Dubious

     "Does that play into being able to read tarot cards.? How sad is it ivw never actually taken interest in your beliefs or even asked about them 😔 how selfish on my part. Educate me 😊, " my sister typed to me, still using that ghetto punctuation from MySpace and not fully utilizing the spellcheck feature on her Android phone.

     "Oh, girl. This might take a minute hahaha. Bear w me." I didn't really laugh. I began to explain the journey by revealing I attended a private school for kindergarten. It was six miles outside a small town and had kindergarten through eighth grade all in one building. Don't get me wrong; it was a wonderful institution. When I "graduated", I could read at a fifth-grade level. My mom was always so eager to tell people. With it being a private school, along with core subjects was a Bible study hour. The teach taught from a book that had been circulating the world for damn-near 2,000 years. A song comes to mind: the B-I-B-L-E / yes, that's the word for meeee / I stand alone with the word of God / the B-I-B-L-E! 

     After some time, God sent down his one and only son to suffer right next to puny humans just to have him killed by Romans. Set up by his own daddy. Word on the street was the mom had never came into contact with sperm. (Don't ask.) If you are a bad person, you go to the fuckin', I don't know, Earth's core and chill with this Benedict-Arnold-ass guy named Lucifer (hood name: Satan) in his crib called Hell.  If you are a good person in life and accept Jesus H. Christ as your Lord and Savior, you would spend all eternity with God himself in the bright blue sky. Certain relatives were also in attendance. Apparently, old dude knew who everyone was, what they were thinking, how they behaved, and what their every move would be. What a creeper, amirite? It was a requirement to talk to him before going to sleep at night and before meals. Not a whole conversation, just a quick shout-out. He had these 10 pretty strict rules that was the criteria for living, usually depicted on a double-stone tablet 'cause the homie Moses was His publicist. 

1. God is your one and only, A1 day-one, ride or die, BFF
2. You have no other friends
3. My name is not an interjection; it's a noun
4. Chill with me every Sunday. Every. Single. Sunday.
5. Be cool to ya Ma and Pa
6. Don't murk nobody
7. Don't be or have a side dude/chick 
8. Don't jack nothing
9. Keep it really real
10. Don't be jelly of anyone else

     I was six years old and had two rather long Bible verses memorized. Again, my mom was always so eager to tell people. 

Psalms 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leads down the path of righteousness for His name's sake. Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff: they comfort me. You prepareth a table before me in the presence of thy enemies. You annoint my head with oil. My cup runneth over. Surely your goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Psalms 100

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness. Come before his presence with singing. Know ye that the Lord he is God. It is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves. We are His people and sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving and into his courts with praise. Be thankful unto him and bless his name, for the Lord is good. His mercy is everlasting and his truth endureth to for all generations.

     My mom put me in this school for the education, not for the religious aspect. I could probably count how many times she took me and my two elder brothers to church throughout our life. I'd only need two hands. Regardless, I was a Jesus freak fer sher. I had this decoration I kept on my dresser throughout elementary school that read, "I love Jesus". I asked people around me not to use the Lord's name in vain to the point that I was just straight-up annoying. Why did I believe this? My mind was moldable; impressionable. The authoritative people in my life told me this was reality and I believed them. It was all I knew.

     I always had this unhealthy paranoia about behaving. I felt guilty for masturbating at age five. I would apologize to God/Jesus/Holy Spirit-split-personality-ass entity in my head, because apparently they read minds or some shit. Baby Jesus, I'm sorry I'm being inappropriate... but it feels so good! Remember how you died so I could do this and be forgiven? Because same. 

     When I was in eighth grade, I started going to catechism on my own volition. Well, not really. My best friend and paternal family were Catholic. *Nudge, nudge* I attended church most Sundays, sprinkled holy water in the shape of a cross across my forehead, genuflected before entering pews, and participated in weekly leg workouts. I loved the unity. Everyone in that church just wanted our friend to know we needed help, because being a human sure is hard. 

     One of the first spiritual catalysts I encountered was a spunky, thick, 16-year-old chick named Jenna Ray of Sunshine. She was the first Atheist I encountered. She revealed this information and I gasped in confusion. That's a really a possibility, huh?

     "So... " I slowly replied. "What do you think happens when we die??"

     "It doesn't matter." Three words that remain etched into the space between my cells. The aftermath of taking her last breath was none of her business. Profound. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I went back to catechism and it just wasn't the same. Homosexuality wasn't allowed. (Why not? How does that affect anyone else's well-being at all? Like... at all?) Abortion was okay in cases of rape and incest, but not if a young woman wasn't fully informed on how biology works, ended up pregnant just to have the  sperm donor not participate in the baby's life, received food stamps and welfare checks due to the high cost of raising a child, and stuck at in entry-level positions because the cost of an education in United States is entirely too expensive. My ideology melted to create something entirely new. It was eye and heart opening. Snakes don't talk. They just don't. They don't have the proper anatomy: no language acquisition device in the brain nor lips to form words. It's not a thing. Things were getting sus. 

