In Search of Inner Peace: Beginnings

"Write hard and clear about what hurts." - Ernest Hemingway

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When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up. I couldn't wait to grow up because I had this vision in my mind, this idea, that when I was older, everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be right, everything was going to be as it should be. I was going to be okay, I was going to be fixed -- I wasn't going to be sick anymore. 

I'm not sure what put this idea in my head, but I just couldn't imagine a future where I was still sick. Surely, it had to end. But high school came and went, then 18, 19, 20, and.... nothing. Nothing changed.

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I feel betrayed by my body. I feel angry and cheated. This isn't how it's supposed to be, this isn't how it's supposed to work, but that's just it - it doesn't work. Something went haywire in my immune system and instead of functioning properly, it can't tell the difference between healthy and foreign cells, so it goes into overdrive, leading to joints that swell and bones that ache, skin cells that don't know when to stop reproducing, causing bright red patches across my face and limbs, and leaving a body and mind that feel tired beyond their years.

So here I am at 23, feeling betrayed and tired. But also feeling like I'm finally ready to come to terms with my body, my reality, myself. There are a lot of things that I've kept bottled up my entire life, things I've never faced or vocalized or worked through, things that have caused so much inner turmoil and anxiety. But I think I am finally ready to start letting go and to start on this journey of searching for inner peace. I'll try to be as brutally honest, transparent, and vulnerable as I could possibly be -- feel free to come along for the ride.

A Series of Non Sequiturial Thoughts: pt. II

There have been so many things that I've been wanting to, needing to, write about, but I just haven't quite been able to do it, and everything is now bubbling, bubbling under the surface and slowly leaking in and out of my mind and I can't stop dwelling on so many different thoughts and feelings and so here it now leads to another series of non sequiturial thoughts.

I'm so torn about who I am and what I believe and how I feel; there are so many contradictions and inconsistencies and paradoxes swirling inside of me, I can't make sense of anything. I am so confident yet so insecure at the same time, I feel so worthy and worthless in the same breath, I feel so hopeful and hopeless all at once, I'm running out of breath just running around in my own head.

I'm still wondering if non sequiturial is even a word and finding it strange that we can convince ourselves that a word is a word by repeating it over and over again until the very idea of it not being a word becomes absurd, just as it is the same with all of the other delusions in our lives that we convince ourselves are reality -- repetition remains key, to perfection and likewise to destruction.

I went a little delirious last weekend and I'm glad that I have a fever to blame it on because I look back at that broken, crying mess and think, "Who is that?" I don't recognize that girl who laid in bed crying over a disillusioned view of a boy, but I guess that was me and I guess I have to come to terms with it sooner or later.

Coming back to work was rough after a week and half of time off but I unknowingly gave myself an attitude check and came to the realization that there was much too much pride in my mind and I thought, "Wow, I need to really humble myself right now." And I did and instantly - my day was turned around and I've spent the past three days in the best mental mindset that I've experienced at work in the past six months.

I'm still just trying to be a good person and I just want someone as good as you to see something good in me, but I won't let you turn loving me into your own personal martyrdom.

I keep feeling like I'm drowning, momentarily, here and there, but I'm able to come up for air just enough to not drift away, but it's so exhausting that I just want to feel like I have someone on my team, something looking after me and leading me along.

I can't even imagine what this coming year will bring but I'm doing my best, I'm doing my very best to be my very best and so I'm keeping my eyes and my heart open wide and I just hope that you'll be with me, alongside me to talk me through it and maybe we can go through it together and maybe, maybe I'll soon be able to stop rambling and just -- breathe.

Wait

Graduation is in two weeks: at last! No more papers, no more readings, no more tests, no more -- wait. No more...friends. No more co-workers, no more roommates, no more of those who have shaped and molded my life and my mind and my very being for the past one two three four years -- no more. Wait. No more. No, I'm not ready for no more. Wait.

Conceal to Reveal

With all the talk going around about "real beauty," not only are extravagant uses of Photoshop critiqued, but often times, any use of makeup is tossed into the mix. People are often telling women, "You don't need make-up to be beautiful; you're perfect the way you are!" and others saying they like the "natural" look. But in the same breath, they often tell their female peers that they look sick or tired when they fail to wear mascara or eyeliner.

Everyone has a preconceived notion of what others are supposed to look like. Critiques of the above are many, but those are for another time, another day. Today, I am making a case for the positive aspect of using makeup and giving into these preconceived notions.

I have been wearing make up for years. And the reason behind it is perfectly summarized with Dermablend's Camo Confessions campaign. You can view the most recent videos here.

