"One day, and I know you'll be patient enough I'll explain, but for now.. I promise, you don't need someone like me to bring you down, cause that's all I'll ever do."


How could I have put my heart and soul into something and it cuts me loose just like that? I do a labor of love, just to help individuals who need it most to succeed and I'm just let go like a sandbag from an air balloon. My frustration does not come from the people that tell me I waste my time, you're too nice, you've become a dependence. My frustration is fueled by whether or not I should accept the fact that I'm merely a stepping stone, not blasting off on my own spaceship. I'm like a floating buoy in the ocean that guides lost ships in the churning ocean, but I'm anchored, while they take heed of my light and move on. People come to me all the time, from all walks of life, because there's a lack of individuals who are willing to understand. Like recently someone told me, "I'm sorry I pull you out all the time to vent, but you know what I'm trying to say. You and I both are the under-appreciated laborers who keep everything together. No one sees that." I've been growing a sense of apathy within me all my life because I recognize many situations to be something I'm all too familiar with. But the things, the people in my life are handpicked in a way that I place how much effort I put into them, which in effect, determines how they affect me. I know I have a philosophy that life is about compromise, and lots of times things will come down to just you. You can keep adding to the equation but it equals nada, at least nothing in your own hands that you can grasp. Things like these just lead me to more questions, leaning towards the answer that I may be right. I pray to see a greater meaning, not this, please, just not this.

"I did not inherit the fear of those in authority. In fact, my observation of people's condescension, use of authority, and misuse of power helped shape my politics at a young age. I identified with the underdog, was angry at the bully, fought against the misuse of power. But I did inherit their fear of taking risks, of doing anything big, of trying anything new. I have trouble with paper forms; I've never been able to write a grant proposal; I have no credit cards. I sometimes seek invisibility as a form of safety."

-Bernice Mennis

I'll be with you even though we're apart, but your road is yours to tread. And so it goes..

I've been listening to the same song for the past hour. Eventually I'll turn it off or skip to a new song, but for now it's just fine. Finding the perfect song to listen to at the right moment is having it complement the beating of your heart, the ticking of your mind. The flow of the rhyme mimics the voice of your soul, it says it more perfectly than you could have ever conveyed it. Finding the perfect song is like finding the perfect person. This person is just what you were craving for, and your bodies and souls are in sync. But eventually, the same song is on repeat long enough that both people's sync become individually out of touch with it. But that's just what comes with time. Now the two must find the rhythm again and it takes a bit of shuffling. People are like playlists on random that you can't modify. This isn't Pandora, you can't just dislike something and never see it again or like it so it keeps reappearing. Life is a lot about chance accompanied with correlation. I think people get so sad about relationships because they couldn't change the playlist they were listening to, but they really wanted to because the songs playing before were so incredible, so similar to their own. Sometimes you have to embrace the songs in the playlist you find unusual or offensive, it's just something to keep you sharp and on your toes. Maybe if you listen long enough you'll grow to like it, or not. Life is about compromise, not a pot of prizes to choose from. What matters is that you know that this is still the playlist that contains the songs you love, it's just a little far in the past or far in the future, or just in the middle, never to come back. In that case, you can always stop listening.

The lucky ones that by the fortunate chance of finding each other, hold on through the good songs and the bad songs and the weird songs. Each song that's left an impression in their mind, heart, and soul is a string that ties them together. Even when they get really out of sync or get distracted by other playlists, these strings, no matter the length, essentially keep them together. It's a choice whether to return to the other side of the tug or to just let it be hard proof that there are things out there that can flow with you in harmony.

I'll come back to this

It's funny, this feeling of enjoyment or this feeling of pain or anything. I never get caught up in the moment because nothing lasts forever. And it's funny, I guess, because people attempt to extend the expiration date, or even worse, expect it to maintain. Why is that? They say insanity is the process of repetition, expecting a different outcome. But from experience, shouldn't we get it by now? I'm not sure what to think of this, this futile process. Does this define us as humans, faith in the slim chance of breakthroughs? Or is it our downfall? I don't know.

But I'll come back to this, again and again.

I get so stupid when I'm drunk.

Alcohol and guarine and taurine and caffeine and.. and.. and...

it hits me to the dome.

