Am American Idiot In Paris
I haven’t traveled much, especially outside the US. I don’t count my trip to Dominican Republic, where I spent my sunny days lounging at a secluded resort. Sure, we took an excursion to scuba dive and had to ride a shuttle throughout the roads to get to the airport. My exposure to their culture and way of life though was minimal. At the time I was young, and excited just to go anywhere outside of the tristate area. With a few more years on me now, I see the pointlessness in visiting a faraway land and not soaking in the perspective of the area’s residents.
There was always an excuse; I couldn’t take off work. I couldn’t afford it. I should put my money towards something more necessary and immediate. I was scared to fly. No one else could take the trip with me. The list of my bullshit reasonings was extensive. If I’m being real, I was being a fucking moron, because I now know one of the MOST IMPORTANT and NECESSARY things you can spend money on is traveling.
One night over a couple bottles of wine, my friend and I started discussing the urge and desire to go somewhere and experience something new. We named a few dream destinations, and drunkenly, both decided to download Hopper and Cheap-O-Air apps on our phone. That Monday at work, a notification pings its way to the surface; there was an opportunity to fly roundtrip to Paris for $350 through some airline called Iceland Air. I texted her the, “Should we do it?” To which she confirmed. I whipped out the ole, handy credit card and impulsively purchased low air-fare tickets. A few months later, we left New Jersey for Paris.
My friend and I rolled our luggage up to a barely visible apartment complex door where our Airbnb awaited. We got what we paid for: a one room studio complete with a dark, sunken cave for a shower. There was no shower head attached to the wall, just one of those coiled, free-falling sprayers that wrapped around the faucet dials. Upon our second day there, we learned a mouse would also be staying with us, which we decided to name Demi. Though the home was not the most accommodating or laced with the greatest amenities, we made it all work.
The studio was in Montmarte, the 18th arrondissement of Paris. The town beamed with its charming cobble stoned streets, quaint restaurants and historic yet West Village aura. The architecture all throughout Paris was breathtaking, each inch of building completed with intricate detail, incomparable to any skyscraper I’ve seen nearby home. To get anywhere throughout Montmarte by foot, you were required to climb up sets of stairs and steep hills and pivot around street corners as though you were apart of some maze. After a few blocks in, it was hard not to become discombobulated and unsure of where you originally started this journey. None of that mattered though, as we were visiting to take our time, and marvel at the city of lights. It’s funny how when you let yourself venture off to an unknown area, for some reason, not finding your way around is far less scary than it is at home. You’re lost to begin with — what difference does it make?
The week was inspiring. To roam absent of restrictions around a city so rich in art was exulting. Many infamous writers, painters and free-thinkers trekked these same roads. Many of whom I admire: Anais Nin, Henry Miller, James Baldwin, Ernest Hemingway, Picasso, Vincent Van Gogh. Needless to say, I felt jubilant and connected. I took tours around Notre Dame and the Latin Quarter, learning about the French’s philosophy on education and literature. I ate the fresh and fragrant meals and pastries at nearly every cafe I could manage to sit down in. The seedy red-light district within Montmarte & Pigalle even deemed itself as something to appreciate. And I can’t forget to mention the indescribable beauty one is submerged in at The Louvre and Palace of Versailles.
I said ‘no’ as little as possible. I tried escargot and frog legs. I tried absinthe. My friend and I went with strangers to an underground rave in Rosa Parks, where the kids next to me were snorting cocaine and elbowing my sides to monotonous techno beats. I didn’t sleep so that I could indulge in the night life and eat fancy dinners. I forced myself to crawl out of bed with less than 4 hours of sleep and drooping eye-bags to witness the sunrise at the Sacre Coeur. It was without a doubt an unforgettable experience. The trip itself exceeded my wildest fantasies. It wasn’t just learning and understanding a place unfamiliar, but realizing that this was something I wish I could implement into my daily life.
I’m now sitting in a Jersey coffee shop, sipping a maple spiced latte in the hopes of somehow reliving Europe’s free pours, and I find myself altered. It’s hard to formulate this into words, so I will try my best. The joy I felt there, the pure elation I felt simply because I was alive, exploring and existing was something I haven’t felt naturally in a long, long time. I’ve gone on vacations before, and this was the first one where towards the end homesickness didn’t slowly creep its way over. I didn’t want to go home, and parts of me now still wishes I hadn’t left.