I do not put on make-up every day to fake who I am, to "trick" anyone, or put on a false persona. On the contrary, I do it so that people can instead see who I really am -- the sarcastic, witty, emotional, loyal, indecisive person that I am. Because if I didn't, they would instead focus on my physical appearance. The preconceived notion that I am ascribing to is looking normal.

Perfect skin is not something that I have been blessed with. I'm not talking about acne or pimples; I have instead been beautified with a continuous, crimson complexion. And I do not want that to be the first thing that people see and judge me by. I want people to look past my skin and instead judge me by the content of my character, however charming or repellent it may be. And that is why I conceal to reveal. I wear my makeup, and I wear it proudly, because it helps me be who I want to be -- my face is a canvas, one where I can show the rest of the world how I see myself, how I hope that it can see me. And for that, I will not be ashamed.

Words

Words are empty, so bite your tongue. If your plans do not include your actions succeeding your words, keep them to yourself. Bite your tongue, your words are useless to me.

Wedding Nuances

[Preface: I am not against marriage. If you have found the person that you want to be with for the long haul, good for you. That is seriously amazing, and I wish you the best. Go forth and prosper, as equals. I just really, really, really, hate the little nuances that are intertwined with weddings. Specifically, the ones that are associated with the bride.]

For starters, it is tradition for the boyfriend to ask the father for his blessing/permission to marry his daughter. My question is why. What does it matter what the father says? If it's to ensure good family relations, why not ask the mother? And then the siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. Why not ask any of them? It is completely irrelevant what the father thinks, in regard to how the two feel about one another, and yet why is this "permission" needed? Because it is rooted in the idea that a woman is property and belongs in the possession of a man.

Similarly, the tradition of the father walking the bride down the aisle and "giving her away." Can we even just look at the language: giving her away. Again, the bride is seen as a possession. And this is nothing but a transfer of ownership, from one man to another.

The next thing I want to consider is the title of "Mrs." Male titles do not change when they get married because a man is not defined by his marital status, but a woman definitely is. Why can't we just universally accept that Mr. will be for all men, and Ms. for all women? Why does it have to change to Mrs., to notify any outside that a woman is married? Also, why, at weddings, do they always announce, (for example) "For the first time, I welcome Mr. and Mrs. John Smith!" Where has the woman gone? It seems as if she's been completely absorbed by her husband, not only taking his last name, but now only being referred to as being his counterpart, and only in relation to him.

These three things really grind my gears because they are just considered as traditions. The original meaning or sentiment behind them (hopefully) no longer exists, but the fact that they are rooted in such chauvinism -- it's not something that I can get over. These traditions will always bother me and I can only hope that culture will continue to change, and that we relinquish these ties and establish better traditions.

As mush as I loathe these practices, it is nothing in comparison to the worst offender: the fact that a woman's wedding day is her "big day."

Women spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on their weddings, waste hours upon hours planning out every single minute detail, and expect every little thing to be perfect for one single day - and it's completely normal. Never is a groom seen stressing as much over a wedding, and is told to allow the bride to do what she wants, because it's her big day. It's "what she has been dreaming of since she was a little girl." These are accepted ideas that continue to be prevalent and domineering in society and I. Can't. Stand. It.

Does a woman's greatest accomplishment rest in that ring on her finger? Is the epitome and pinnacle of her life her wedding day? For many, yes, it is. And that is a damn shame. Is she worth nothing more? Is a woman's entire value wrapped up in whether or not she acquires a husband? Is there really nothing better, nothing greater, that she can accomplish in her life or do for herself?

I'll be damned if someone tells me that my "big day" is when I get married. Why can my "big day" not be the day that I graduate college? It's a bit taken for granted in our society, but compared to the rest of the world, I'm damn fortunate and accomplished if I have a degree. Why can it not be the day that I get my law degree? Or the day that I become a partner in a firm? Or whatever other career I choose to pursue - why can the start of that career not be considered my "big day?" And what if I choose to never get married? I'd be looked down upon, and pitied, because oh poor me oh my, how sad that no man wants to spend his life with me.

I have so much more to offer to the world than my damn hand in marriage. I just wish other women would see themselves the same way.

Backdrop

"You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say 'Wow, isn't he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?' You think I'll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I'll swallow you whole."

- Warsan Shire

I'm Leaving, I'm Gone

You're stuck in a chauvinistic, racist, homophobic state of mind and you don't even realize it. Or, rather, you do - you just don't care. To you it's all a joke. Rape, domestic violence, discrimination based on race, sexual orientation, and gender - it's all just a joke.

