Kyle

beautiful, Hope, Humanist, Journal, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

I went on my first date with Kyle today, and I say it like that because I know there are going to be more. He was funny, understanding, interested, intelligent, and cute. His face has very soft features and then a nice, defined jaw. Plus he’s 6’1. And an athlete. We connected on a lot of different things, we share a lot of the same interests and philosophies on life and relationships. He’s a computer science major, which is sorta my thing.

We got coffee today at 10:30, and I didn’t leave until 3:30- when he had practice. We got coffee, went for a short walk and ended up at Barnes and Noble where we compared the authors we had read and joked about other people, then we got lunch at a Thai place- because he’d never had Thai food before. After lunch, he invited me to come back with him to campus and I sat with him while he worked on a group project for his technical writing class (funny he was taking one, right?) we bonded and laughed over little things regarding technical writing, physics, and astronomy- also can we just marvel at the fact that he ordered a cappuccino, because my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I love a good cappuccino.

Anyway, after his group project was over we went back to his dorm. He left to go change, and I chatted with his roommate while I sat on his bed. Then when he came back, his roommate left, and there was this moment when I was sitting on his bed and he was pretty close to me and I could feel that electric energy that I always feel before a good kiss. His face was close enough to mine that it felt intimate, but up until that point, the most touching we had done was accidentally bumping into one another. I think I could really like this guy, and in the past, I’ve unnecessarily rushed things. I want to have a real bond with this guy. So I didn’t kiss him, instead, I got up and was like “hahah gotta go”.

There’s no reason to rush into things.

Can I just mention that when we got there, and my first reaction to him was feeling like I was seeing an old friend? Also, we matched- we were wearing the exact same shade of green. It looked like we tried to coordinate.

He’s super clean, which was nice. We love the same board games, listen to a lot of the same music, and we are both from the valley.

Okay, I’ll marry him.

There’s only like three things I didn’t care for. He is a big guy- like he’s toned, but he’s just broad by nature. He was a little too quiet at times. His sense of humor was just not my own.

That said, I like the guy a lot. He is literally the most considerate guy so far. I hope that wasn’t just the first date sorta thing.

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off·beat

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal

So this post is for me, literally no agenda. I had a secondary interview today at a donut bakery. I was worried about how things were gonna go, I knew was going to need to write with a piping bag and dip donuts and whatnot. I had never done those things before- I also really wanted the job.

What if my ideas weren’t original enough, what if my piping was sloppy, what if my personality lacked?

I was thinking about how I’m not vibing with my current coworkers, wondering if it really was just me being uncomfortable. I started to get concerned about if I was able to get along with others.

But then I walked into the kitchen. The air in that place was lighter. Suddenly being myself was effortless, there was no stifling energy, there were no negative/pretentious ass holes. Seeing the different ingredients physically brought a smile to my face- I felt boundless opportunity and I felt alive. I felt like I was where I needed to be.

Suddenly I felt like I did when I was little, throwing ingredients into a mixing bowl and putting them in the oven to see how it would cook. Experimenting with different recipes, writing them down and sharing them with family. None of them were any good, and I knew that. But something about the act of doing these things, no matter where I was in life or who I was close to, baking was spiritual. It’s an act that continually brings me closer to myself and others. I hadn’t been that excited about a job ever.

Nothing could have brought me back down to earth. In that moment, I was ecstatic.

I know my piping came out a little sloppy and there wasn’t a clear sheen on the icing after I dipped my donuts, but I got the job.

I got the job.

I am going to be decorating donuts at an amazing, quirky, fun donut shop. I really didn’t think I would get it- but I did. And now I can live out a passion and dream of mine, even if it entails waking up before the sun is even close to rising- I’m excited.

I hope this is the beginning.

I think I’m going to attend a culinary arts school and pursue this passion of mine seriously. I don’t just want to see where this takes me, I want to take the reigns and lead my life in a direction I would be proud to live.

It reminded me that I want to get a nice camera and start photographing the things I find beautiful. I want to capture the things that I look at daily that take my breath away and remind me of why I love to live. I want to capture the things that I look at and abstractly break my heart. I want to capture the nuance and captivatingly simple beauty of life.

1·24·2019

beautiful, Humanist, Journal, New, Personal, Relationships, school

I am a mess right now.

My mental health is the equivalent of scrambled eggs. Last night I hooked up with an ex-boyfriend. This morning, I am moving back to a small town and moving back in with my mom. I haven’t lived with my mom since I was seventeen. It’s been two years.

Which brings me to my next point, I feel empty. Unsure of myself, just like I did when I first moved to San Francisco.

