My Master's Son

A rough draft to what I have been working on. So mind the incorrect vocabulary, historical inconsistencies, and grammatical errors please.

Introduction

I ran through the woods in the night. My feet hitting and crushing the laves with every step. I wasn't being careful. I wasn't being quiet. I had no fear of master or any other white person finding me and hanging me. I had no fear of death. I couldn't feel the tears on my face but I knew I was crying. I couldn't here the sound of my breath but I knew I was panting. I also knew an inaudible sound was escaping my mouth. I didn't care though. There was no escaping the pain I was experiencing. There was no escaping the dark cloud that attached itself to me after the series of events that just unfolded, permanently making me cringe. There was no escaping what I knew.

Chapter 1

I remember the first time I was brought to master's. I was just a young-in, couldn't have been older than ten but I remember riding up to the pearly white house sitting in the trunk of master's wagon. By some odd fate my momma and I had been allowed to stay together. As a child I used to think it was because master was a good man and couldn't bear to separate a mother and her offspring, but as I grew older I came to understand that the only thing my master couldn't bear that day was the sound of my mother's crying; screeching really. She screamed and yelled and begged to not be separated and she caught the usually firm man on a weak day.

Arriving at the house mama was sent to help in the kitchen  out back, and though young, master had chosen me to grow in the house and train to be a house slave. Early on in my life I wasn't given many responsibilities I followed Aunt Ruth around during lunch and breakfast but I was free to play most of the day.

Master has a son about my age. A thin active boy with hair the color of dirt and eyes that resembled  the creek master owned; ranging from green to yellow depending on the day. When we were little I had a theory that his eyes changed color when his mood changed. He told me  was I was stupid and because I was black his eyes changed color depending which side of him I was standing by.

I met Alex three days after I was first bought. I was playing with a stick alone by a tree stump a little far off from the house. That day Aunt Ruth has taught me how to set the table and properly address anyone who lived and came into master's home. After teaching me all this she sent me off to "get out of the way" while she prepared lunch. Aunt Ruth, like mama,hadn't been born a slave. She was taken from a world mam described as flowing with crystal rivers with a beaming sun that never stopped shining. I used to imagine myself living in this world. I would imagine myself climbing trees and eating from it's fruits. I would have the prettiest grey dog with sky blue eyes and together we would explored the jungle and wrestle animals.

My mind was probably in this place the day I met Alex. I don't know how long he stood there watching me before he spoke. "What are you doing?" I snapped out of my world and stood up as fast as I could. "Good afternoon, sir. I was only playing with dirt."
"How old are you?"
"I'm not sure, sir."
"Well I'm nine and you look like you're my age so I'd say you're nine too."
"Yes sir."
He began to walk towards the woods and I followed.
"Why do you keep calling me that? Can you stop?"
"Okay, sir."
"Hey!"
I giggled. "Oh yeah, sorry."
"What's your name?"
"Rebecca"
"I'm Alex. Do you want to ride my wraft with me in the creek?"
"Okay."

We spent the entire evening riding aimlessly down the creek and then rowing back p. It was far into the night when we arrived back at the house. Master's wife, Lady Elizabeth Grant was sitting in the parlor room fanning herself.
"Boy, where have you been?"
" I as at the creek with Rebecca."
"You shouldn't be fooling with no slave!" She said as she looked at me with disgust,
"Mama, she's the only kid on this entire plantation whose my age. The closest kid to us is 16 and the other is 6 months!"
"What about Lil Billy. He don't live too far off."
"That boy stupid!" Alex said as he started up the stairs.  I stayed in my place in front of the lady. She looked at me questionably. "Well... I guess it's alright!" She yelled so that he could hear. "But don't you go getting in the way of her work!" Then she looked at me "And don't you go thinking you any special because you get to play with the master's son". Alex appeared again at the top of the stairs. "You coming?" He screamed to me.
"Go on then" she said to me dismissively.
I ran up the stairs, I had not seen the upstairs rooms yet. Most slaves hadn't. "And walk!"
Lady Elizabeth screamed. "Don't ya'll be coming home so late either!"

