Fuck it, I'm blogging...

You oversee your own life.

I am a box overflowing with trash, donate-now items, recyclable bits and pieces and photographs. Haha. I'm just kidding, but it is how I feel. I feel like my dirty home. I feel like my stress over the upcoming week's events. I feel like the dirty face that I still have not washed today because I have been distracted by cleaning, cooking, and other miscellaneous activities. We take on our emotions, our actions, our surroundings in a physical and mental sense. And I am trying to learn mind over matter. I am trying to learn the secret of energy and that what you put out you will receive, I promise I am trying. I am trying to have patience. I am trying to forgive and forget. I practice breathing, I push back tears and I call to myself strength. I am working on earning money and never placing its importance above the necessary immediate use. Andsometimes I fall, I feel like I am falling. I am Alice in Wonderland. I am exploring new places, ideas, people, and celebrating life's many un-birthdays. The other day my brother asked me why I can't just blog about the happy things that we do together. So, I said ok, I will talk about the park we visited and the joy that I got from laying in the sun and taking pictures and hugging trees but when I had the opportunity to blog about it, I didn't. My brother played at an open mic night and my boyfriend told him that he should only play his own songs from now on to showcase his own talent. To this my brother replied saying that most of his own songs are too dark and unhappy to perform. I thought it was funny that we both allow ourselves, our minds and our bodies to soak up the happiness of our experiences but when it comes to expressing ourselves it is the frustration, heart break, bitter feelings that we write about. Maybe it's because it is easy to be happy but it's much harder to handle unhappiness, stress, frustration and that we need to express ourselves when we feel that way in order to get it off of our chests, out of our minds and put it up to something other than ourselves to deal with it. However, I have taken some beautiful pictures this summer. Had some great and fun friend bonding experiences. Have had my brother move in with me and am preparing for the biggest traveling adventure of my life. I am searching and finding myself daily. Sometimes I hide in the closet or find pieces of myself on top of the fridge, man I'm sneaky. Haha. My brother and I made a long list of things that make us happy in life. In fact, that was what I planned to blog about a few days ago. Things that make me happy, like finding treasures at a yard sale that you impose yourself on because these two people are hanging up garage sale signs for Saturday and your brother asks if they have bar stools for sale because even though you e-mailed someone on craigslist and thought you had an agreement about bar stools it turns out he wanted much more for all of them than you are willing to pay and these two people say yes, but they are square and we say that's ok and they say $8 for both and you say ok thanks and get their address for tomorrow's yard sale and drive away and then flip-a-bitch and ask them if we could take those bar stools off their hands tonight and they say yes, I'll meet you at our house and then we end up looking through all of their stuff and taking home much more than you had planned but are extremely happy with your decision because it means that you invested in your home, which is where you live and is your place of rest and is your safe zone and for that, it was all worth it, and for that, I LOVE yard sales. :) Off to take care of business. Until next time

So, I've got this flaw...

I do not know when,
I do not know why.
Every time we talk,
I nearly want to cry.
You make me pull my hair,
my skin begins to blush,
I can not stand your voice,
I pretend I'm in a rush.
But then the feelings pass and I enjoy my day,
knowing that despite our differences, you are there for me in every way.
But you still drive me crazy,
sometimes off a cliff.
I love you so very much but I am tainted by our constant rift.
I hope that some day you forgive me for my boastful banter,
for I am not a saint, an angel or some body with the best of manners.
I just want to acknowledge that this feeling eats away
at the thought of calling you each and every single day.
It does not change my heart, I would never tell it to.
And when I start to fight it sometimes the yucky still gets through.
You could say it's just a phase that you and I will some day pass.
I would hope for nothing more because the real you I adore.

From the past to the present, I am who I want to be.

Alright I'm gonna do it. I'm going to make reference to the past. To my x's. To my mistakes. To my tears, regrets, not-so-great-adventures. It is really mind boggling to look at your life in retrospect. How is it that as a young person you can be so convinced that you know it all?!  Nobody knows for sure what the future holds. However, it is muy chistoso to me that as children we are so naive, headstrong in what we believe. Nothing and Nobody can stand in our way, tell us what to do or change our minds. I am torn between telling future generations to listen to their parents, their better judgement or encouraging them to just live their lives and make mistakes. I believe in destiny. I believe in fate. But who knows if I would have been the person that I am today if I had not been a little too risky, risque, careless? Well, I can say that I loved with all of my heart and to what I believed was my truest self. I gave 100 percent of myself, even if it meant that I was left vulnerable. And I may have grown up a little too fast but I am stronger because of it. We are all blessed with unique qualities and characteristics. I was built up to be the woman that I am today from the building blocks of yesterday. One day I will be a tall structure, fully intact with life's lessons, stories, mistakes, flaws, and cracks, and baby, I was not built to break. All that we can do is LIVE. And all that you can expect from us children is to live. We are not perfect. We are not you. But also know, that somewhere in my subconscious mind, I did listen. So, don't give up on them. Don't give up on us, on me. Words of wisdom play their part but experience will build you. I have yet to experience the best. I can't wait to be at the peak of greatness but knowing that nothing turns out quite like you had expected, I will not hold my breath. I will go into my ventures with optimism, not high expectations. They say that there is a silver lining to every cloud. I have not taken sculpting but I will imagine myself as a sculptor, and life, my pile of clay. My experiences mold me and I will push the clay into my broken cracks, I will find the silver lining. 

