Am I even good at anything?

Sometimes I ask myself this question but it is always asked when scrolling through something like instagram where everyone only ever puts their best face forward. But I just can't do that. When I see the perfect lives posted on instagram my only thought is, "wow, am I even good at anything at all? Am I traveling the world taking stunning photographs of my experiences, am I a yogi master with limbs like playdo? I know for a fact I do not fit the oh so admirable mold of the ideal "hipster" so it's not like my instagram page is any sort of theme or color sequence or cool thing with hundred of likes on pictures as simple and pointless as  my morning cup of tea." None of that is what I want out of life anyway.  I find what it beautiful and I like to share it but I wish there was a day when everyone could share more than the obvious beauty but rather the honest beauty. The rolls and curves and acne and ugly crying. I want to see the human in people. But to be honest, the only reason I want everyone else to be honest about themselves is because I crave to be honest about myself. And of course society and engraved in me that I am only ever capable and allowed to to what is accepted by the social norm. No matter how free spirit a person is or says they are or tries to be, everyone is always holding some honest part of themselves back. That is the piece I want to see. Those moment that no one else sees. The moments when you're alone in your apartment and you are doing nothing but thinking and being yourself. Your true and honest self. The one who doesn't hold in their stomach or try to look good while lounging because admit it, even if there is only one person in the room, no one is comfortable. Everyone is still putting on a face. A fake front to impress. So when I find myself with nothing much to do and wanting a spark of inspiration, I failingly turn to something like instagram. However, this always backfires at me because I only ever become discouraged. With only ever seeing the actually picture perfect "lives" in front of me I am given a false sense of how things should be or how society demands them to be. Everyone has to be unique but also fit in. Everyone has to be creative and come up with new ideas but only the new ideas that are or will be accepted by all the top notch fashion bloggers. What complete and tter bullshit. It really is horrifying. I really only like instagram because I like the filters and edits it provides and it allows a place for me to put my documentations in an accessible place so that I may go back one day and find some long forgotten memory from my own life. That's it. Its really just a storage unit that others are blessed to be apart of. So why ever treat it otherwise. I don't want to go into a business where I rely on the media or the internet or any computer like object for my income or my passion. I want to make art. If the world requires a digital documentation of it to live, fine, I'll deal, but to solely rely on electronics as your form or creative outlet? I am simply not built that way. I commend those who are and enjoy such things. I enjoy typing and messing with the possibilities of electronics, but when it comes to getting in the zone, when my true creativity comes out, it has to be raw. It has to be organic. It has to be tangible. It has to be part of reality. Not digiality. I know it is different for other people, but for me, I just can't handle the idea of being so infested in a form of social media like instagram that it becomes my livelihood, to document my life for other's entertainment, and then get paid to advertise, like a living breathing walking billboard. I'm sorry but that just seems so absolutely fake. Sorry, sometimes I feel this way after going on instagram. But that is my rant. The End.

Ramble Ramble No One Reads This

So I guess I'm going to ramble about my brain for a second here...actually it'll probably last a lot longer than a second. And I know no one really reads anything I write except my mom (hi mom<3) and maybe some random people. SO I feel pretty comfortable saying kind of just whatever I want. This is in fact my "Writings of Adventure" blog anyways. I'm literally writing and adventuring in my writing. Because let's be honest, everything is an adventure with the right attitude.

My most recent and preceding adventure is more of a mental one. I have been climbing mountains and trudging through valleys in my own cognitive terrain. Dealing with the health of my own consciousness and how to take care of myself and my thoughts. It's a little easier when you are able to define exactly the thoughts and why they work the way they do and how they form in the way they form when you are given a definitive word or label for your style of thinking. However, the rebuttal is true. The last thing anyone wants is to be put into a box and defined only as that word or phrase that carries its own baggage of stereotypes and assumptions.

So I don't define myself by my diagnosis, mainly because even with people who may have the same diagnosis, I am still unique in my own. Even in my own category there are subdivisions and subgroups with their own lists of each individual circumstance.