I contradict, I know. But you know, they don't leave any room for growth or mistakes or mistakes or anything. Then they wonder why I don't say shit. Then they beg and deplore my attitude of confidence, little do they know. So I come at them like missiles, blow by blow I tell 'em.  I'm just like you, I may not go through the same shit, the same divorce, the same abuse, the same dangerous love, the same insecurities, but it's all the same. Except I see the future, I have that peek. I acknowledge the narrow door that's slightly open, but most importantly, I acknowledge the importance of opening it and getting through it. The shit within me that's a constant battle is something good. They say, "We're just trying to understand you." Well then get that I was trying to maintain what society is supposed to make of me, but it's not what I really want at all. It's that steel door that you can't melt that hides the deformities, but the steel door is a deformity in itself. Your deformities is the qualities you try to conform yourself into. What I'm trying to get at is fuck those conformities, what really matters to me is what everyone else claims are the deformities. That's what I've been trying to make, what's real is what pains you, and ultimately that pains me. Why am I pained by what drives me? What drives me is what sets me apart from you and you and you and you.. Almost a year ago, better yet what I was four months ago, is something I can barely recognize. You asked me of my beliefs, and I told you the contrite. I'm sorry, that's not me. It's like my whole life I've been working for that degree, that invite that says, yes you made it Jess, this is it. But what I've been working for my whole life, that kind of acceptance, isn't what I'm looking for anymore.

I hear her say things like I need him to tell me that I'm what he needs. I hear him call me princess, you're my princess, I'll give you everything. Fuck that, I'm not that. Hearing those things make me cringe, but at the same time I'm so patient because I'm nonqualititatve. I'm alright with that and I recognize that I'm not on the same step that you're on, I'm okay with that!!! Nonqualititative, you say, what's that? Think of someone that was just paralyzed and had to use a wheelchair for the first time. They see a ramp and they gotta make themselves up the ramp, but they're not used to it so their strength only takes them so far that their weight brings them back a couple inches, a couple feet. Me, I'm not inching the ramp anymore, I'm on stairs. I was on crutches, but now I'm healing and I gotta make myself up step-by step. I'm on the second level or I'm on the first. I'm on the tenth or I regress back to the eighth. The top is a light that's barely visible, but it's enough to attract me to get to it.

As much as this sounds go goddamn miserable, damn Jess you're so pessimistic. But how? I'm trying to be better and you're taking it as Jess, you think too much. So what, just because I don't have to go through as much bullshit to see what's real, that doesn't make me qualified to feel the way I feel, to think the way I think? I'm tired, I'm exhausted in questioning why I feel the way I do. As the days progress, I've become more and more receptive to the way I've discovered my own epiphanies. And I know God, this is one of the deadliest sins, pride is one of the deadliest sins. But I come to your house every Sunday and tell you, "Don't worry about me, it's them you have to worry about." I'm trying to be an instrument, but who's oil do I use to tune me up, theirs, Yours, or mine?

Oil and Water

I’ve lived my whole life with the notion that I should repel from anything I don’t believe in, anything corrupt, anything superficial, and anything that connects itself with demoralization. At too young of an age, I realized the degrading power of sex and vowed never to accept advances with shallow intentions. Of course there are slip-ups, but I certainly have kept to it for the majority of my lifetime. I remember the first time that I came face-to-face with torments from girls with low self-esteem, and to watch them mature into the real bad bitches that held a knife to my face if I accidentally glanced at them for more than a split second. I never enjoyed the feeling of that frozen fear and doubting my own character, so I never try to tower over individuals to make them feel inferior. I remember countless, sleepless days attempting to ease the pain of my best friend, who swore to take her own life away due to the actions of some stupid, stupid boy. She taught me to never let a guy play me for a fool. I remember when my mom first told me that in that beautiful wedding portrait we have up in our house, “Those aren’t tears of joy.” From then on I knew that I would never settle, even if I had to walk to the ends of the earth and find nothing.