There was a laissez-fare attitude throughout the city. There was no rushing, no crass or hasty individuals. (Although plenty of people have told me they have experienced otherwise.) The residents in Paris encourage art and the creative process so immensely; the infamous Shakespeare & Co. bookstore is currently allowing writers to live above it rent free, as long as they are truly working on a project vigorously, and read one book in its entirety everyday. Politeness and respect are two social elements they believe should always be upheld. I loved how they made sure to stick to their priority of taking time to relax, while also being so obsessed with the idea of tragedy and mortality. If Daria was a city, she would be Paris.
To sum this up: I’ve been bit by the bug. I gotta gtfo! I can’t imagine not eagerly pursuing the life I always envisioned for myself. I chased this wanderlust dream of visiting Paris. It took me years, but in a few swift hours I made the sporadic decision to take heed and charge towards something I’ve wanted to do for too long a time. If I was able to do this so abruptly and so successfully, who’s to say that I can’t apply that same steadfast and gung-ho method to other areas of my life? Also: why can’t I do it all the while visiting other areas in the world?
This trip was just the beginning of many more gifts, privileges and blessings that I’m going to manifest. Moral of this post: don’t let yourself be dragged through life. If you can vision it, you can achieve it. Someway, somehow, you can make it happen. Take the risk. Buy the flights. Book a hostel if need be. JUST GO.
One Stroll Of Many During COVID-19 (03/22/20)
I went out for a walk this weekend. Because of the virus, the roadways weren’t crowded with its usual hustle & bustle. You could cross every corner with ease, and the whooshing noise of tires against asphalt was strangely minimal and sporadic. The occasional passerby came near, and quickly diverted to their mandated six-feet-away distance. Don’t really know how affective the six-foot rule is when applied to a passerby, but the elderly and middle aged are terrified and I feel for them. No one really smiled in my direction, or acknowledged me, with the exception of two people: a some-odd 80 year old with a walker and a middle aged man who was singing a rock tune aloud for the residents on Summit Avenue to hear.
The season is transitioning into spring, and the smell in the air washed over a feeling of nostalgia. As it does with every change, as the last days of a season slowly dissipate, you can feel the impending linger of the one to follow approaching; the familiar smells of emerging plants, a light breeze floating throughout the air, the sight of new blooming and budding florals and the warmth from sunlight. These things, they tend to cause me to recollect the times I’ve experienced this environment before. It’s been quite a few springtimes since I thought about my previous years during this season as a child. I think it was the emptiness of the roads that led me to remember. And as soon as my memory began its regaling, just as abruptly, I could feel a trace of sadness etching itself throughout my body, magically slaloming its way. I felt like I was remembering something I loved, and deeply realizing that I would never be able to relive that love again. And yeah--no shit. I never will, in the sense that I’m no longer a child and can't time travel back a couple decades. But I wasn’t exactly wishing I could be a child again, or have my youth suddenly reappear.
In the 90′s, and early 2000′s, quality of life was different. My parents moved to the suburbs of New Jersey as it was what they could afford that was in relatively close distance to New York. They were musicians; my dad, a pianist and composer, and my mom, an opera singer. They wanted to do the family thing too, so they also acquired full-time jobs that granted them a steady earning. At the time, New Jersey made sense. It was a reprieve from city life. Life was of a slower pace in this region. We lived in a two-family on one of our town’s main roads that had a large backyard with a small gathering of woods. Stray cats were always making their way through the holes in our fence. We had a patio, complete with a barbecue grill and yellow metal furniture, which sounds heinous, but was surprisingly adorable. There was ample room all along the sides of the yard for my mom to pursue one of her hobbies--gardening--and still, there was leftover space for a swing-set and for my neighbors and I to run around and play a game of kickball.