Once in Alex's room I marveled at all the interesting things he had. I started playing with a wooden toy animal on the ground. "Will you leave that elephant alone and get up on this bed!" I put the toy down and climbed the tall soft bed. It had a sort of thick cloth ceiling connected to it, that was being held up by wooden pillars. The bed all together was deep blue and gold. "Am I allowed to be up here?" I asked Alex. "What does it matter? Mama can't do anything and Daddy's always away so he can make money. Plus, anytime he's here he just slaps Ma around." I kept quiet and watched Alex fiddle with a string.  "Don't make no sense. I wouldn't slap anyone. I would just tell them what to do and they would obey."
"Yeah, you are pretty bossy."
"Hey!" He pushed me playfully.
"You'd better watch your manners. I'll be your master one day."
"How does your daddy make money by leaving the house?"
"He buys and sells slaves."
"Do you think he'd sell me?"
"No. I wouldn't let him." Alex said without looking up from his string game.

That night I dreamt I was dancing in a field in my mother's world with white elephants.

Chapter 2

Most days I would work with Aunt Ruth until supper then spend the evenings wit Alex floating in the creek. A few days before Alex's 10th birthday Alex showed up in the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.  "Young sir, what are you doing here?" scolded Aunt Ruth. "Leave me alone!" remarked Alex,approaching me. "Mama needs someone to get some things in town. Wanna come?"
"Why didn't she just send a slave?"
"Ya'll can't read!"
"Well, I'm working."
Alex sighed and walked up to Aunt Ruth. "Excuse me, Ms. Ruth. I need Rebecca's assistance to get some errands done for mama." Aunt Ruth looked from Alex to me and back. "Oh Alright! I quickly let go of the bread dough I was kneading and rinsed my hands in the bucket of water by the kitchen door. "Let's run before mama sees us". Alex and I ran through the path in the woods instead of taking the main entrance path in front of the house. Once we arrived to the dirt road that led to town we slowed our pace.  Alex looked at the paper. "We have three places we need to go to."

We started off at Alex's aunt's home. Ms.Celia Walker had the closest house to town. She was a plump women, older than Alex's mom but you would never know because she was always dressed in festive pink. It made her look young. Like he clothes, Ms. Celia was a loud women. You could always find her sitting on her front porch gossiping and laughing with another lady friend or flirting with a bachelor. She wasn't particularity mean but I don't think she cared much for slaves. I'd imagine if I were born white her and I would get along very well.

We walked up to the porch and as expected Ms. Walker was sitting at her table chatting away with another lady friend about a new man visiting town. When she noticed Alex she sent for her slave to get a package, insulted Alex's "filthy" appearance, and delivered the shocking news about the mysterious visitor's past as an adulterer, without so much taking a breath. Alex was given a bag of wax candles by a slave and as we began our walk down the stairs and off the porch Ms. Walker told Alex to let his mom know she needed to pay her a visit.

After there we headed to Williams Travis's, the town baker, to pick up a special sort of lour that was supposed to have come from a country that William said would take years to get to on feet.

Finally we ended at a small shop filled with random things. Alex said we needed to pick up some thread. When we walked in we saw a women standing by the cashier , conversing with the teller. "That's Billy's mom" Alex said. "Billy is the stupidest boy to have ever lived on earth." Alex walked up to the register. "Hello, Mrs. White."
"Oh hello, Alexander, and how are you on this fine day?"
"Doing great mam! And you look beautiful as ever."
"Awhhh" she said to the clerk. "Such a fine and well mannered young man!"
"May I help you?" The teller asked us.
"Yes." Alex said. "I'm looking for blue thread."
"All the thread is right in that back corner." The man said pointing to the far right.

We walked down the isle and Alex picked out a light blue thread. When we turned around to go pay Billy White was standing right in out way, hands on his hips, and starring at Alex with narrow eyes. Billy was a fat boy with dark brown eyes and red freckles that matched his hair.
"You've got to be the ugliest cow I've ever seen." he said to Alex. Alex brushed into him moving down the isle towards the register. Billy followed. Alex put the cash and thread on the counter with Billy still behind us. The adults were in deep conversation, but the old man began to count the cash.