And find nothing.. The list of oppositions is still growing, and it made me understand that people idealize the wrong things. After a while I’ve come to realize how lonely it is to take a step back and acknowledge what’s really going on. Then I start to question whether it is a blessing or a curse to have been born with a little more willpower to live in this world, but follow a different map, a map that leads to roads barely touched. I live my life anxiously. I can’t say I’m waiting because I’m growing every day. But I live anxiously pacing through where and what I think is right, and as I keep walking, I see less and less people around me. I look back, and it’s tempting to regress and just follow. I keep what I believe in close to me, hoping that if I find my own way, I’ll see why I’m like this. Little do I know, the Big Guy up there doesn’t even know anymore than I do.

Wow, the shit I rant about before I drink. 

There are things in the way, but things happen that way

Classes started, and to no one's surprise, it sucks. I have this one class, Women's Changing Roles, at 8 in the morning. First of all, I hate 8 am classes. Secondly, I hate listening to feminists preaching at 8 in the morning. The other day, I was sitting in this class minding my own business while she goes on to ask the class, "Is anyone in charge of their own destiny?" My class is basically a holistic gradient of the world. There's the oober conservative, "Only God knows my destiny, every turn I take is because I listen to him." Then there's the extreme, "No one tells me what to do, I'm getting out of college, and then I'm gonna be CEO chyeahh." And, lastly, where I believe I fit in, the middle, "Certain circumstances may change my direction, but I know I can certainly flip some of the cards I'm dealt." Of course, my professor takes delight in hearing what we have to say because she can't wait to roll her eyes and say, "Well you're wrong." She took a different approach this time though. 

"You," she points at me, "do you ever want to get married?" 

Caught off guard, I swiftly answer, "Yes." 

She snaps back, "Why?"

I was definitely not in the mood, but I knew I had to make the answer as impressively educated as possible   because I was already 20 minutes late for both times I had the class.

"Well, I'm okay with being in a relationship forever and never getting married. I ultimately don't believe that marriage should change the dynamics of a relationship, unless financially I suppose. However, I do want to get married when or if I decide to have children. When I took Developmental Psych, I learned that, statistically, children who are raised in a normal household with nurturing parents who are happily married, develop to be mentally/physically good kids. Theoretically, I can say that my future child would be confused, being that the ordinary circumstances of family are 'married' and 'divorced' but his parents would be considered 'other.' I don't want my child to grow up questioning anything like that." (pats myself on the back, good answer Jess)

She gives me a satisfied look, "And you just answered my question to why nobody controls their destiny. You see, you relied on what's 'normal' to determine your future and the future of your child. This is how everyone one of you live your life." 

I understood her point, but I guess not really. It actually got me heated. Nowadays, I never get upset over anything, especially if it's caused by people. There is a plethora of people that will be letting me down my whole life, so I make that one less stress. What really gets me heated is when people falsify my beliefs. Basically, the only time I get "angry" is when I'm being defensive. 

It got me thinking though. How much control do I really have over my destiny? I hastily went over the many facets of my life like so... My childhood, I was beat up until I inherited the Bronx mentality which was being reckless and angry all the time, but thank God I decided to let go of that. I always thought family matters were in check until I grew up and realized how fucked up everything is, like big fat LIE status. School.. I was a sped, like every class was in the trailers until my parents literally whipped me into shape. And now I go to a college I really could care less about. My career choice was essentially the result of giving up a battle and heavy insecurities... etc etc. 

I stared at the virtual reality I listed in a cumbersome manner in amazement. Do I not have any control? Today I came up with two things I feel that I am certainly in control of. 

1) My thoughts and my dreams. I made this a two-for-one because they're both ideas that are left in my mind. Even my best friends call me the mystery girl because they're always wondering what's lingering in that dome of mine, but they already know I deal with it myself. My whole life things were taken from me.. my innocence beaten out, my brain trained for intelligence, my allegiance to my family's wishes, everything, the list can go on. That's why I base too many decisions on how bad I feel, how will if affect others, that's just how I was raised. I believe that once you let the world know about anything you care for, it's gonna do it's best to take it away from you. The righteous call it discipline, I call it unfair. I have been taken advantage of too many times and my thoughts misconstrued to bullshit. My dreams, unrealistic and laughable. But I do my best to place what truly matters to me in the right spots, so I can let it grow into something real beautiful. 

