Dear Life, Please Stop Over Working Me Like A Prostitute

I can still remember three months ago, hanging out with my one of my best friend, sitting on her boyfriend’s couch, sun beating down on my shoulders, drinking a Budweiser, watching an old episode of The Simpsons, bragging about how great my sex life was, not having a care in the world. What happened to those days?

I’m currently working over 40 hours a week between three jobs (the struggle is real) with no prospects in the foreseeable future. I’m also being forced to work on Thanksgiving, and I’m not allowed to have any vacation time until next year. My point is that you never know when you feel like an adult until one day, your only day off is during the middle of the week, you’re starving from not having the time to eat, have too many errands to make, and somehow look at graduate schools and job applications. Turning 24 has faced some challenges, so I wrote a poem about some of the stresses I’ve got going on.

A month ago was my birthday,

of delightful whisky shots, confidence in kissing a stranger, moving forward from 23,

none of that matters, not today.

My crime is considered prostitution; shameful, guilty, even slutty.

What was I thinking? How can I possibly change?

Sure, I have things to get me by, there’s just damaged goods.

Still knowing how I’m responsible for the waste, what I’ve caused

into my misery; the back of my mind.

Wishing I knew better than taking those for granted off their guard.

Wishing you could get to know me now–the warrior from the wide eyed girl.

I don’t fail three times.

I only get better at my job.

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New Laptop, New Age, New Reason To Write

My birthday was last week. All I asked from my parents this year was money to buy myself a new laptop. Taylor was a good laptop, but she had to go to Dell heaven. The old girl was dying on me and had given me too many viruses to care for it any longer. I have a new reason to write more though. Lately I’ve been thinking; I shouldn’t allow myself to only focus on poetry. It would be like telling Leonardo De Vinci that he could only concentrate on making beautiful art and nothing more.  I want to expand what I’m capable of and write short stories and essays that will inspire people, question their understanding of the world, and appreciate the words laid out in front of them. A few months ago, I wrote out a long list of ideas that would make even Lena Dunham blush. I typed out three pages on my parents desktop because, like I said, Taylor was being dysfunctional on every level. They are mainly events that happened to me in college with some of the closest people I know so far.

Why would I said ‘so far’? Because frankly,  people change.  And people often don’t realize this phenomenon until something shifts in the dynamics of the relationship, even in the smallest way. People do change; every day, every time something terrible happens,  when someone lets you down, or doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Even I have changes in the past year since I started this beautiful part of my life. Here’s a list for ya,

  • I graduated college in 4.5 years with an English degree (never thought that would ever happen)
  • I lost my first job (It happens to everyone. You live with it and move to something better)
  • I purchased my first car (holy adult stuff Batman)
  • My first car accident (that was a real bummer)
  • I worked for a company longer than six months (wowzza!)
  • I sent out my first chapbook to some publishers (pooping in my pants)
  • I had more than two jobs at one time (again, never saw myself doing that)
  • Going to my first therapy session (It was a turning point for me mentally)
  • Lost and gain some friendships (It happens)

But those stories, the adventures you shared with those fine collages, will always stay in your heart. I guess I want to preserve those memories and allow other people to find out what living is really all about. I’m really excited about what’s to come. 24 has been really good to me thus far and it’s only been a week. I found myself already having a job promotion at a job I just started where I make more money and have more hours. So, that’s quite splendid. I also just want to surround myself with the friends that I’ve known and cherished the most over these past several years. Who knows, this year might be the last time I see everyone together all at once.

Above everything else, my mission has always been to write creatively and not stopping until I have found my purpose.

700 Miles Later, I Found My Understand

I realize it’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog. Frankly, for the past three months, I’ve been writing every single day between my chapbook and my blog articles for my two writing jobs. On a laptop I’ve been for six years that’s about to crash and burn for the final time. It’s been rewarding, but also lonely, and at the same time been saving me money by not going out bar hopping til two in the morning. Which brings me to my past weekend in Chicago and Peoria.

