor bad, they are simply events. It is us who determines the positivity or negativity each event will hold. Isn’t that empowering? To know that we hold the key to our own happiness? And it starts with a simple perspective shift, a mind-blowing one at that. Let me give an example…

Now, please listen to me carefully and with an open heart, because what I’m about to say isn’t necessarily politically correct. I am going to use my own personal experience, so no one can tell me I’m wrong. ;) 

When I was raped, my entire life flipped upside down, and not in the Fresh Prince of Bel Air type of way we all secretly hope for. The window I saw my world through shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Now, if I were to take those pieces and create a world around me of brokenness and hatred, I would have been choosing to let a simple event negatively affect my life, thus making the event a negative one. On the other hand, if I was to mold those broken pieces into something extraordinarily wonderful, the event would have been a catalyst for something positive, thus making it a positive event.

Now let me explain this fascinating window I now see life through. This particular event in my life was without regret, one of the most monumental experiences of my entire life. The reason for it’s importance is, as I said before, it dramatically altered the way I view life. Life isn’t meant to be survived, it’s meant to be created. I am not a victim, and I am certainly not powerless. I am the opposite. I choose how my life is going to play out, and I choose how each event within my life is going to affect me, whether it is going to be positive or negative. Meaning, each event is neutral. Now if each event is neutral, how do I explain the very real trauma I experienced when I was raped?

It wasn’t the event of rape itself; it was the fact that I could no longer hold my perspective of life as valid and true. My viewpoint no longer made sense, life no longer made sense. How could someone do such a despicable act to someone else, to me? The purity of life was gone, the idea that each person is inherently good and would never purposefully inflict pain onto someone else was lost in the broken window. How was I supposed to forgive someone like him? Someone as low as that?

This answer might not be the one you’re looking for, but it’s the one I found to be the most enlightening and life changing.

By realizing that he is a human being, just like me. He makes mistakes, just like I do. He hurts people, just like I do. And if I were to be given his life, with his mind, his body, his talents, and his weaknesses, would I have honestly done anything different?

The answer is no, I would have done the exact same thing as he did…

Talk about a big pill to swallow.

*Ahhh*

Peace, for the first time in years. Swallowing that “pill” means more than just an understanding of other humans. It means the millions of unfixable pieces of glass that lay on the floor next to my feet can be melted down and molded into a much more breath-taking window, with an even better view. It means I no longer am “a girl that was raped and overcame it.” I am a human being, with a life full of lessons ready to be learned.

When life becomes a series of lessons instead of a series of events, the value of each moment increases as the attachment to them decreases. And in those moments, there is freedom. True unyielding freedom. 

My Why

So I want everyone to think back to when they were five. The dreams you had of who you were going to be when you grew up. Michael Jordan comes to mind at least for me. Why not a great basketball player? I think because at a young age we knew the difference between being something and becoming someone. Michael Jordan was not only an incredible athlete but an incredible man. An amazing role model, on and off the court. Now take away all the extra details of who you wanted to be, and what are we left with? An idea of a legacy, a role model, an imprint left on this world. That's what we all wanted to be. Great. Now I want you to visualize going back in time to when you were five. Imagine your five year old self running up to you calling your name, saying, "who are we? Who did we become? What are we doing?" Now imagine your answer being "nobody. Nothing. We aren't doing anything." "What why not?" "Well it was just too hard." Now try explaining to your hope-filled five year old self your reasons for giving up. It doesn't feel so good does it? You know why? Because when you were five, there was no such thing as too hard. Your vision of who you were going to become had no strings attached or restrictions. It just was. So why isn't it now? I think it's easy to forget our why because it's not right in front of us. We don't see it. But imagine every time you come home from work, your five year old self is waiting at the door begging you to tell you what you've accomplished today. Because in all reality, that's exactly what happens. Every single night when you lay your head down on your pillow, you're faced with yourself. Your dreams, wishes, and goals. Don't let the fears, worries, and struggles of your everyday life defer you from becoming who you've always wanted to be. Now there's a reason I keep saying who and not what. Because what is physical but who is not.What can be taken away from you. Whocan never be taken from you. Who you are is determinate solely on you. No one else. Yes, I can't wait to own five houses, a yacht, an island, be a consultant, retire my parents, travel the world in my own private jet. Yes, those are all things that motivate me and keep me focused. But every single one of those things can be taken from me. My houses could burn down, my island could disappear, I could go bankrupt and my businesses could go under. But the only thing that can never be taken from me is who I want to become. My ideal self. That's my why. That's what I have to come home to every night when my five year old self wants to know if I'm one step closer. Let's make sure that today we can go home confidently. Knowing we gave today our 100% and are one step closer to becoming who we've always dreamed of being.

