Feeling Unlucky 

This is spot on for most people (including me). In between trying to find a job and dealing with college life, life can feel very unlucky but these things listed are exactly what some of us (and I) need to keep from pulling the hair out of our heads. I mean, I’ve got a youthful head of hair so I wouldn’t want that! Thank you, Bayart! I needed this today!

http://bayart.org/i-am-incredibly-lucky/

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When you have nothing to do and you have all the time in the world

Having all the time in the world might make you feel a bit invincible. Like you can pick and choose what you’ll want to deal with today. You’ll continuously put off all the important annoying stuff for another time. It seems all the annoying stuff are usually the important ones, doesn’t it? It makes it even more exciting to put off. But when the night passes and nothing’s been done, you start to wonder; am I the problem or is IT the problem? The illusion that our productivity contributes a good amount to society. That society will improve upon our contributions. The pressure. That society will improve upon our contributions. “You can’t be a lump on a log”. “Stop being lazy”. “You’re a waste of air”. Perhaps we’d much rather work on our own priorities instead of yours.

Out of My Hands

A cool summer breeze brought a current of fragrance from the natural world that surrounded me; it had blessed my nostrils with the scent of wet dewey summer grass, orchids, beautiful azaleas. The ground I laid on was moist and molded against my body as if the world had the intention of swaddling me like it’s own child. I took a practiced breath. My muscles relaxed. Before I could react, the ground beneath me began to crumble. Not so much that it was a swift cave in but that my body seemed to have felt like it was sinking through quicksand as the ground rumbled and the soil simply broke apart beneath me in small chunks before the final rumble separated the earth I laid on. My body followed the forces of gravity, and to this day, I have never stopped falling.

A Chill to the Bone of my Ribcage Heart

 

Broken windshields can really mend a girl’s heart.

….

A little girl stands at the end of the hall and she wonders why her oldest brother had to lay his hands on his girlfriend. She thinks, “Is that how they show love for each other? Will I ever be as loved?” She won’t notice but she’ll push away all the good guys. She’ll go for the hoodlums who want to roughhouse and let her go home with bumps and bruises. She’ll always think, “fight me so I know it’s real”. She’ll constantly try to see the good in men who are no good at all. There goes a life lost.

….

Broken windshields can really mend a girl’s heart.

Go Fund Becky Maldonado

Anyone who goes to Parsons: The New School must know how expensive the tuition is. The worst part about it is here’s a girl with an insane amount of potential but money’s getting in the way and FAFSA isn’t helping. I’ve known Rebecca Maldonado for about 7 years. This girl’s my best friend and her sweet soul deserves to get the education she wants.

We live in an age where young growing adults are selling themselves to the standards of society just for the means of making ends meet. Some people hate their jobs and some will only say they love their jobs for the pay they get. Now, where there is an artist there’s a child with a spirit strong enough to ignore the “You will die in this world” mentality. This child has an innocence that brings beauty and light back into this dark meaningless world. Becky was given an opportunity and she took it which was a move that’s a lot more ballsy than what I know most people would do. She’s taken the challenge and the strongest thing an individual can do is to ask for some help. Any donation would be kindly appreciated.

Thank you so much and I hope you all have a beautiful day ♥

Here’s a link to her GoFundMe page

 

Dreams

I’d been admitted into some dreary, cold and damp place like an institution that held secrets not for my ears to hear, or at least, not for any life to experience…