I was really looking forward to a trip to Peoria ever since Valentine’s day weekend. So when the opportunity to celebrate a friend’s 21st birthday came along, I jumped the gun and made it my mission to see all of my old college buddies. I have felt so out of place since graduating that I honestly don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I want to write, create articles that will get people talking, and not sound corny in my personal writing. Finding a way to have enough money for my new cell phone, new laptop, future Christmas presents, AND paying off my car insurance is exhausting for a writer/sales associate.  I didn’t care though. I was determine to have a weekend of fun, even if it meant driving all the way up to the Chicago land area.

The weekend of epic proportions was filled all of the people I wanted to see, the downtown Chicago skyline and bars, and simply hanging out with the old crew. I even saw some people from high school I didn’t expect to see. It was wonderful. It made me grateful seeing everyone in a better, happier, and more honest place in all of our lives. I found a little inner peace knowing that everyone is fine and I didn’t need to worry if everyone was alright so much. Driving to Peoria again made me realize something. Realize my understanding for “the struggle”. My understanding that life is short and the time to start getting happy and moving forward is now. I’m glad I’ve been staying on my grind and focusing on myself.

The struggle is real, but it’s the grind that makes you real.

Pricky Throned Men

Fresh Off The Presses

Lately, dating has been kicking my ass. I’m not having any luck finding someone who wants the same things I do. It’s been so frustrating, so I’m giving up on dating for a while. Until someone sees the same things that I want, I don’t want to try anymore. I wrote a poem that has some of those view points. Let me know if it’s good or not.

Prickly Throned Men

I fucked up the day I believed
believed me needing you needing me more
sunk into a hole deeper than any grave I’ve dug for ex’s
lowering further to the ground singing swan songs.

Bingeing on Breaking Bad,
that will occupy my mind,
Having PBR’s to inhale
sure will ease the pain.

Somehow interested in grey metal studded Prada lofters,
instead of condoms, twirling into his apartment
as giggy school girls skip with skirts thigh high
up in the air, lost in the school day wasted.

Wasted day to follow obliterated nights
I wake up awfully dirty again, hitting replay on Swan Song #5
reminded to watch out for the thrones,
too beautifully pricked up to see my damned scars.

Please Don’t Settle For Moldy Cheese

Last night, I had a revelation; something that made me realize how mature I am about wanting to be with the right person for me. Let’s call this fellow, The Cheese Guy. Cheese Guy and I meant on Tinder about a month ago. I started up the conversation due to the wall of cheese that was behind him in his profile picture. I was curious, so I decided to say hello. We were making such good conversations, that we exchanged numbers. Long story short, we went on two dates and everything seemed to going better than I ever expected. We both had similar upbringings with an alcoholic parent present, achieving the highest honor for Boy and Girl Scouts, loved the same type of movies and music, and having both goofy and serious sides to our personalities. It had only been a week, but things couldn’t have been better.

And then, Germany won the World Cup and the Stinky Drunk Cheese Guy was out and pride of himself, his actions screamed ‘shame and pity me!’. After the final game was over, the whole I was at his apartment, I kept looking at his roommate, signaling, “What the fuck is wrong with him?”. All he could do was shrug with a confused look on his face. Cheese Boy also wanted to drive while he was drunk and I freaked out on the inside. Something that irresponsible should never have come out of his mouth. I left with him begging for me to stay, but I turned in well before that.

I had decided to let it go and move on; it was the world cup after all and Cheese Guy did live in Germany for a year as a transfer student. I figured it was a one time thing, no real harm done. We hung twice that week and he did apologized to me for his actions and what he said. This past Sunday was a real eye opener. Not only was he drunk, but he also decided to “tell the truth” and talk about the girls he has on the side. I was done; Cheese Guy was growing moldy and more attached by the hour and was 0-2 on being a drunk.

The message I’m trying to leave is this. When a problem does arise, don’t just avoid. If it makes you that uncomfortable to deal with, address the issue like an adult while talking about his and your problems with the matter. But the biggest lesson I learned is this; don’t settle for anyone if they do something that bothers you. I was forced to live with an alcoholic but I don’t have to be around it now. I’m also so grateful that I have a good loving relationship with my mom now, because she is growing, as am I, and she’s becoming a wonderful person. I only wish Cheese Guy felt the same way about his parent.

 

On a funny note: Please try to make adult choices for your future and don’t settle until you feel it’s right.