The Perfect-Feeling

Perfect is not an adjective describing feeling in the title above; perfect is a compound noun with feeling. It’s not the perfect feeling. It’s the perfect-feeling; the feeling of perfect. Not perfection; perfect. If perfect could it felt, it would be this feeling.

Have you felt it before? The perfect-feeling?

I have. And boy is it… perfect.

There is literally no other way to describe the feeling I am talking about; there is no butterflies or rapid heart rates, sweaty palms or random smiles. There is no mind lapses or gitty laughter. There is only the knowledge that at that very moment, everything is perfect. You don’t have to try to be happy or joyful, positive or content. You just are. There is no effort. You are at peace with everything going on in your mind, heart, body, and soul. You are whole.

The feeling doesn’t last longer than a couple of hours, a couple days max. But in those moments, it is… perfect. No other feeling comes close. Not excitement of surprise, laughter until your stomach hurts and eyes tear up, relief of an overwhelming stressor, joy or happiness, not even love. It’s deeper than that, deeper than love. It is every good feeling happening at the exact same moment. It is pure and untainted.

Now that you know the feeling I am talking about-whether you’ve felt it first hand or just get the idea from my description, I want you to honestly ask yourself this question…

Would you want to give that feeling up? Never feel it again (as far as you know)? Let it go; walk away from it?

I wouldn’t, and I don’t want to. Therein lies my struggle. The source of my perfect-feeling isn’t good for me, isn’t what I deserve or ultimately desire, and isn’t going to give me what I need. So by definition, it shouldn’t give me that feeling, should it? But the truth of the matter is, that it does, more than anything or anyone else. But the problem is that it has the potential of becoming toxic. So if I had my best interest in mind, I should give it up, chose to not feel whole, perfect, or effortless again. But, I don’t want to, and I don’t know how to do something I don’t want to do.

I Have A Confession

Ahhh. I have a slight confession >.< you have to promise not to judge me tho. Kay? Promise?

Okay, here it goes… ……………….. o.o 

Okay, okay…

The first and only NBA basketball game I sat and intentionally watched from beginning to end (with a small break to get food) all season was the Championship game (Heat vs. Spurs) last Thursday night D; I know, I know. I’m going to hell. D; 

There’s more… :’(

I have absolutely NO idea what this last season entailed. Who played great this season; who played horrible; which team had the best defense; which team had the worst offense; which team had the best potential but was stifled by the coach; which… anything! I would not be able to carry on an intelligent conversation about this past NBA season with anyone. Key word intelligent. I could still hold my own with any of those posers **cough** bandwagoners, girls trying to impress boys, boys trying to be men **cough**. Yeah, I said it. I wouldn’t tho! What happened to me this last year?! D;

It makes me just as anxious as not writing does. Basketball is my first love and will forever be my first love. Dancing, writing, and music all come in a close second. But basketball… there’s nothing like it. The screeching of Nike’s on the court, the swishing of the net, the bouncing of the ball, even the smell of the jerseys and buzzing of the shot clock. An empty basketball court is a sanctuary for my soul.

Welp, now that that’s out >.<

I need to write. I need to write. I need to write.

I get this strange sense of anxiety when I think about how much time has passed since I’ve let my fingers express my most inner thoughts. Since I’ve gone back to what keeps me alive, sat and took in the beauty around me. My sanctuaries. Empty basketball courts, empty dance rooms, empty stages, and empty sheets of paper.

There seems to be a gap between what I desire and what I want. I want to watch the new episode of Pretty Little Liars. I want to catch up on Dexter. I want to watch the new season of Criminal Minds… I’ll spare you the rest of my embarrassing TV show addictions. I want to online window shop. I want to play a game. I want to browse through pinterest, scroll through Facebook and Instagram (no Twitter for me. I think it’s more idiotic than fb and ig).

I desire to read more, study more, watch more documentaries, follow basketball more, dance more, and most importantly write more. Buuuut… I don’t. I always find myself wasting away the little bit of me-time I have zoning out to a senseless show, website, or game. I rarely spend thirty minutes, let alone a couple hours (like I had promised myself I would start doing) doing any of the things I desire to do.

