A Rut

“Beware the bareness of a busy life.”

— Socrates

I fee like I’m in a rut. School and church. That is what my life consists of these days. I can’t wait to graduate except that I have to get things prepared over the summer for the move to New York in September so more school. I have to take the ACT next Saturday, bake something for the bake sale at church next Sunday, finish my research paper by this Thursday, etc. In between the two I barely have enough time for me. One of my worst fears is allowing my life to pass me by and regretting not living my life the way I want. I’m sure most people feel that way but when you’re going from an adolescent to an adult you realize you’ve spent the past 18 years not living the life you want but the life your parents paved for you. I’m just tired. Tired of school, tired of. . . . everything. At this point the only reason I’m still in school is because I want to say I graduated from high school and my mother didn’t. It’s petty but I felt a sense of pride when I went to my first prom and she told me she had never even been to a prom. I don’t ever want it to be said that I’m just like my mom. So. . . I guess I had better get comfortable in my rut. Life is filled with potholes.


Nightmares (revisited)

“Of all the things you choose in life, you don’t get to choose what your nightmares are. You don’t pick them; they pick you.”

— John Irving

The only time that I’ve been hesitant about posting something was when I first started this blog because I felt like I was putting myself before the chopping block. But thankfully I haven’t received any negativity which is great but I’m hesitant now. I had a nightmare last night and my nightmares are rarely terrifying, mostly eerie. But last night’s dream scared me with its vividness. It felt so real. I guess I should say what occurred in the nightmare that scared me. In the dream I had stayed at my mom’s house overnight, which rarely happens in real life, and she had tried to coerce me into having sex with her boyfriend. I refused and ran out of the house with my phone and scant belongings. And because dreams are weird and rarely resemble reality I found myself wandering around New York, homeless and alone. No one back home was answering my calls, almost as if they had forgotten me, and I had no clothing, no shelter, no food, no friends; I had next to nothing, only a cell phone. Even in this dream world I could discern the irony that the city that I couldn’t wait to live in was the city that I couldn’t wait to leave. I woke up disoriented and confused. The dream had felt so real that I almost didn’t recognize my own room, quiet and peaceful in my grandmother’s house. I don’t know what the dream meant. I do know that in real life my mom wants me to visit New York in the company of her boyfriend and his family over spring break. Maybe my subconscious is expressing my. . . misgivings about spending a whole week in a foreign city with people I can hardly stand to look at. I don’t know. But it scared me and because there are elements of my past abuse in it I was hesitant to share it which is crazy because I started this blog to help me overcome what I’ve experienced in my past. It goes to show you how rattled this dream had me. But there’s that and I’m even more wary now about attending college in New York, especially if it means I have to visit the campus with my mom, her boyfriend and his family in tow. It seems not even my choice of college is about me. My mom has managed to make it about her boyfriend like she does everything else. Great. And she wonders why I want to move so far away.


A Smile

I had originally wrote this poem for a class assignment so in my opinion its not the best but I’d thought I would post it anyway because I love my grandmother and I had wrote this as a depiction of her.

Smooth aged skin

Crinkled eyes

Upturned lips

Pearly white teeth


Amusement sparkled in her eye

The sun reflected back her smile

The whole world uttered a sign

Her smile kept us tethered for awhile


The blossoms bloomed

And their fragrance filled the air

The flowers got caught in her hair

And yet still she smiled



“As soon as you stop thinking about them, they’ll send you a text message or they’ll call you because they know you just stopped thinking about them; it’s like radar.”

— Lauren Conrad

I guess its true. As soon as you stop thinking about this certain guy its like he can sense it and so he calls or text you out of the blue. I’d stopped thinking about my ex and had even deleted his number from my phone. I got a text today from this number that I didn’t recognize with a one word message: hey. It was my ex. I hate asking “who is this?” when I’m texting someone because its quite offensive but I’d completely forgotten his number and had no idea who was texting me. I think I’d offended him but what did he expect? That I’ll keep his number in hope of the event that he may call or text me in the future and we can be friends? Its frustrating. Just when I think I’d figured him out he texts me. Like nothing had happened and he hadn’t made it clear that he didn’t want us to remain friends. I will never understand guys. I will never understand people period. And I certainly have no intention of holding on to a relationship that is obviously poisonous for me. I can’t deal with him right now but how do I say that without sounding bitchy and bitter? I’m not bitter. I just need to move on completely and that means cutting all ties with him. If he cares about me as much as he claims he does then he will understand and respect that and leave me alone. Key word being IF.



“You will get to know me better; there are still a number of horrible recesses in me that you don’t know.”

— Franz Kafka

Everyone has secrets. Some are just worse than others. It’s. . . disturbing when you discover something unpleasant about someone that you look up to. My current Fine Arts Survey teacher used to be a student at my school. He attended the school back when racism was very prominent. He mentioned that some of the Caucasian teachers that are still employed today gave him a lot of trouble back when he was a student because he was one of the few African American students at the school. I was shocked to discover that my gymnastics coach was one of those teachers. I adore him. Not once in the four years that I’ve known him did it ever occur to me that he was prejudice against blacks. People do change. Some of the best gymnasts on our team are African American and they’re his favorites. Is it possible that he no longer have reservations where colored people are concern or is he just a good actor? My grandmother claims that she sensed he was racist when she first met him but then again my grandmother doesn’t think very highly of Caucasian people, men in particular. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable remaining in this man’s class and his gymnastics team knowing that he at one point believed that black people were inferior to him, people like me. Its true that I’ve never felt discriminated against by him personally but how do you know if someone has changed? You never really know a person. I guess its true that what you don’t know about a person will surprise you.


The Calm

“It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it.”

— Amelia Barr

The calm before the storm. That’s the only way to describe how I’m feeling right now. The past 3 days have been good. My mom dropped my niece and two little sisters off with me and it felt so good to be around them that I didn’t realize how much I had missed them. I guess I never realized how similar loneliness and solitude are. I enjoyed my solitude but I felt lonely without the familiar, comforting, and annoying presence of my siblings. I just felt like these past few days have been too good. I guess I was sort of right. I lost my great-grandmother last month. I found out today that my aunt has a kidney disease. Her kidneys aren’t doing so good and if they get worse. . .  My mom’s sister is 10 years older than me. We were raised together by her mom. She’s more like a sister than an aunt to me and we have certainly bickered in the past like sisters. When my mom didn’t want me to stay with her toward the end of my junior year I found myself staying at my aunt’s apartment. Without my grandmother to act as mediator we argued a lot less. I can’t lose her too. Sometimes it feels like Death is picking my family members off one by one. She can’t be next. But I sense that things are going to get worse before they get better. There is a storm brewing and I just hope my aunt is still standing when the clouds clear.