The place was dark, felt damp air. These people. Patients. In their scrubs like they should be but despite seeming to be under the care of this hospital…did not look like they were being cared for. More so, they seemed dead, behaved like they were dead in a positioned stature. A flickering hall. The lights were an assortment of contrasting dreary colors like gray, eggshell white, night vision green, all flickering at once. every flash of light seemed to have exposed another unattended patient as I walked down the hall to the voices of my mother speaking to, I suppose, the supervisor of the institution. She seemed to be talking well of me. He seemed to be saying the opposite. I’d noticed that I was in my own clothes, meaning I hadn’t been admitted yet. And so in the beginning of this dream, I was in a doctor’s office still located in the institution. I was sitting upright on those beds at the edge as if I were ready for a simple physical; check the heartbeat, check the ear canal, open wide and say ‘Ahh’ while my doctor pressed my tongue down with a popsicle. Except, he wasn’t there. I felt like I was waiting for him and my mom to came in. I couldn’t remember. There was another patient who magically appeared in my room, the door was wide open so I assume he shuffled in with the beat of the flickering lights so i had not noticed him come in when the light shut off until it turned back on. He crouched in the corner of the doctors desk, watching me. He was bald, his face concaved in areas like his temples and his cheekbones. His lips cracked and thin, open wide in awe with eyes that held large pupils dark enough to engulf the entirety of my soul. His deep menacing stare froze my every nerve, brought me to chills and sweats that made me realize I’d never truly known what real fear was till this very moment as he struggled forward in a crouched position with an agile pace the first few steps until his legs gave in and he now fell to his knees on all fours. Just inches away and now, as he continued to stare, not that he ever took his eyes off me, I could see that not only was there a blackness that overrode the white of his eyes, but the veins..the veins were bulged red as if his eyes were ready to bleed. I could see the black in his eyes was complemented by the same bloody red, circled around those lost soulless black eyes. He began to screech as he reached out to me with his left hand, nails that were blackened and chipped and oozing a nauseating form of green puss. Apparently I’d been so afraid my body had been acting on its own this whole time, so i’d been on the floor crawling away from him and ran out the door into the hallway, where i noticed the strange flickering lights had been going on through the entire hospital. another woman in the hall, gray insane hair, eyes wild but dead, stared as i ran down the hall, nothing but a black abyss at the end. but thats when i could hear my mom and the doctor, so i ran in to my mothers voice. i was met with something inhuman. on all fours, it had an dark black holes for eyes and mouth, and crawled towards me in a screeching yelp.

I woke up.

A Repressed Truth

A path can seem so easily malleable. So easy to bend, fold, yet it will ultimately stay what it started out as in the first place. Our creative minds will tend to think up of our own endings to such paths. Perhaps the world that we live in now created too many paths… and that’s how my mother drove us into a wanted man’s basement.

Coming home from a camping trip was the second best part of the actual experience. It meant loud music blaring from the car speakers and a warm breeze that wafted into the car, intoxicating our senses to the beauties of temporary freedom.

Unfortunately, mother grew mad. With every turn, she got even more lost..and lost..and lost..and lost. Now she’d found a path at some point where we found ourselves in what seemed to be the basement parking lot of a department store until she continued and drove down into a corridor. That corridor was met with a door, just a simple open door that our car just so happened to squeeze into. And so we drove into a home. The basement of a man’s home. Suddenly with the intent to steal or at least the adrenaline most associated with the act of stealing. The car just disappears. We’re in this dimly lit basement, looking around confused until I spot a moving surveillance camera. And I feel danger. I tell my family to be quiet and point to the camera which slowly turns to me in response. I froze, my breath stuck in my throat, I exhale to steady my nerves, ready to find some clues in the basement that may help us escape because now the door was no longer there. As I tiptoe through the room, the surveillance camera shifts to my family. It’s too quiet. It makes me fear that there could be hidden ones too. This one hung openly on the crevice between the wall and the ceiling behind the shadow of the whirling staircase next to it. The floor was carpeted with a white wool and so was the staircase. The staircase interests me because I see a light coming from the top so that’s where I first look. Carefully, I walk up at least two or three steps up and stretch my neck up in an attempt to peak in case anyone came down.

I look over my shoulder slowly expecting to see a line forming behind me..but my family stood there in the corner, scared and so unsure. Something in me felt that the answer had to be upstairs, past the light that leaked through the cracks of that closed door at the top of the staircase..and so I climbed in a trance. The light must have given me hope because I continued on, intent on turning that door knob and finding an escape.

Soon enough, that door had been opened and that world vanished. I woke up to the world I’d been living in for the past 18 years. This dream was just as beautifully haunting as any of my other dreams have been but this one in particular has just as much meaning as my other dreams are. Perhaps I’d felt that my family and I have been in a rut for a while and I’ve been the baby who’s been watching the chaos from the outside. A detachment from the situation allows a clear point A to point B and therefore “clear” solutions. Still, factor in the emotions of a person who lives in the eye of the storm and soon enough what comes of their world is a shadow of foggy mist inconsistent with the way it chooses to reveal it’s answers to us. Then, the choices are…keep still and rot in a dark corner…or sift through the mist for the answers, the escape. Despite the uncertainty, the answer will always be..