As a kid, I did things. I rode my scooter to the park to play basketball, and we’d wait for the ice cream truck to sound it’s irritating yet welcoming melody. We’d go to the concession stand near the baseball diamond and get slushies and cheese fries. I would try to learn how to skateboard. The park was always crowded. Everyone from athletic kids to swarms of third and fourth grade girls obsessing over nail polishes and Lip Smackers chapsticks would rally around this place. I could see everyone from babies learning the concept of sand castles, to kids my age from school that I undoubtedly had no desire to run into. I loved walking into the neighboring town and going to the comic book store, or the game zone, where I’d collect pogs and crazy bones and pokemon cards and beanie babies--whatever I happened to be into hoarding at the moment. I’d go to book stores and pick up random young adult novels. I’d go to the movies. I’d go rent movies. There was a roller rink ten minutes away, and every weekend it was the cool place to go and whiz around (or in my instance, hold onto the railing and wall while everyone sped by me) while the edited version of Mase’s current single blasted from the DJ’s speakers. I’d go bowling. I’d visit arcades that weren’t Dave & Buster’s. I loved just being outside, meeting up with friends, walking to go get pizza. Flipping through magazines at the local convenient store. Having slumber parties and shutting the lights off while everyone took a turn at singing karaoke. Everything was an adventure and an all-senses-engaged experience. Even if it was just standing in a store parking lot and talking. Even if it was stealing someone’s aunt’s cigarettes and sneakily trying them behind a building in a schoolyard. Not just because I was young and new to the world, but because everyone was presently living, truly experiencing and sharing one another’s company. Communicating. Discovering commonalities. Making jokes about ideas or things happening in that very moment. Even when I was alone as a kid, I MADE things. I wrote stories, I would film movies on our camcorder and write scripts. I would try to do arts and crafts like things, like make tye-dye shirts or fiddle around with play-dough. I would be immersed in one thing at a time. If my friends and I were stuck hanging out indoors, we would prank call people. We would make up dumb card games or come up with something creative to unpack and figure out together as a team.
Everything has just always felt more loose in the past. Even during high school and college years. House parties were incredible. Yes, nowadays, I do get invited to a house for a “party” but its not the same. It feels more like we’re elitists corresponding over dinner and bottles of wine. There’s no more house parties where you’re meeting a bunch of strangers. There’s no more hosting house parties where you’re wondering, “who the fuck is that in my house playing beer pong?” (I held a couple of those in the mid 2000′s.) The best parties are ones that were an extended invite where you barely know anyone that’s there. I remember how my parents held parties in their 40′s and 50′s and it was so much more lively and energetic. The need to take a photo to put on Facebook has altered that.
Block parties were a thing. Not only throughout my town for children, but in other towns for teenagers and adults. I remember going to one in Mahwah where an entire town house community threw a block party and everyone was running in and out of everyone’s houses. People were dancing in the streets. Liquor and pot were flowing and stinking up everything. And everyone was friendly and receiving--you didn’t have to live in that community to be invited to that event. Where are block parties like that now? We would go play billiards--there was such a thing as a pool hall then. We would go on walks just to get away from our homes and have in-depth conversations about life. We’d find dead-ended roads to smoke pot on. I used to love driving around when the weather would start to make its way towards a warmer climate, and play an upbeat song from my stereo, with the windows rolled down. I didn’t need a place to go. I could just enjoy being, and driving, with the wind knotting my stringy hair and the sun smoldering my legs.
It trickles down to this inescapable feeling that over the last few years, we were not, and are not, really living. Everything is all about social media posting, taking selfies, being a celebrity and voice of the generation in some capacity, or any capacity that any individual can grab ahold of. Physical appearance and beauty has taken things to an insane measure with eyelash extensions, wigs, botox, heavy makeup and more things I’m probably unaware of becoming the norm. None of these statements are new streams of consciousness. I don’t deserve a high five for stating the obvious. I just can’t shake this feeling that as the human race, we are failing to enjoy being alive, in a tremendous amount of aspects. Besides lacking basic communication and abilities to live and experience each other wholly, we also do not experience anything else singularly and in entirety.
There was a time you had to work for things. You made mixed CDs or mixed tapes for people you cared about. Discovering new music and performers was an art form. You’d have to catch a song on the radio, or a music video on television, or scope out and take a chance on an artist by purchasing an album at a record store. The thrill of the hunt is gone with resources like Spotify and Apple music, and with so much accessibility to so many artists, it in someways makes it more daunting to find the diamonds in the rough or those with innovative sounds. People watched movies or television shows without simultaneously being on their phone. (Most people couldn’t wait for their favorite show to air!) People went on vacation and stared at a sunset without feeling the need to snap a photo for an immediate publication. People went out on actual dates instead of meeting their date with all their friends at a club or only getting coffee for 45 minutes. People used to walk around a mall instead of ordering everything online. Shopping was an actual activity that involved your whole body as oppose to just your finger clicking a mouse, or your thumb hitting your phone. People would physically hold books, and turn pages, and smell that “book smell” instead of staring at a screen. People used to go over a friend’s house and not be on their phone. People used to go anywhere and not be on their phone. What the fuck is going to happen to our retinas in the coming years?
Now, in the town I was raised in, the roadways are crowded.