      So many of the world's problems could be avoided if people were just honest— honest with others and honest with themselves. Both God and Santa Claus were invented by man to represent a moral referee. Be good and you will be rewarded. Be bad and you will be punished. I have a radical idea: what if we were good because it's just the right fucking thing to do? 

   Personally, I think one question needs to be addressed in all situations: is someone going to get hurt? If the answer is yes, don't do it. If the answer is no, go gorillas. I usually think on a gray spectrum, but this calls for a black and white framework.

I Used To Be...

We never understand one another.

Empathy is one thing. 

Living in the same emotion is entirely another.

In birth, a crying baby's wails demand to be interpreted.

Kids are shushed and shooed.

Teenagers feel humanly sensations but are still shushed like kids.

Young adults make huge life decisions, 

and are trying to find a voice that was shushed for so long.

Middle adults are torn between leaving their younger version

and maturing to their future form.

Elder adults are over-looked and under-visited.

I imagine those who are on the brink of death must have it worst...

Present Passion

   A few hours ago my therapist told me there's a difference between being lonely and alone, but right now, I can't tell the difference. I feel like I'm both, though I've been wrong before. I had to leave the nest we once shared because the silence and emptiness was too unbearable. There's an excerpt from Plato's The Symposium that goes, "According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” Mine was a beautiful boxer, painted brown with a white strip from her chin to her belly, who went by the name Mia. Now, I don't condone animals having human names, but in all her perfection and glory, I allowed it.

   I've come to the conclusion that I have never loved a person as much as I loved that dog. She had the most unique personality― vibrant and lively and lovely. She was introduced to my life at a very dark time. She was my silver lining. Let's see: I had just dropped out of nursing school, I choked out my best friend since fifth grade, I broke up with my boyfriend, and I got so drunk at a party, I tried to fight every guy and girl I encountered, walked into barbwire, and cursed myself with deep gashes on all four limbs. It wouldn't make it to the highlight reel of my life. But there she was. And now I've lost her.

   I told my mom, "There are things that bug you, but the minute they're gone, you almost miss it... I've been so stressed out about Mia pissing on my carpet and having to shampoo it weekly, but I would give anything in the world to have her here with me if that's what it would take."

   For some reason, it would be different if I were in my room and she were in the living room, which happened sometimes. I've went to call her a few times but stopped myself. Was it the pure reassurance of her presence? Her absence is so permanent. I called my mom crying and exclaimed to her that I wish my baby wasn't buried in her yard. For the four years we had been together, I use to loathe when people called Mia my daughter. She's my fuckin' roommate, I would say. Now the only noun I refer to her as is My Baby™. What can you do?

   I walked into my friend's house and told him, "Here's some banana bread. There's no amount of cooking or cleaning I can do to keep my mind preoccupied." I tried to explain to someone once that if you've never taken acid, you can't know what it's like; there's no way to explain it. The same thing applies to love. To have unconditional love (it's like that with dogs... not-so-much with humans), to have constant company, and to be immediately forgiven, there isn't much that can hold a candle to that. I was listening to The Beatles' "Something" and I broke the fuck down. They told me:

Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover
Something in the way she woos me

I don't want to leave her now
You know I believe and how

Somewhere in her smile she knows
That I don't need no other lover
Something in her style that shows me

Don't want to leave her now
You know I believe and how

You're asking me will my love grow
I don't know, I don't know
You stick around now it may show
I don't know, I don't know

Something in the way she knows
And all I have to do is think of her
Something in the things she shows me

Don't want to leave her now
You know I believe and how

   And I was like, "Daaaamn." That was naht what I should've been listening to. It's such a comforting and surreal feeling when you hear someone else describe the exact way vibrations shake your heart and truth rattles your bones. My therapist told me I need to address my emotions and experience this grief. Being sad is insanely unsettling and I'm not with the shit at all. Someone once tried to explain to me how frustrating it is when you're mourning yet you see other people smiling and laughing and behaving as if everything is fine in the world. I finally understand. As it stands, I am not okay with the world continuing on and behaving as if one of the most god-given gifts to Earth hasn't lost its life force. Is she here with me in spirit? Perhaps. I want her to be with me here in the physical.

And that's just too much to ask.

Antiquated Amor

   Being a nurse aide is a trip. Being a night nurse aide is even trippier. And when the full moon hangs bright in the night sky and dementia patients feel it's the most opportunistic time to sundown, it's the trippiest. Although... I can only imagine how frustrating and surreal it feels to not know where you are or who you are. Just the other night I had my feet kicked up at the nurses' station scrolling through Facebook when I heard a yell from a room at the end of my assigned hallway. It was two in the morning, and I didn't want the disturbance to wake anyone else up so I headed toward the source of the noise. A small man lying in his bed wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and brief (a respectful word for "diaper") had his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice.

"Corporal!" he repeated.

"What can I do for you?" I laughed. He dropped his hands and looked in my direction.

