Staying Lit…

We all have rainy days. Staying lit through a sun-lacking, gob-smacking, job-having days can be a challenge. So… how do you do it? How does one… stay lit?

Well! I am glad you asked… really. It makes me feel as though someone else has the same inklings of self doubt that I have.

Here are some helpful tips that assist me in not letting emotional instability get the better of me.

See the picture in everything. The world that you live in is beautiful. The people all tell stories through their eyes, the places are all coated in someone else’s touch, and the sky is always there to behold.

Shake things up. Do something new. Look for different people to hang with, or have differing conversations with the ones you are always around. Go places to explore or stay indoors and make it worth something.

Get inspired by something. Watch a good movie. Read a good piece of literature. Listen to some good music. Or do whatever it is that refreshes your mantra.

Be good to yourself. Take some time for you and appreciate all that you are for yourself.

 

If none of the above gets you lit then… Eat something.

Much love to you and your lit-ness.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

 

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My Innards!

My innards threatened to become my outtards… don’t question me… I had a fever. I honestly had so much more than a fever… but the fasten seatbelt sign burrowed into the psyche of my moral standards… well liabilities really. Not only that, but the stay in the airport the night before hadn’t done much for my hygiene at the time… I think the baby next to me is seriously opposed to my stench. “He’s flown before. He’ll be good” Yeah. He’s fine alright.

I couldn’t wait. I released myself from the restricting grip of the seatbelt and shot for the stall. The flight attendant looked at me with wary eyes, but the eyes of a mother were now soft as I explained my health… and she saw the color draining from my face. A mother knows… the obvious.

We traveled down the tarmac as I slushed out my entire day’s previous meals. When I could finally stand, the flight attendant knocked to give a minute warning for the takeoff. Fine… but I looked to the toilet for only a glance to indicate my intent to return.

The take off was not the easiest, but the child agreed with me… Honestly kid… you don’t know true suffering. My intestines were devolving. Fine… I shall return to my capsule of a prison. But first… “Ma’am we have a seat open in the back if you and your son would follow me…” Bye kid.

Side note… I was using the first class cabin’s restroom… well I was in business… but I couldn’t enjoy it… because the very movement involved in ordinary flight seemed to send my stomach into even more of a tizzy.

“Can I get you some ginger ale sweetheart?” Under normal circumstance, the term ‘sweetheart’ would wrench my stomach, but she was kind, and I was already too nauseas.

“Pick out a snack too… The granola bar would be good to settle your stomach…”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ve all been there.”

The warmth behind her smile made my queazy line of lips turn upward at the edges. I sat with my complimentary snack-age and tried to settle myself. I must’ve chewed about five tums… I could’ve paid twenty bucks for some pepto.

I ingested more, but my body didn’t want it… Too late. The brief forty-five minute flight was now minutes from landing.

“Damn…” My empty can was tossed, and the half eaten granola bar was looked at by my favorite flight attendant. “You should try to finish that.”

“Thank you” I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t argue with her either.

If you could believe it my condition was deteriorating further… Up until that point I had kept disposal of my waste to my rectal region, but now… the new contents of my stomach were not being warmly welcomed.

The worst landing of my life then ensued catching the attention of the other flight attendant… She would have to be an idiot to not notice. I was hyperventilating as to not projectile vomit everywhere.

“Are you okay” I could have smacked her… in what world would I be okay…?

I shook my head and she asked again fifteen seconds later. “Do you think I could get off early…?” We landed. I was trying to ask her if I could stand up, but apparently she was an idiot… Eventually, when we came to a complete stop, she said, “You can try.” Of course I can try, but its too late now.

I made it off the plane. I don’t think I said thank you to anyone, but the stench of my tarmac Hershey squirt-age now carried itself up the ramp to my rescue point, the restroom stall now forever graced with almost all my bodily mis-functions.

In all honesty, I don’t know how I made it to the luggage. I was subconscious and everyone kept their distance from me so… that’s probably why. If anyone would’ve crowded me my body would’ve rejected them, dramatically.

I have never endured more bitter suffering in my entire existence.

To the delta flight attendant who assisted me… Thank you from the bottom of my being.

Much love to you and your travel experiences.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

the beach

~Flashes of fiction~

 

Patrick is a man of many forms, but today, as he walks from one edge of the earth to meet the ocean’s welcoming frigidity, he is but a man. His lungs expand, filling themselves with the same essence as those around him now inhale, allowing the scent of the sea to inhabit them.

