When gift giving is a joy and not a burden, I know I’m in a good place.
I’ve found I show love best by giving presents. Much to my bank accounts despair, I adore spending money on the people I love. A random bouquet of flowers to show my friends I’m proud of them, a mug referencing our favorite TV show to congratulate them, the pair of leggings they’ve wanted for months to say ‘happy birthday, go on a run.’
If you hate spending money on ‘useless’ presents, don’t think this blog is calling you out. Gift giving is not how everyone shows love, anyways. You may show love through spending time with people, serving them, or just simple words of affirmation, all of which are completely valid. I, on the other hand, give gifts to tell someone I admire them.
It was almost 10:30. I’d been driving for hours, 13 hours go be exact, when the sky started to sparkle. One after another sparks of color shot into the sky and exploded in a puff of glittering light. I was enamored.
I watched the fireworks, eyes drifting from the road. They were so… random. It was the beginning of march, no date the world was celebrating. No reason to use such an extravagant form of celebration.
I watched them in the distance sparkle, shout, and explode. I had to reach them soon, right? I was driving towards them. They had to come from somewhere.
The first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from. Continue reading →
In December of 2016 I had the opportunity to visit “the greatest city in the world” with the greatest traveling partners in the world.
Meet the crew, known as “Future Everything”. We consist of a high-strung photographer, a diabetic closeted artist, a Broadway-crazed wannabe, and an obscenely blunt future Harpers Magazine writer. Continue reading →
Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, finals studying and jumping in piles of leaves. Also Alicia’s birthday month, but what a lot of writers know November as is something much different, and much more horrifying than anything Halloween brought that year.
Also known as National November Writing Month.
What is NaNoWriMo? Basically, it’s a non profit organization, a challenge, and a writers wonderful, terrifying party. Continue reading →
And I can’t find a single thing to complain about.
And yet, sometimes, I just want to lie down, watch a sad movie, and hold my cat.
I don’t really have an answer for that. I know there’s some sort of scientific, medical reasoning, but I couldn’t tell you. There’s some spiritual reasoning, and I don’t want to tell you. And mostly, it’s just the exhaustion of healing. Continue reading →
“Don’t worry, keep trying!” “You know Harry Potter was rejected eleven times before it was finally accepted!” “You’re a great writer.”
Rejection is the number one worry, fear and warning when someone desires to be a writer. The process of publication is a torturous, tiring and time consuming one. You’re work must be pristine, void of mistakes, sellable and original. A typo and you’re out. A cliche and NIX. Crappy cover letter? Don’t even bother submitting. Never been published? Sucks to suck!
The more you submit, the better chances of being accepted but also the more rejection letters you receive, and soon they start piling on themselves. Soon, the gracious rejection letter starts to sound like this: Continue reading →
I guess you could say I’ve had an easy life. On paper, everything has gone in my favor. From my family to my finances to my health, I’ve been mostly dealt a good hand. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had struggles, pain, and disbeliefs.
I’ve had relationship problems and bad self-image. I’ve fought with my on-paper ‘perfect’ family and I’ve had painful breakups with both friends and more-than. I’ve been told my writing is sub-par and I need to find a ‘real’ job. I’ve had to take medicine for mental health problems and I’ve had doctors and coaches watch what food I do (or more accurately, don’t) put in my body. I’ve fallen asleep in tears and woken up not wanting to get out of bed. Continue reading →
How many stages of sleep are there? When is the point that you’re so asleep someone has to shake you to wake you up? At what point do your dreams become so twisted you won’t remember them in the morning? How long does that in-between stage last? The one where you’re not fully asleep but you’re not awake either. When you’re aware of the world around you, but in a distant sort of way.
I wish that stage lasted longer. It’s my favorite part of sleeping. My mind wanders to anything and everything yet I still have a small amount of control as to where it goes. In those moments, I’m no longer awake, but I know that my feet are still crossed one over the other. I can still smell the food that Max hasn’t eaten yet. I can feel the sheet on my bare shoulders and I’m aware of the breaths I take.