I am a fiercely passionate person with a wild imagination and a craving for adventure and new places to see. I have skills in art and design and I am able to use my spontaneous thinking to create new and magical creations. I am able to use my spirited mental methods to explore ideas and depths and concepts of a more bewildered intent.  It's fun being me but I firmly believe that it is only fun for me to be me. No one else would have as much fun being me as I do because no one is me and I am no one else but me. That's it. And it's so much fun that way.

The End.

so..it's been awhile

I really should be working on my Exo/Deu essay right now but I was feeling inspired and posting on my blog had been a long time coming. Let's see, well I'm in my sophomore year of college. I transferred schools and changed my major. Let's start there I guess. I left for a couple reasons.

Culturally, the environment at my previous school was kinda rough.  I recently went back to visit a friend just for a short moment this weekend, (we were leaving to go take bitchin photos at cool abandoned places) and I got a horribly sick feeling in my stomach, a feeling I know all too well. At this particular school, I had two social options (well one wasn't really an option because I wouldn't be accepted into that option).

The first being the prime cut preppy overly conservative Christians who led numerous double standards and lived life through hypocrisy but judged you if you broke code.

The second were the accepting wild creatures of the night, the ones who drank 5-6 days out of the week (at this school you could because the classes were a breeze and didn't require a sober mind to pass) and were accepting of all kinds; ethnicity, sexuality, weight, and gender.

So as a passionate artist who loves Jesus immensely but is also a totally wild, free-spirit hippie, I was lost in translation. I of course went straight toward the 50% who would accept me no matter how wild and crazy and irrational I can be (the partiers: some raised in it and some raised so conservatively that they raged with a wild rebellion that would terrify the Pope). But in doing so I was giving up my commitment to God.

So, for that year, I walked in a mildly askew direction. Wandering around and looking in all the wrong places for meaning and acceptance and depth of consciousness and heart. I did the new student cliché thing and started kinda sorta dating someone within the first week of school...lame I know.

This inevitably screwed me over for pretty much the rest of the semester until I started liking one of my new yet really close guy friends...bad move Summer. Here's a note of advice: don't toy with the boys who actually like you who are your friends if you don't actually feel the same romantic feelings back because then you'll just get confused about how you feel about them which confuses them and in the end everyone is heartbroken. But, thank the LORD, we're still good friends, in a kinda twisted and awkward way.

So yea it was a rough year. To those who think you can hang out with the partiers and not actually be pressured to party, YOU ARE WRONG. After a while, the absurd and previously deranged actions and emotions become a sort of norm, a comfort even, a safe haven. When you are all crazy, no one's crazy and everyone's sain. It's kind of beautiful in many ways but damaging to the important things.

SO moving on, I transfered. Partly because the societal environment was hindering to my original goal in life and also because I tend to have a flight reaction rather than fight reaction. Physically, if someone wants to attack me, yea I'll beat the living shit out of them, but emotionally, relationally, people getting close, dangerously close before I have time to trust them, yea I'm on the next flight out especially if I smell trouble.

I wasn't always like that though. I used to be very good at staying and working things out. But that dwindled away back in like my sophomore year of high school. Then I learned to run. So, in a sense I ran, as I kinda crave to do. I like new places, new experiences, new identities, new people, I like newness and change, maybe to an over exaggerated sense. For example, I'm only in my first semester here at my new school and I am already going away next semester to do studies in the mountains.

I really like newness. But newness can be oldness. I like contradictions and irony and paradoxes. So I like new things that are old but new to me. I like going back to old things that I have left because I am always new. Looking back on my old and forgotten things, gives them all a newness.

Maybe that's why I like to leave, so I can go back and say I left and came back. So I will always be on the move, a free spirit just making memories and long lasting connections and then suddenly leaving, like a favorite character in a John Green book.

What I don't like is overdone rhythm. Yea rhythm and routine are good for a short while, but as time goes on, and maybe it's because of me getting older, but the time I can last in routine gets shorter and shorter. But I always go back. I give time away and make hearts grow fonder and then I return for that open armed expression of love and surprise when I finally show up again. Maybe that's it, my one true fear. Being forgotten in the rhythm of things. Becoming like wallpaper from time and time passed by. Disappearing into the norm of everyday life. How boring.