"Will you look in that top drawer for something sharp? I should have a spam opener in there." This man is not what we call "with it" and therefore had no business obtaining anything serrated. He continued, "I need to cut this metal off my leg." He pointed to a white cloth wrapped around his left leg that kept his bandages intact. My eyes did that sorrowful sympathetic thing as I walked over to his dresser and pulled out the top drawer.

"There are Belvita crackers and socks in here."

"Keep digging around," he insisted. I lifted all four contents out of the drawer to exemplify my honesty. "Well then check the second drawer." I pushed the top drawer in and opened the second one.

"There are only t-shirts in here."

"I just need to get this metal off me. It's hurting my skin." I heard another resident's call light so I came up with a distraction for the mean time.

"I'm going to see if we have something in the kitchen, okay?" I lied.

"Oh... that would be wonderful. You're a good woman." My heart only broke a little. I left his room to help my other resident. She needed to go to the bathroom, so I pulled back her covers, squatted down to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, and helped her transfer to her wheelchair. When we got into the bathroom, I asked her to put her hands on the rail next to the toilet in order to help with her equilibration. I pulled her nightgown up and brief down. She groaned as she eased herself onto the toilet and I heard her bones creak. A few minutes later, she was holding the rail again as I cleaned her bum with a wet wipe. I lifted her underwear around her waist and dropped her nightgown down to her thighs. I got her back into bed and placed the call light on top of her quilt, reminding her to ring if she needed me. I removed my gloves and the trash from her bathroom and put it in my bin. From a distance I heard,

"Corporal!" I walked down to the small man's room. When I got to his doorway, he was lying on his back with both his legs dangling over the side of his bed, trying to get up. 

"You put your legs back in that bed, private," I demanded. I laughed at myself. His thin legs slid back into his bunk.

"Will you look in that top drawer for something sharp? I should have a spam opener in there," he said. "I need to cut this metal off my leg." He pointed to a white cloth wrapped around his left leg that kept his bandages intact. I walked over to his dresser and pulled out the top drawer.

"There are Belvita crackers and socks in here."

"Keep digging around," he insisted. I lifted all four contents out of the drawer out. "Well then check the second drawer." I pushed the top drawer in and opened the second one.

"There are only t-shirts in here."

"I just need to get this metal off me. It's hurting my skin." I walked over to his bed and looked at his leg. Large purple bruises covered his saggy epidermis like patches on a worn quilt. Thin tears tried their best to heal but left shallow grooves instead. "I'm sergeant of the first cavalry and they're throwing everything at me." I wondered how oriented he was so I asked him if he knew what country he was in. He responded confidently, "America... where everything is fair." My eyebrows furrowed in disagreement, but I didn't say anything. I held his fragile hand and asked him if he would like a cup of tea; his poison.

"I will have some when you go to make yourself some," he said innocently. I smiled as I had no intention of making myself any libation. 

"I can do that," I replied loud enough for him to hear me. He squeezed my hand and announced, "I read you. I think you are going to do things wonderful." Taken aback, I withdrew my hand. Could this be true? I asked myself. Is this man senile or an oracle? I giggled at the thought and retreated to get his tea. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic, navy blue mug and went to the coffee maker, pulling down the red lever and watching steaming hot water fill the orifice to the brim. I started toward the small plastic drawer that housed the tea bags. Seeing a label reading chamomile, I snagged it along with one packet of sugar and headed back towards the hall. I put the bag in the water watching it bob to the top. Before I returned, I went into the nurse's workroom. I took a blue blinder with my friend's name on it off the shelf and opened it. He was born in 1926 in Iran, though he was a United States citizen. He was army intelligence as well as a computer scientist. There's this blurry line between reality and a distorted disconnect within a dementia patient's brain. It's wise to take what they say with a bag of salt. It might be true. It might not be.

"Here's your tea," I said, setting it down on the nightstand. Even though elderly people lose their sensitivity to temperature, I didn't want him to burn his mouth. It needed to cool off for a few minutes.

"Let me see your hand," he began. I slipped my hand into his. "You're a creator, you're an observer, and you're rich. I just need to know what your decision is." I cackled.

"Decision for what?"

"If we are going to be together," he explained. I busted out laughing.

"Darling, you're 91. I'm 23."

"So?" he retorted. I laughed some more. "In the eyes of god, nothing is more sacred than the union of two people." I hesitated before I revealed, "Awe, doll... I'm Atheist."

"I don't want to change your opinions, " he assured. "Just be what you want to be." My heart melted and dripped on the floor in a puddle. That was the smoothest shit I'd ever heard.

"Vous êtes la vie," he purred. I smiled and told him I don't speak French.

"Do you speak any other languages?" I inquired.

"Oh yes. I speak Spanish, Hindu, Indian, Australian..."

"Australians speak English."

"It's a different English," he insisted. I bent over in laughter. "We would be pure, wonderful, and decent. You have independence." I was smitten. I was half-tempted to accept his offer. I could only imagine all the things he could teach me; all the beauty and horror and pain and elation and life his experiences encapsulated. The physical can incite curiosity, but it's knowledge that reels us in to love.

"What year were you born?" I asked. 

