What pertains to a useless degree?

Dearest Reader,
do you ever sit and wonder how it is that people can label one degree favorable over another?
Were the early masters of English & Science victims of this tragic statement? Only to be later idolized in textbooks centuries later?

I have to ask if it is so lucrative to invest in an engineering, political or math degree? did these one take the place of a liberal art degree and was Leonardo Da Vinci so invaluable had he not mastered the arts?
Chastised and made to feel insignificant because others saw it as thought it held no purchase.

If threats of a penniless existence kept us from the things we love, would there be no art?

In the days of Copernicus scientific exploration was prohibited. Artists, atheists or not were subjected to heavy biblical ideas and were held responsible for portraying heaven.

Today-- left brainers gain the advantage. Creativity somehow reduced to child's play and finger paint. Why the imbalance? how can we not have a station of the two where they can coincide. One cannot exist without the other.

The strong willful structured brain and the creative mind orgasms that create us as a society.

Cant we all just get along?

Failure

The past couple of weeks have been a tried and true test of the human spirit and emotional churning I think one can endure.

This Quarter has felt so perilous and yet no one can learn anything from constantly doing well. This entire career at the Art Institute has been a test of what I think I could do, what I could do and how I could of pushed that past anything I've ever done in the past.

The bitter taste of failure came when I was very young. I was kept plump,happy and sated most of my life so sports did not come naturally to me...at all. I couldn't run as fast as the other kids and I definitely had no idea of what was what in terms of athletics.

Hence my dip into The Arts and literature with that I was able to hone in some of the imaginative juices that come from spending so much time sheltered.

Depression was laid on thick last week and all I could do after a review and a quick slap of an "F" on my grade all I wanted to do was sleep. We all went into a room, uploaded our demo reel and awaited our reaping.

That it was, a scour of teachers new and old sat within the front row. We pulled up our website (because in this industry if you dont have a website you do not exist.) as well as our Demo reel.  A short preferably 1:45 minute piece showing some of your best work.
Needless to say these teachers had no qualm ripping a piece of yours to shreds and preferably so. When you spend so much time looking at the same piece you tend to not be able to see the mistakes you've made.
I was given a "38." This reverberated in my head like a gong and I felt my heart sink immediately, I could feel my fingers tingling from the lack   no sleep I had. I tried to keep the look of "I feel like I am going to cry." off my face and stand up straight, tall and be "brave" however, no amount of "be brave" could prevent me from failing and worst of all telling my parents this. They had rooted for me and of course this is what they were meant to do however, I felt like I was letting them  down as well as myself.

I dont know why I need feel the need to relive this but in the moments because I eventually found out I was failing I couldn't pay attention to any conversations. I didn't seem to exist in that moment and the world suddenly became very quiet. Everything was fuzzy and it was as if I wasn't there, I was in a state of paralysis and people were there to watch. This wasn't the case of course but it wasn't until later on that I realized that I was having a panic attack. One of the most severe since Junior Year.

The story goes.. she learns from her mistakes and does better.
There is a tiny shred of hope that the resubmission I did for my demo reel will help me in the long run but there is no chance of me passing realistically.

Good luck to everyone else that did pass. You deserved it and this class has been one of the most emotionally supportive i've ever had.

I am bouncing back because fewer things in this world can truly break the human spirit.

A former coworker asked people what it was like to be in love;

I'm a talker.. and as you know I did spend 4 years with someone I thought I was going to be with forever.
Truth be told I dont think I was ready.. ready to marry someone who wasn't going quite as far in life as I had hoped but he opened me up. To cry and love every single day i knew him.

We weren't perfect but we never argued without a resolution which wasn't often. When we would meet we were inseperable and people around us always wanted to know how long we had been together. He always held my hand, and seemed proud when he'd introduce me to his friends.

He was my first too.. and I loved him every minute. He held up a high bar for anyone else and I have yet to find someone as kind, as generous and as sweet as him.

I regret alot of things but we tried... even when we broke up. When I told him I had had enough. He was kind then, he never resented me and tried to be my friend and I pushed him away.

The thing is .. couples bicker... but never attempted to make that person feel sad.. or depressed in front of other people.

At 2am I'd have serious menstrual cramps.. i'd text him and he'd call me and talk to me until i fell asleep. I'd fall asleep hearing I was loved no matter what. No matter how bloated I was or how ugly i felt.