At this point, I am just rambling, but hey, it's not like anyone reads my blog anyways. I am really just utilizing my sudden spark of inspiration to procrastinate on my assignments. I just want to write though. I want to write what's in my mind and create what's in my thoughts and paint the things I see. Too bad I have to get a degree. But, I really shouldn't complain. I have an amazing opportunity and I can do so much more exploring and 'running' through school than I would be able to if I was just back home with a job trying to save up for traveling.

I'm doing good here. Keeping sain for the most part. I've got my emotions stabled to an extent and surprisingly without using western medications but with natural healthy practices. Like being vegan and exercising daily and only drinking coffee on occasion.

I'm just tired.

My own damn fault though. I didn't sleep all of friday or saturday night or day and then slept till 3:30 on sunday, went back to sleep at 10 only to be woken by my mildly obnoxious roommate at 1 am and didn't fall back asleep till 2am only to be woken again at 7 for my class. So yea I'm tired.

But, hey, that's college.

I feel like so much has happened and I've grown so much yet I'm still a child. A baby, still about to embark on a great adventure. It gets worse every day. I wake up a suddenly realize, "wow, I remember like yesterday when I would dream of being in college and how old I would feel." only to be quickly followed by, "damn, I'm only 19. I'm like still in diapers compared to everyone here." Maybe that's just because I'm in senior/junior housing but still, I definitely don't feel my age, or any age for that matter. I just feel like a constant existence slowly growing and changing but also staying the same. (yea I like contradictory statements)

Anyways, that's my update for now. I'll probably write tomorrow because I tend to write in clusters of a ton at a time or absolutely nothing at all. I say that as if anyone reads this blog of mine. But, I'm kinda glad no one does. Then, I don't have an image I have to keep up, I can just be me and that's it.

It's 9:12pm and I really should work on my homework if I want to get a few hours of shut eye before my roommate brings the circus into our room. Farewell for now my imaginary friends.

I just want to be happy

I don’t understand

why does it hurt so much just to be alive?

I push everyone away even though it kills me to be alone

I need something but I don’t know what it is

I try and I try and I try to be strong and brave and start each day brand new 

but it all hurts so much

just mere existence is a sluggish and painful walk

like trying to run in water

I keep kicking and kicking without going anywhere

Everywhere I go I keep feeling the desire to just get out

No matter how beautiful a day is

all I want to do is leave

go home

wherever that is

because even when I go home I want to just get out

like I want to be somewhere and nowhere at the same time

gone and going away far far away

running from myself

myself and the sorrow I carry

what makes me this way? why am I plagued with so much pain?

Numbing pain

I am trying to be strong, but I am so very weak

I can’t do this on my own and yet I feel like no one can help me

does anyone truly understand the feelings of wanting to escape from your own self

wanting to just be someone else

just for a day

taste what it feels like to be free and rid of yourself

I just want to be someone else because I don’t like myself

How did it come to this? I used to be so strong

What happened? What was the trigger?

I just want to be back to who I used to be

Full of joy and free to be, free of me

When did the darkness begin to take over?

I wish I could go back and warn myself,

stop myself from becoming me

Maybe change the course and give myself a good and solid chance of becoming someone else, someone great

but I guess life doesn’t work like that

there’s no magic, there’s no three wishes or fairy dust to help us fly

there’s no time machines to make better of our lives

there’s just this flat world, like a dirty white canvas, waiting to be cleaned and used 

waiting to become colorful and bright 

waiting waiting

always waiting

always wishing

always wanting something else

never content

Always wanting to live and be bright yet 

All I am is dying and covered in a shadow

I wish I could put blame on someone else

Make a villain 

A face to the darkness, a face I can hate but all I see is my own reflection

I want to live 

I want to be joyful

I want to just be happy

truly happy

If I want it so badly then why am I not happy?

Shouldn’t the simple desire be enough?