I remember as a kid, staring out the window and watching local residents hop off the bus and walk down our road. Men carrying briefcases and sauntering off as if they were on a mission. There was a guy we called “army man” as he always was fully suited in a camouflage uniform, and marched back and forth daily on our block. Cars would drive by, but it wouldn’t be an endless supply of them. Now, it’s endless. There can be bumper-to bumper traffic on the road in that one-square mile town during certain hours. It’s rare to see people gallivanting the sidewalk today, unless it’s 3 am and they’re a townie staggering home annihilated from the local bar. Or they’re walking their dog, I suppose.
What I’m trying to say is this: I miss the simplicity of being in the moment. I don’t think we all need to mediate and take on yoga to understand how to do that. We just need to hold respect for all the incredible activities, people, experiences and memories we are gifted in this lifetime, and when you respect something, you pay attention to it. We need to pay attention to each other, and ourselves. The need to be alone and completely still became so abundantly clear on this stroll. I walked for an hour and a half. I looked at the houses. I noticed the trees that now had flowers sprouting with undeniable joy. I didn’t let anything cloud my mind except what wanted to swim to the surface. It was the best moment of my day, and given the absurd craziness we’re engulfed with now, quite possibly the best time of my week.
This virus outbreak--it’s terrifying. It’s plaguing not just our country, but the entire world. I cannot speak for how other countries live their day to day, but I can speak from my perspective, and it seems to me that we have run this world tired. It’s depleted, and can no longer rise from it’s crippling plunge. We take our offerings from Earth for granted. We take our gifts from God for granted. We take each other for granted. We now deem everything as urgent, and need everything to be so nonsensically fast. The deaths of those we love come across as a consequence of our actions. It is a wakeup call, and a call to action at that. And by action, I don’t mean make a post to create awareness--take action by literally changing and reverting ourselves back to a more minimalistic and simple way of life. Happiness shouldn’t stem from items, the ego or entrepreneurship--happiness derives from that indescribable satisfaction of doing nothing. Of being. Of taking risks and reveling in the company of those whom you wish to keep.
I can’t visit my parents or my family dog, and I miss them. We are waiting to hear if a family friend has passed away from this virus. It is scary and sad to think it hit him so rapidly, and that he arrived at the hospital alone, and potentially died alone with no visitors and no one surrounding him. This is a horrible catastrophe and I can’t understand the reasoning behind it. But I so want to believe that something beautiful will be built from this gloomy and discouraging time. I so want to believe that as people we have the power to take these ruins and make life more graceful and resplendent than it was before.
Despite my wanting, it’s evident that we all need to.
Please stay safe. Prayers up. xo
Yom Kippur ‘19
The day of atonement. How I want to right my wrongs. I am trying to think of all those I caused pain and suffering--with review, I know I never harmed someone intentionally this year. I am trying to see if I said or did something that would inflict any sort of hurt or ill will on another, but I’m coming up empty handed. If I did, or if I had, it has been unbeknownst to me. I ask God to grant me the clarity to see if I have done such a thing to another. Because hurting another--the idea of me doing so, at least--is a weird type of twanging pain. I am not fond of it in the least bit.
I know that my relationship with God, or with Spirit, or with the Divine, however you feel it is best titled and depicted, has not been the best. I try to keep an open heart, and I try to be a channel of love. But I know this is not always the case... I do get filled with rage; with annoyance; with pessimism; with fear; with distrust. I mentally know that God is watching over me, that He/She takes care of me and is guiding me with his/her will and soul purpose in mind. I am so appreciative of that on such a deep level. Surface-wise though, the understanding of this tends to wind up short. I get stressed and lose my patience. I enter fits of anxiety in nano-seconds to the point where examining myself and the levels where my worry escalates sometimes can be embarrassing. I will have moments where I am engulfed in self-doubt or the doubt that I will come out on the other side of whatever the situation may be safe and okay. I would like to apologize to Spirit for that. I would like to apologize to myself for it as well. I need to keep these simple, intrinsically known concepts in my conscience at all times. I need to not let it dissolve, get succumbed by worldly events and circumstances.
I have a tendency to feel guilt or feel like my time of goodness and prosperity is coming to a close, because I believe I do not deserve fortune or happiness--or, I am so used to tragedies unfolding continuously, that I sit and wait for the worst to hit in its grandiose, unexpected fashion. I need to let this mentality disappear. The lessons I need to learn, I will learn. They are coming my way no matter what. I need to accept that change is inevitable, that what’s for me is for me, be it good or bad. I think I typically roll with the punches okay, but it’s the expectancy of having to roll with them that renders me weak and scared like a shivering mouse. God, I apologize for this. I cannot express how disappointed I am with myself that it’s not easier for me to sit back and trust in your divine timing and your beauty. I never thought I was a control freak but I am slowly discovering that I am, and very much so. I need to be in control of how events result. I need to make sure I can predict how my emotions will stir and brim to the top way too far in advance. I am not truly living in the present. I am not putting my best foot forward at all times, and I am not using the gifts you’ve given me to manifest good for the world as much as I should. I need to take leaps of faith more, and I need to always go with my instinct and do what I feel is proper and correct. I know my heart is good and my intentions are pure underneath it all. After all, you are inside every single one of us.