I am nineteen, recently dropped out of university, suicidal, and moving back in with my mom. Adulthood is off to a great start.

Aside from feeling alone and like I have already failed – I’m also completely unsure of what I want to do.

I know what is expected of me, I know that I have created these expectations, and I know what I have proven I can do.

I don’t know my purpose yet,
I don’t know what I should actually be doing.

My focus was money when I moved to San Francisco. It was to obtain the quintessential idea of success.

My focus moving back home is to work on myself, and from the outside, everyone will be saying that I failed and gave up-

Which is completely true.

I gave up.

But not because it was hard or because I was incapable of doing it. I know that if I stayed in San Francisco and continued studying at State, I would definitely get a degree. Hell, I passed every single course I took my first semester- while working full time and having a serious relationship.

I did give up, but not on myself. I gave up on the fragile construct that a college degree and money would make me satisfied with who I am and what I have done with my life. 

I value personal growth. I value kindness. I value hard work and honesty. I value people who are in touch with themselves.

I want to be proud of who I am and what I am doing.

It’s taking humility to move in with my mom. To accept help.

I have not been okay. But instead of pushing all of this down deeper inside of me, instead of pushing through at a job I hated and doing another semester of university feeling dread and emptiness, I am going to accept that I do not like how I have been living and I am going to accept that I have made mistakes. I am going to accept that I have been cold, callous, angry, and I am going to work on myself.

I am going to accept that I am moving back in with my mom, and instead of seeing this as some major setback in my life, view it as an opportunity to slow down and make some major changes in myself for the betterment of the rest of my life.

1·23·2019

beautiful, Beauty, Family, feminism, Her, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Nature, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, Small Things

I have had an inner calling to go home. Something deep, mystical, and spiritual. I had this calling when I was still with T. Muttered about it under my breath, seemingly out of nowhere. I want to go home.

My soul is withered, has lost all passion. I wake up with the desire to do good but feel as though I am weighed down. I have the desire to feel free and passionate and happy, but something has been in my way.

So I am returning home, with the intent to nourish my soul and regain my spiritual self.

I walk around with a veil over my heart, and it has been this way since I have been in San Francisco. I have lost touch with myself. But that didn’t start when I was here, it started a long time ago. Honestly, before I can even remember.

But I know what it is like to be in touch with my soul, to feel vibrant and alive and free.

I am making my way home so that I can feel like that every day. So I can learn to bring it with me wherever I go.

So that my heart, my soul, my psyche can be revived.

There is a part of myself that I cannot deny, one that thrives in nature. As a child, I felt the call of the wilderness when on ranches. I felt a connection to my psyche in the wild animals. I felt the freedom that came with the open wilderness. I was one with the world.

I have the energy of wild howling wolves in my heart. I must stay in touch with it.

I can feel it now, in it’s tamest sense, as I grow herbs on my window sill in my high rise apartment. But I am not happy. They are not happy. We are confined by these spaces and domesticated into something that society considers good.

We bulldoze and change everything in our paths. Yet we never allow ourselves to stop and breath. To harness our natural born desires to be free.

I will no longer live with a veil over my heart. I will no longer deny myself the desire to do what I need.

I am going home, and no one can stop me.

People have been taking and taking from me. Work demanded every possible part of me. T didn’t really demand a lot, but I wanted to give him everything. So I gave him everything; my attention, my love, my thought. Even when he was not around, I was doing things for him. Shaving my legs, washing my hair, sweeping up my hair before he came over, I cleaned, I cooked for us, I bought him gifts, it was constant. But it was not bad. I feel like I should repeat that. It was not bad.

I knew he was 17. I knew he was not emotionally in a place to do the same thing for me, and I did it anyway. Only because I didn’t realize I needed it in return. I assumed I was an ever-flowing fountain of giving.

So, I made his bed. I cleaned his room. I tried to form relationships with his family. I exhausted myself for my love of him.

The other day I wrote that I never loved T- but I honestly don’t even know what love is.

I can say that I cared very deeply for that boy. That he made me smile when he walked in the room. That his passion for things sparked some sort of passion in me. I know that our break up has caused and is still causing me physical pain.

I know that I learned to sincerely care about who he was and who he aspired to be.

And I enveloped myself in him, but lost connection with my self. He was not toxic, but the way that I tuned out my intuition with him was not good for me.

I’ve learned to listen to the person I am inside, and she’s withering away. She needs to be taken care of.

Moving On

beautiful, Beauty, Journal, Love, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Today I woke up with the intent to make things easier on myself. I called out from work because I’m not sleeping well (as in I’m not really getting more than an hour of sleep at a time) plus I’m throwing up still even though I’ve eaten exactly one protein bar in the last seventy-two hours. So I’m literally throwing up water and stomach acid at this point.