"I bet you never wash your hair." Billy continued. "I bet you sleep with ant bugs on your body." Alex ignored billy and patiently waited for the teller to finish with the money.
"You ugly boy." Continued Billy. "You and your ugly nigger."
A th Alex turned around and whispered in a firm voice, firm but quiet enough for only Billy and I to hear.
"How about you shut your ass."
I  firmly repeated after Alex.
"Yeah Billy shut your ass. "
Billy's mouth widened with shock at what I had just said.
"Mom!She just told me-"
"Billy!" Mrs. White interrupted "You rude little boy, don't you see I'm talking.Leave Alex and his slave alone." Billy's mouth widened further. The teller handed Alex the cash and Alex and I ran out the store and laughed the whole way home. We laughed at the fact that Billy Gray White had just been told to shut his ass by a slave.

Adam

My bearded prince. 

The most pleasant surprise. 

An unplanned affair (as if loving ever is). 

Naturally I would have and I do fear the distance between me and my lover. But these past two days, this past day, he has been all that has been on my mind. His smile, the awkward (and really douchy at times) jokes he makes, his honesty, his warmth. 

I love that man. And it's so odd it's a love I can't say I've ever experienced before. 

With Carlos, it was certain, strong,and had a yearning. 

Wit Henry it was painful yet purposeful. 

But with Adam, there's a distinction. Adam is real. 

With Adam it's simple, playful, intentional, and growing. 

Never in my life has anyone inspired me to be something (I'm tearing up), I'm not. But with, for, and because of Adam I am yearning to be a better person. One for him. 

I love him. 

I love his voice. I love his feet (which is SERIOUSLY saying something). I love his eyes. 

I love the way he look annoyed when he's driving lol. Or the way he rubs his eyes to hide what he feel (though I kinda wish he didn't. I wish he's allow himself to be vulnerable with me). I wonder so much about him. I wonder about his thoughts, his past, his hopes. He's so simple but he only leaves me wanting to know more and more. I want to be his. I want to know him and love him more and more. He's my Adam. And I am forever grateful to have met him. I could write a novel on it. I've never met someone so perfect. So unexpected. I love him. And I want to love him and make him proud forever. I can't explain it. He's so on my mind. I expect to be writing alot more about him. Almost only about him.

10.14.2014 Autumn Tendencies

That moment between autumn and winter is my favorite season. Rainy weather is my favorite kind of weather. And I guess that seems a little backwards since I am always cold, but they are my two favorite nonetheless.

It was in winter when I first feel in love.
In winter, when I first began to understand myself.
And in winter when I realized I wanted to change the world.

Winter has also been the season where I've battled the most violent of melancholic thoughts.

It may be the lack of sun or being able to go out. It may be a loss of Vitamin D (as one girl put it).  It may just be a coincidence that I suffer with myself so heavily during my favorite time of year. I haven't quite figured it out yet.

Now we're going into a time where autumn and winter meet and shake hands. With every first kiss I receive from the wind each time I walk outside, my heart is warmed; because I am reminded of the season and the promise of understanding it brings.

Yet, with every day that passes, I have to fight harder and harder to keep myself in check. And to keep myself from drowning in a despair I can hardly understand,.

This year it's people.
Groups of them.
Ever since my experience with the Christian group, I can't stand being in groups of people because I am constantly feeling judged. Or like their dislike of me/ disinterest in my existence is too evident. My depression has taken the form of insecurity. And I have to constantly remind myself that my thoughts stem from a belief inside of me, that I am not worth enough. That this belief may not be true and the thoughts that stem as a result of this belief may also not be true. It's a struggle. It really is. Everyday I search for some sort of formula to make it easier on myself. I want life to have a formula, like a rule book that will always be true and you will always find peace if you just follow these simple rules.

It doesn't work like that though. Life is messy. It can't be sorted and put into categories. There's no one formula to happiness or else we would all be bundles of joy.

I guess what we can do, what I can do, is learn to take it day by day. Accept what I can't change, love myself, and be grateful for what is.

I want to change the world. And maybe my boyfriend was right. Maybe the best way to do that is just to be me.

