It never gets easier, does it?

About a week ago, my friend Melissa kept asking the same question to all of us. “Do you think men and women can be just friends? Even if that person were naked, you wouldn’t want to sleep with your friend?” At first, I didn’t know how to respond to such a vague question.

Sure some women have guy friends to talk to and they might even life some weighs at the gym every now and then or grab a cup of joe. Those might be the same people that know there isn’t a chance in hell they will ever hook up beyond the friendship level. Take my brother for example; I don’t know a single girl in his life because none of those girls are his friends. I have the feeling he might have some prospects but for now, nothing too exciting coming from his end. He’ll never be the guy to only have a girl as a friend, only girlfriends. I don’t see that’s his style, anyhow. See the point?

Now, there are only two sides to this; the other being that you’re definitely hooking up and are going to be in a relationship (whether it’s Facebook official or not). Everyone can tell, even when it’s not mentioned, it’s there. Sometimes, the relationship gets complicated between the two sexes. One person sees the relationship differently than the other, one person isn’t as committed as the other would like, one person thought you two were an item but really, it’s all in your head. In the end, someone always get hurt. I should know, this has happened to me one too many times.

Bottom line to all of this is that, relationships between men and women must be a one way street, never both ways. If the lines were blurred, the two of you would hate each other for similar or different reasons. I appreciate my guy friends for putting up with my crazy self and I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess up that chemistry.

Fresh off the Presses

A poem inspired by this post. I hope it’s not too obvious but it’s been on my mind lately and I hope it’s good. Critique and as always please send me feedback.

Men and Women Can Never Be Equal

I understand that you wish we never did it,

but the facts are in the air and whether you agree or not–

we were horny and I know you wanted all of it. This is

the reason why men can’t be friends with women.

Call it shallow, worse than the well from The Ring,

I won’t disagree with that reaction, but the women

reading this should knowledge this little known trivia.

Look up to the first guy you notice,

does he see you? Staring at your eyes

before quickly darting them away from you?

That distinct look is a sign that he’s interested and

wants to sleep with anyone with a big of tits as her glasses.

If that particular gentleman had the facial features

of a kick-in donkey, the chances of a romantic gesture

would be more likely than a zombie apocalypse.

So those are the basic responses from each opposing side.

Now, what it these actions turned into reactions towards that person

the transpiration going on is so quint and simple,

why not go for it?

The air of facts is foggy, smacking you in the face

what’s been in front of you,

women are crazy,

men are confusing.


Female leachers; how you know you’re following this pattern.

Sup world…

 …I know it’s been a while since I have posted anything but it has been due to the following

  •  ·     Writing (papers, poetry, research, etc.)
  •          Stinky English Colloquium
  • ·         Reading good American literature
  • ·         Dealing with the obnoxious people, both men and women.

 Let me explain myself. This past couple of weeks, people has assumed that I am “friends” with women—well, more like one woman in particular—who constantly gets on peoples nerves just like her PMS and is always the center of attention because she’s always talking. I mean it, people- no one gets in a word edgewise. If you think that sounds mean, you haven’t even hear her speak. It disgusts me half the time and bores me to the point of leaving my friend’s apartment when she is in our presence.

 I’m probably venting a little and being a bit harsh but the thing with this woman, Lindsey, is a textbook man leacher. Lemme break this down for you folks. She’s got a money problem; she’s going to a guy for comfort. She’s having a bad day at work and you’re the one not texting her right away; you bet she’s going to that cute guy she met at a hockey party. She feels you’re not communicating enough to her; she’ll complain about it to her guy friends. She’s not invited to a planned event among the collected group of friends; she will keep those feelings inside and expose them to her the closest guy friend on a cruise. Such nonsense from her and I genuinely can’t deal with it any longer. It’s as if she is anti-feminist or something. 

 I know that I’m leaving Bradley in less than 30 days so I don’t want to leave things on an awkward note but I would rather go out with my ride or die bff’s at Bradley that have actually listened to my bullshit when I want to express myself. And everyone should take relationships like those seriously. Relationships such as those from my earlier post regarding best friends.

Here is one example of this…



Girl, I need a huge favor. Like a white girl crazy favor.




Would you mind hopping on Facebook and looking up Rebecca Schuk? And let me know what his latest post is? Adam commented on it and I can’t see it and it’s driving me insane. Ps. I know you and Lynds are besties now, but she ain’t got nothing on me.


I did that, didn’t see any comment from Adam. Girl, you know how much you mean to me, more than her obviously.


What was her last post about? Men’s facials? And you just did this for me, you’re amazing.


No, it was a photo contest by gerber baby. Idk if I am able to see her latest updates but adam is not there.