 

 

 

My Motto, not “The” Motto

Fresh Off The Presses

So I wrote this poem a few days ago. It’s relevant to where I am in this time of my life. All of my life, I had my life planned out in stepped out bullet points on a sheet of paper for where my life was going to go. Then I went to college. Going to college blew all of my expectations away; yet, the most important lesson I learned was that you can never go about life with a plan. All you have to do is live your life. So long as you live the kind of life that challenges and excites you, you’ll get everything you’re hoping for.

Sometimes in life, the best answer to any question is simple…

The Motto

I’ll put it simply this,

to those who are

between adult and real world;

I don’t know what’s going on.

 

It’s become a staple phrase,

a security blanket, or sorts,

to not admit the tough

questions about life.

 

Where is this all going?

What are my future plans?

When will I move forward?

How am I suppose to know?

Why am I so tired already?

 

The internal struggle is real,

no matter how much I hide it.

Not knowing which direction

can’t consider me, no longer.

 

 

 

To Be Single Or To Not Be Single…Wait, That Doesn’t Sound Right.

I hate those “This Is Why You’re Single” articles. They are almost as bad as the women’s body issues articles about how women need to look a certain in order to get the attention “they’ve been missing out on.” It’s degrading and insulting, I know. So many smart women out there feed into this crap because they suffer from their own personal issues. Personally though, I love the way I am and I wouldn’t change the life path I’m on today. That doesn’t mean it’s smooth sailing for a woman like myself. It’s been two years since I’ve been in a serious relationship. I’ve made my bed with the men I fucked hard over the years and I was very good at it. I fucked them at house parties, on one of my roommates bed, and let’s not forget those long nights at the park. But lately, I have been feeling as though a small piece of myself is missing. Missing the times where watching Breaking Bad and eating a whole pizza pie was fun on a Saturday night with someone else. Even having nice and funny conversations with a man while out at a cozy restaurant felt like harmful four play. Strangers have just been giving me funny looks whenever I try to do that stuff solo. I think this is a stage or a phase in a twenty-something year old’s life where they’re not quite sure which direction they want to go on.

On the one hand, it has been so great being single now that I’m an adult. In college, there were standards to get attention from guys that included getting extra dolled up, wear the “uper, hot, and sexy” short dress, and the skyscraper heels for a night out with friends when all you really do is come home empty handed and hungry for Micky D’s at 3:00 a.m. Being adult means having some or certain responsibilities; for example, this is me 99.9% of the time when I meet someone new, “No, I can’t stay out pass midnight drinking with you, I have to drive home, eat a sandwich from the fridge, watch Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, and work on my writing in the morning. I have priorities, man!” I have found the greatest independence within myself after the break-up of 2012 and the crash and burn course with men of 2013 that I feel it will get taken away from me once I start dating someone new again. Plus I have all of this spare time to write what excites me and for my recent new gig as a fashion blogger (!!!!!!!!!). Another reason for my fondness of being alone is because I am way too cooped up in my house with at least one family member in the house at all times. My retail job only gives me so many hours, which isn’t enough to cover the bills. My point is that I couldn’t be happier having my own space, whether it’s at a coffee shop, book stores, the movies, or a restaurant, where it’s just me, myself, and I.

There is the flip side though. I do hate myself a little whenever I blow off plans with people I care about. I don’t mean to be rude or disrespectful, but I can get pretty anxious whenever I’m out in public. I start to think, “They are better off without me there anyway. We’re just gonna be doing the same thing we always do. I’m better off alone for the night.” Those lonely nights get to me sometimes in my weakest moments. For instance, I was at a sushi restaurant the other night. I had my pen and paper to keep me company so I didn’t feel so alone with my restless thoughts. Every angle I looked, there were people paired up, looking like soul mates. Old couples, young love, and best friends dining together without a care in the world. The worst part was when the wait staff gave me those “ooooohhhh, you are so lonely and no body likes you. I pity your life’s existence, you silly girl!”