Why isn’t it enough?

like a leach attached to my spine

an emotion I have not yet a name for

unnamable unchangeable unbreakable

like sorrow but deeper

like anger but softer

like death but lonelier 

what than, curses me with such hatred

such despise 

such pain in my soul, numbing pain

for my own existence

my own essence

my own image perceived by the world

what used to fuel my anger and passion to move on

now eats me alive

like a flame sparks form on wood but soon devour it

I too began as a spark from this part that sets me apart

now I can’t help the whispers

whispers of lies

you are wrong

you are incorrect

you are out of place

out of shape

not you're out of you and apart from you're yet trapped in you

chained inside thick fatty tissue suffocating me

i want to scream, it all pains me so, the pain of existence

not that i want to die, Because I don’t

I want to live, that’s the whole point

I want to live so badly but this pain is killing me

I want to cry and tell of all my misery and pain

but I fear of hurting those who love me and those who matter so much

I fear my own pain will hurt them all, because I know it has already

so I keep quiet, silent as I implode 

a star dying, creating a black hole in its whole

breaking breaking down to nothing but dust

no one can help me now, it’s all up to me to help myself

I wish this would inspire me, but it only dreads me

where did it all go?

the passion the love the excitement 

the hope

all now replaced with pain and agony inside stillness and silence

how can one hate their own reflection?

such a thought used to be so distant now familiar

so what’s the hope in it all? Not a matter of meaning but a matter of purpose

where does mine lie? Lies. 

Isolation. So very isolated in this forest emptied of all its color

no. not a forest. not with trees. an expanse of tall shadows stretching to the highest place unseen. 

will it all stop? I try and I try so hard.

I’m always trying. 

Can’t you tell I’m trying? 

Can’t you tell I’m crying for help because I’m trying, because I’m dying?

A silent cry for help.

Is it chemical or is it me.

Is it me or is it here. Is it this or is it just me. 

Am I the one walking around with eyes closed off to sunlight or is it I who now sees

sees the truth of life, the darkness 

I just don’t know anymore

I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not

All i can tell is it hurts and all I want to do is cry

All I want is to live

All I want is joy

All I want is light

Yet I am surrounded by darkness

Always

Enough

Sometimes when I look in the mirror, not every day just some days, I don’t feel pretty. 

I am a strong activist in making sure everyone feels beautiful and comfortable in their own skin. However, I seem to have the most self-image issues. It’s hard not to nit-pick at every little detail of your own human body. 

My nails aren’t long enough, my fingers too chubby, my thighs too thundery, my toes are just plain weird, my stomach will never be small or flat enough, my boobs are too small, my butt isn’t tight enough, my lips are too thin, my eyebrows not dark enough, my roots too dark, I’m so freaking short, my legs are disproportional to my torso, my arms too flabby, I’m not strong enough, I’m not fast enough, enough enough ENOUGH! 

I don’t think I would feel this way if I had nothing to compare myself to. 

Some standard, some criteria I feel I need to fit. Sometimes I wonder, if I lived alone on a remote tropical island, just me, myself, the sea, and the sun, would I feel this way? Would I think these things about myself?

When I imagine this place, I feel fine. I feel my insecurities rolling off my shoulder. Because out there, no one would compete, no one would compare, I could just be me. 

I could run freely on the beach with no concern for how people might see me, I would lounge on the sand and swim in the sea and eat fish and fruit all day. I would sleep on the sand heated from the day, under the inexhaustible amount of stars above me, because there would be no light pollution. 

There wouldn’t be any pollution of any kind. No mind pollution, no magazines, no TV, no celebrities. 

I could just live, free. 

I would need only a knife and an endless supply of sketch books and pens and pencils. But I kind of need music to live too. So maybe my ukulele too. 

It would be beautiful. I could just sit and draw and write, take baths in the waterfalls, eat good fruit, exercise as I please, and swim swim swim in the sea. 

This is my dream. Kind of lonely but I like to be alone. But not in public places. I like to be alone in nature. It’s my favorite thing. 

Maybe, hopefully, someday, God will bring someone into my life who will understand and be able to sit silently with me. Someone who’s presence gives me the same peace of being alone without the stress of other people. Someone who will understand the things I think are important and know how to keep things in place. 

I get angry when things are out of place. Not in the way where I’m OCD about how a table should be set or how my room is put or anything, but in a broader sense, with people. Some people are just so out of place. 