Social Media is a bitch Series: Follow Nation

FOLLOW NATION

So I used to be at the forefront of this movement I call follow nation. 

The rules are simple. 

If someone you know but aren't super close to, or you are relatively close to, but doesn't seem cool enough and/or doesn't have many likes on their posts, follows you on instagram... don't follow them back. 

If someone you sorta/kinda know/ have seen around and seems like they would like to be your friend because you're oh so cool (just don't let anyone know you're aware of that), follows you on instagram, don't follow them back 

Basically if someone you have had any form of interaction *cough* significant interaction with (at least to them) follows you on instagram and they have 

a. less followers than people they are following 

b. less than 11 likes or more on their pictures 

c. less than 100 posts

d. more than 1000 posts

e. interesting pictures but not really

or f. all of the above... DO NOT feel inclined to follow back. 

Relative Cool  points: You gain points if you don't follow

- someone you just met  and who's evidently trying to get connected
-someone you have or have had a relationship with and you secretly don't like them **double points if you were following them and unfollowed them and it was never addressed that you didn't like them
-people you don't know but are obviously real people
-a co-worker
-someone you don't particularly know but see sometimes locally
- someone you have hung out with but "you just don't  give a shit man, you don't want to see their posts anymore" ...

Okay, are ya'll getting my point here?

This shit is ridiculous. Seriously.

I've been going through this recent condition called "growing up" and it's really strange but I've begun to desire truly nourishing and enriching relationships. Realizing how seemingly retarded it was to weigh the number of those who were following me on instagram and those who I was following I had to ask myself how much these people really meant to me. Are their lives important? I mean, I'm sure you're thinking.. "aleichia, it's not that serious. It's just social media." Well if that's the case why does it hurt you so much to not follow back? Literally I had friends, or people who I would consider friends, liking all my shit and I didn't have the decency to keep them on my feed because sure you're important... but just not THAT important.

It's really immature when you think about it. Also, it confirms the theory that western civilizationers (I made that word up) are extremely insecure due to our bizarre societal standards and we increasingly want to feel like the "cool guy". If we treated our social media like everyday interaction I just might walk right past, ignoring the existence of, half the people I know ! Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe this is just a phase and I will soon come to my senses and realize that likes and follows ARE more important than people's lives! Who knows.

All I know is that right now I don't want a fucking fan base. I want friends and real relationships that I can nourish. So there.

Tune in next time when I discuss how I now think that posting pictures of food, creating a false internet presence, and documenting things I was present at but didn't really experience is STUPID AS HELL! Don't miss it folks!

Chronicles of a Divorced Child

   It's interesting the fear you experience having never known you had fear to begin with.

That's how I felt the evening I cried in my boyfriend's arms. I was crying over triumphs that should have been overcome years ago. Decades ago (that's an exaggeration). My dad cheated on my mom when I had just started high school.

It was, if not is, early on in my relationship with Adam. And a good mix of anxiety, alcohol,and insecurities that have been lost and growing for years brought our night to an early end. I made it so evident to him that there had been something wrong with me. He was meeting my friends for the first time and we were in a club filled with beautiful women, myself among them.

Since my parent's separation I had always held this idea that men liked shiny things. When something stopped being shiny to them, they moved along. It's not that they wanted to behave that way. They were only squirrels. They couldn't help having their attention grasped, almost stolen, by shiny things. They would at the moment do anything to posses this shiny thing.

Only because they were fucking squirrels.

And squirrels don't consider that maybe these shiny things are of value. They don't consider that perhaps they have feelings. They are just things.

That's the mentality I had embedded in my very human desire to be loved. When I met Adam those thoughts were hidden in my physique and I was not entirely aware of it.

Until that night we went out.

I think that fact that my dad cheated on us with someone we knew is what did it. Going out alone with Adam had never presented itself as a threat to our relationship. When that moment of him introducing himself to my roommates came, I became keenly aware of the manner, timing, and density of his interaction. I was keenly aware of the relative shine of a girl he had been seeing (me) in comparison to the fresh faces he was being introduced to (them).

And I was scared shit.