You go give God your time of day, wearing your Sunday best, but your very being is drenched with the stench of your hypocrisy; you disgust me. You physically revolt me. I get to thinking about the spiral that your mind is in, how indifferent you are to the culture you're a part of, the implications of your beliefs and your acceptances, and it churns my stomach and makes me sick.

And then you have the audacity to point your finger at me. You criticize and laugh at me for breaking away, you taunt and tease me for being offended and infuriated by your off hand remarks and "jokes." Fuck, are you kidding me? Thank whatever higher being there is that I am nothing like you. I don't know what caused my path to turn away from yours - they were parallel for so long. But fuck. I can't imagine being like you because then I'd hate myself just as much as I hate you.

Fuck you. You're 20, 21, 25 - where are your heads? Why can't you see how fucking fucked up you are? Goddamn. I don't need this in my life. I don't need you in my life. Any of you. You bring me nothing but anger, despair, and bitterness, infecting me, and only further causing me to be a cynical asshole.

Fuck you, I don't need you in my life. I don't need this.

I'm leaving.

I'm gone.

I Am Done With This Summer

I am done with this summer, I am done with this heat. I am done with stepping outside my door and choking on the humidity. It only makes me feel bitter and disgusted and indolent.

I am done with this summer, I am ready for the fall. I am ready for the boots and the scarves, the hot chocolates and the teas, the colorful leaves and the bristly winds. I am ready for the falling rain to come and wash away this disturbed, depressed, discomforted feeling I cannot shake, to come and make me new. I become alive with the cold and I am ready for it to stir me from this waking dream, which has become more and more of a nightmare.

I am done with this summer, I am anxiously awaiting the change. For the colors to fill the trees, for the clouds to fill the skies, for the cold season's joy to fill my heart.

I am done with this summer.

Humanity pt. II

Humanity is disgusting. We think ourselves to be so civilized and advanced and intelligent but we are none of the above; we are barbaric and hateful and stupid, and apparently doomed to continually repeating the mistakes of our past. (If you are not on a similar level of despair, watch the movie Crash. By the time it's over, the only thing you will want to do is weep for the human race.)

I have a decent life. I'm fortunate enough to have a home to live in (a fairly nice one, at that), food to eat (such an abundance that I have the luxury of being picky and choosy), am able to get an education at an institution of my choosing (and study whatever "pointless" things I so choose) -- the list could go on. I have what I need, and much of what I want, but then I get to thinking too much, and I become filled with despair and frustration and indignation. Because when I look just past my immediate, rosy little bubble, I see the reality of the world: sex trafficking, rape, child abuse, racism, sexism, domestic violence, murder, homophobia, religious bigotry -- violent destruction with no end in sight.

The people of this world have been beaten and battered and abused, and the Earth along with them. Not only can we not take care of and protect each other, we can't even take care of this planet that sustains us. If we have made any progress as a species, it is minuscule.

Humanity is disgusting.

Humanity

Humanity is disgusting. People are bigoted, destructive, asinine fools. I hate everything.

Wants

I just want to be done with this semester, but I don't want my time here to end. I just want to know what you're thinking, but I don't want to tell you my thoughts. I just want you to forget about me, but I equally want to be remembered. I just want to be stubbornly strong, but I'm a lot weaker than I care to admit. I just want to go somewhere and think, but here there's nowhere to be alone. I just want to laugh it off, but it's much more annoying than humorous. I just want to cry a little, but tears never did any good. I just want to ignore you so that you can get a taste of your own medicine, but I always cave. I just want to be able to sleep, but something is keeping me up.

Twenty

God, I'm old. Actually, not really. Actually, not at all.

I'm young and I intend to relish in my youth.

I'm content with what I have accomplished in these twenty years, so let's continue the streak.

So here's to twenty: being young and free and busy and studying and working and traveling and running and laughing and crying and living life. Cheers.

Temper Tantrum

It's ridiculous, the things I worry about, consider, and notice. I'm too attentive, but it's only understandably and reasonably so. I feel like banging my fists, stomping my feet, and throwing a temper tantrum - it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair.


"How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception." - Alfred de Musset

Stressed

My good God, I don't remember the last time I was this stressed. Granted, it is partially my fault. I know exactly what I do to myself when I procrastinate, but this past week just decided to throw some curve balls with several extenuating circumstances. And I'm back to not being able to sleep, so that's really not helping in the least bit (if you could imagine such a thought).

I'm so emotionally drained.
This week needs to be over.
I need to be able to sleep and surround myself with those amazing people that I've been blessed with.

But I know that when I get home I still won't be sleeping and I'll just want to be alone.

asdjkflcldhfk.

Doubt

It's just one of those days where I find myself doubting anything and everything. Even the things I hold most true, even the things I hold closest to my heart, even you.