I could sit here and give this big long philosophically sounding explanation to why I keep doing what I want and not what I desire, but it doesn’t have to be that complicated. I don’t do what I desire because I’m a coward. I’m scared of change, of becoming great, of reaching my potential… there I go with my philosophically sounding explanation. Ha. How ironic. But it’s the truth. I am too much of a coward to do the things I desire and apply myself full-heartedly to any of the things I know will make me the person I should become one day. The reasons are simple, no need for an in-depth look at my subconscious. 

Or maybe they’re not that simple. I know I’m scared, but why? Now that’s a question I can’t answer right now.

Ugh.

It finally happened. The long awaited breakdown that has been looming over my head for the last month and a half has finally decided to send its thunderstorms and torrential rain pour my way. And of course it had to happen at such an inconvenient time, an hour before I have to work. Thank you emotions, thank you.

Have you ever wanted to just start over? New name, new looks, new city, new job, new friends, a new life, a new everything? I have. At least a thousand times. The only thing that has ever stopped me cold dead in my tracks has been the memories of the life I would be leaving behind. I would miss my friends, my city, my life; and that right there is the sole reason that’s been holding me captive to my current life. From packing up my bags and singing “sayonara” as I rush to the closest airport and jump on the next available flight. Seriously. How great would that be? A brand new life. No emotional baggage to lug around, no mistakes to hide away from, no unnecessary carry-on items that really serve no purpose other than to add clutter to an already full plane.

I often wonder if I would ever be able to really do something like that. Realize my life is solely my life and all I have to do is pick up and go. The freedom I would have, the pure bliss of a perfectly me chosen life.

I know, I know... I do have that freedom. My life is my life. But for some reason, I don’t know how to live that way. I still lug around baggage and deal with the nonsense I’ve let my life create that I so easily lose sight of what my life really is all about. And yes, I am currently blind, nose-diving into a self-perpetuated pity fest. Sorry about it. My mind goes at too many miles per second as I sit and ponder my life. I get frustrated, scared, sad, happy, discouraged, inspired, downtrodden all at the exact same time. Which I’m doing at this exact moment as I stare aimlessly into my computer screen trying to formulate a thought that could possibly make enough sense to type into a readable sentence… did that even make sense?

Oh well. I give up. I have to go to work.

In A Rut

I swear I have a midlife crisis at least once a week. What am I doing with my life, what have I changed, what can I fix, what do I need to do better. Literally at least once a week. I could sit here and play the stupid game of wondering why I have these all the time, but I’m not going to.

I know why. Because I’m not changing anything. I’m not fixing my diet; I’m not writing more; I’m not reading more; I’m not applying/researching/educating more; I’m not doing anything more. I am simply getting by. And I hate it. I’m so unhappy with my current situation. Not necessarily because it’s a bad situation but because I’m not doing anything to change it. I can’t really explain to you why I have such a serious lack of motivation, but I do and that in itself needs to change. I’ve tried the whole “today is a new day; let’s start fresh” and then I’m back to doing the same old shit. Ugh, I hate to say it, but I am officially in a rut.

I think I’m scared of change. I want a new job, but I’m scared of what it’ll actually look like. I want a higher education; but I’m scared of the workload and possible relocation. How pathetic am I? I’m so unhappy yet too scared to change my unhappiness. -__- >:|

I just need to do it. There really isn’t any excuse. I’m not too tired, too busy, too overworked, too nothing. I have the time, and I have the energy. I’m just choosing to waste it instead of use it. Hopefully tomorrow will be a new day and I can start fresh and apply my energy to the things that need it. After all, the only way out of a rut is to dig yourself out.

Soul Searching Part 4: Open Doors

So I ran into my heart tonight. We talked for a few minutes about us, our lives, and the love we still seem to share after all this time. He wished me happy birthday by the way. How ironic.

A warm embrace that reached deep into never forgotten memories, love stricken words exchanged over soft tear drops, a kiss and an open door "when you're ready".




Whhyyy?!!! I didn't ask for this. After this many years, too many sleepless tear-filled night, I would expect some type of progression. But I'm the same pitiful mess I was 4 1/2 years ago when he first broke my heart. A little older, a lot wiser, but the same heart. It hasn't changed. I still love him. Deeply. With every molecule inside me. I haven't felt that much joy and happiness since, well, since the last time I saw him. The feeling is indescribable. If perfection was a feeling, it would be that feeling.

When you're ready let me know. 


Now before I say what I need to say, I realize that there are a few (or several) people reading this wanting to strangle me. And all I can say is good thing I'm not around you ;) no, but really, I'm just being honest. 