He loved me even after all that.
I miss him alot of the times because I dont know if I'll ever be able to fall in love like that again.

I hope that answers at least a part of your question.

Living with regrets and re-expelling them

I have been tempted to walk alone at night.Ipod in hand, flowing dress and heels and just existing.

The nightlife isn't foreign to me. Staying up til God awful hours of the night watching porn or figuring out things without putting much effort into painting what is going on in my head.

I was able to open up to my girlfriends and find my sweet release. I am doing this to myself and I keep re watching the same episode of a miserable state that I locked myself into.

Life isn't just a single sector but a multitude of moments i'll remember.
I'll remember the beautiful decaying white trees, the sound of the waves pulling the rocks away and the blush that spread across Bethany's face. A feeling of finally.


Seeing her Joy, Seeing others move on and experience life and love and success. I relish in it. I never saw the point in truly succumbing to jealousy because it eats up far too much time that I care to give.

I never thought I was above any experience. I make mistakes, huge ones and I am still here. I dont think that everything I say is so profound but its humorous to me to watch reflections of myself in things that I watch and do.

I recently sat down to watch HBO's "Girls" and "(Anos Besitientos) Leap Year."
To some points these reflected what a woman in her 20's is experiencing right now and the number keeps popping up. 25. 25.25.

I am 25.

I am the center of my own universe, cat, apartment, phone and facebook in all. I am plugged in and somehow caught in a space of gravity that I never expected. I have friendships that have lasted me a life time and I am doing so much soul searching that at times I make myself want to puke.
I look on in mild amusement that the lovers, boyfriends and playthings I have taken on all amount to laughable experiences with girls on a Tuesday afternoon.

I havent lost touch with human contact, with skin on skin or the fluttery feeling of a crush. However, being that I have experienced rejection, sex, money, lust and hunger. This has jaded my poor cold dead heart in the most humorous way possible.

I am still learning.
still spoiled.
still broke.

maybe thats why I havent given up.

Lust.

fingers wove into skin delicately
eyes gaze longinly at lips
mouths part curiously
then urgently, hungrily
until waves of pheromones take over
commanding the brain into over load
anxious so anxious
like a nymph 
like an unsatiated flower
grappling for what is truth
this is truth
like so many moans
tongues touching hungry
so burning is it that to succumb is the only way
hips pressed tightly pelvis grind
wanting wanted
reciprocating the lust that grows
growing like his need
growing like her love
and so he held her 
lips n'er parting
n'er leaving one another's side
kisses so perfect
so fervent
she ached for more.

Doll.

melt into a song..
let it sink into my hips and past the dirt on my knees

the arch of my back
buckling beneath the twang of heat
and mechanics;

ticking towards my side and grasping hair skin and flesh against my own
i am metal
i am not real

but your lips are
and i can only imagine
what they taste like
taste like

when im dancing
for you
in the audience
you see me and i know you do so for you
en pointe
I twirl my arms askew at the attempt at looking human
toes pointed i rise despite gravity
despite the earth 
n'er breathing
twirling for you, mister

if i dared
would you mate
with this mare?

i suck back a sob
when you leave the room
hoping after this 
i'll see you soon.

but alas you are gone
as is my performance.

meet me at midnight
beneath the lamp post.

Baby boy

Curtains drew back as the sun dipped into a room filled with Jasmine scented candles and Vanilla scented incense. A slumbering Body grumbled as a twitchy foot felt the warmth fo the sun as it cupped the padding of those sleepy toes.

The cushions of the bed heavy with the an angel fanned out against a mattress. That creaked with strain, each fabric stretched and came together as the Suns beams were unrelenting.

Shadows dipped into crevices that dipped and formed pouted lips moist as honey dew, lashes curved towards the heaven and dark as obsidian.Cheeks flushed with sleep and satin pillows smothered against heavy breathing chests.

A cherub like child--Brown tuft of hair that speckled with gold in the sunlight.
Beautiful boy-- fists balled tightly the air whistled with his ight snore.
He grumbles--a little man. 

baby boy--sleep now in your crib. Sleep, let the world not weigh you in.

I dont speak any;

I don't speak any japanese. But his voice made me want to, not one word in japanese but kanji threatened to flicker across my lips into my fingers and scribble calligraphy.