I don't know why, I don't have any explanation - I just know I have a feeling of general discontent with everything I hear, I read, I know. And I can't quite decide if it is a feeling of the heart or one of the mind, if it is logic that is telling me to be doubtful or if it is my gut. I'm just unsettled.

And confused. Particularly concerning past decisions - whether I did the best thing in choosing this or sharing that; I just can't seem to determine whether I made the best choices. This is not to be mistaken with regret, I do not regret, I just can't help but wonder the age old question of "what if I had chosen/done/said ____ instead." These thoughts are just as pointless as regret, for nothing will change the outcome or the future that is to come, but yet...

I am generally sure of myself. I am generally confident in what I do, what I believe, what I choose. But yet I am unable to shake this doubt.

History

There is too much history in this goddamn town with all these goddamn people. (Not that I'm angry about it, my colorful language is simply a side effect of my frustration.) Yes, that is sometimes a good thing. History is sometimes good to have - long, deep foundations are often beneficial and lead to success, but lately, it has just been so...tiring, for lack of better words.

I'm tired of people's preconceived notions. I'm tired of their assumptions based on past events. I'm tired of them remembering things that I'm trying to forget. I'm tired of them knowing things I'm pretending to be blind to. I'm just tired of all the history. I want a fresh start, a clean slate. I want a new life.

But I just can't seem to get away.

Looks and Glances

It's amazing how easily your mood and/or day can be changed or crushed by a simple look - whether that be from a friend, a stranger, or a glance in the mirror.

Just Another Aching Heart

With summer just around the corner, I can't help but think back to the past one, and I am faced with having to remember all that I lost...


Jack. Good, sweet, dumb Jack. He was so loud, so annoying, and so troublesome. But also so sweet, so loving, so adorable, so innocent, and so playful. He was one of my babies. And I loved him. God, I loved him so much. He wasn't "just a dog," and if you say that then you can't possibly understand, because we are most certainly not on the same level. It didn't matter that he was a dog. He was my companion, my doorkeeper, my ally, my joy, my love. And then because of someone's careless mistake, he was gone.
Gone. Just like that, gone. Forever. And I'm left with my final memory of him being his still, unresponsive body lying on the side of the road. He looked like he was sleeping. The way he looked every morning at the foot of my bed. But this time his ears didn't twitch. His tail didn't flick. And he never got up. And that is an image that will forever be imprinted in my mind. It's the first one that flashes across my eyes when I think of him, and I don't know how to deal with that. I just miss him. I miss that stupid, annoying, stubborn, cuddly ball of fur. And I'd give anything to have him wake me up  too early in the morning with his incessant barking just once more.


Ian. God, it's so unfair. He went through so much shit before he even turned one. And it didn't get any easier with time. He had a good thing going at the Paranal house, but then life happened. And with only a few short hours notice, he was gone.I remember that summer day...we all knew it was bound to happen, but we thought for sure they'd at least give us a week's notice, at least a few days...but they didn't. Just a simple "we're picking him up today." And that was that. I didn't want to let him go, but I only had a few minutes to hug him longer, to give him a few final kisses.
That kid was so annoying sometimes. He was so bratty and spoiled and fussy, but he could always put a smile on my face. I was going to be his godmother. I dreamed of the day that it would be official, that I would really be his ninang, but it never came. He was taken away from us and we don't know where he is.
I hope he's with another family, a better family. He deserves the best there is. I hope he has all the toys he could imagine, a doggy to play with, and all the love that he deserves. I hope that life has finally started going uphill for him. For God's sake, the child is three years old. He deserves a break.
One day, LeAndrew Eugene Smith, I will find you. And once again you will bring me happiness, in place of all these tears.


Friends. The ones with which I survived high school, did the stupidest things, talked the most trash, had the most fun, and loved the most. I lost a few really good ones, a few really great ones. Because of stupidity. We were all stupid. Cooler heads did not prevail and we lost something amazing. I was looking through some pictures from senior year a few days ago, and they only made me sad. We've reconciled since, but we don't talk like that anymore. We don't laugh like that anymore. We don't hug like that anymore. I don't even know if we care like that anymore. And that is just heartbreaking. Our lives have been intertwined for eight years, and what's to show for it? All I see is that we are still stubborn, still immature, still haughty, and still stupid. I hope that someday, and someday soon, we'll grow up. That we'll grow out of our insecurities and our grudges. Because I still love them. I love them so much, and I never stopped loving them.
I hope we'll be so much better than we ever were.



It's the middle of the night, and I'm alone in the dark with my hurt, my regrets, and my tears. But that's not so special. I'm just another aching heart facing another silent night.