I deleted his number, our texts, I removed him on Snapchat and Instagram, I deleted all of the pictures of him and the things we did together. Then I gathered the plants we got together, the hoodie I borrowed from him, the weed and lighters we stole together, and the socks he gave me for my birthday, and I set them aside in one spot so at least it’s consolidated. I don’t know what I’ll do with all of it just yet. I just know that it needs to be in one spot together for a bit.

It hurts, but I don’t need to make myself feel this pain for longer than I have to. I don’t want to live in a delusion thinking we would get back together, because at this point even if he wanted to, it’s ruined. The memories we have together are good memories, but our relationship wasn’t as healthy as I liked to think. We didn’t communicate well. I never warmed up to his family, which felt unnatural. The time we spent together felt stressful toward the end, and I can’t forget the biggest one – he’s seventeen. And in high school.

I don’t need to think about him anymore. I learned a lot about myself and how giving I can be, I learned that given the right person I can be willing to do anything for a relationship. I also learned to trust my instincts, because I wrote numerous times about how I felt like we were going to break up. I knew. I just wanted us to grow old together and be a happy old couple.

I’ll be happy and married to someone happy when I am old, and it won’t be to T, but it will be to someone who gives me the love, affection, attention and thought that I didn’t feel I got enough of from T. He forgot everything, things that mattered to me- and it hurt. He was selfish in our relationship and rarely put me first. I know that I did a lot in the time we weren’t together trying to make sure we could spend quality, uninterrupted time together. I know he didn’t do the same thing.

I never needed him. I do feel like he was an asset to my life, but I never needed him.

I think I deserve someone who treats me better than he did. I think I deserve someone who is actually willing to put effort into a relationship and not just take what they get pleasure from.

Our relationship was dead a long time ago. It definitely could have been fixed, but it died because he didn’t nurture it with me and handled our issues immaturely.

I am drained. but I deserve more.

I will say that for having been single for so long, nearly two years, I know what makes me happy when I am by myself. I don’t need to go on dates or have sex all the time, I don’t need to be hugged by a lover – I need my family, I need my friends, and I need to live a quality life that brings me joy.

He stressed me out more than he made me happy. The first few weeks were all good, but our dynamic changed after that and he wasn’t the same in our relationship.

I am peaceful, I am kind, I deserve to give myself the same love I give a partner. I deserve to write myself love letters and spend quality time with myself. I deserve to feel loved and pampered when I am alone.

He is not my issue anymore. no communication. strained conversations. always distant. arrogance. addiction. 

I was willing to stand by him and his decisions, I was willing to be supportive and listen, but he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want it. He is not my issue anymore. I am capable of living a happy life without him or any other guy. I have people who love and support me.

It’s important to acknowledge that I have lost something here, but someone else will eventually replace him. Someone always does.

con·scious

Awareness, beautiful, equality, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Personal, Relationships, Small Things

If I die understanding how to respect life, I will have lived a spectacular existence.

Every day I have the opportunity to directly impact hundreds of people at work. I have the opportunity to communicate and observe them.

It’s disheartening to see old people who are unhappy. I can’t help but feel like they missed out on some life lesson along the way, the one that teaches us how to cherish and value every moment we live.

That the most important moment in our lives is the one we are in right now, because if we do not value what could be perceived as the monotonous and wasted seconds during commutes or while we eat breakfast or while we work our nine to five jobs, we will never truly cherish and value the supposed “special” moments in life.

Rather, we will end up feeling empty, sad, and left wondering why we feel so meaningless during those special moments. You can’t just hit a button and all of a sudden value life.

That same philosophy goes for our treatment of people. If you go about your day being angry with strangers you encounter, how can you truly value and respect your friends and family?

Depending on how one places value on people, the way they treat others changes.

Some people would treat me the same when I have my apron on as when I am wearing my nicest pair of clothes. Others, however, will ignore my hello’s and questions – blatantly walking past me, glancing at my face, and not responding to me when I have on the apron.

True respect for others cannot be turned off and on- you have either learned it or fake the niceties to get by in society.

I believe that respecting the moment and respecting the working class goes hand in hand. If someone goes their entire life cherry picking the moments that they will feel happy and only being kind to the most beautiful and the richest, think about all of the moments they will miss out on? All of the quality people that they have disregarded? There is so much substance in those things, to ignore it is a cry for help- you are unhappy with yourself.

It doesn’t matter if it is four in the morning, while you are on the bus, waiting in line for your coffee, or trying to fall asleep in bed at night.

