Sunday, April 13, 2014


In movies and books and sometimes general conversation, people tend to create two groups of the "type of people in the world". Hopeless romantics versus realists, push overs versus the pushers, the leaders versus the followers, the loved versus the lovers. There are a million different ways to categorize human beings, and none of them are spot on. Because there are people in between the categories and people beyond. There are too many dynamics in the human soul for all of us to be categorized in two single groups.
However, what I have noticed is how one does the categorizing in their own head about the people around them. It is not sectioning like the ones previously listed though. It's different. For me, I have people put into categories of who i would tell secrets to, who i would hang out with beyond the classroom, who is small talk, who is vast in conversation. But then i realized all of these factors of sectioning I have in my head play into a much larger picture: who will I keep in my life after high school versus who I will let go and not care.
It's absurd how quickly humans can replace one another. I saw a couple of three years break up about two weeks ago. They both already have significant others. Whether it is rebound or a result of hidden feelings, we are able to find a replacement for the affection we are falling short of. And it makes me sad.
This time in two years I will be more than half way through my freshmen year of college and the chances of me keeping in touch with half of the people i care about right now is slim to none. And it's not mainly because I don't care about them enough, there is just a lack of odds being in favor of our friendship. I may have different best friends, a different boyfriend and different people that I hate.
In a snap things change. People change. The categories will reset and I will have new people to section off.
People are strange. The way we function and our needs are strange. It astounds me how much we crave each other. How much we thrive off one another. Teenagers my age now a days Tweet about how much they hate people, but there they are tweeting their thoughts for the retweets and approval of all the people they so call "hate". If you hate everyone, then lock yourself in your room, delete your social media and become lonely. You just don't hate everyone. You go to school, you socialize. There are some kids that when they say it, I believe them because they are that kid that doesn't speak and barely pays attention to the bullshit around them, But here's the thing, they don't have a Twitter and they aren't complaining to anyone. The girls I see tweeting about how they hate people are the popular cheerleaders or the girls in class who do not shut up.
I don't hate people, I hate teenagers. And I'm not afraid to get rid of a majority of them in my life.
I do not know what the direction of this post was.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Poetry For the Avoiding Homework Soul #3

School has begun again and I am avoiding the thought of it at all costs. Bear with me on my sappy poetry. 

The world has started spinning again
For so long it felt as if time was frozen
I wanted so bad to lay with you forever
To not have to get up
And deal with the burdens
the matches that want to set us on fire
The world has started spinning
For so long it felt that I was sane again
That I wasn't beating on my insides
and my brain wasn't racking
I wanted so bad to freeze time
Just to savor the feeling of being solid
The world has started spinning
But I'm scared it will lose control
And the wheel will shake and stir
I want so bad to be the one you hang on to
Because your world might keep spinning
But mine will freeze

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Poetry for the Soul #2

Just Time. 

You told me to write, so I’m writing for you
But it seems I haven’t felt your words
For centuries; it seems you haven’t thrown them at me
In years. It seems we have not been the same
In months; it seems we’re wearing thinner
By the day. It seems we are running down to our
Last hour.
Minute by minute; the last few seconds,
They might save us, but
They will destroy us for trying.
You told me to write, so I’m writing for you
Every second.
Each minute, by the hour.
Everyday for the years to pass.
Until a century has wounded
Our long lasting efforts. 
You told me to write, so I’m writing for you
But where are you
When the centuries are in the books
The years are in the photographs
The days are passing slowly
The hours are slurring, and the seconds are the minutes
And the minutes feel like a century.
You told me to write, so I’m writing for you
But now you’re gone
And everything is just time.    

Tuesday, April 1, 2014


A good friend of mine has yet to receive her first kiss. She insists on it being absolutely perfect, dream like, and practically impossible expectations of a first kiss. There are so many firsts in our individual lifetimes and we have so many expectations of these firsts. Unfortunately most of them are completely ignored.
When I was little i used to practice kissing on my pillow. I don't know why, I just did. I wanted to be good for when the love of my life came along and swept me off my feet with his perfect kisses. I pictured the whole cliche mess: a sunset, giggling, talking about the deepest darkest parts of our souls, and just being happy. They were perfectly acceptable expectations. The reality was my first kiss was with a random boy named Anthony who thought it would be funny to ask out the nerdiest sixth grader. He kissed me behind a dumpster and then left to giggle about it with his friends. We never really talked after that. I moved to a different city and we never talked again. Just like that, a milestone in my life was taken from me at the snap of his fingers.
I look at my friend and how she has yet to experience this and I am almost jealous at her capability to remain a hopeless romantic. I'm not saying I'm unhappy with how my life has turned out so far at all, there's just a little piece inside of me that wishes my first kiss was a little more sentimental. She has so much hope and so much expectation. Then again, the only way to see through the glass clearly is to have a little smack of reality. With the onset of failed expectations comes the clarity of life. You realize that things can be to shit, but that just means you see things for what they are. With this ability, you are able to avoid the down sides of being a hopeless romantic. The heartbreaks become less often and you expectations are no longer put on something that you would not expect to fulfill them. Expectations do not always have to be a disappointment, as log as you put those expectations in the right person.
There are a billion more firsts I could talk about. All teenagers know them. First time having sex. First time smoking a blunt. First time you get your heart broken. That's just to name a few. Then there's that occasional first time of having to make an insanely important decision. My boyfriend of almost two years is having to make a drastic decision that will affect the rest of his life. A first for him because things have always been smooth sailing. He always knew exactly what to do, exactly what his point of view was. He was never torn. But for the first time, he finds himself on two sides of a decision and suddenly he has no expectations, just full set reality.
That's just what first time experiences do to you. They take you for a ride and spit you out somewhere. This random place varies in all shapes and sizes of regret, disappointment, fear, and, surprisingly, relief. They have the affect of changing the course of your life and the content of your character. People toss them around so lightly. Like a helium filled balloon. Eventually it will pop, and the apparent lightness of it will disappear. Good news is that the sudden POP only lasts a few moments. It hits you unexpectedly and you sit there wondering "What the fuck just happened?". But once it settles and your mind wraps around the idea, everything continues. But there's that slight change, the shift in attitude towards things. You're a lot more careful with the next balloon. You didn't like that feeling of when the last one POPPED. It's a cycle. A weird one and certainly more effective than we realize.
I wouldn't go back and change how my first kiss went. In sixth grade I was an ass kissing push over. Once this kid screwed me over, I grew a pair of lady balls and finally disregarded all the bullshit people through at me. My skin thickened and I turned into someone who valued their firsts a lot more. This goes for everything else in my life. I have no regrets with the way my firsts went. The memories are far too precious to me to regret, good or bad. They are sculptors to who we are, why would you want to change that? No matter how damaged or how sheltered, there is beauty in all of over imperfections. Firsts help with this beauty. Why change them?

**Of course I realize that there are a lot worse ways firsts can go about, this post is merely from my own experience**