2) Finding the right people.. and person to share with. I hate writing about love or anything of the sort, I really do. Because love is not a thought process, it's uncontrollable, it's crazy. That's all I have to say about that. I control the handful of people I choose to share intimate thoughts with. By right people, I mean people I can have faith in, people that won't encroach on what I believe in, people that will truly take what I say into consideration. And the right person.. someone I can feel with and throw thoughts and expectations and philosophies back and forth, but knowing it won't be left unheard. He'll be someone I'm fascinated with and admire. We'll appreciate each other's qualities.. and most importantly, the feelings will be mutual. 

So to my professor, fuck you, because I still have a hold on my life. 

Slow Down

I always promised myself that I wouldn't do it. I can't even compare it to a promise because it's something that would be so out of character in the first place. When I think of promises, I think of a covenant that's difficult to fulfill. And this isn't supposed to be difficult, whether it be out of fear or with a sprinkle of will power. 

I see it as the scariest, most thrilling roller coaster on the planet. Like Kingda Ka in Six Flags. When that monster was first built, I didn't even know it was a roller coaster. It was so out of character - just straight up and down. Then when I saw what it was capable of, I was immediately repelled. No fuckin' way, not for me. The second time I encountered it, I was tempted. Even little kids were on it. If they can do it, then I can. "Ahh, but they don't know me, I care about living, and that looks like it can kill you." Third time around, I decided to stand in line, ready to leave at any heightened anxiety. By the time I knew it, I was sucked into the seat, ready to be launched. "Holy.... SHIT." I was a rocket in the sky, and before I knew it, my feet where back on Earth. After experiencing the thrill, I definitely knew it was something I would do again in a heartbeat. 

It's like that. The more I'm around the prospect of this certain "thrill," I'm less and less repelled. That fear turns into temptation, and that sprinkle of will power turns into handfuls. But this thrill is definitely more risky, like a fork in the road with no return.

It's bad, but I want to. 

October 18, 2005

I'm alone.  and this silence reminds me of something I miss dearly. 

Get ready for another one of my ramblings.

I recall the time when my father and I took those evening walks through New York streets to get to a local video store. We used to borrow videos and such. I remember being incredibly afriad of walking those nights. Although I was just a young girl, I was aware of the reputation of the streets at night. Especially in the Bronx. I tend to start talking too much to avoid my fear of a muggler coming up and robbing us blind..  However with my father,  it was completely different.

I knew, and he knew that it was very important for his well-being of being away from home, just for a while,  just to contemplate,  just to listen to the hustling of the streets, just to have some down-time. Even if it meant being out in the dark. And I knew he took me along so my mom wouldn't be worried about him out their alone. Even if I was just a 6 year-old fragile girl. 

And my own presence,  was fully indispensible to his well-being. He understood that each of us knew of the other's well-being, and for the reasons for it, and knew how each depended on the other.. how each of us meant more to the other, in this most important of all ways, than anyone or anything else in the world. And that the best of this well-being lay in this mutual knowledge, which was never really concealed nor revealed. There were no words, or even ideas, or formed emotions, of the kind that bave been suggested here,  no more in my father than in me.

These realizations moved clearly through the senses, the memory, the entire feeling of  being next to each other in a place known as 'bad'.. but it felt so peaceful and safe. Sometimes on these evenings,  my dad would whistle some oldies tune and then perhaps we'd start talking a word or two,  but my father would never finish part of that tune. For some reason,  silence seemed much more pleasurable, and we would never seek to say much,  or to listen for a replay, or to even finish what we were saying.

And then when we pass KFC we'd walk slower.. I suppose to smell the chicken. But I must say,  it smelled pretty darn good. And its really unusual how at times, all I hear is us. Even if we didn't say much, and the cars may get a bit noisy.


It was times like these where silence means everything.