"Nineteen-twenty... five? Six?"

"Do you know what year it is?"

"Eighteen-eighty..." he started. I laughed and pointed out the impossibility of that if he were born in the 1920's.

"These things are complicated." I smiled in agreement. I glanced down at his brief to see two blue stripes down the crotch area.

            "I need to change your underwear," I observed. "You got urine on your shirt, too, doll. Let me get you a new one." I walked over to his dresser as he blurted, "Will you look in that top drawer for something sharp? I should have a spam opener in there. I need to cut this metal off my leg."

➚

   Life's so funny, because there have been certain ages that I reach where I'm like: Okay, I'm finally confident that this is who I am meant to be. I am complete. Where will this naivete lead me? I'm always growing, learning, unlearning, faltering, and rejuvenating; every year, month, day, and minute. I've finally come to accept this, and so I ingest every word I hear and seek all the knowledge I can cram into this inquisitive soul.

"And four years later, you're dancing around your kitchen with a pint of milk in your hand.

The windows are open wide, the neighbors are still awake, and they are watching you.

They are watching you falling in love with being alive."

volition

      I was scrolling through my Tumblr last night and came across a tarot spread that reveals how to get off a bad path or to stay on the path you want. The first card tells what keeps you on your current track and the second tells what will set you on another track. It intrigued me, so I did a reading on myself.

• When the Chess Queen arrives to challenge you, it simply means that you're living too much in your head: planning, scheming, and strategizing what your future will look like and how and when it will unfold. Remember the saying, "Man plans and god laughs"? You cannot know the power and beauty that is meant for you until you let go and ask for Divine guidance. The laws of cause and effect apply here. Don't dictate what you want, as your wants may not be in your highest good. Ask instead for the miracles set aside for you and you alone.

   What does Spirit want for you? Perhaps it's time to let go and turn your life over to the care of a Higher Power. You can never lose when Spirit plays the game of life on your behalf.

• When the Swan Queen appears to challenge you, it's time to stop doubting your inner voice. Don't let your analytical mind prevent you from seeing the miracles that Spirit places in front of you.

   Another message the Swan Queen shows you in the mirror of your life is your fear of change. Why fear what's inevitable? Everything in life changes and transforms from one moment to the next. Holding on to the past only distorts and mangles the natural order of things.

   If you can, in spite of your fear, be gentle with yourself and allow for change. Only beauty will come of it. Most important, a shift in perspective is what's called for now.

ir·rel·e·vant

   After President Drumpf posted that asinine tweet about NFL players kneeling, the internet went off.

   

   Just when I think I can't hate this dude any more, he ups his game. My good friend from high school made a Facebook post about why he supports the Black Lives Matter movement, and there was a distinct comment I saw that had me buggin'. It read:

"The only problem is that 'Black lives matter' has turned into another hate group. They are responsible for so much violence and anger. And if people actually were behind the original ideas of black lives matter, then why is black on black violence so much higher than white on black violence? If the black community as a whole doesn't believe black lives matter, then what is the point of the group? Which brings me back to the start, it is a hate group against white people and the police. It's a scapegoat for any and everyone to be hateful and violent to anyone that gets in their way."

   I sent it to Bestie and asked her to weigh in, and per usual, her response didn't let me down.

"So Black on Black crime is like fear propaganda. The term came about in the 80s when the civil rights era was winding down... It was used obviously as yet another reason to turn the tides of racism. 'Well why does it matter if Officer Jim kills Denzel if Jamal & Quincy kill each other just as much?'

1.) Jamal will be put in prison for his crime. Jamal will be put in prison for crossing the street.

2.) Crime is statistically segregated... Why? Because's Black folk live around Black folk, and white folk around white folk.

And then we can also ask: WHY are Black people killing each other at such high rates? The number one reason violence takes place in the Black community is money. Why are Black people so poor? People who mention Black on Black crime are closet racists and my position on that won't stray."

welp

   When I was 20, my aunt told me about this voodo shit she heard on Oprah where you write a list of traits you desire in a significant other. Once completed, you hang it up in a window facing outward so the Universe can see it and help transpire this person. I liked the concept a lot. I've only done it two or three times. This last time I thought the Universe led me to someone special, but when I came across this list two months after the break-up, I realized I really slept on myself. Only two traits resembled him and one of those words was "nice". I think my cooking skillet is nice. I let myself slip up and settle. I severely misjudged this last boyfriend. With all the lessons I've learned in the past year, I feel confident that I know who and what I want in a man.

   I download Tinder every few months to try to meet someone. Things usually get weird and I delete it only to boomerang right back to it in a few weeks. I take Tinder half serious. The other half I'm screen-shotting absurd photos and hilarious bios to my friends. I went on a binge for about an hour yesterday, and I cannot believe some of the shit guys put out there in attempt to find their Tinderella.