This summer, I am pushing to put myself out there and try new things. But it’s still nerve wrecking for me. The honest truth: I don’t feel prepared and ready to be in a relationship and getting my heart and expectations broken again. It’s too much to think about when I worked so hard to get to a healthy place I am today. I don’t know what I’m really doing when it comes to guys and dating and I feel like I never will. Therefore, the war of love must go on fighting strong. Because I’ll never know what I want if I don’t go out trying to look for the thing I miss the most; sweet and good company to come home to.

 

Summer Is Keeping Me Blown Away

It’s finally summer, which means more time to go outside, summer books to read, hanging out with friends til really late, and explore my writing. Summer always gets me feeling restless while having a job to tie me down in the god awful suburbs. Someday, I will move out and enjoy those long summer nights on my balcony with a glass of wine, a book, and a notebook.

Recently I had a thought though…when was the last time someone was truly blown away by something that happen to them? Can anyone remember the last time it’s happened to you? Little things like rude customer service or someone opening the door for you happen often enough that we don’t consider those events worth wild. I’m talking about feeling breathless as the moment sinks into you and reaches in to grab hold of your emotions. I have asked my friends and even gone into random bars and asked the people around me this questions and I got some great feedback.

1) One of my friends has a passion for motion pictures. He finds the details to makes movies takes a lot of behind the scene stuff happening all the time. The different components, including music, direction, casting, lighting, the way certain shots are taken, are all a replication of life by telling a story. He truly appreciates film as an art form and that was what blew him away.

2) A gentleman at the Edgewild wine bar took the most time to give me an answer, but it was worth the wait. On Christmas Day in 2004, he and his unit were going to leave from Indonesia back to America, back to their loved ones who have missed them for so long. Just before their military unit was about to head home, they had received information that a deadly tsunami just hit the west coast of Indonesia and they desperately needed help. While everyone was initially upset, they knew what had to be done. The next thing he told me that really took his breath away was when he and his brothers were in the helicopter, slowly coming to the surface and seeing the grateful and relived faces from the victims of the tsunami. Looking into the faces he barely knew, their hands were reaching out for help, and an overwhelming sense of connection and thankfulness took place.

3) Same bar, different guy, told me that since he owns the Edgewild restaurant, he felt that what blows his mind was walking out of a restaurant, knowing that it was a 10/10 food review. But ‘it can’t be just about the food’, he say; the whole atmosphere must be in tune with their petite, the staff is to be warm and friendly, the design and lighting should suit the place in the right fashion. You can leave a restaurant, tell the staff ‘thank you for the meal’, and give a great tip, knowing that was an experience you’ll never forget.

4) The woman sitting next to the owner, told me her answer right away. Whenever you expect the most normal scenario to happen with a friend or even a family member and it turns out being the worse time. Even vice versa, the stereotype is broken and you are completely shocked by the outcome.

5) I’m hanging at my favorite bar with some of my girlfriends, when I ask my favorite waitress this question. Her answer came out quickly, filled with her reasoning and explanation. She believed that ‘the fact that natural elements can affect a person’s mood in mind-blowing to me.’ She went on to tell me,  ‘especially if you’re the type of person who prefers one climate over another’ and ‘I use to study marine biology and even the animal’s attitude changes if the weather doesn’t isn’t to their liking.’ Good answer sista, good answer indeed!

6) Finally, I’ll give everyone my answer to this question. What amazes me is that we interact with people every single day; some people you meet are awful, others are warm and friendly, and even some don’t have reaction to what you said or did. And yet, when it comes to sporting events, people will rally with their fellow brother, drink their $10 beers and make conversations like they’ve known each other their whole lives. My experience comes from when I attended the 2006 World Series, Game 6. The Cardinals faced against the Tigers at Busch Stadium to see who would wear the crowd as champions of baseball. My family and I split up because our normal seats cost way more during the playoffs verses regular season. And since my dad and brother went to Game 4, the ladies were on the floor while the guys went upstairs. Try to imagine the game being in the bottom of the ninth, two players in the opposing team are on second and first, and Cardinals pitcher, Jeff Weaver is trying to close the game. My mother and I are staying on our cold feet, holding each other hand, while I scream “It’s not gonna happen! They’re going to lose!” Still keeping her faith, she tells me, “Oh will you shut up!? That’s not going to happen…watch the game!” The count was 2-1, Weaver only had two more strikes and the season would be over. Damn right I was afraid, I thought, being 16 and getting paranoid by the thought of going home empty handed. The next pitch was gonna be a ball, 3-1, making the final game that much more interesting. I remember holding her hand and thinking how cold it must be for my dad and brother. And what they must be thinking. Pitch and stttrrikkkeeeee. There is a knot in my stomach the size of a baseball. I’m thinking I’ll throw up if we lose; we can’t lose cuz that would mean throwing up my dinner. Still screaming, “It’s not gonna happen! It’s not gonn…” And then the moment came; overwhelming happiness, the knot was completely gone, tears of joy burst out, and my mom was yelling just as loud as I was. This might be the first time I had ever been blown away because not only was I in shocked but an entire stadium filled with loving Cards fans were probably thinking the same thing. And what came after was no fighting in downtown St. Louis, people high-five one another, fans being happy and friendly with other fans, even with the losing fans. That shocked me more than anything because I saw individuals putting their differences aside to celebrate a common interest and how happy every single person was.