Damn. No it’s a different post. Gah, I hate my Facebook paranoia. Thanks girl.


Anytime chica, always here 🙂


I know you are 🙂 you’re one of the few certainties in my life.


We should have a skype date soon. I miss you too much I have realized.

Three times is the charm


Things we do in private

Shut the door and do your business

the type of business no one needs to know

dirty business that is difficult to scrub after a while.


The wall is cool and sticky, pressed up against it.

This is the first time ever being drunk.

head is spinning, cannot make

clear thoughts, as blue skies would sing to the sun.


Keep spinning over and over on the floor to the ceiling,

continuing to keep the door close, no one can get in

right now—we have an emergency,

the needle won’t come out and there aren’t

any words coming out, as the black chair turns again.


The pull finally comes and the white noise stops

people are there to make sure you’re more than alrighty.

We all worried and knew the endless spell of addiction

casted by melancholies’ over the lifely festive parade.

Don’t say that this first haze

had anything to do with this one life–

the drink never turned into a self-torture device.


Even if it went there, never would I stoop beyond

the lowest point of exclusion, not caring to be saved

forget the soul that was once drumming with excitement.

Shutting the door on yourself.

When did airplanes go from exciting to exhausting?

Song that I am currently obsessed with:

Now, I can’t exactly remember the first time I rode on the silver bird but I felt excited; as if I was going to the tops of the earth and everything was going to look so different while slowly floating our way up. After researching with my father, the first flight was to Disney World with my family, including Granny when I was about seven or eight. I remember the trip–  how The Tower of Terror terrified my brother so badly, he made up an excuse to not ride it and how adventurous my Granny was when riding those rides with me, us acting like two eight year olds. The air compared to the ground was breaking– where most of my first memories of vacation happened in my mom’s ’98 Toyota beige mini van, playing hand held Yahtzee and card games like War and Go Fish with my brother. The minivan acted like a rocket ship and every destination had foreign and alien elements to the hotels and activities involved with the vacation. Tennessee, Arizona, Illinois, Michigan, Ohio. Just some of the many states I have the fondest moments with my family. So many inside jokes, arguments and battles, dines that shined like diamonds, and of course the sight seeing. All of that use to be so fun and easy, a new experience to add to the collection.

Now, the collection of trips seems to be getting tired and sometimes, it takes up more time and work because of the way airports are functioned these days. When I was younger, I never noticed the amount of time it took from waiting in so many lines for security, then to be on the plane, having everyone seated and the plane ready to take off. And I always made sure I had my book and music in order to keep the peace among the somewhat rude passengers. Nowadays, I have a routine and opinion about airports and flying on planes. This isn’t a bad thing, just something people do after flying for so long after understanding the new laws and rules around security checks. It amazes me that some people’s jobs have to include traveling from China to Philadelphia in two days and that’s their life. While I want to travel the world someday, those moments will be special because they will be my own memories, not family related. Hopefully they will lighten up the rules a bit, but I don’t think that kind of luck will ever exist again.

One final note: I will always love my dad for playing the ‘bird game’ with me and my brother. So right when the plane gets extremely fast, just before it leaves the ground, we would flap our arms that we pretend are our wings and we flap them “really really hard” before the plane went into the air, so no one would be left behind and we would be able to make it there together. That is still one of the sweetest moments I can remember as a child.

Fresh off the presses: I wanted to create different forms and apply it to this poem but also having a story in each stanza. Please tell me your critique and opinion, I greatly appreciate it. Enjoy what I have come up with!


Innovative, slick, machine to the sky,

Jefferson Airplane! I’m trapped and I’m enclosed,

but I won’t complain, I’ll open all the windows!

We rode on it together for the very first time


Arriving in Thailand at one o’clock in the morning,

their time of course, as two birds land

tired, coursed, and not in the mood to talk,

there were buddhist monks blessing our sins


My mother, brother, and I are somewhere in Texas;

she is frustrated because she’s drunk, or at least

I am to expect that she is over a pointless conversation

as the nice old lady asks us what we would like to drink


10 a.m., art class in the 4th grade at Green Trails,

an announcement is being made through the big brown box,

‘Something terrible has happened to our country.’

Lifeless children understanding what a terrorist threat is


Los Angles is known to be la-la land and I was in that state,

flying back home from the last vacation of my youth, the skies—

they were calling out my thoughts, don’t desert us, stay here,

wish my toes were in the sand, not cramped in someone’s seat.