•  The first one to pop up on my iPhone 6S screen was this light-skin Black man with braids named Travis. Travis is 26 and 3 miles away from me. His bio read: "Just and enlightenment hood Nigga that's tryna open his 3rd eye..... Gym addict, weed smoking Rasta mon with a golden aura.. I have two pitbulls and I'm a chef so if you like food and puppies I'm your dread head lol"

   Alright. Let's disect this. He's lying down in his picture with a half-smile and a huge chest tattoo reading Family Over Everything. I sent a screen-shot to my friend and she promptly replied, "Issa no for me. Fuck boy written all in his bio. He'd let you mold him for sure but it would be a battle. You would be wrong every time. Then he would leave you. And teach everything you taught him to another girl." I told her: That typo in the first setence got me buggin'. Swiped left.

• David, 29, University of Colorado, 4 miles away.

"Future architect. 

Gun owner (nerf)

Perfect day is when you transition directly from coffee to alcohol

I have a kid so I should probably have my life together by now

Snowboarding ▢ cooking ▢ golf ▢ movies

If you don't think faceswapping with non humans isn't art, you can gtfo

Buy ME a drink, cuz I'm a feminist not cuz I'm broke

I could be a pro athlete if I was like way better

I need a girlfriend so I can watch The Bachelor guilt free"

   He wasn't too cute, but that description is hilarious. It made me grin as I swiped left.

• Jake, 27: the photo shown is a beautiful mountain backdrop surrounded by green pine trees. Jake is standing in a creek... naked, with his blue jeans scrunched around his ankles, revealing his white skin and even whiter bum. Lookin' like he got on white chonies and shit. (Swiped left)

• Ping-an, 25, Colorado State University, 2 miles away. This dude is visibly oriental, right? And the first line of his bio says, "My name is Andy." I sent it to Bestie with a gif of a suspicious Oprah asking, "So what is the truth?" To the left, to the left.

• Devon, 26, Colorado State University-Pueblo, 54 miles away.

"If you swipe right on me I expect a form of response if I try to talk to you... I know I'm a good man and if you gonna ignore me... You just a stuck up lil girl that don't deserve this good man right here... Plain and simple I am sick and tired of being used, hurt, and played. I know my worth I deserve a good woman not a stuck up lil girl... Wasting MY time if you swipe right on me and don't talk nor have interest in me... If you do swipe right... I am the nicest person you'll ever meet."

   I sent this bio and the picture of this 6'2'', yoked Black man wearing a gray muscle shirt, orange basketball shorts, and black Under Armour shoes posing at the gym. I told her, "Devon is taking 26 years of relationship frustrations out on his Tinder audience ☠." Left.

• I can't even make this one up. I won't include his details, but this dude looks like the guy who shot up the school in Degrassi: The Next Generation. La izquierda.

• Ryan, 26, 4 miles away. Soft brown eyes and dark skin under a black Chicago Bulls hat was the first thing I noticed on this one. Okay... I thought. Now we're cookin' in Crisco. His bio includes an emoji at the end of every line, which is kind of high school to me, but it is what it isn't.

"Ohio bred *acorn emoji*

420 friendly *orange leaf emoji*

Driven *city photograph emoji*

Writer *pencil on paper emoji*

Art *palette emoji*

Future Barber *barber's pole emoji*

Rapper *old school microphone emoji*

Work *smiley with money eyes emoji*

I'm 6'4" (before you ask) *flexing emoji with dark skin*

I don't have kids *man with arms crossed*

And no criminal record but I might steal your heart *laughing with tears emoji* ...wait that isn't really funny online? Or is it? *hand on chin emoji*

Dry converstationalists are NOT welcomed. Unmatch yo ass quicker than you searching for socks in a rush *laughing with tears emoji* *unimpressed emoji*

New to Fort Collins

I'm goofy as fuck 90% of the time. So don't be boring *laughing with tears emoji* 

Want somebody, don't need nobody. *100 emoji*

Anthem: DNA by Kendrick Lamar

   My friend said, "The rapper part turns me off but other than that he sounds nice."

   "Just read it as poet," I texted back. It's such a strange era to be dating, because of all the access we have to everyone's information as well as the obscure ways we meet. I think I'd rather grab a pencil & my sketchbook and consult with the Universe instead.

note

s e l f

   Back when I lived on MySpace (circa 2006-2010), I took selfies weekly. It was so absurd. I would have a little photo shoot with myself: I would choose four outfits, run outside, snap some pics in my yard, run inside to change, and repeat. I blew off plenty of English assignments, but I always made time for this ritual. I edited them with this snazzy internet site Picnik (which has been renamed Ribbet, thank me later).

   Even though the only social media platform I have is Instagram, I've been over my obsessive selfie era for a few years now. I'm more interested in posting content... quotes, history lessons, self-confidence rants, and political jibber-jabber. My body isn't as important to me anymore as much as the knowledge that it possesses. That's what I'd rather be known for: intellect > vanity. 