That’s all I have for now. Tell me what blows you away and I’ll add in your story next time!

How To Start Planning My Creative Future While Watching The Simpsons

It has felt like forever since I took the time to sit down and write without going outside to find inspiration. It’s a very sweet feeling, knowing I can still do it.

Anywho…recently, my retail job and watching early seasons of The Simpsons have taken up most, if not all, of my time. I had never seen an episode of the Simpsons until this year and now I’m addicted. It’s like a meteor of stupid and relevant humor landed in my lap and I can’t get rid of the stains, no matter how hard I try. So far, my favorite seasons are 3, 5, 6, and 8 and I go on amazon a lot to find others. BUT I am working on pumping out the creative drive I once had three weeks ago. It may not seem like a long time, but if you’re like me, if I go three days without having some thought to write down and express out, something is very wrong.

*I mean, look how inviting and happy they look*

The weird thing is that besides little arguments with my mom, life has been treating me well. I’ve been taking it easy for a bit because I’ve had one too many creepy guys hit on me and ask for my number whether I’m out alone or with friends. The guys who are trying to hard to look like “a man” and are over half my age make going out unbearable at times for me. I write at a bar to get away from personal bullshit, not to get to know yours. BUT the good news is that in my second notebook, I have written 30 poems! The other pages are for short stories from “the college years” that I’m writing and planning out, which is great because I’m exploring other avenues I want to pursue with my craft.

I’m considering starting a food blog over the summer. The goal is to start in a month or so and I’m thinking that it’s going to be restaurant reviews on Olive Street in St. Louis. I believe that it will allow me to get out more, socialize with people in a different and fun way, eating good food (always a plus), and writing. What could be better, I haven’t thought that far yet. BUT the biggest discover that has finally been decided; focusing on writing in Graduate School. Life is short to try and be something I’m not. I’d love to learn and focus on creative, argumentative, article writing, or even content writing if the content is interesting enough. My parents were shocked when they found out I want to go to grad school. It’s going to happen because it’s something I’m going to pursue heavily.

While it is nice to take time out and figure out what you want, one must never lose sight on what matters most to you.

You’re Worth It. Period.

Fresh Off The Presses

So the good news is that this month is finally over. I’ve been having job interviews, which is nice because people are interested in me. I’m beginning to realize though, the difference between what words they use to motivate me and the reality of what the position is. Which is usually a crap, dead-end job that I see myself becoming very unhappy. I sat at the Central West End in St. Louis, thinking to myself after the hiring manager greets me, “I am worth so much more than what they told me.” So I left the interview, sat a little cafe, and started to write like a writer again. And it was so damn refreshing.

Wanting More

Today, I had a thought,

as I sat in the uper cool

and waiting pop-out art room,

‘I’m worth more than this.’

I would rather be loved,

than entry level management,

untamed and uninhibited, 

than unexcited about a boring job I’ll hate,

focus on parts of me to fix and perfect,

instead of sections of sales. Yuck.

This interview can suck it,

without hesitation,

worry about the client,

the nauseous ponder

on marketing through a telephone,

I can honestly tell you all–

that I didn’t need to worry’

wanting to be more than

a no body at the office.