Is it bad that I want to try? I want to see if it'll work, to see if we could make us work. All the logistics aside, love is enough, right?


I can't help but be frustrated with myself. I really do feel like I haven't progressed. I'm still fighting this battle. Trying to move on, close doors, open new ones.


Two weeks ago, I was good. Made some really painful realization, washed my hands, turned a new leaf, closed this door and started cleaning house.


Why does this door keep opening? This time with an invitation to walk through and win the one prize I've been fighting for since October 2008.


I don't have an answer. I can't give one right now. All I know is doors don't stay open forever.

Girlfriend For The Weekend

My seventh grade locker mate flew out to spend the weekend celebrating with me. After a delayed flight (stupid airline) and a delayed pickup (I wish I could blame that on someone), a still dirty apartment (again my fault) we were off to a bumpy start. Good thing my official birth time isn't until 3:16 AM, so I had a couple hours to get my life together and ring in my age change the right way.  The ringing was heaven to my ears, and her solo act of happy birthday was beautiful. The clinking of wine glasses, painting toenails, and e cards from my momma made the first hour of my birthday exceedingly special. What made the next couple hours that much more special were the moments my friend shared her heart with me. Knowing I am the only one she shares some of her deepest struggles with gives me an incredible sense of honor.

*Cheers*

Breakfast at Tiffany's! Just kidding. Breakfast at Flappy Jack's is better anyways. A hard workout. Dinner at my favorite restaurant Olive Garden. And a night in Hollywood.

Flappy Jack's Birthday Crepe

 Olive Garden Birthday Dessert Shot

 Alexa and I

Mike and I

Now, I am both saddened and overjoyed by my experience at the club we went to Friday night. I am saddened because it was... "wack, turnt down, weak, lame as f***" -__- the crowd was thirsty. And not just the guys. The females as well. Walking by continuously trying to get the attention of men who paid to stare at them. Both desperately seeking approval from each other. The men were like farmers, picking through the livestock to find the best piece of ass and breasts. The women trying to flaunt their ass and breasts insecurely believing they owned the best pair. I can't. I cannot.
It made me sick to know I used to be a part of that. But looking back, I really wasn't. My clubbing experiences weren't like that. I was blessed. I went to a classier club with a stage designed for me :) ha. I could dance my little heart away with no fear of being pulled and grabbed as a way of flattery. It also made me sad because I wanted to show my friend a part of the life I had lived! It was the worst example. I could tell she wasn't enjoying herself, but I was thankful for her company and the company of one of my guy friends. They made it enjoyable. I was overjoyed because I realized my transformation. I no longer seek the approval of men who only want one thing. The constant gawking was a nuisance, boardering on annoying. Oh and the DJ! Dear god, the DJ. Horrible. Who talks during the best part of the few good songs played? This guy! Enough said. He was dreadful.

  

We were the best looking people there. I am proud to have such attractive friends ;)

Saturday was an adventure. San Diego to get a tattoo, a plan to lay out and get tan that turned into laying on the grass in a hoodie to take a nap, and dinner where we looked like a couple. Being courteous to my friend who had never been to that restaurant quickly turned into what it looked like to be me asking my honey what she wanted. It was hilarious. We looked like a couple and couldn't help but laugh when our waiter would ask me something and I would turn and ask her, even more solidifying his assumption. Our hairstyles didn't help. Both Mohawks, one with designs and a tattoo on the neck. We made a smashing couple, if I do say so myself ;)

My New Addition

La Jolla Beach Park

The same assumption carried over into Sunday when we went to the Boiling Crab and I had to crack her crab for her. She was my girlfriend for the weekend, and I am not ashamed.

My birthday weekend was filled with adventure and love. I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend it.

Thank You.

I have learned to never have expectations on my birthday. Not because I've had horrible birthdays, but because I've been that friend all too many a times to completely forget my friends (yes plural) birthdays (yes plural again) and panic a few days later when I realize what I've done. I can't hold anyone to a standard I can't even meet. HOWEVER! My dearest friends and family shall NEVER forget my birthday and not receive the wrath of yours truly. No, this is not a warning; it is a threat >:) *clearing my throat* now that I've cleared that up, I can get to the reason for this post

Thank you.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who remembered such a special day in my life. Each and every phone call, text message, and social network shout out I received brought a sweet smile to my face. Knowing I was thought of gives me confirmation that I am cared for by the ones I allow into my life. Smiling from ear to ear with each confirmation. I am blessed and I am loved.

Overly blessed and filled with love. Thank you.