Absurd as it was I no longer carried pieces of paper to write poetry

I merely mumbled words in spanish and counted syllables with the utmost delicacy.

You are beautiful;

How many languages may I say that in?

Will it translate as well as your skin.

Making my mouth water counting the strands of your jet black hair. Eyes lit like the moon and obsidian as rock. Or maybe are you vietnamese? Words cluck from your tongue as harmonious as your english.

Please.

Don't stop talking because in a world with too little words and too much text I can't bear any more silence.

Speak; foreign tongues.

Spanish or asian.

Brown or white as porcelain.

Its another quiet longing I won't fulfill.

In spite of myself.

Narcissism

Are we?
I have been watching Girls for the past couple of days. I've been aching to see a different perspective as to what other people are going through in their early twenties. Young, scared and horny.

That about sums it up but mostly being able to see a reflection in a t.v. series is refreshing.

I hate it and I love it however this isn't a review of the show but more along the lines of the symbiotic relationship everyone in this area seems to be having.

Spoiled

Later as I am walking home I was staring at a fake red flower I put in my hair.
My thoughts drifted to the times I had been safe and snug in a relationship that I thought made me happy.


Realistically after a year I was bored. Bored of not seeing someone I loved and not admitting to myself that I didn't truly love the guy I was with. I stretch the word guy, considering this one refused to get a job or move out of his mother's house.

He had a semi-invasive issue with his own body but namely with mild issues with his heart... It was a medical condition in which he was able to lead a completely normal life ..just with heaps of gatorade.

I didn't appreciate him as a human being let alone a boyfriend and soon grew aggravated at the constant pull between him and school.

Yet he held a kind of kindness I dont think I could carry in myself any longer. He could make friends with anyone and was able to charm whomever. He was never manipulative and the sweet voice that would whisper good night to me each night for 3 years.

Fast forward from age 20 to 25.. Here I was walking down 4th avenue wondering what happened.
Had I cheated myself in thinking that short term casual sex was better than a relationship?

Admittedly it's certainly less complicated and being that this blog is certainly turning into more of a personal one I suppose that eventually the truth will come out.

You dont truly appreciate what you had until its gone but how else would you learn to deal with your own issues and other types of people unless you made mistakes? The city life is so full of questions with half-assed answers and I truly feel blind in this city.

One minute you think you're dating someone and they disappear. The signs dont pop up until after like a hap-hazard Nostradamus prediction and you're left to pick up tiny pieces of you that you thought you could give to someone you barely knew.

You're more afraid of giving someone your heart than you're body and surprised when that person bails? Seattle guys I tell you. Are something else.

Passive aggresive. Moody. Shy. Adorable. Determined and confusing.

Is that anywhere? Shit I dont know. I've been to New York where people somehow manage to, oh whats the word? Talk? yeah. talk. to one another.

Lord I sound so bitter.
I dont think i'll ever truly figure this or myself out but ..most importantly is wondering how exactly do i have someone stick around long enough so that I may cook them some goddamn breakfast?

Rebirth at a quarter of a Century.

I suppose in the future i'll look back at these and wince.
Wince at the bluntness of my emotions and the inner turmoil I had put myself through in the most ridiculous fashion.

I wrote a terrible poem the other day of the ice kings that i've dated.
Cold to the touch and even colder to hold.

I thought I might of broken this touched curse but I might be wrong. He was also sick but I am going to ease up and love myself first. I need to save a bit at a time and stabilize myself so that I can finally help my family.

Nothing to good comes at 1:46 at night but I pray someone somewhere feels as stupid as I do when he doesn't text back. When one simple question is left hung in the air and I feel like a fool for asking it.

Was it too much to ask someone I had barely met to wish me happy birthday? Absolutely.
Was it stupid to assume that someone who was ready to jump my bones to not drop off the face of the earth ? Definitely.

I am running into a pattern of heady sexual men who actively seek me out and then vanish once the pot warms up.

If only I could tell myself to not kiss them.. let them have a taste of me.
and it isn't always sex; In fact I did not. The first date got heated and well here I am.

I am lucky; I got to spend the day with people that cared about me but it's also a stinging reminder that I am single when everyone in Seattle seems to be making milestones in their life.