Warning Signs

It's nights like these that lead me to believe that something has got to give in. It's four in the morning and my body just won't let me rest. I have a belief that despite what life throws at you, something inside you nudges hints at you to do what you have to do. A lot of people don't even realize this. It could be something as simple as having had too much to drink last night and feeling like shit the next morning; so when you're confronted with the prospect of a party tonight, you throw up a little in your mouth (ding ding, that's the hint). Or perhaps a better example is how a person reacts with the cycles thrown at them. Ohh, the infamous cycles. They're like hurricanes, but what really matters is if people are prepared for them. I have a friend who always falls for the same douchebag, low-life, pervert dudes, I mean ALWAYS falls for them. Like a hurricane, they rip her apart, from the roof to the foundation, and once the cold winter hits, she rebuilds herself the same rickety-dink way as before. The other night, I almost had a breakthrough with her. She openly admitted that she sees the cycle, but can't seem to break from it. "No," I said, "no way. With every guy that breaks you, the more and more your heart aches. But one day it's gonna go numb, you won't even feel it, anything. A major part of growing and becoming a better person is listening, if it's not listening to people that care for you, it's listening to yourself. If you can't do that, then life serves no purpose for you."

Back to the fact that I can't sleep, well, it's a very familiar feeling. It has become something that I've settled into. And it's not just the insomnia. It's knowing that I'm already fifteen minutes late for work, and I'm still in bed. It's the five extra minutes I spend in the car before I enter my house just so I can sit there. It's not picking up my phone because I just don't feel like talking about whatever concern there is to talk about. But it's not just a seasonal thing, this comes on a daily basis, and it's too much a part of my life. This numbness is disturbing (ding ding, that's the hint). So at least I know that something has to change. I'm grasping for each minute of my life to be for something, but what for? What am I here for?

Believe me, I'm listening real hard, but all I get is a murmur that I can't decipher. Everyone has something inside of them that nudges them in attempt to lead them in the right direction. But the biggest blessing that may not come through for many people is when life throws a hint at you. You know, it's like bumping into a guy at the counter who just happens to be buying the same CD as you, which you didn't even know anyone in the whole state of New Jersey listened to. I'm not pleading or anything, I'd like to think that everything will pan out as long as you don't lose yourself with what life deals you. But it'd be real nice to get that sign.

Faulty Camera

This summer, like the last one except less exciting, consists of me working, sleeping, and drinking. Emphasis on working. Work is a mundane glob of bullshit. So as I always try to live by, let's skip the bullshit. There is one bittersweet thing about work, however, that is worth mentioning. Recently, my boss finally started to allow us to listen to music, so now doing bullshit sucks a lot less. That's the "sweet" part. The "bitter" part is that it leaves my mind with eight hours to roam freely. This is no bueno. I believe my brain is wired to try to put my life into a panoramic image. Every single fucking detail, every piece of emotion, every nook and corner, EVERYTHING. Obviously, this is crazy. At this point, we should all know that the mind sees what it wants to see.. You know, the image that our eyes captures actually has a huge chunk missing because of the blind spot in our eyeballs, but the brain colors it in. Ridiculous. Some people may call this "smart," but to me, this is proof of how faulty we are. Yes, I said it, our brain is a faulty camera. How do we really know the green that he sees is the green that I see? How come that kid in the birthday party is amused by Jerry the Clown, while the other kid is pissing himself in fetal position from the sight of him? Well let's delve deeper. Why is it that for three years I looked at my ex-boyfriend and saw the greatest thing that has probably happened to me, and now when I see him, my brain tells me to walk away?

There is a little bipolar syndrome in all of us. You know what I mean. They're the little battles that occur inside us, of what is right and wrong, what is cool or lame, or whether to give a fuck or not. For a long time, I used to wake up saying, "Hey, you're not smoking today, that shit is straight up cancer." An hour later, I'm chain smoking. The point I'm trying to get at is just to question how long can our brain trick us and how long will we allow it to do so. When does a dream lifestyle turn into a routine you settle into? When does something that used to make you happy, make you bored? 

A friend of mine said that it is all perspective. We can control our happiness based on how we choose to look at things. This is very powerful and indubitably true. But how long are we willing to gaze at one side of the cube until we peek at the other five sides?

"And it's hard tryna keep this in yah, so I write it all down so one day maybe when life is all sweet I'll remember."

A friend told me that it's about time that I started a blog again, so here I am. It's seems like forever, but seriously,  this stuff used to help me out a lot. See, I'm a thinker, and like a clock, my brain is forever ticking. Each tick is a thought, each one building upon the next thought until it strikes a certain point where it contradicts the previous ones -- and it starts all over again. It sucks sometimes, but that's why I got this to keep track.

Well, that's all I have to say for now.