Soul Searching Part 3: Even Pedals

When someone shows you who they are, believe them. -Maya Angelou

I finally came to terms with a truth too painful to say out loud. So I chose to write it down as if the words would sting less when read. I free fell into undoubtedly the most consuming, breathtaking love with someone who confused love with a fix and chose me as his drug of choice, never once stopping to consider the come down only I would experience. I never asked him to love me back, I just wanted him to be honest. Love me or leave me, don't fight for me if you don't want all of me, and after five bloody years of relentless battles, I finally realized I was fighting with myself. My heart and mind having it out for which one made more sense. Does he love me or love me not? But let's be honest, who wants to ever admit that the person they love, doesn't love them back? It's much less difficult to have hope in the fantasy that the person you love, loves you back equally, that the breath-taking feeling inside your chest is shared by the one person who gives it to you. He loves me? He loves me not? Picking the pedals away from my heart, as I try to come to terms with the even amount of pedals on this flower. That last pedal meaning I meant nothing to him. No if's, and's, or but's about it. I was his toy to play with when he got lonely but would all too quickly toss to the floor when he got bored. I was his game away from the court; my heart the ball. After far too many turn overs and never enough steals, I finally realized his intentions were never to hold on to me. His ball handling skills were fine, his heart just wasn't. I thought... I hoped I was irreplaceable, that I meant something to the one who lit up my world, took my breath away, and taught my heart what it is to bleed. But I didn't and wasn't. You know how I know? Because you remember the birthdays of those you care about, you know their major, middle name, and how many siblings they have, you know where they live, where they work, and if they have a dog. You believe them when they tell you their side of the story and defend them when something doesn't add up. And when they tell you they love you, you care enough to tell them if you don't. So after five missed birthdays, far too many assumptions and double standards, I have my answer. He loves me not. He didn't love me back, and that's fine, because I didn't ask for love, I asked for the truth.

Girl Talk Gone Wrong

So let me start by saying that some times I wonder if my best friend lost some screws upstairs, or just wasn't born with them... either way, there are times that I wonder about her. And this morning was one of those times.

I have to first tell you my version of the story... the real version.

The other day, I was on my way to the gym to meet my trainer. I had forgotten to take my vitamins that morning, so I decided "hey, why not take them now, while I'm driving on the freeway. What's the worst that could happen?" okay none of that happened. The only thing that went through my head was "Shit! I forgot to take my vitamins today! I'll take them right now." I had them in this little pill bottle type thing, so without looking, I threw them back like the pill popper that I am and swallowed (with help of some water of course). Well you know how sometimes pills can get stuck at the top of your throat? Yes, that happened. So I took another swig of some water, and BAM unlodged and on its way down my throat... not. All of a sudden, I get a sharp pain at the base of my throat/ top of my chest area. I quickly look into the pill bottle to see the remaining vitamins (I take a lot. Eleven to be exact.) and realize I just swallowed my chewable vitamin C. F*** my life... Eh, I'll be fine. And let me be very clear right now. My chewable vitamin C is about the size of a quarter. It's hard and in order to be digested, it needs to be chewed; hence the name chewable. I was not fine. I start gulping down water like I had just finished an exhausting workout in the desert and my body responded by sending excruciatingly sharp pains into my chest area. I have never in my life felt that much pain. I couldn't breathe it hurt so bad. To alleviate some of the pain, I started screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. Little did I know, my sunroof was open, so everyone around me probably heard my anguish loud and clear since we were in typical Los Angeles rush hour traffic. After close to an hour of this, the pill either dissolved or reached the bottom of my esophagus and plopped into my stomach. No aftermath, I am alive and well, and a little smarter. Never swallow that big of a pill again. Always look at what I am throwing into my mouth.

So last night, I call my best friend to tell her my horrific experience, really only to laugh at how funny it was. This was her interpretation of the event on her blog this morning: 

girl talk

I was talking to a girl friend last night when this came up in our conversation:

Friend: "Okay, I have this story to tell you that I think is so funny. Actually it's not that funny, but it's super dramatic. So I was in the car on my way to my training session (translation - working out with a physical trainer) and I got out my little vitamin case so I could take them before I got there. I swallowed one and for some reason it hurt so bad in my throat, like it was stuck or something. So I looked down and saw that my giant gummy vitamin was missing and it all made sense to me after that... I swallowed my chewable vitamin and it was seriously stuck in my throat for like an hour. For the rest of the car ride I just sat there screaming cuss words at the top of my lungs because it hurt that bad. And then I realized that my sunroof was open, so everyone at all the stop lights heard me screaming obscenities to myself, which probably explains all the looks I was getting."