I need to seek my forgiveness the most from God. I know the world is ever-changing, and I need to be a beacon of light and goodness. I so want to contribute to the Earth in a positive, healing way. I know I have the ability to because that is ultimately what God wants the most; for us to operate from a source of love, and what source is greater than the source of God? I also apologize for my addictions... masturbation, sex and alcohol mostly. I want to be better than these metaphoric paper-weights that are pinning me down. I beg for your mercy, and I’m writing this to hopefully open the door of conversation between you and I. I want to be more in-tune with you and your desires. I want to be able to be level-headed enough to hear your instructions. I don’t need my life to unravel a certain way. As long as it is embedded with love I will be ever so grateful. If I feel like there is something I need to do for my soul, then I will do it. You created this world and I so want to explore your artistry and your work. I am immensely full of gratitude for all the beauty you’ve put into my life: the people, the places, the love, the sadness, the teachings, the blessings, the coincidences, the inexplainable. Please know I feel gratitude for the here and now, and will do everything I can and know how to ensure my soul is clean and untainted.
Here I am, seeking atonement on this year’s Yom Kippur. My heart is open and beaming with joy for this new year. I thank you for giving me another chapter in the book of life, and I thank you for giving me the chance to learn and grow from my mistakes. amen amen amen! <3
There are also a few things I would like to vow to be more conscious of and strive to be a good activist for
- The earth and the way we treat it.
-Those who are split from the boarders
-The classes of people and minorities who are regarded as less than
-Understanding plants and planting, and healing through herbs.
-Caring for animals and not endangering the species we have here today for human’s own selfish needs.
I love you. & I truly do believe that good will overcome. Because your love always does.
Time Travel Part II
3 champions of self-discovery:
*Emilio Marmora- he was my professor at NJCU. I took psychology of self-development with him. I was very shy, going through a lot of pain and he could see it. He really tried his best to mentor me but I was not receptive. He was impressed by my writing and wanted to encourage me to write, act and be more outspoken and confident with my work. He took me to a high school in JC and wanted me to write and work on a play for children, but given my downward spiraling self, it never happened.
*Stephen Rosenfeld- he taught me stand up and he really rooted for me. He did so in such a manner that it made me feel uncomfortable in the rest of the class. He told me if doing standup made me nervous I should keep doing it.
*My acting coach At the Action Theatre Conservatory; she told me when I get into a character you don’t really focus on my voice. She also commented on my journal that we would keep that I was a great writer and asked me if I ever thought about it.
3 people who might have hindered my creativity in the past:
My mother - highly critical, claims she doesn’t “get” my work or stuff, thinks I write too vulgar or too outlandish
Mrs. Shoneholz was an evil monster bitch and a fucking cunt.
My father - highly critical, always takes notice of me not practicing hard enough or focusing hard enough always obsessive compulsive on my back taking the fun out of my creative processes and turning them more into the work of a mull horse.
Mr. Bender- no one’s writing fit the tier or level of perfection that this maniac was looking for. He would lock us in his classroom after school and act as though his words and writing regime was holier than thou. Someone needed to tell this fucker that none of his papers mattered after high school and besides wasting the valuable time i could have had exploring my childhood intuition and the freedom of life while I had it, I wasted it writing this pure dribble.
I think this older guy’s name was Diego- I took an acting class with him. I was fifteen, tops when I was part of this course. During some of the acting exercises he would make me feel like an idiot and he’d poke at me and make fun of me. One day I actually used that in a scene and started crying, and then he was all impressed and shit, going “oh, you’re such a good actress.” Fuck are you now, Diego? You in the movies?
One kid who’s name I don’t remember in my failed sketch group: you said my sketch didn’t feel like a sketch and felt more like a sitcom. Of course, he loved his own idea. I really dont want to be like that, EVER. God give me the strength so that I’m never like that, thinking my ideas are better than someone else’s. (unless its like the guy whos script I read today who literally didnt have a story or an idea.)
My friend ____ who poked fun at anything I wrote or said as if I was an idiot.