I need to disappear for a while.
Just go somewhere else and be someone else for a while and maybe then i'll get my shit together?

The new me begins soon and she's not taking any more shit.
She deserves better and a good head on her shoulders.

Spring Awakening (one of THOSE blogs..)

it’s been a while since i’ve written tell alls or emotions that have been trapped in me like caged mice. I havent been able to dutifully tell whats going on in my head because reality is; I dont know how to face it.

The one thing i seem to hate about the forever alone is how it seems to be a awful reflection of what i seem to have growing inside of me. I have never outright dealt with rejection well and this was literally in my face.

“I’m done..” he said as we were walking past a corridor facing what i knew was the end of us.

I had this talk with shanda before when we first started dating. 

“It’s going to suck when its done..” I said. 

“It cant last forever..” she told me.

The reality of this biting situation that for the moment, for the age it seems so true. so hauntingly true to face that in our age love seems almost impossible. We’ve gone through the highschool stages, the eternal blissful love that comes to a crashing hault. Suffocatingly enough is bothering to date when the person only goes to change their mind, which mind you. They are rightfully able to do but the games they play in order to get laid becoming far more elaborate than i had ever expected.

“I dont have to be in a relationship to fuck someone.” I attempted to verbally lay into him the pain i had felt for being ignored for almost a week. Women have had worse as I would have expected but i never thought that I would be asked to stay and leave all within one month.

I never knew that something so tiny in my life could blow up yet again. This year at Sakuracon it was like a cluster fuck of the men that i had laid with. Roy was a distant memory. a tiny buzzing in my ear that i had all to soon forgotten. The two weeks of hell in new york while i was essentially been negated for world of war craft. 

All with that tiny voice shouting and crying.

You PUT yourself in that situation. 

Men just as emotionally neglectful as the next and yet a tiny glimmer of hope that they would see you as more than just a conquest or a thing. 

boys. boys obsessed with video games and not me.

boys who were too emotionally torn up inside to open up to someone that just enjoyed being in their presence and trying not to feel the pathetic cloud washing over her.

I want to stop crying. 

and the numbness that comes with the love that comes from everyone but them is all consuming. The people I share these feelings with are starting to see the shell crack and that scares me the most. 

I havent written or drawn much of anything. I havent been able to peel away exactly what has been bothering me and stayed in a state of artistic catatonic emotion.

I cant apologize for what they did and I cant say i deserved it.

I cant say i didn’t try and i’ll never apologize for the amazing sex I had but that cannot be the ball and end all of my life. Of my 20’s.

Jane Austen and a hair brush

I have finally gotten around to cleaning my house when I had the inkling to pop open a jane austen movie and enjoy what bits of freedom I have to do art again and write.

I have not been able to do what I've wanted to do artistically in quite a while and art school is quickly coming to an end.
A long journey of sobbing, learning more and more about my talents and pushing myself harder mentally and physically than I ever have before.

The days where I have to focus on school and read all day helps me breathe.
I can finally relax into my bed and sleep. Counting dreams one by twos and not explaining myself.
not explaining why I can be so emotional on AND offline.
Of keeping the peace and then causing an emotional riot.
I will never regret speaking my mind in that course of action, because it wasn't to cause people pain but free myself from what I endured as a teenager that seems to continue to haunt me into adult hood.

eitherway, I am one rounded out female. I have my shit together mind you;
An apartment, a Job, career focus and a happy black cat who stares at anyone who comes by.

"Your tongue is sharper than a guillotine." - Mansfield Park.

First Year of College Essay

Rabecca Rocha

Writing 101
Essay 1

I heard their voices that night, the both of them like angry chickens pecking at one another, a ruffle of sheets like that of feathers angry shouting and flustered tones. My Father's voice rumbled distinctively like a cumulus cloud building, electrodes gathering and ready to strike. The irritation in the voice of my mother only kept me situated behind the door, my ear pressed to it aching to know what was wrong. I couldn't fathom the thought of them being so angry at one another. I held my pillow in hopes that this in fact was a nightmare however I would soon find out that I was living in it. All the anxiety and tension in the house would eventually turn between me and my own mother. 