What is the point of NOT writing?

What is the point of NOT writing? So... I bought a journal. I have never consistently written in a journal. In fact I feel that the only reason that I pick up a journal and write again is for documentary purposes. Ergo the eight journals that I do have starting from the time I was nine giving a blurb of life updates and then ending abruptly. I wish I had kept a journal, I find it interesting to read from my past. However I think that the fact that I like to read my writing from the past being a motivator to write is well, not very motivating. I feel that if I start to write it has to be important, it has to be intriguing. I am not interesting every second of every day. Therefore I have come to terms with the fact that maybe my journal will not be either. I talk a lot, but that does not fill the void of the intrapersonal self, my writing. I often make lists; to do lists, worry lists, lists about everything. The other day I had a lot going on and many thoughts running through my mind, "make a list," I told myself, but just as I opened my new journal to do so, I stopped. I prohibited myself from writing, and it bothered me. Instead of writing, I took time to think about why I did and simultaneously did not want to write. 

• The journal, it's too pretty to write bad things in. 
• Facing the facts, if you write it down you have to look at. Throw away my writings after I write them down you may suggest, no. 
• Writing it down makes it true, makes it more real, doesn't allow time to forget, mask or cover. 
• I don't want to write, it's emotionally exhausting sometimes. 

My journal was inexpensive enough that I do not have to worry about replacing it for another pretty journal. Sometimes, facts are facts, whether they are floating around in your head or on paper. It may be a positive thing to write down difficult things, because from writing, you can brainstorm ideas, create positivity, express your thoughts and expand more than just a simple, cold hard fact. I do want to write. I need to stop having a quota. Once I let go and free myself from inhibitions then writing will be a source of freedom. If I had a regret, it would be not writing, enough. But there is no time for regrets, maybe I will start by writing about that. 

In a world of what if

I find myself having the same dream daily. (A life goal not a sleeping past time) I think about it subconsciously and consciously the majority of my day and every time that I do I refer myself back to the photojournalism path that I'm on. Am I discouraging myself from pursuing my true dreams because I am afraid that I will not succeed? Sometimes. When I begin to analyze what it would be to make this dream a reality I feel that it is not what I want. So, is it not what I want, or I have I spent so much time telling myself that I cannot that I have manipulated myself into believing that it is not what I want and I will not succeed? This is not to say that I chose my majors without rhyme or reason. I love Photography and Journalism and just as well I am nearly fluent in Spanish. These are my majors and a minor by the way... Journalism and Spanish and a minor in Photography. I do want to make a difference in people's lives by practicing photojournalism and covering important social injustices. But maybe just maybe, I could be a singer.

How much of our lives is molded for us before us?

How much of what happens in our lives happens for a reason? Coincidence, intuition, intention, inherited traits? Do we inhabit our parent's abilities or disabilities? How much of our lives is molded for us before us. Wednesday here, smack dab in the middle and I am in the middle of my journey of self discovery. Who am I? Will I inherit my arthritic genes? Can I overcome my genetic structure... without a lot of money? A piece of advice that I hold and distribute is that you must follow your passion. Our passions are a strong sense of who we are, a thread of happiness on our internal bracelet. We can only predict the future, however our time would be best spent living in the now instead of worrying about the future. Sure, we should have goals, a realistic sense of cause and effect and maybe a direction but to live life in a planner is no plan of mine. There are two types of people. Those whom say that everything will be alright and believe it and those who say that all will be fine and do not believe it. I choose to believe. I believe in the greater good, in humanity, in destiny, but most importantly I believe in myself. Have I been manipulated by my inner ego? Perhaps... but for now I am ok living in my happy place. 

            Do you ever feel that there is so much to be said that you may be better off saying nothing at all? I realize that as extroverted as I am I have a weakness for stepping out of my comfort zone. I have denied any fears I may have out of the fact that they are often deemed common or cliche. Fear of vulnerability. Fear of rejection. Fear of what others may think. But it should not be fear that guides us.

            Someone close to me asked if I had to pick an action that I was most drawn to would it be talking or listening? I thought about the question for a moment and replied both. Well, you see, they said, I believe that it is human nature to have one trait that you are more pulled to. Interesting I thought. I wondered to myself if telling them that I felt more like a talker than a listener would make me sound selfish or less understanding, less compassionate. I then responded by explaining that I listen and then I talk, I like to teach people I said, to help others. I believe that some people are meant to be the voice of the voiceless. I want to be that person. I am not sure exactly what position God has hired me for yet but I am most definitely on a search for a job that will fulfill my calling.
             I found myself feeling down recently, not because I felt that there was something wrong in my life but because I could feel the struggle of a loved one near me. I would act out irrationally, speak inappropriately and out of turn, all with forceful words. I realized that I must not let myself be controlled by emotions and that in order to connect with someone you have to act with reason, patience, and listen intently. Once I cut myself out of the equation, listening instead of speaking, I could think clearly and more importantly, I could connect and understand what, why and how; what was wrong and why and how I could reach them. Having something meaningful to say means nothing if you cannot find the right way to say it.