**WILL CONTINUE AS I REMEMBER MY MONSTERS WHO BLOCKED MY CREATIVE CIRCUITS**
Financial Goals & The Closing.
The grande finale; the last post before I begin taking my plans to action.
On April first I will be temporarily disabling my instagram, facebook and deleting my snapcha app. Minimum time will be 1 full month, but maybe I can get by with more. I do not want to waste anymore time observing other peoples’ lives and wasting time getting lost in the rabbit hole of photos, irrelevant and unnecessary life updates and shitty opinions. I don’t want to know what my old crush is up to, I don’t want to see dumb selfies and I just kind of want to be ignorant and hide out for a bit. Actually the mere idea of not having access to any of these things feels relieving and refreshing. And when I do grant myself access back to these social media sites, I primarily want to use them for jokes and artistic expression/endeavors. Because again, as great as it is to soak up the world and receive recognition and acknowledgement, my purpose here is to deliver my truth. (This will also force me to ONLY use creative apps on my phone- I bought the 1second video app. I should make montages and videos.
I’m going to only allow myself two or three nights involving alcohol the entire month of April. My goal is essentially to be alcohol free, but I realize that’s difficult with alcohol-dependent friends and uncomfortable situations. I am also going to try SO HARD to not eat refined sugars and gluten and keep my soy intake down to once a week. I want to feel brand new.
APRIL FINANCIAL GOALS:
-Put $500 away for car
-Get $3-400 down in what I owe NY state
-Possibly pay off Capital One card
I would like to accumulate as much as possible into my savings. I want to be SMART with my money, and not toss it all away. The month of April I will be blessed with abundance, with financial fortune, with an influx of cash like never before. I will slowly scrape myself out of any financial holes I’ve buried myself in and I will make sure that by the end of this year, I’m reigning victorious.
8 in a 22 year - my purpose is coming, the roadmap to my future is plotted, my dreams are already etched in the stars and my fate will follow suit. Life is hectic, can be tiring, but nonetheless it’s beautiful.
Looking forward to challenging myself and putting myself up to this challenge of renovating and G R O W I N G
Also: must write here end of every week if I did what I promised myself I would- hold up my end of the bargain :)
What Do I Really Want?
Yesterday I established bulletin points for ways to introduce relaxation, positive energy, and order into my mornings, which would then hopefully fizzle on for the remainder of the day. They were relatively easy changes as long as I can leave my bed in a timely manner. This is a small portion of what I need to be doing. Yes, this tends to my self-care but this does not grant me any keys to my desires, my destiny, my soul’s urge. Figuring out how to guide myself there will be tricky, full of trials and errors and deviations.
My interests, although all relatively in the same field, are still vast and abundant. It’s hard to pin point one thing and make that be my main focus. I thought that was what I ought to do--doesn’t focus eventually translate to success? I guess that’s subjective. Maybe it does equate to success for the one-track minders. But I am not one track; I am scatter brained, an emotional wreck and have moments surface of an insatiable fool. I feel things. I feel everything, from everyone around me. i absorb other peoples’ energies and depending on the frequencies I’m being presented with, it weighs me down. Sometimes I feel things are happening before they happen. Sometimes I dream and people, dead and alive, speak to me in the dreams, and sometimes I am so wrapped up in paranoia and fear that these horrid images come to me and I can’t release the grasp they have on me. I see the beauty, the grime, the helplessness, the hope, the potential and how this is all combined results in nothing more than confusion. I need to expose these feelings in a way that does not require my admittance or actual claim to any of these sensations. A way where I can explain and people can relate, without the feeling I’m delivering being so exacting and specifying.
That’s what interests me. Delivering my truth, because that is the only truth I can really ever justify and know.
How can I do these things?
Writing. That has always been my go-to and the easiest practice for me to assess. Writing what? Blogs, Screenplays, TV Pilots, Novels, Articles, Streams of Conscious Thought...
I KNOW part of my future in some way will have to do with writing. My relationship with words is intense and rooted in the depths of my heart since the beginning stages of this life. It is one of the few talents I repeatedly acquire compliments on. I have a voice that is unique and very much my own. At least comedically I do. And well...If you enjoy something and are good at it, you might as well keep doing it.
I NEED TO WRITE A MINIMUM OF 4 DAYS A WEEK, PREFERABLY EVERYDAY. NO FUCKING EXCUSES.