Chirps of distant cheering children skate across the surface of the waves just before they tumble against the shores subtly displaced sand. He moves to walk along the edge of the shore, “oh, excuse me…” the girl’s blackened lips parted slightly as her densely eye-lined eyes filled up with a common courtesy, “No problem.” He moved past her, but the remnant of her similar nature resounded in each mull of a wave’s displacement. Even goth girls go to the beach…

He walked as another being, a tanned man with broad shoulders, a defined physique, and unconcerned eyes, trotted passed. He turned to watch the man pass a few girls who cutely chattered as he passed. A screeching child darted into his path, stopping his observation. “Phoebe! Wait for me!” Her mother now moved passed him giving a simple smile as she went onward towards the little version of her.

The place around him seemed to be motion itself, yet it fueled his calm, a dense pulse now pushed him to sit atop the sand. The occasional “Shark!” would echo out, but no shark would ever be active. The sun’s high throne topped everyone with a layer of its rays allowing for the general white population to turn a nice shade of pink.

“Excuse me… You’re my history teacher from high school… don’t you remember me?”

He looked up into the young woman’s face and smiled warmly. “I’m sure… Oh! You’re Amy!” She smiled at his enthusiasm that was now mirrored in hers. She nodded and gestured, “May I sit?” He nodded in response.

“So this is how you were always such a calm teacher… and why everyone enjoyed your classes.”

“You still remember me so it must be true.”

“Of course… Hey you remember a guy named Tommy?”

“What does he look like?”

“Here…” She ruffled the items in her bag to pull a phone from it. Her hand held a picture of him. He smiled and nodding, a memory of the classroom clown clowning his way to the principal’s office in many of his other classes, but his antics had always been a welcomed comic relief to the density of history lessons.

“Well… he died. Yesterday he was hit on his way home and…” Amy’s words stopped as she choked back an apparent rush of emotion. Something clouded him, pulling him from the sound of the waves and the squawks of the guls.

“I am so sorry… He was an amazing person.”

“How do you know that.” She almost snarled with the response. He smiled softly.

“He was one of my favorite students…”

The words seemed to settle somewhere deep inside her eyes. She pooled like the waves her clear eyes now reflected. She let slip the emotions one by one. He turned to look out at the ocean, feeling somehow displaced by each wave.

He was one of my favorite students… Tommy. 

The waves seemed heavy as they released their weight and gravity’s upon the surface of the earth. The screeching children and echoing seagulls seemed harsh. The glint of shine from the spiked choker of the goth girl seemed a bit too much for the noon time’s sunlight. He sighed, closing his eyes. The sounds gave him something simpler to ponder.

He was an amazing person. Gone or not… Yes, he wouldn’t continue to affect the people around him, but the people had affected him were here now… On a beach, surrounded by life itself.

Patrick… A man of many forms now watching a beach and appreciating life. Realizing that life itself was and is and always will be beauty.

 

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

Journal Entry 2; Looking Forward

September 3rd 2017

I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. nonstop. It seems to be a good sound to take in the city to. May it be a good sound for you to take in my journal entry.

Its been a while since I have felt the density that is independence. Yeah its a lot to deal with, but I think the biggest confidence booster is finding out that you can handle more than you have before.

Life is beautiful… and not just when its obvious. I am all too grateful that life is great right now, but even when its sucks… For example. The profuse vomiting out a window of a vehicle that isn’t yours will most likely not leave you feeling fulfilled. Trust me. But in the end… you go to sleep and wake in the morning a little nauseous, but able to live another day. Alive because you had friends to get you home. Alive because you had a place to go home to. And truly alive because of reasons to leave that home and live life.

I am so happy to have finally found a venue for my creativity. Art school is filled with beings just like me in the nature of creativity and acceptance and beauty and reverence.

I encourage you to live your life. Its a choice. Move forward. I promise it’s difficulties will be worth it if you feel fulfilled from the beauty of it all.

Much love to you and your life.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

Journal Entry 1; looking back

August 4th 2017

I’ve been through a lot in the twenty years of my life. My mom has taught me how to be independent and how to love. My dad has taught me how to do stuff and has supported me tirelessly. My brother understands me and irritates me in the same moment… which has taught me plenty. My two best friends are amazing and inspiring. They constantly remind me that I am who I am through their belief in me. To my family whom I have rekindled a connection. Thank you. Thank you for loving me and talking to me. I really appreciate you all. So much.

I look back a lot when I am transitioning towards a new chapter.

To all the trash people I have associated with over the many years of my life and to all the people who were there for themselves and themselves alone, I’m glad I was there to learn from your existence. To all the people who were kind to me out of their own strength… you made high school enjoyable, so thanks.

To all the people I traveled the country with competing, I love you all. You grew up with me, and for that, I am rich.

To myself, I look back on who you used to be, and I am grateful that you’re not her anymore. You’re you now, fully, solidly. You aren’t afraid of people because you’ve seen the darkness in their capabilities. You aren’t afraid of stepping out because you’ve been criticized and honestly… criticism is just as empty as people’s opinions. Fluidity is a beautiful thing. The plasticity of the human persona has made you into a beautiful being filled with drive, confidence, and kindness.