Me, in my head: Wait... so you're telling me that you still take gummy vitamins?? Cool.

Me: "That's why we're friends."

Wait, whaaaaaat? Worst interpretation I have ever heard in my entire life. I wonder what other stories of mine she has retold and massacred like she did this one. Most importantly tho, GUMMY vitamin? What am I five years old still? (secretly, I wish all of my vitamins were gummy vitamins. I love those things.) She really thought a gummy got painfully lodged in my throat for over an hour.... I'll let that sink in.

Needless to say, this is one of those moments when I wonder what's really going on in that brain of hers, if anything at all. But nonetheless, I love the hell out of her even if she is a little, you know o.o and am quite proud of her with everything she has accomplished. One being her blog! (read in a singing voice) You, my friend, should check it out! :) www.missalexanavarro.com You won't be disappointed. And let's be honest, her version of the story was so much better than mine, which is why I can't even be mad at her. ;)

"That is why we're friends."

Growing Old

I've been seriously nostalgic about my parents lately. I was talking to a friend the other day about how bad I feel because I know they want to retire soon, but that's just not in the cards for our family. They're approaching that age when most of their friends are starting to do so, and they're left working 50 hour weeks. Yes, they love their jobs, but there's something simplistically satisfying about the idea of being able to wake up to the sound of birds every morning and sip coffee on the porch while reminiscing about how great their daughter has been and continues to be ;p In all seriousness tho, they desire to one day not have to work, but one day isn't any time soon.

They'll be approaching the ripe old age of 70 in 6-7 years... 70. Se-ven-ty. They'll..be..seventy soon. No matter how many times I say it or how slowly or emphatically, the sting is just as caustic; they'll be 70 before I know it. That reality hit me like a ton of bricks, knocked me off my solo stool, and clenched itself around my heart with a grip like the hulk. Seventy? Where has the time gone? Is it selfish to say that I'm mad at them for it? For waiting so long to have me? Living life, pursuing passions, falling in love with the right person, before having me and becoming people I truly treasure? And there I go climbing back up onto my solo stool, blaming them for this discomforting fear inside my chest. Yes, it is exceedingly, embarrassingly selfish. But I'm being honest. I don't want to lose them.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach, the overwhelming dread of an impending loss. I literally want to breakdown into a whimpering mess when I think about it. I've gotten so close to both of them and I treasure our relationships deeply. I don't know how I'd deal without them. The image I have of myself as this independent, grown up, successful young woman crumbles into a helpless child crying because she wants to be held and needs to be fed.Who am I going to call when I'm sick? Who am I going to call to share my accomplishments and proud moments with? Who am I going to call when I need grownup advice on adult issues I've never had to deal with? Who am I going to call momma chick and daddy do, momma and father dear? What am I going to do when I can't be a daughter anymore?

The hardest part is living 1000 miles away from them. Never once have I hated this distance. It's always been a relief, a luxury to escape and live life away from the bird's nest. Grow my own wings, build my own nest. I never thought I'd have to return to a vacant desolate home with only memories to fill that void. I just want to hug them and never let go. Wrap my distressed arms around them until they laugh the awkward "why are you still hugging me, you creep" laugh and playfully push me away. Walk into their rooms and demand their attention by claiming neediness. Kidnap them and force them to spend the day with me, playing it off as a shopping spree for yours truly. Quality time with the people who sacrificed so much for their little chick.

I'm left with text messages and phone calls to satisfy this need to make memories before that's all I have.
I spoke to my dad about it briefly last night, tears dripping down my cheek, holding back the streams and trying to act strong to a man who has no shame in showing me his weaknesses.

I think that's how I'm going to get through this. Honest vulnerability with two people who hold such unique special places in my heart. Pursuing quality conversation and planning trips with no excuses. And never missing an opportunity to snap shot a memory onto film. Before it's too late.


Love your parents. We are so busy growing up; we often forget they are growing old. - unknown.