Every week, something should be completed. In a book I read recently, you should think off the bat that everything you make is going to suck; take the pressure off of it. Just create things at a constant rate. Create things for my own special portfolio vault. I need to know that whatever I write doesn’t have to necessarily be for anything except to keep me sane. Eventually, a good idea will slip. Something brilliant will be on paper. But odds are, it won’t be the idea I’m so hell bent on sticking to and it wont be the story or show I keep putting all my time and energy into. The work that’s egoless and has no attachments winds up being the piece that somehow, always intrigues others...
Directing. This has been a recent developing interest of mine. I’m not much of a cinematographer and I know I never will be. But that’s ok. I should take a couple courses...create a savings for a Canon or something good but not thousands of dollars. Sometimes the best way to get hired for work is to create your own project. Imagine I shot something I wrote and got to manifest my vision in its entirety? That is an incredible achievement, and a fate & opportunity I so hope for one day.
Acting. I’ve been drawn to this my whole life. Maybe its in my genes, the interest--the skill, I’m not so sure. My Nana was a terrific actress. I would truly have to channel her to even be halfway as good. I think I’m drawn to the fact that you can be vulnerable without having to admit that it’s coming from something you’ve experienced. I have been hurt, abused, exploited, molested, abandoned, beaten, forgotten. I don’t like to talk about it as me, but as another person, it’s so much easier. This would be my therapy. And the chance to honor the human experience, the chance to step into the perspective of someone else and try to understand their motives, their inner dialogue...is there not a better way to honor life itself? I think I’m going to take classes. keep dieting til I get to a normal/healthy weight and then get headshots. Try to shoot some student films...and present myself to my boss. I feel like I have something to offer the world in this area. I don’t know why or what but I do!! I know it’s hard but lord knows I can take rejection.
Standup. I did this formerly. I’m quirky, and I enjoy making people laugh. When I write witty one-liners or go up on the stage and help bring the crowd into an upbeat mood, it’s such a RUSH! I have a bunch of new ideas down. I need to go back to doing open mics! Just so that I prove to myself that I still got it. And who knows? Something can always lead to something.
I guess its these four main things. These things are the jobs, the hobbies, the things I truly want to be part of my life. I think with everyday that passes I’m learning that I NEED them to be.
Starting in April I will be GETTING THINGS MOVING AND GROOVING.
YOU ARE TALENTED. BELIEVE IT. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. BELIEVE THAT GOD GAVE YOU THESE URGES FOR POSITIVE PURPOSES.
It is so late and I’m beat. Tomorrow will be the last entry before I take the plunge into this full moon and new month with enthusiasm and vigor.
Thank you for listening. <3
A Methodical, Monotonous Look: The Road to Success Is the Road of Routine
That corny ass title has me feeling like a pretentious, snide assbag to my CORE.
Nevertheless, April is around the corner and it’s my one and only 8 month of the year. Thus, I figure April will entail putting my nose to the grindstone (who came up with that expression?) and fully applying the building blocks towards my future successes. [I would hope anyway, please!!]
I feel like I need to space out what I write in here, because the changes I’m hoping to implement are many. I think narrowing it down in the next couple nightly posts will allow me to write sharper and directly, and therefore create more beneficial templates of how this next month should pan out. I would like to keep these changes as a permanent part of my life being I am looking to SHAKE UP MY UNIVERSE!! .:*:.
The following are extraordinarily BASIC, and you would think SIMPLE steps to begin incorporating every morning of the day to create a healthier lifestyle, better mental state, and increase levels of productivity. I struggle with mornings. Getting up early, starting the day in a way that doesn’t involve bouncing around in a fritz of panic and having an anxiety attack...that has been nearly unattainable throughout my entire life. Seriously- even looking back at 7 I couldn’t deal with getting up and out the door for school. I am a night owl (I’m typing this at midnight =D) and it is a tremendously DIFFICULT thing for me to break. So so so so hard. Nothing seems to work for me. But, I suppose next month I am left with no choice but to MAKE IT WORK FOR ME. Ya dig?
*I would like to get up 2 hours before I have to leave and take the bus to work.
*Start every morning off with oil pulling, (brushing my teeth obviously) and then drinking a mug of hot water with lemon.
*Taking a probiotic
*Doing a 10-15 minute meditation
*Doing a prayer blessing my day and family, friends... sprinkling florida water on me and around my room.
*Doing 45 minutes to an hour of cardio, be it through a cardio machine, yoga or some sort of class like spin. (unless I have plans to do it at night)
*Dry brushing before my shower
*Taking the time to actually do my hair & makeup and look presentable.