Chicago is a lovely place. Every time I walk outside, I am inspired. The people. The places. The art. I am ready to carry myself through the next chapter because my past and present make me feel like I can.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~

 

Coffee.

Coffee.

Hello I am Tiffany.

A generic white girl.

I’m not really that generic.

The world doesn’t know that though.

No one knows me…

So maybe I am generic.

Generic? Or just boring.

Nah. I’m just bored.

 

Example one:

I was walking home, my dog having peed a couple times in the same places she manages to every day. She looked up at me just before we reached the driveway to the barely inhabited abode my parents had left for me. They died a few years back. Natural causes. Suburbia just gave them too much to be content with. Now here I was, taking two more steps and looking up to see what my dog was barking at. I just watched them. Two robbers carried the plasma I had from my house, taking it as their own. I don’t really like TV, so I just watched them. I think I even smiled when they caught sight of me. Just a simple smile. My television was gone just as simply.

 

Example two:

I was walking to work. The parking garage was across the street. I huddled along with most of the others from my office building. A coworker worked his way towards me. “Hey Tiff” His voice was a happy tune. It was ignored. He slid his arm over my shoulder. “Hey Tiff.” “Tom, if you’re going to touch me unnecessarily, then do it in the office so the HR woman can see you.” The indifference, or the words that dripped in the stuff seemed to scare him off. Indifferent, as a few suits and ties around me laughed loudly.

 

Still unconvinced?

 

Example three:

I was walking in the park. A seemingly homeless lady approached me. She held up her hand. I shook it. “I’m Tiffany.” The woman looked startled and hobbled away, suddenly more sound in her step.

 

I haven’t felt feeling in a while. I don’t know why. I have everything deemed substantial substantially, and yet, all the substance in my life is void. Generations previous have strived for this so-called ‘bliss’, but here I am with a house, dog, job, and healthy body and nothing to feel about it.

Yeah, I don’t have a wife and kids, but that’s just because I’m 24, and none of the perverts at work appeal to me. Bars aren’t my scene. I haven’t had wine outside my house in years. I only just now decided to use the glasses from the crystal cabinet. The process was unbelievably un-titilating.

 

Who are you?

Generic?

Boring?

Bored?

I don’t really know who you are. I’ve gotten stuck where I’m at, and this is all there is for me… Tiffany. The generic white girl. Boring and bored of all things enveloped in existence. I’m successful by means of society life, but living… That’s the stuff of legend. You heard of it? I would love to stay and chat, but I’ve got monotony to return to. Maybe we could grab coffee again.

 

I left that coffee shop with little means of recovery, but you tried. Offered another day of your time, but your life actually beckoned you. You’d be somewhere else with other, more awake, people. A person more alive. A person that mattered. I wish I mattered, but my inability to feel also prohibits me to care enough to do anything too strenuous about it. Also, if you aren’t willing to pull me from the pit of the null and the void, then empty is where I shall stay.

 

But coffee was nice.

The Importance of Family

Lets set the record straight. All families give each other reasons to not get along, to get pissed, to feel like life is unfair, etc. At the end of the day, if they’re doing it right, and you are as well, then they are the last to leave you.

The lack of their presence doesn’t exactly keep them from you. Their heart, and yours as well, will grow closer with distance. Trust me.

Here I speak to the fellow beings in my age range/ walk of life… Parents are going to get on your nerves in this time of transition. Its ‘bird leaving the nest syndrome’, but in this time, they will learn that support is all you need to spread your wings. All they need to do is love you and smile when you look to them for assurance.

They love you.

Whoever raises you loves and cherishes you. Most of the time this is true. SO please stop saying they’re the worst. I am so tried of myself and the people of my age trying to hate on their parents. It isn’t fully their mistake. They give too much and you want too much from them. This is the time where you establish your own means of life, and they learn what that entails.

Yes it sucks to be told what to do, but here’s some perspective from the mouth of my father, “This is the first time I am raising a twenty year old…” Just as it is your first time living your life, it is their first time watching you struggle to do so. All a parent should want to do in this stage is help you through it, but ultimatly it is up to you to spread your wings and fall on your face. They will be there if you need them… if you don’t scream at them and/or grow bitter towards their existence.

I love my family, but it took me a little while to realize just how much I do. I used to have people question why I share everything with them, and question why I am so close with my family. Answer is, I’ve been through a lot with them, and anytime I go through something it isn’t the questioning friends that help me through it, its them.

In all honesty, if you’re having a hard time with your family and such, just try talking to them about it. You can’t fix something involving two people with just one person. Communication is an important milestone in the process of growth.

My brother, father, and mother are all my best friends, and for that, I am truly fortunate.

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Much love to you and your family.

~may your breath always be the way you wish~