Take initiative before the world makes the choice for you. There is much more comfort in knowing you drove your own world rather than to have let it drive you.

Maybe I died, maybe we found a way out. Either way, making a choice is the most important. It is, in fact, the most empowering luxury that we have in a world that limits us. The power of choice…

The Sunset and the Stars

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That blend between the sunset and the stars,

I’ve seen death and you. 

Don’t think I haven’t seen you up there,

Waving a magic hand like that of Hope and Redemption

Don’t think I haven’t felt your presence,

Having brushed a ghostly ‘good night’ against my cheek.

And I know that you see me too.

And that’s why I see you

as that perfect blend,

between the sunset

And the stars.

Check it. Part 1

The world was at its best on this particular Tuesday. Perhaps you could say it would be the start of the best day ever. Well, you’re wrong.

“Matilda threw another fucking tantrum and understand, please, that her mother is no fucking help either, Julie”, explained M’s father. He wiped the sweat off his brow. Maybe that’s how he cries, thought the babysitter. This wasn’t a job she asked for. Shit, she could’ve settled for the 7.35 per hour at the Bodega on 5th avenue. Instead she thought she should challenge herself. Well this was definitely what she asked for.

‘Well damn I shouldn’t complain then’, thought Julie. Yeah, definitely having been put under certain circumstances, there was no way she was getting that easy paid bodega.

Her brother made sure of it after he let his boss in on one of her little secrets of the past. Apparently bosses don’t like to hear young girls fucking older coworkers on the job. You’d think they would. ‘What a dillhole’, she thought, ‘why can’t we just love?’ She imagined orgy porgies left and right. She could envision the CAUTION wet and slipper sign. Those fluids sure do get everywhere. She imagined something as seriously wild as human beings fucking each other while they hung from trees like sloths. Shit’s pretty freaky, that mind of hers. ‘We’d fuck our way backwards from evolution.’ Unfortunately her imagination, at this very moment when M’s papa’s vision ran red, chose the wrong time to run rampant and this is because it erupted a sloppy burst of laughter in Mr. Fischer’s face.

His neck whipped so quickly she stopped dead in her tracks being more concerned for his neck than for the trouble she found herself in.

“DO (one knee stomps forward) YOU (second knee stomps forward) THINK THIS IS FUNNY (all the knee action aggressively shuffles toward her)”, he exclaims, each word acting as an increase button for the redness of his face.

“OH SHIT chill, I’m sorry, fuck! I just..I just kinda thought of something funny, that’s all. Listen I can leave and you can find another babysitter because I chose this job to be a babysitter like I’m supposed to, not to be your fucking therapist!!” she’d stumbled back and caught the edge of the dresser in their living room, spraying these jumbled words of courage at the rest of the room instead of his face. At that moment, Matilda had commenced once again, leaving evidence for it by throwing the remote control at the flatscreen T.V. in which the impact sounded with a crack. She wailed on the couch as she began to kick and scream while she threw the couch throw pillows at even more expensive shit in the room like a really detailed snow glob on the mantle piece right beside the couch.

“DAMMIT!” Mr. Fischer stomps and yells to the floor. “Get out.”

This made Julie smile at Matilda. What a punny girl she will be. “Fine, later fucking loser.” Before she walked to the door and Mr. Fischer could slam the door in her face, she pulled the finger and tugged her left eye open with her tongue sticking out. She finally turns away and descends the staircase leading out to the street. “Ha, I bet i’ll drop by one day and find him drunken and alone, family gone, making out with a bottle of henny.’ She said to herself aloud. Despite having simply walked away from that shithole household, she actually worried for Matilda’s well being. She was just a kid. No one to understand she was just doing kid things and that asshole dad with his lack of patience…

Knowing Mr. Fischer, he’d be too busy arguing with his wife and working overtime to avoid his wife than finding another promising babysitter for M. It’s not normal for a 7 year old to take a cab to school and back. She may not be her babysitter anymore but she sure as hell didn’t have to let Matilda go home by herself.