I can so clearly see the shit in this world. And it sucks. If I had it my way, I would gather everyone and fill them with truth, beauty, and love. 

If I could have any super power it would be the ability to place warmth and kindness into someone’s heart. I could just reach over and gently slip my hand into someone’s chest cavity, right between the ribs, and light a match in their heart, thaw out the ice, seal the torn pieces, patch up the holes and soften the edges. 

Then maybe everyone would feel like they were enough. Because in truth, we are. You are enough. You can’t wait on the day when someone else decides to love you. You have to first love yourself. 

Your nails are the best length and look great with that polish. 

Your hands are crafted that way so you can create, just look at all you’re capable of with your square strong hands, your thighs and your legs are beautiful and can run and jump and kick ass. Your toes are absolutely PERFECT, there are the exact copy of your sweet mother’s which makes them even better. 

Your stomach is strong and sweet and wonderful, no matter the size. 

Your boobs are even and round and wonderfully proportionate to your body (and so easy to dress) and let’s be real, boobs have one job, make milk, so yours are great simply because they boobs. 

Your ass, girl, your ass is phenomenal, you know how to shake that ass like nobody’s business. Your lips know how to smile and frown and be stern and laugh and speak truth, thats awesome!

Your eyebrows are what make your face, they are so amazing at portraying your emotion and expressing your feelings when you simply just can’t. 

Your hair lightens and darkens with the seasons, you actually embody the change of season in the colors of you! How amazing is that!? 

You are an amazing and adorable height, perfect for climbing on things and traveling around and reaching high places, you fit everywhere! Compact and minimalistic, how perfect!? 

Your legs and torso are perfect in proportion, you always knew that, don’t let that one person’s comment on your body change your idea of yourself, because you know the truth. 

Your arms are soft and and cuddly and strong and can do SO much. 

You are strong. Not in just the physical way. But emotionally. Girl, you can handle some real shit. You know what is important in life and you know what is worth putting your strength into, and that is wisdom, and wisdom is strength. And you are so fast, you’re always one step ahead of the game. You’re so fast, you need to slow down. Take a breather, take a moment to take it all in and just pause.......because you are more than enough. You are loved. 

The Beautiful Nightmare

I had a beautiful nightmare last night, there was a parade and I was in a long white gown with slits in the waist and one shoulder dropped, it constricted my knees and made it hard to run. I had to run, because I was being chased. I was being chased by all my past failed romances, the ones that persisted after denial. One by one they gave up on the chase until the ones whose persistence lasted longer and longest continued to chase me. I could name them all, except one. I ran and ran through the parade and through shoppes with wild season sales, people frantically moving everywhere. I ran and ran, up elevators. Until I had outrun all but one, the one I couldn't name because I couldn’t recognize. I hid in a bathroom with a ten foot pole with a fishing hook as my only defense. The chase had run for hours. Only the tip of the hook was visible from the hall and if I just hand’t moved it, I could have stayed hidden, but i pulled my overbearing defense in toward myself and in doing so I alarmed the unnamed man-boy chasing me. he ran into the bathroom and saw me standing there in the shower, my long gown destroyed from the chase and my knuckles white from clutching the 10 foot fishing hook. I stretched it out toward him, with the sharp tip pressed against his chest, he pressed forward pushing me back, pinning my defense 10 feet between us. He spoke something that doesn't make any sense now that i'm awake. “you're just going to disappoint them, your sister. everyone. if you run, i'll catch you, if you hide i'll find you. you can never escape from me.”  I was afraid to hurt him, he carried a false innocence with him. He looked so handsome and sweet and seemed very strong and attractive, but in a terrifying offensive way. I couldn't keep around him because I knew It would just end in pain, so I escaped and ran to an elevator, the doors closing just in time before he could catch up to me. I arrived at the bottom floor of a tall building and ran out the lobby and into the woods. running and running and hiding. I was out of breath when I finally awoke, panting like it had all been real. My bones ached as I rose from my bed. Still half asleep and awestruck that my dream had lasted so long, I contemplated in my dazed mind what it all could have meant. My only conclusion, it was a beautiful nightmare.