In another instance the door for their bedroom swung open and my Father’s heavy foot steps creaked across the carpet floor. The front door slammed and I knew from then on this would only set the stage for the events that were about to unfold during the oncoming years. Nothing could explain the tension in that tiny blue house but it only seemed to accumulate with time. During their arguments I had done my best to protect my brother by turning the TV up, taking him to the park and anywhere but home. It only began from there soon after I began to try to find something that might repair what was left of my parent’s marriage.

I didn’t realize how soon my mother’s problems would then be focused on me. I was the Daddy’s girl and I had become the blame. So from then on I would attempt to do everything I could to make sure that we would find peace in our little home. This had been more complicated then I had initially interpreted it to be, for that year my father had been taken to the hospital due to kidney failure. My grandmother had to work to pay the bills, as did my mother however Being that my mother was gone numerous amounts of times this was no easy task, so I was given the duty of watching over my 10 year old autistic brother. At that time I didn't know how to cook so I had to try to make up ways in order to be able to feed my brother and myself. Sometimes if my Mother did come home with food she'd only feed me and not my little brother and tell me not to tell “snitch.” And by snitching she meant telling my grandmother. This amount of guilt on continued yet I kept this secret to myself.

That Christmas was a lonely little one, without daddy who would cheer us on?

My father had always took it upon himself to give us joy filled, warm holidays. Yet the following year was empty and Gray, without Dad who would cook the excellent Christmas meals, but the cook? Who would carry on the legacy of Santa Claus and hopes and dreams, without Dad nothing seemed possible, but the growing void that he wasn't home. The more that I missed my father the greater the gap between my mother and I grew.

In the months following My Fathers hospitalization and my Mother’s frequent disappearances, the computer became my only outlet and since I was hardly allowed to go out due to my brother I’d seek out some ways to communicate with the “outside world.”  I engaged myself in conversations with people I had never met, talked to people I’d normally be to shy to talk to and in that saving grace I had made human contact. During that year my imagination had found me and I took those hours of solitude to improve my art. My mother’s presence became less and less significant, I had gone from hearing arguments all night to complete silence. I felt as though she had turned her back on me. Lately in the night she would stow away to somewhere else, to clubs and friends who were twice her senior. While I stayed at home and struggled to keep my brother and I fed, bathed and put to sleep. However, long into the night when I could hear the door creaking open slightly in the living room  I found myself wishing so badly for her and overwhelming sense that I was the one who had to make her love me. I had to make things better in the house and by the Daddy would come home everything would be fine, they would make up and we’d be like every other family. I showed her that source that I had found clear on my own that source being the internet. We had AOL at the time and chartrooms, email and buddy lists were quite abundant. I figured since I was teaching her something we would bond. We'd bond over a mutual understanding of needing a get away from everything that was going on. However she became much more interested in it then I, and we began to fight over time. Time on the computer, time spent wasted when we could have been really bonding as mother and daughter. She soon began to talk on a community of her own; her disappearances became longer and longer. So much so that my grandmother began to take notice.

            Meanwhile, my father was beginning to get better. My mother spoke of him often and yet I don’t ever recall her visiting him as much as my aunt and my grandmother had. Much like a child who had been caught eating chocolate my mother denied everything, she had claimed hurtful things against my grandmother to point the blame elsewhere. Regrettably my grandmother had backed off and my mother continued on her path to what she might have considered freedom, freedom from her spouse on the verge of death, the burden of children and the guilt of credit card spending. Her indulgence cradled her into denial all in front of watchful twelve year old eyes. 

As for my father I was not allowed to see him, with tubes hanging from tiny metal poles and his eyes swollen from the medicine. I was guarded from the reality of what his pain truly was. As I had heard of his possible arrival I sought out some sort of truce with my mother. I would teach her how to use the computer faster and she would make amends. I sat in front of her begging for her to make better with us, to be a family again. I sat  in front of her dreaming of barbeques and loving families, two families that wouldn't part but instead make amends. I wished so hard that would make right, since my doing wasn't enough; why wasn't I the daughter she had wanted?  I only wished my mother would turn away from the computer and hold her for just one second to make everything go away. My throat became so dry and all my usual sensitivity to sound and the brilliant sun showing through the window had ceased. A tiny piece of me had begun to die, my grades began to deplete to nothing and I questioned myself. I failed the seventh grade; a grade that should have been easy for some, had become a daily battle for me. I wearily began make friends; however I never invited them home, never called them. They saw me and yet never knew of the constant war that I saw at home. The anger inside me rose and I couldn't quite contain myself as I stood behind my mother. Finally one night I gathered the courage to go up to her my fists, balled at my side. I asked her “Mommy where are you going?”
Imagining my hands wrapped around her neck, imagining something that would take her attention away from the computer and away from us. She stood at the pane of the door, hoping no one else would see her leave, but I did. I always knew. Sometimes I worried she would never think to come back. In an emotionless tone she replied. “Out...”