A Day Away

This post is partially designed to make you jealous and partially made because I made a vow to refocus. But let's be honest, the former is so much better of a reason ;)

With no further a do, I am currently sitting on the white sandy beaches of Spain, drinking a refreshing piña colada daiquiri, listening to the waves crash, and soaking up this warm Spanish sun. Just kidding -__- I only wish that's where I was! But I am sitting on the edge of the West Coast, looking out at the Pacific Ocean dreaming of doing exactly what I'm doing. Pretty great isn't it? Jealous aren't you? ;)

I would post pictures to make your eyes even more green with envy, but I don't know how o_O and a little birdy I call my best friend has been too busy flying her own wings. *cough cough* HELP ME OVER HERE! D; (it's all love. I'm in no rush.) but I do warn you, when I learn, there may or may not be an explosion of pictures all over my blog. Just a warning. 0:)

Okay but really, this day I promised to myself has been nothing short of absolutely beautifully relaxing. The people who came to the beach all had the same idea I did, quiet relaxation. I have never been to a more peaceful beach. All I can hear is the water peacefully kissing the sand with it's waves, promising to return a few moments later. Ahhh the sound, there really is nothing like it. The skies are blue, not a cloud in sight. I never want to leave. Maybe I don't have to!! I could live here! Be a beach bum forever! Yeah?! ... Okay, fine. I'll stop dreaming of a life I really don't want. Instead, I'll lay here and work on this poetry piece I've been struggling to write. Mark my words, this piece in the works is going to be a masterpiece, I promise.

Until next time.

Refocusing

Hello! It's been way too long!

It's actually been about a month and a half since my last post and I can honestly say, I miss this. I got so caught up in my hectic life I forgot to live. For the last month or so, my life has consisted of work, work number 2, working out, meal preparation, eating/sleeping. I combine the last two because those were very much so after thoughts. Although I am quite happy with the results this working out and meal preparation has done for me, the side effects of working 70 hour weeks are not so great. I wandered around my apartment a couple days and almost had a full blown anxiety attack at how messy it was (and still is for honesty sake). Wtf happened in here?! What is this shit all over my floor, counters, desk, and table?! It took me about a half of a millisecond to realize what happened in my sacred sleeping quarters. Life happened.

I have been so over consumed with the busyness my life has created that I literally have forgotten the most important little things that make my life so uniquely beautiful. Like a clean house, fluffy cool pillows to lay my weary head down on and enjoy a nice spring morning waking only to the sweet songs of the feathered creatures fluttering outside my windows, a quality page turner with an almost too soft to be real blanket and a hot cup of my favorite tea to get lost in, or this blog! My writing! It's been no where to be found. My day to day thoughts lost in the fleeting moments of "I'm busy". Damn my current priorities.

I'm in need of a shift. A shift back to the life that made me simply smile softly with the thought of how perfectly happy I was with my life. A shift back to when I had a hold on my goals and dreams and was taking small but continuous steps in the direction I needed to go. A shift back to a time when I was constantly self-checking, soul-searching, and mind/heart expressing on a moment to moment basis, simply so that I could enjoy every breath I was taking to the utmost fullest. Back to a time when I was living and loving my way through my life, not working, sweating, and complaining my way through it. Not that I'm not working or sweating when I'm living and loving because I most definitely am, but instead of complaining, I need to be smiling.

Happiness is a perspective. I made a promise to myself a while back to never lose sight of what happiness is, and as you would have it, I've lost it for a while. The good thing is a small dose of some fascinating poetry is all I ever need to refocus, which I had the wonderful opportunity to experience at Mic & Dim Lights in Pomona, Ca last night (if any of you are around that area, I strongly suggest you check it out one of these days).

So as I sit here and try to refocus my life to the better days of loving life, pursuing knowledge, watching intently, dancing freely, writing sincerely, and letting the music move my soul; I am renewing my promise of living life with a purpose. A purpose that no matter my current situation, happiness is just a perspective shift away.

Soul Searching Part 2: A Lost Dream

I never understood why people were happy to hear me say that I've realized I want something different, that he's become everything I have ever wanted, everything I knew he would become, the potential I saw in him, reached but that's no longer what I want anymore. Everything he embodies is beautiful, great, admirable, and inspiring, it's just not my idea of those things. People were excited to here me say those words, but it only left me feeling empty, sad, depressed, heartbroken. I couldn't wrap my mind around their excitement; their smiles were so effortless, while my tears were a struggle to hold back. All I felt was sadness. I felt like I had missed out on something so special because it's too late now; I am in love with someone I no longer desire. 