"Existence is pain." —Mr. Meeseeks

best

   Does this count for a Photo of the Day? I say it does. It's one thing to get a compliment from a random acquaintance. It's on a whole other plane to get a compliment from your best friend who taught you to be the admirable person they're boosting. ♫ Sit down... be humble ♫
   Since I'm a total millenial, all I replied with was a four-second video of Danny McBride in Hot Rod whimpering, "I don't even cry, and look at me. You're about to make tears come out my face!" I have this totally obnoxious habit where I'll hound my friends with my interests until they participate. The top media I push on the cronies are podcasts and documentaries, but only because they're great. I wouldn't recommend something if it didn't provide quality information. It only took Brian three months to finally watch the Emmy Award-winning documentary 13th, which is about the United States prison system being legalized slavery under the 13th Amendment in the Constitution. When he finally did watch it, he sent me a text reading: all juniors will be subjected to "Thirteenth".
   He's a social studies teacher for grades seven through twelve in this Hills Have Eyes ass Colorado town. He was my social studies teacher 7th through 11th grade, and my favorite friend since I was 15 years old. We text weekly and discuss current events. Sometimes when I argue with people, I need a historical expert for testimony, and I ask him to fill me in on certain topics. I once asked him who the top 5 worst U.S. presidents are, in his opinion. He replied immediately with, "Trump is first on our list, the cock-eater. His unprofessionalism knows no bounds. He is the most unpresidential motherfucker I've ever heard of. James Buchanan is second because of the Dred Scott decision and his support for the Civil War. After that, it's a toss-up. Pierce, Phillmore, Hayes."
   "W. Bush doesn't make it, huh? Jet fuel can't melt steal beams," I typed.
   "His bitch ass can be fourth for his foreign policy decisions. Fucking Iraq and Afghan wars." It's that type of reassurance that fills my empty heart with warmth as well as the notion that there are people who still rely on knowledge and facts and data to form their opinions. It's kind of arbitrary for me to talk about how much we agree since, like I mentioned, he taught me the majority of what I know about politics and world affairs. However, it has been great for my confidence growing up with someone who validates my thoughts, ideas, and opinions, pushing me to be better and do better.
♫ And they don't have no award for that ♫

autumn

toska (n.)  /ˈtō-skə/

Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness

"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels, it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom."

— Vladimir Nabokov

the rise

“When a cat falls out of a tree, it lets go of itself. The cat becomes completely relaxed, and lands lightly on the ground. But if a cat were about to fall out of a tree and suddenly make up its mind that it didn’t want to fall, it would become tense and rigid, and would be just a bag of broken bones upon landing. In the same way, it is the philosophy of the Tao that we are all falling off a tree, at every moment of our lives. As a matter of fact, the moment we were born we were kicked off a precipice and we are falling, and there is nothing that can stop it. So instead of living in a state of chronic tension, and clinging to all sorts of things that are actually falling with us, because the whole world is impermanent, be like a cat.” 

— Alan Watts

future 2 bright

   I received a call yesterday evening, but I didn't recognize the number and consequently let it go to voicemail. When I listened to it, I heard the administrative assistant at my job letting me know I won a candy-guessing raffle. There were 62 pieces and I guessed 64. Apparently they weren't playing by the Price Is Right rules, so I qualified as the winner. I never win shit. A gift card to Starbucks and a jar full of mini Reese's might seem lame to the average person, but I was ecstatic! How groovy am I? 

   The Universe really had my back with this one as I met with my life coach for the first time today... at Starbucks. Since I'm in this transition phase with my new job, I am broke as a joke. That ten-dollar gift card made it seem like I slightly had my shit together and could afford a six-dollar pumpkin spice latte. We had to sit outside because she had her dog Cooper with her. It was a breezy day here in Colorado, but also a nice one. She's young; I doubt she's hit 30 yet. She has sandy blonde hair that brushes the top of her shoulders. Her company web site revealed she has a masters degree in social work. I don't necessarily have trust issues, but I feel more comfortable around people the more I know about them. I told her, "I wasn't going to admit this to you, but I will... I creeped on your Facebook to find out more about you. Congratulations on your engagement." She busted out laughing. I continued, "I saw an anti-Trump post and I knew all would be well between us."

   Those two hours dissolved into the sands of time as I explained this hot mess that is Janessa's Life™. I asked her if she could help me find an affordable therapist as well as a career counselor who can guide my goals onto a clearer path than the one I have currently devised. She was so sweet and eager to seek out the resources I need. After we said our good-byes, I found myself almost skipping home. I felt very relieved that I not only confided in someone about my current struggles, but that we are going to come up with a comprehensive plan to work towards a solution. I'm excited to see what kind of magic she and I can make together. I am so incredibly thankful the Universe drops amazing people like her in my life.

meatless monday

   Earlier this year, my coworker Jess lent me a book called Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr and it changed my life. No dramatization. It grabbed my eyelids and forced me to see how unhealthy the standard American lifestyle truly is. There are only 10 chapters but, man, the abundance of information is astounding! I took a dietary nutrition class in college and it wasn't nearly as comphrensive as this book. Around this time, Jess also turned me on to health documentaries: Hungry For Change, Sugar Coated, What The Health, and Cowspiracy. When I first started, I adamantly told her I would not be removing meat from my diet any time soon. She assured me it was okay and that all she was trying to do was give me the knowledge—what I do with it is on me.
   After I finished reading Crazy Sexy Diet, I decided to be vegetarian. After I watched What The Health, I decided to go vegan. I'm still transitioning, but I've reduced my animal product intake significantly. I'm going to list some of the most moving facts that urged me to change my ways.