It’s that time of year again. Oh wait…

Graduating soon sucks. There, I say it. When I stared to realize that my college years are over in five weeks and I’m going off into the world with no money and no definite job plan, it’s a little more than scary to me. Like the other morning in my American Literature class, some fresh men girl was freaking out about registering for classes; thus having to explain to Professor Newton that she would have to leave early to return to her dorm. ‘Oh god I’m old. I’m leaving soon and never coming back.’  I seriously thought I was going to have a panic attack on the third floor at Bradley Hall and these under class men will think that I’m this crazy senior who randomly freaked out in the middle of class.

Ah, the old days of living in the dorms, when my biggest worry back then was trying to find a place to study for a test or which center I wanted to go for food. To go back and relive my early years in college sounds like a vacation right now. But I know better. I know that if I did that, I would never get to where I am right now in my life. Actually graduating with a degree from a university in which I am damn proud of to call English.

At least I’m not Bluto.

Coming for Seconds?

This is a poem I wrote over the summer when I was taking an accounting course. I hope you all enjoy it!

I hate Accounting

I’m currently in a definite state of confusion,

Not Confucius, but something along those lines,

that makes me forget about time and space–

Get away from my face.

You’re bothering me, even worrying me,

about your debits and credits

that won’t matter in the future,

so, what’s the matter?

The problem is that I should be studying,

but instead the right side of my brain,

wants to flourish and go insane,

for a while longer.

But alas, I have a test tomorrow.

And these accounts won’t balance themselves,

Or the terms that I need to use for them are waiting for me.

Oh well, back to the graveyard of notes.

Ken Doll, Man, Boy

Typically, every year at Bradley for Halloween festivities, there has always been a story to be remembered. From my freshman year, being at Cam’s Bar with a bunch of greasy, beer filled frat guys who were only picking up female that looked just intoxicated enough to take them home. My first year at college had been a test of sanity between me and my roommate, Sara. Her friend/our next door neighbor , Ashley H., invited me to come with and thought everyone would have a great time. I was just happy that I was invited out at what I thought was a cool party. We all had fun…everyone except Sara;  it wasn’t anyone’s fault my model looking, man-eating roommate disappears with one guy and comes back too wasted on those vodka cranberries. Every one of us did their part to take care of her, but Sara was a lost cause.

To my junior year, finally being legal and going out to the bars and clubs for the first time. First time ever going as a “slut” for Halloween and having no shame walking down the street in my bar maid costume. The parties at U of I were some of the craziest scenes from a college movie that got left on the cutting room floor. My friends, Kayla and Kai, and I went out there for the Halloween weekend, just to see what the fuss was about. We had no idea it involved Kayla being way too drunk to walk down stairs and stand outside to wait for a cab. On Halloween night that year, I had left my boyfriend at home on while I went out with some friends from 1015 St. James and cast of Vagina Monologues at Diesel. At that time, my boyfriend and I were in a really good place; trusting each other, having fun with each others company, and loving one another without question. I couldn’t ask for a better night out, except for my 21st birthday that was two weeks earlier. It was close to perfection.

On this year, the actual day of Halloween itself this year was epic. I wouldn’t complain about being woken up to by Marc, going on a burn cruise, grabbing lunch, and seeing Polish Ambassador perform live again for the second year in a row (this time last year actually). Thursday night reminded me of the crazy and wild Liz that use to roam freely last year without thinking about authority or consequences for any of my actions. But last night’s festivities went slightly different. With broke seniors trying to find ourselves a good time, we strapped up every nickel and dime for cheap champagne and rum. To sum up the major parts of my night, I composed the people who affect the outlook of my last Halloween as a college student.

Preston– Ken Doll, he was a total babe, doesn’t smoke cigarettes. 18 though, freshman at Bradley…but sooo gorgeous. I met him last night and the things that turned me on about him were those deep, dreamy blue eyes, his voice was soft, his laughter was adorable, and his face was clean and handsome. I wish I asked for his number, that would have been so cool if I did that.

Jamar– Man, he has helped me every step of the way with figuring out how to handle the Lyndsey situation, where she owed me $80. He gave me clear guided advice on what to do to not piss her off and drank with me through the mimosas. Jamar has been one of my best friends since freshman year of college and I don’t think I have a better friend than him since being a young adult.

Max– Boy, he always will be to me. Nothing more, nothing less, just the jerk who kinda dumped me when I had feelings for him. He didn’t do anything that unusual last night. We’re just friends and it’s great because now we’re in a good place where we can talk about personal stuff. But there is always that sting you feel whenever you’re around him. The sting that reminds you still kinda like him and think he’s cute.

Maybe this seems a bit random, but I wanted to sum the important events that have had an affect on me. This type of post won’t be my last. I think the topic of men will always be up for discussion but until the next time, this is only the tip of the iceberg.