I try to rush my life to get to those golden moments, where I am holding my boyfriend or enjoying a meal, the ones where I am at weddings or Christmas eve drinking cocoa- but there are 525600 minutes every year and 7.53 billion people in the world. I want to value every last one of both of those things.

In order to respect oneself and the life that they live, they have to respect the people around them and the environment that they live in, in order to do that we must value every second that we spend and every interaction that we have.

We cannot be perfect, it is not in our DNA- however, we can make a conscious effort to be better and strive every day for improvement.

Quick Thoughts

beautiful, Journal, Love, Personal

These last few days for me have been rough, to say the least. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or think without feeling intense dread. I had no appetite, I would lay down at night and do nothing but cry. During the day I would wake up to my alarm but fall back asleep – not getting out of bed until 4pm. I skipped school three out of the five days last week – I thought I was sick, but the doctor said I only had a mild sinus infection.

I felt miserable, was throwing up even when I had not eaten – because I had only eaten half a pancake and a partial bowl of soup for five days.

However, it dawned on me just now as I was working in concessions that I only feel this way because I am trying to change how I feel. I felt every branch of sadness – guilty, abandoned, deep despair, depression, loneliness, boredom. Sometimes critical of myself – other times I was helpless, insecure, and anxious. I felt insignificant. I was working against myself, wanting to feel important and aware – content and nurturing. But I simply could not because it wasn’t where I was at yet.

I realized that in order to come to terms with the situations I’m dealing with, I first have to accept that right now I am sad – afraid even. I will feel powerful again soon, but right now, perhaps for a while, I am going to be sad.

Feeling grief, a sense of loss. I accept that. I accept that right now I am vulnerable and sensitive. We have these emotions for a reason, and I won’t try to push them away just because they make me uncomfortable. They are healthy to feel in moderation.

I won’t always wake up feeling useless, restless, and frustrated.
I won’t always feel alone.

These things will pass, but I cannot force them out before I accept why I feel them.

I can’t stop myself from having the emotions that I do, I can’t force myself to stop having feelings for someone (even though I may try) – I have them for a reason. I like who he is as a person, as a friend, for all of the little quirks that make him different than everyone else in my life.

I cannot change circumstances, I cannot change myself, I cannot change the past.

This is good. Life is good, on some basic level. I will thrive where ever I end up, I just have to give the world some time to sort itself out.

Moral Dilemma

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Nature, New, Personal, Poetry

It feels as though the world is lapping at me,
Eating away at my heels as I try to make my way.

Like a rock on at the edge of the ocean,
Never getting a break from the endless torture
That is the ocean’s softly beating wave.

Back is sore, feet bleeding, hands callused
I’ve held on this far, but I was never promised an end.

Not a moment goes by as I brace to the cliff
that letting go isn’t considered,
but if I do, the cliff will fall,
Cascading into the ocean.

Atop this cliff, a child sits, their fate is my decision.
I can hold on, turn into to stone
As the water relentlessly beats me with its salty hand
Or I can let go, and let the ocean guide us into the world
of eternal night.

Reminiscing

beautiful, Creative Writing, Family, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Perfect, Small Things, Smiling

It’s 1:30am, I have about 5 hours and 10 minutes before I need to be up, but I can’t fall asleep. So, I’m up. And I’m writing. Because I have been trying to go to sleep since 9pm.

All I can seem to think about are my old memories. Very distinct and exact memories.

I can remember where everything went in my last house – the house where we lived as a family last.