*Making a nutritious smoothie or juice
*On my bus ride to work I read, which, pat yourself on the back bitch, I’ve been doing a pretty good job of doing already. (I think I will be reading “The Artists Way” which also is more like a workbook, so may do the work I’m required to do from that book on the bus as well.)
....and that’s my morning. Because we all know once I get off the bus, my day is shot with work for the next 8 hours. But that issue will be saved for another time...
Like I said, this all seems relatively easy...simple, simple steps. But sometimes the simplest ones are the hardest to take.
These are my morning plans. And these are the most basic plans. They give me a great foundation for my day ahead, but they will not solve my problems.
And this is where the real work comes in...
Time To Move Forward
I will write this post on here, in a diary, with ink on my arm. I will write this on countless occasions and reread it, reread it, reread it ‘til the words burn into my brain like a brand on a horse’s ass.
DO YOU LOVE YOURSELF? DO YOU REALLY, TRULY, WANT THE LIFE YOU’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF? DO YOU WANT MORE THAN WHAT YOU HAVE NOW? DO YOU GIVE YOURSELF A FAIR SHOT AT ACHIEVING YOUR GOALS?
Right now I’m acting like the answer to all these questions is, “NO.”
I procrastinate, I make excuses, I fill my free time with useless activity, I concentrate on things that are easier to gain or things I don’t want as badly, I put others’ needs before my own, I bend over backwards to accommodate others, I cater to other peoples’ emotional dramas, I hold my voice back, I limit myself, I don’t keep focused, I don’t stay organized, I live in the past, I slip and then I don’t pull myself back up--the list is endless.
What do I dream of?
Artistic freedom. Creating. Storytelling. Sharing the human experience. Impacting other lives. Helping people. Stopping thing I consider inhumane. Writing my truths. Performing my truths. Making people laugh. Exploring the world. Evolving. Giving love and spreading it to all those around me.
I don’t want to be noticed for me; I want to be noticed for something deeper in me, deeper than my ideas, humor and heart. Is it the God in me? I feel so deeply like I have something to share. I don’t understand what facet or platform or manner I’m supposed to do so, and even worse, I’m not entirely positive what the message is. I would like to figure this out. It seems like a daunting task, but then I realize how easy it actually may be: just start off with putting all my energy towards what makes me spark. What makes me happy. I know certain religions consider that sense of concentration unholy because you’re supposed to be abiding around what God wants. But I can’t shake the idea that God doesn’t want us happy. He is the ultimate parent and the ultimate guider, and when you give the gift of life, I always believed the desire to give that gift comes from a very selfless place. A place where you can’t try to pigeon hole or force a mold with what one does with that gift. Imagine how beautiful it is to build something out of your own vision and love, and watch what you built blossom and further extend...and have it do so in it’s own mysterious way. I want to emulate God and the selflessness and love that God possesses in that way. I want to create something out of my own vision and love and watch it blossom and grow. To reach other people, and for people to take what I’ve created whatever way they need to take it in order to get by, or feel understood, or feel at peace, or to feel love radiated back towards them. To be honest, deep down, it doesn’t even matter if I garner any recognition for that. Sure, would it be nice? Of course. But as much as I would like to just sit and soak up the world, that’s not what I feel my divine purpose is. I am meant to give, give, give, in a way that oddly makes me feel so full and complete.
My ramble has taken quite a turn towards the unexpected. It is late, so I have to save the second half containing methodical plans for tmrw night. But just writing this tidbit swells me with a sense of love and relief. I am ready to move forward; I am ready to listen to my intuition. I am ready to embrace the life that is destined for me, and that is SO MUCH MORE than this.
Goodnight and blessings to all <3
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no other person on this planet was made for you, they were made for themselves. love is all about choices. no one is going to be perfect for you, and i think we need to stop raising everyone on the belief that someone out there, just one other person in the whole world, was “made for you” because it isn’t true. no one is made for you, besides you. other people belong to themselves. if you want to make it work with someone, it’s about hard work, understanding, compassion, communication, and choice
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I’ve swallowed my visions with care,
Arthur Rimbaud, tr. by Paul Weinfield, from “Evening,”
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procrastiartist on Instagram
Follow So Super Awesome on Instagram
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Lone is the all-natural deodorant brand i’ve been using and discussing for the past 5-6 years. I have a heavy travel schedule, go for long morning runs, workout regularly - and it has never failed me. Granted, everyone’s body chemistry is different so your results may vary but if you’re looking to try a natural deo - this is a great place to start.
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Perfume bottles by L.T. Piver: ‘Belflor’ (1925), ‘Violette Neige’ (1908).
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