• Humans should not be drinking cow milk. Baby humans need their mother's milk for nutrients in order to grow the first year of life. After that, they stop drinking it. Similarly, calves drink their mother's milk for nutrients in order to grow... into a 200+ pound cow. The amount of fat and hormones outweigh any benefits (there are none). We don't need to get calcium from milk or cheese or yogurt; we can get calcium from almonds, broccoli, avocado, kale, spinach, and more. Some people are lactost-intolerant, but if you stop consuming dairy products for a day or three, the minute you get back into it, your stomach might hurt. Because humans don't need it. Also, since cows shouldn't be milked 365 days out of the year, their utters get inflamed with a disease called mastitis and subsequently, pus ends up in cow milk. There is actually a government limit on how much pus can be in each gallon of milk.
• We have been taught that humans are carnivores. That's not true. Lions are carnivores. Bears are carnivores. Humans are not. Picture a caveman creeping up on a buffalo. He needed a spear to penetrate the hyde. He needed a knife to separate organs from flesh. Only after he cooked it did he consume it. What is natural about that?? A cheetah hunts an antelope and takes a big-ass chunk out of its abdomen right on the spot. Its teeth are sharp and able to penetrate the tough fur and skin. Its speed aids it to catch up to the prey. The teeth and jaws of humans are more appopriate for fruits and vegetables. It resembles that of cows and horses: flat and round for grinding plants. Our anatomy is more suited for this diet. Humans are frugivores/herbivores.
• Since I like to work out, protein was a big concern when switching to a plant-based diet. Little did I know (because the government always tried to rail into our brains that meat was the best source of protein) that it is so abundant in plants! Protein-rich foods include, but are not limited to: quinoa, almonds, lentils, broccoli, tofu, brussel sprouts, and asparagus. Rhinos and elephants are some of the largest mammals on Earth and guess what? They only eat plants. A plant-based diet decreases internal inflammation and aids in muscle recovery.

   When I first told my brother how bad milk is for you, he retorted with the best statement. He asked me, "Then why did the government say we needed a daily serving of dairy?" Ahhh I'm so glad he brought this up. I'm not sure why they would endorse foods that aren't healthy for us (profit, comes to mind), but What The Health reveals that dairy companies paid for the research that came out telling us we need dairy for calcium. It's a lot like the 1960's when the tobacco companies funded studies that came out saying cigarettes are good for you. Once you unlock the true information on health, there's no way you can go back.

   My dietary nutrition professor taught us that the best dish is colorful. For example, in my Photo of the Day, I have red bell peppers, red onions, green zucchini, and yellow squash. I lightly coated the pan with olive oil and sprinkled garlic seasoning. The cool thing about real food is that it actually leaves you satiated. I ate McDonalds last week for the first time in a long time. I had a McDouble with Mac sauce, a Hot-N-Spicy with extra mayonnaise, and a small fry. When I finished, I caught myself thinking, "...I should have got one more Hot-N-Spicy..." But no. I should have ate something that had more sustenance and nutrients. Your health is literally the one thing keeping you here on Earth. Why not do it right and treat yourself like you care? By eating the right foods, you will find yourself happier, your skin clearer, your moods stabilized, prevent chronic diseases, and maintain a healthy weight. Heal from the inside out.

"The definition of a diet is: the foods that an organism habitually eats to sustain itself. So what we're talking about is a real 'diet' in the sense of what a species eats. When we get into our real diet, we don't have to think about these things anymore. But if we're going to eat from that suite of foods that exists in the supermarket, we're going to constantly have problems. We're going to constantly have to monitor ourselves, because these foods make you fat. [...] So it's kind of like if we lived in a zoo. If you put a human being in a zoo the way you put a chimpanzee in a zoo, well the question would be: what do we feed that human in the zoo? Well, we don't feed chimpanzees in zoos Captain Crunch cereal, Twinkies, and doughnuts. We feed them a diet that looks like the diet they eat in their ecosystem. We sort of live in a zoo-like environment now. We live in an artificial environment, and unfortunately, we're not feeding ourselves the foods we're biologically adapted to."