I think I get it now. I miss him, I do. But most of all, I miss the memories, the feelings, his laugh and embrace. I'm sad to see that go. He's changed and so have I. We're not meant to be together, and that's fine. I'm happy for him and his new lifestyle, and I wouldn't change mine for the world. I just never would have thought it'd end up this way. There's a lost hope in that, a lost dream. I guess that's what I'm grieving. I'm not mourning a lost love, that will always be there; I will always love him. It will just be from a distance, that I've chosen to create. Two different lives met for a time, shared a love; he changed my world and deepened my heart. He will always be special to me and make me smile. And I think for a long time, I wanted him to be the only one to be able to do that. My one and only. Now I've realized that's not the case. I desire something different, someone different. It's an interesting feeling. My heart wants it to be him, but slowly it's learning it won't be. He won't be what makes me ultimately happy. He holds such a special place in my heart that will never be replaced, but he belongs there as a memory, not as a future plan. And that's okay, well I'm learning to be okay with it. Grieving a lost dream is quite hard, I must admit. 

Shackled

I was told to write an honest poem; honest? I’ve never understood why honesty was so difficult. I tend to pride myself on my ability to be honest and truthful. It’s almost second nature to me. My best friend used to always ask my opinion of what she was wearing because she knew I wouldn’t lie. “How’s my outfit?” “Hmm. I don’t like those jeans. They make your butt look saggy.” Harsh right? I guess I’d just rather tell the truth and it hurt, then tell a lie and cause that person to be mistakenly happy. As I stand here and ponder the meaning of honesty, my pride rock starts to crumble into the elephant graveyard full of skeletons I don’t even let myself explore. I’ve recently realized I struggle deeply with honesty when it’s just me and a mirror reflection I’m not proud of. I tend to make excuses or justifications, I skate around the core issue because sometimes it seems less painful. But if I was to be honest, I struggle with honesty the most when I have everything to lose. I’m talking the intangibles. My pespected identity, my heart, my life, a friend. I get so caught up in the what if’s that I forget about the what is. I let my fear of a potential loss get in the way of an opportunity to experience change, love, and ultimately life. It’s like quick sand, the more I think, the deeper I sink, into an inescapable pit of paralyzing doubts. I can’t quit my job, what if I don’t find another one soon enough? I can’t tell my manager what I think I deserve, what if she fires me? I can’t tell him how I feel, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t… quickly become I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish I would have been courageous enough to jump into the ocean of the unknown and undiscovered. It might have been dangerous, treacherous, and life threatening, and I’m sure I would have walked away with some pretty distressing bruises and permanent scars from being violently tossed around in the unyielding sea, but at least I would never have had to ask, “what if I had…” Experience is worth every scar because when you’re strong enough to turn that scar into a lesson, the tapestry your life is creating becomes all the more magnificent. So, as I stand here with my skeletons talking about a character trait I thought I embodied, the ghosts of my missed opportunities haunt me with this life-altering truth. Honesty is the key to the shackles clenched around my neck, holding me captive to a life full of fear. Until I can be honest, I am a slave to that mirror reflection I’m not proud of. The truth will always set me free.

Things That Make Me Smile

You'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile- Charles Chaplin

I was asked to write a poem in the form of a grocery list. I simply started writing down a list of the things I love, and when I was finished, I was wearing an affectionate smile that only I could fully understand. Here is the list of the little treasures I hold so dear to my heart and the reasons for my smile.

Basketball

Dance

Music

Learning

Hot tea

The color blue

Love

Father-daughter dates

My smbff

My stuffed moose (plural)

My bestie

The number 21

Forehead kisses

Empty dance floors

Smiley faces

Laughter

Poetry

Philosophy

Afternoon naps

My momma

Empty basketball courts

Fresh snow

Vulnerability

Hot showers

Sore muscles

White gummy bears

A child's innocence

Reminiscing

Hand written letters

Cliff diving

Head rubs

New sweatshirts

The smell of roses

Flying

The year 1989

Vaseline chapstick

Hennessey

Cold pillows

The baby dipper

Hand holding

Oversized sweatpants

Freshly shaved skin

Thunderstorms

The color red

Mohawks

Smoothies

Sarcasm

Playing the piano

Stretching

Clear night skies
Campfires 

Jergen's lotion

Puppy smell

The sound of rain

Friendship

Hard workouts

Makeup

Champagne

Honesty

Morning dew

Reese's

Cologne

Loyal dogs

Jordans

City lights

Patron

Cheek kisses

Massages

Vans

Red skittles

Baby animals

Dangly earrings

Sunsets

High heels

The number 23

Skyscrapers

Fruit snacks

Meeting random people

Fresh air

Nike socks

My baby pillow

Calls from old friends

Soft blankets

Innocence

Basketball shorts

Deep discussions

Pink starbursts

The number 77

Nail Polish