I can still here the way the different doors creaked – I can hear the kitchen door that led out to our Asian patio. The way my mom’s desk looked, the stain on the carpet in the hallway just outside my room. The way the carpet came up just enough to see the green tile in my closet. The way the laundry hamper smelled in the hall. How we organized our freezer and pantry. Potatoes on the bottom shelf, onions too, both in wicker baskets. Those rice and blueberry treats mom would get from Costco. The guest house. How it always seemed to smell of barbecue chicken. The closet, weird coats, how we would go out there just to watch tv. The old cigar box in the guest house garage. The tire swing by the horse pasture, the orange grove, the brick wall, the nut trees by dad’s shop. How the orange trees smelled in the summer, the way snails would gather near the sprinkles, our pool. The second story of dad’s shop, how you could hear rain hitting the tin roof. The old war maps dad hung in his office out there. His big metal work table. The way the old blacktop road would burn my feet, mom’s white porch swing, our pomegranate tree. The lemon tree, the tree house we built with Callie. Mom’s garden. The basil plants. our compost pile. The brick fireplace inside, the big solid wood mantle above it. Dad’s bear hanging in the dining room, my pine piano. Mom’s brown rug. My music rack. The little patio outside the door off our breakfast nook. The lights suspended in there. Tig. The kittens. Our playhouse, and the summer we spent at the house before we moved in, sesame ring pretzels. Too much Febreeze. Mom’s clothes line. When dad worked in Vegas and mom made that bon bon ice cream that the whole block loved. Mom’s fourth of July parties. The vegetable stew she would made during thunderstorms. How we could see the beautiful mountains outside our kitchen window. When mom would wake us up by singing. Getting ready for youth group, that shimmery purple eye shadow I loved. The ivy wallpaper we had in our bathroom, the stone walk-in shower that’s light didn’t work so it was always dark. All the goddamn storage space in there. Our craft closet. Mom’s closet, which was always organized. The little garden outside mom’s bedroom, the wall of windows that were in front of her bed. Her beautiful bathroom, the high windows, tall ceilings, wood and stone everywhere. Our beautiful, expensive, World Market table. The wall of windows in our dining room. How mom would let us make an pillow fort out of the living room during the summer when Lacey and Katie would stay with us. That Thanksgiving when Uncle Winky brought his Brazilian friend, who was probably his boyfriend and we were all just oblivious to how gay he was. Sage and Sonia. Spending summers with the Deitz, their treehouse. Going over there to hang out with Jacob and Nate before any of us were out of the 8th grade. The year Jacob started high school, when he started driving, when he went off to college. When Carson started dating that dude with the weird name – playing in the orange groves outside their house, the palm fans. The mule. Callie’s horses. Going with her to mediation in the hummer, taking her to her dad’s house. Going to see movie’s with her and Melissa, always having diet Dr. Pepper and tootsie rolls. When Melissa would decorate for christmas, and their entire house transformed into a winter wonderland. Ms. Terri’s 15 foot christmas tree, staying out until 1am to help get ready for VBS at Foothill. The red berries. When Mrs. Hengst took her Sunday school class to see Mega Mind and I felt super left out.

Oh my god. Carson and Hayley are both married. Jacob and Nate both have girlfriends and are going to graduate college soon. Callie is a Sophomore. Riley and Katie are in college. Lacey is graduating this year. Sonni is at COS. What the hell happened to my childhood? I will never spend another summer at the Deitz cabin. I will never climb frog rock again or go to Dudley Ranch. I’ll never go hunting with my dad again. I’ll never go inside the 38o house…. I’ll probably never see the Sisto’s, or step inside Foothill.. Who knows if I will even see Delaney or Owen.. But I’ll never spend a halloween at their house, or go into  their treehouse with those weird little brown berries that fell off their tree, or see their clawfoot bathtub filled with plants that DD put outside her bedroom window, or watch Owen obsess over Cars or Nate over spongebob or Jacob playing Call of Duty on their family computer… I will never sit on the Deitz porch swing and hold kittens again, or see Boomer.. I miss their pebble walkway and watching everyone play volleyball on summer afternoons while Melissa obsessively cleaned her house.

I’ve only been writing for twenty minutes, but I just took a long journey back into my childhood.. I can’t believe where I am today, when I used to lay awake at night and think about my future. I never imagined my parents would divorce, and moving to the coast was always a desire but seemed far fetched. Going to a public high school? Unheard of. I’ve had three boyfriends? ALLYSA! Y0u were supposed to marry Jacob, Nate, or Caleb – preferably Max. C’mon! You were going to get married in Gramp’s church, with that nasty blue carpet and wooden pews and green cushions, the weird cross with backlights. But too much for that, because it has all been torn out and redone. Now it’s The Road. Those little lights that used to line the stage are even gone. The smell is gone too..  And you have been in every room in that church now, all the mystery is gone. The fear is gone. Now it’s just a musty old building, and the imagery of Burt is dead. You had your thirteenth birthday party there, it was really fun. You worked there, too. When you were 15. You watched your little cousins roam those halls, now. Oh yeah – Uncle Juano got married and has three kids. Uncle Wink has two. Aunt Ne has Ribbon now, and you lived with her as well. You miss that. You also lived with Nana and Gramps, your room was the one with the weird, old closet that always scared you. The one that used to be Gramp’s office with the bottles filled with sand and coins. Also, I don’t really have to tell you this because you kind of already know, but you don’t believe in God at all. But you already have your doubts.

So much has changed for me… I kind of just want to go to Katie’s trailor and just sleep among the musty old smell and bad internet. I want to wake up to the neighbor’s rooster crowing and the hill we all know is Goliath’s grave…