It's almost like I became an obsessive bitch, taking close note of how long his eyes lingered on my friends and how his non-verbals aligned with my assumption of his possible interest. We left the first pub to meet my more close group of friends at the club and I wouldn't let him hold my hand. He'd ask what was wrong and every time I had to force myself to utter "nothing" rather then use silence as a response (which I actually had at a few points). And I knew it must've confused him because once arrived, if a friend would look our way I'd allow him to show me affection. As soon as they looked away I'd let go of his hand or break the eye contact we were holding. When we finally caught a cab home he whispered in our silence, asking, yet again, if I were okay. He put his hand on my leg and I shook it off and looked out the window, arms crossed so he wouldn't touch me.

What he doesn't know is that my mind was racing in a sea of devastation right after I made that gesture of neglect. I snuck a look at him and his face was filed with despair, confusion, or perhaps sadness. It stung me because here was this man who had done nothing wrong since our meeting. Who had never, at any point, made me feel unwanted. Who had shown me affection and who had continuously treated me better than anyone I had ever met.

He had done nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And I had hurt him. It was almost a sub-conscious goal, me wanting him to feel the rejection I wish I had been able to show my father if he had tried to reach out after his affair.

In that moment I saw Adam for the human he was and for the first time I considered the possible hardships and triumphs that he, himself, had faced and the fact that he still choose to treat me so well. All this occurred to me in a moment's glance and I immediately turned my head and started to cry.

The crying didn't stop. We arrived home and I was at this point, legitimately, a sea of despair. I curled up in a ball on his bed and I couldn't stop.

He couldn't touch me. Not because I didn't want him to. I wanted him to more than anything; But I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed, and ashamed, and insecure. I was that 14 year old girl realizing that I was unworthy of love. Realizing that no person, in specific, no man would ever love me because even though my father was not, and is not, a bad person, he was incapable. I felt broken beyond repair and Adam did not deserve that.

Lying there in my present form, my 14 year old self felt helpless as she realized that love was not what she had believed. My cries grew deeper as I allowed the fear and the pain of a child who was cheated on to engulf me for the first time in my life.

I kept apologizing to Adam. And of course, being the perfect guy he is, he told me I didn't have to. I knew that I needed to face these feelings for it to ever be resolved. Finally I mussled up the courage to explain through breaths why everything hurt. I told him that I was afraid and he told me that that was okay.

Later the next day we talked about the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and insecurity that I felt and would have to face coming into a serious relationship. He explained to me the reason he wasn't insecure "You're mine. I know you're mine. You've told me you're mine and I don't want anyone else."

We're going to work through this because we both believe we're worth it.

Tips For When Your Feelings Have Been Hurt

Okay, so here's the deal when you're hurt. 

Don't blame that person. Chances are they have something going on too. 

Don't try and generalize your pain. Not all men are this way and not all friends do that. Understand that these things happen and the choices we choose to make with what we feel contribute directly to our growth. 

Let yourself hurt. Don't try and cover the feeling. Allow yourself to want to cry or just sit or whatever. This person meant something to you. That can in no way be a bad thing. 

Once you're over it keep living life! You're doing great champ! 

Don't forget not to bring people in on your pain if you have negative feelings for that person. The person you're talking to may sprout or worst, affirm your negativity, and it will continue this awful cycle of a lack forgiveness... even though what you really want to do is forgive because deep down you know you care. 

7.5.14

I don't know if a guy who doesn't look at other girls when you are his exists.

Not even a peak.

He doesn't even acknowledge her beauty, what good would it do? 

He's fallen for real.

I don't know if a guy like that even exists.

But I wouldn't give my forever to anyone but him.

So I'm willing to wait, or get over it.

A friend.

A friends who's a girl and doesn't take pleasure in receiving attention from someone you care for. 

A friend who doesn't secretly wonder. 

What would it be like? What if it were me? 

A friend who's true colors don't eventually show. 

I don't know if a friend like this exists. 

But it's the only friend I'd call my own. 

So I'm willing to wait or get over it. 

The Fuck You Mean Marriage?