 "Mom you need to listen to me this has to stop... you have to make everything better...”
The tiny clicking on the desk top was all that I heard aside from a slight huff. She seemed exasperated with my presence and turned her head towards me. I leaned back against the kitchen counter, my face hidden slightly by the dim light and my eyes heavy with tears. Her face screwed up in confusion as to whether to comfort or dismiss her daughter. In those seconds she chose the latter and as equally as apathetic as I was worried, she replied.
"What’s wrong with you?"
My heart jolted slightly and I crawled towards her.

"Please don’t go we all can fix this just say you're sorry." A slight grunt from her tilted head, I stared at her hoping for some sign of life, some kind of acknowledgement of my presence but she only sat there, one foot carefully placed under her thigh and her eyes fixated on the screen, so much so that she was hung over her mouth gaping at the screen before her. I had expected things to be different, I knew they would change but never did I suspect they would fall so fast that my very being would be dismissed by the woman who gave me life. In that moment I had become truly and undeniably self conscience. My world had died and she had been the guillotine. For a long time the walls that I had built up remained, in the year that followed my Father came home and I confessed, I confessed everything that had occurred and despite counseling, she was kicked out. Inwardly I struggled with the awkward teen years without my mother. I couldn’t get quite past figuring out what in fact had been wrong with me? My father got better and despite the fact that my family experiences would never again be the same. I am okay.

Macaroni and Rib Eye.

My anxiety is over whelming today.
I can see the laundry piling up, the bed slightly disheveled and I can feel my heart race thinking about the fact that I am graduating in a couple of quarters.

I feel incredibly out of my own league.
I'm scared if I dont start drawing now I am going to forget everything.

Truth is.

I did want to kiss you but it wouldn't make things better.
It would of worsened it by a ton, I have immense foresight now. Being able to see tragedies, being able to avoid conflict and most of all allowing other people but myself to be human.

There is nothing wrong with pining, i do a bit of if myself but it hasn't gotten me anywhere to go back to what is comfortable.

First time shame on you.
Second time shame on me.
Third time? I cannot allow you in, I hope you can respect that.

You do, it kills me but your fingers wont be touching mine anytime soon and  I am okay letting you go.
You deserve to fly.

Desert.

"You deserve better" She smiled at me, one of the most beautiful girls I know and I shied away from her warmth.Clearing my throat I nodded my head like I knew, like I totally kne-- I had no fucking clue.
I had no clue that I did because I dont know if I did and If I tried to explain I did we would be in a whole mess of my selfish insecurities.

She is beautiful and in that moment she saw me for what I was and to another person this might seem silly but I cloaked my pride for a moment and held onto myself wondering what can I do to show her that I appreciate her compliment and yet hate myself all at once?

I'm not a tortured soul, I don't claim myself to be but sitting here at 1 am yet again not knowing quite how to take a compliment, well girly. This might just be it.

I ran my fingers through my hair when we passed by a cute man on howell street, his eyes averted back to the friend he was speaking with and I had to laugh at a joke that my friends told behind me.

Eyes forward, hips rotating to the motion of my footing and in that moment I felt bad ass.
fingers through hair again I brave 60 degree weather in a dress and a wrap hoping to God I wont get sick.

Most importantly were my insecure hands, fiddling with the bangles on my arms and praying to some light that they wouldn't stare and see. They would be able to only make out the color of my dress and not the warm cheeks that threatened to show when the lights were brought back up.

We walked, trees on the pavement fallen like autumn. Her shoes clicked softly and we swayed to the beat of conversations that can only escalate to the stars.

"You really need to stop doing this to yourself.." She said with concern in her voice, her eyes honest and I listened. Not because I couldn't help myself but because for whatever reason she saw the beauty in me.

Night Owl.

I feel like im 14 again.
I'm sitting here in my underwear watching crazy things online and writing a blog. Bethany pointed out how long its been since i've written poetry or fanfiction. She's too right. I dont know what the relevance of this might be but I wonder how many people can reflect, openly without letting it become a 160 character limit on a social media site.

Lately i've been finding myself overly sensitive to meaningless things that are pushed at me online, there are times yes. I am tempted to delete it. Get rid of my cell phone and start fresh.

However, that would only be pushing away things I dont like. If you never confront what irks you how are you going to deal with it in the later times?

Nights here in Belltown are quiet aside from the stomping above. People arriving home from work, at first it was irritating but now theres a comfort in knowing that more people have a home.

So from there I can breathe and relax into my vegetative Hulu state.
I'm done with finals and I just might stretch my wings into the artistic-for-the-sake-of-joy realm.

Toxic Relationships I have to listen to and how to be poor.

I have a headache.

No, its not because of the lack of caffeine I actually have a decent cup of iced coffee that I made from the nights previous but from the obscure amount of fighting going on just a flight above. As with all passive aggressive Seattlites i've taken part to vaguebooking about the situation and making the slight clucking noise with my tongue to ensure the rest of my empty apartment just how annoyed I truly am.

Thus accomplishing nothing.
What kind of right would I have to go up there myself and let them have it? Hand them a pamphlet for couples counseling and kindly shut the door in their faces. I obviously dont know the situation, however unfortunately this lovely couple and their friends, one of them with im sure is named "Bryan" has made it their duty to let everyone  know that they are indeed in a lovers squabble.

I remember those fights, I remember those fights because they would seemingly go on forever and this one went on from 6pm to 2 in the morning where I was tossing and turning trying to dream of sweet things when her piercing cry came through the window. Sniffling and being comforted by a woman she told her how "unfair" he was being and how fucked up the situation was.

I feel like a shitty investigative reporter who is giving an analysis based on a radio show she heard.

I am on two uneven planes, one wanting to risk the pummeling of a probable fist by simply crying out "Shut the fuck up." and the other wanting to knock on their door or leave a note.

This is a funky situation that no one would give two thoughts about in New York. Oh, passivity.

If anything these past couple of days have taught me to be patient with the mornings and more so with my evenings.

I've been taking to making fresh coffee and storing it in the fridge. For making cake and saving it over a course of a week so i have something sweet without spending much more money. For buying food that sustains me and listening to the way the rain sounds when it hits the floor immediately adjacent to my window. I can appreciate the laughter that comes with greeting K.P with a iced coffee and hugging bethany after not seeing her for a while.

I have had to give myself a silent mantra of enjoying my single life instead of wishing I were in something I am not, of thanking the stars that I'm not stuck in a rut relationship where all I want to see is an exit sign.

Maybe I have dillusions of grandeur like Jarrett said.
Or maybe im just in self preservation mode but for the moment its quieter.

I would rather be here, happy, quiet and silently tapping on my keyboard then thinking that its better to be in a toxic relationship.

Isn't she lucky?

I remembered the day as clear as yesterday.

I remember standing at the airport with my father and my Aunt Jackie, sobbing and him clinging onto my rolley luggage for dear life.

I was being kicked out of my home and he was crying harder than I was.
Off and on the plane ride I kept wiping my tears.

I was moving to Pennsylvania for God knows how long with my Aunt.
I was going to learn to manage on my own (kinda.) and grow the fuck up.
I was getting kicked out of my fathers house because my step mother verbally abused me and my step cousin liked to steal my thongs.

I had a fleeting thought yesterday as I was reading over facebook about deleting this, about deleting my blogspot. Who would want to see what I would have to say ?

I could delete myself but I cant cut my life short, my words short because a handful of people don't like every word that comes out of my mouth.

That is life. You deal. You cry, you write a blog and flip off the past.
You learn from it, you cry some more and drink too many cups of coffee with girlfriends who watch your eyes glisten from happy tears.

In the airport I had to say goodbye to alot of things i never realized I would have to gain on my own, a home, people I could rely on and a new life.

I'm grateful that at least I could move on but it always occurs to me how close I came to being homeless.
I dont ever forget that and I try not to think about it as much but I guess tonight as I was sitting around with my girlfriends at a coffee shop I realized how far I still have to go.