I'm getting to an age where marriage and the idea of union to one person forever and ever is beginning to spring about like dandelions in a hay field (Wait, that's wrong. Dandelions in the springtime? Guess I'm off to a good start conveying these thoughts, huh?). I've recently watched as people I knew only as one joined themselves in union with another and became two in one like the shampoo I buy when I'm broke. It freaky. I mean, it's beautiful, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that more than once a day the topic of my relation to another or my future with a mate doesn't come up, and I'm forced to ponder this being my reality sometime soon.

There came a time when I got fed up of this and started telling everyone that I wasn't getting married. Later this evolved to "I will get married, but at a later age". Which is sort of the stage I'm still in with the exception that there's a question mark at the end of the word age. Honestly, I just don't care about marriage right now and much self evaluation has brought me to see that this apathy has stemmed from two realizations about myself. One (which is the reason I write this since I believe this is true universally) is that I am constantly growing. The second, a more personal understanding that I do realize may not be true for everyone is that the idea of growing to love someone, at this point in my life, bores me (half to death actually).

More Than A Fear of Commitment 

I am not afraid of commitment. I was not afraid when I was buying two new phones and committing to a pretty pricey contracted bill for my younger sister and I, even though I was on a college salary (to my Credit Score.. I am so sorry.) I wasn't even afraid when I signed up to have Spotify take money directly out of an account I kept forgetting to use. And you guys won't believe that I didn't even flinch when I decided to take 17 credit hours of school and maintain a job (actually that was my first semester of college and I did terribly and quit my job after a month, so it probably isn't the best example). The fear is not to say yes to forever. The fear is not a fear at all but comes from events that have shown me what little is stagnant in your early 20's. One of the most significant, thus far, of these events was sitting and pondering the fact that there was a point in my life where I was ready to drop out of school and join the Mission Field. More than ready, I was eagerly looking for a sign to become a missionary. No one could have guessed or told me that I would come to see that I myself did not believe all I thought I believed and that I was more concerned with helping people rather then changing their beliefs. No one could have told me I'd ever become an agnostic, even with my questions. I could have never guessed it. I am constantly growing. I could say that I'm always changing but changing doesn't seem to be moving me towards a purpose, that purpose being my truest form of self.

It's not even a bad thing really, being able to tell myself that I don't know myself as well as I think I do. It's comforting because though I could find a nice guy, settle a bit, try and live a picture perfect life, etc, the simple fact that I understand this rule of growth will keep me from one day waking up next to someone and thinking this is not who I am. I want to give myself that space to grow.

Growing to Love is Boring 

I keep notes on my Iphone and put down little thoughts when I don't have paper or pen near. I once noted to myself  "I'm too passionate to ever settle down. Growing to love is so boring." Don't get me wrong, the concept of growing to have a meaningful relationship through understanding and patience with another is and always will be beautiful to me.. but I can have that with my dentist. I want love. I want crazy, fiery, stupid love (but one that still kinda makes sense on the side since I'm still growing and whatnot). I want to feel moved by another person. I want to not want to eye that piece of candy that just walked in the store because I have my own piece of candy and his chocolate is all this girl needs (that was not meant to be dirty at all)! I just want to know, without a doubt and I don't think that comes with looking.

If I can't have that love where I know, then I just want to continue to grow. Perhaps one day I will marry a companion whom I can laugh at everything with and who has understanding. Beyond that though, right now.. marriage? I just don't care. So let's not talk about it.

Perhaps This is Why Things Don't Work Out

I've always been much of a book nerd and I have a keen habit of remembering ideas and stories but not the books name, authors, exact words, or even the names of characters. Lately a small phrase from a book I read somewhere between the age of 4-17 has been repeating itself in my head.

It goes something like "There is nothing better than the moment, the anticipation, before the kiss. Not even the kiss itself."

I think it's been repeating itself to me because I'm on this journey of becoming who I want to be or who I've always been (since so often as we grow older we change ourselves to mold to society's conception of who we are and who we ought to be).

I've been dating more. Only a handful (and when I say handful I mean at most three) friends know how many guys I've seen with within the past month. This may be mainly because I'm very reserved about intimate relationships and also, in part it has something to do with nothing really getting very far.

I'm at this point in life where I've grown to have a sincere love, accepting attitude, and healthy relationship with myself. Beyond that I've read all the articles that talk about being you regardless and forgiving men for not being Mr. Perfect (as well as forgiving yourself for not being Ms. Perfect) and I think I've got a healthy grasp enough to let go and keep living when things don't work out. But the other day, while repeating the little phrase about kisses to myself (after another failed attempt at an intimate relationship) , my mind was bombarded a thought.

We have so cleverly idealized our personal models of a relationship that we often are not able to accept the reality of the human standing right in front of us.

Within the spree of boys I've dated I've had two boys who have demonstrated that my interest in their lives was highly valuable. However, at one point or another, both boys freaked out and decided they were unsure or didn't want to pursue a relationship. The attraction between each boy and I was there and we had had good conversations. There was even this attempt to  "see if I was still interested" without actually trying anything from one of the boys after he cut things off. Later that day walking, I thought to myself when the pretty girls is in front of you, when the idea is no longer an idea and it's happening, we FREAK out like "Oh My God. This is not the feeling I was expecting to feel. I thought it'd be magical" Then we cut it.

 Well maybe if we let go of the idea we have and actually be present in that moment we'll find that just having someone that you enjoy and whom equally enjoys you can be more pleasurable. Not that we shouldn't dream of wonderful passionate bonds with wonderful passionate people but if there's one thing I've learned in the few years of my existence it is that love, passion, fire, and this desire to spend your forever with a companion (even a friend) often presents itself in the most quiet of times, secret of moments, sneaking up and throwing butterflies at you. I've fallen in love with friends and family, people I've known my entire life, at the most unlikely of times. Often it's been just sitting there watching a movie or over some ice cream. These moments where I wasn't comparing them to this ideal I had of who they were or who I wanted them to be, but rather in the acceptance of who they were.. at that moment.

Though I do believe one can grow to love another I also believe the special love, the one that we're all looking for, the one that makes us feel as though our lives are purposeful, can present itself at any given time of your relation to another. It could be at the beginning. It could in between. It could be after a year.

I'm not saying that I think one should stay with a person they feel no connection to for a year only to see if something will happen. Rather the opposite, I'm saying we all should learn to live in the moment, accept things for what they are, and not close ourselves to that chance of our cousin  becoming our best friend, or that guy from work who "always uses my dishes and who I'd  personally like to see  disappear off the face of the earth" becoming the only person you can go and cry to over your fears late at night. It could happen. I once read that relationships are amorphous, meaning they have no definite form. So don't close yourself off.

The idea is sweet, but reality can be grow to be pretty brilliant as well.

I think I'll know I've found someone wonderful when the reality becomes better than the dream, and when the kiss brings more bliss than it's anticipation.

It's just a thought.

Past Lives

Do you ever just get  the feeling that you must have known someone sometime before your time? You get to know this person and, right from the start you're on a roller coaster of emotions, unsure of what context may lay behind this since there hadn't been an opportunity much for the feels to develop. 

This has happened to me more that once. Actually I think twice. When it came to sex of my preference, which are men. Both times it was very difficult to untangle myself from the captivity of all that I felt for these boys (being that I'm only 20 I'm unaccustomed to calling them men). And also, both times there was very little history between the boys and I to have had created so much feeling and despair. 

Perhaps they remind me of the one I've lost. All three (both boys and the one I had loved) were confusing. All three had given me some sort of security in understanding. All three I had had late night heart to hearts with.Conversations that began it all. All three I never got over. 

Maybe they are all versions of him, the first of the three. In which case it would make sense for me not to want to untangle myself.. he was the truest love I knew. 

Or maybe they were each my him in another time. 

It's a beautiful thought.. but I think my best option is to forget about all three of them and find something more stable. 

My boring, yet, personal list of things to accomplish this summer

 

1. Take Piano Classes

2. Read the entire collection of untoched Paulo Coelho books I own

3. Go to a Hooks game ( my city's baseball team)

4. Get published by Huff. Post

5. Book a shoot with Sam

6. Buy a new Camera and a Mac

7. See Micahel Buble again in Austin

8. Book my flights

9. Start my book
Bonus: Find a formal event to attend, preferably on a rooftop

 

My list is short, but my summer will be as well.