—Daniel Vitalis

❁ ❁ ❁

   It's insanely important to unwind. The how doesn't matter. For example, I just got out of a steaming-hot twenty-minute shower where I lathered, rinsed, and repeated. Before I got in, though, I put my blue tea kettle on the stove so it would it would be whistling at me by the time I got out. Once I dried off, I slipped into a white Vans t-shirt I stole from my friend and pair of clean panties. That's it. This is what I'm chillin' in.
   I typed "nature sounds" into Google and clicked on the first link that I laid eyes on; a soothing two-hour composition called Calming Music: Nature Sounds, Zen Music. Since I had a weird day and need to get some things off my heart, I'll get down on writing in my journal until I feel like I've divulged everything that needs to be said. Written? Whatever. This is my attempt to mellow out for the night. With my chamomile tea and book of clandestine tales, I'm retracting into a peaceful space. I suggest you do the same. ॐ

the disconnect

   I love being alone. My absolute favorite company is my own. I've been with me for 23 years: I know all the old nooks & crannies of this loopy psyche. I don't complain about watching thirty-six serial killer documentaries in a row or about spontaneous trips to Horsetooth Reservoir with Mia or about getting a fifteen-dollar bottle of wine & drawing shitty art on my sketchpad. I don't judge or criticize or offend myself. I'm not picky or impatient or annoying. I just am.

spirit

A friend recently sketched this diagram for me and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Bear with me. The aqua circle is you. Or me. A person. The orange lines are thoughts, biases, convictions, etc. The green is the Universe, and it tries to send messages and lessons that it wants us to learn, however, sometimes the messages are blocked by preconceived ideas and rigid perceptions. We need to open our minds and hearts in order to receive the information we need to grow. It's just a theory, but I felt like it rang true.

right

   The subject of my photos tends to be nature, because to me, it's easy. There is so much beauty in the world. There is no wardrobe change, make-up session, or appointment like there is with humans. Nature is always there for me when I need her. And I appreciate that. 

addi

    For a little over a month now, I have been eating lunch at Fuzzy's Taco Shop, oh, not necessarily every day. When I do go there, I get the same exact thing: chicken fajita salad with avocado ranch and a strawberry lemon mojito. It's fire. I had a bad weekend. I returned to my hometown only to find everything is exactly where I left it. I've been consciously trying to be a better person since I moved away a year ago, but the minute my front wheels hit that turf, it's like I time-traveled. I retrogressed hard. Maybe it was a good thing, though. I realized I am a drug addict, and I have been since I was about 16.
   Originally, I was just about weed. I was the biggest pothead of all time. I smoked before school, at lunch, after school, before work, after work, on the weekends, on holidays, when I was driving, when I was with friends, when I was with family, when I was alone, here, there, everywhere. I started doing molly and ecstasy when I began raving. I did cocaine for the first time my senior year of high school and liked it. I tried acid for the first time at age 21 and I loved it. A couple months ago I did DMT and took a step closer to knowing who I truly am.
   I remember being in middle school being crazy about boys. When I met someone I found cute, I would plaster his initials all over my diary and talk about him endlessly to my friends. They really hated when I did that. I stalked him on MySpace until I knew his mom's name and his favorite color. When I befriend someone, I don't talk to them occassionally and call it a day. I need to know what they're up to. I need them to text me back immediately. I need them to show me that they are as obsessed with me as I am with them, because I would give them anything they asked of me, and that's real shit. I was going to Cold Stone Creamery damn near every day earlier this summer, because I could not get enough of sugar. I would fiend. At my old job, I would excuse myself to the bathroom and then sneak up to a supervisor's desk to get snack-size candy bars. I hated myself.
   The salad. I literally daydream about eating that savory, tangy jumble of tastiness. When I sit down on the barstool to chow down, mid-meal I will ponder whether or not I should order one to go so I can have seconds for when I get home. Or should I order two? I have come to realize it doesn't matter what it is, I am an addict. I let things and people consume and muddle the lines between us until we become one. I have a brother who has been on meth for ten years and running. I have always been hard on him; begging and pleading to save him from himself. Lately I feel like we're the same person. I'm not homeless like he is, but does being able to pay my rent constitute me being better than him? I'm not sure, anymore.
   My favorite book is about a 23-year-old druggie who's admitted into a rehab by his parents. I've read it at least three times. I have always rooted for him and I always wondered how he allowed himself to get that deep. He's a truly smart dude and has insightful philosophies. It must be why I care about it so much; it's a mirror.
   I looked on Thesaurus.com for a synonym for the word "addict". The definition read: a person who has compulsion toward... That's the realest sentence I've ever read. They gave me follower, enthusiast, junkie, fanatic, and aficionado. None of them are mean enough for me. They don't acknowledge the reality of the situation. I could go to jail, shit prison, for buying some of those drugs. I advocate for health and wellness yet I gourge myself with my favorite foods until the fire of my desire is extinguished. I have a good heart and I'd like to consider myself a good person, but how far does that get one when they refuse to muster up the self-discipline to get through life?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still♥

   Growing up in a rural Colorado area, I loathed the vast nothingness. To look around and only see never-ending plateaus made me feel like I was on a tiny island surrounded by water. What could you possibly do in that situation? There were a lot of feelings of isolation and loneliness.
   A few weeks ago I was driving through Wyoming, which is known to be desolate as shit, when my friend told me something that really pried my eyes open. He said he's glad to see empty fields considering how overpopulated and over-industrialized our world is today. I really appreciated him saying that. Humans are so determined to occupy every inch of Earth that it truly is refreshing to know there are places where nature, animals, insects, and life are still thriving... naturally.

O

   I walked into my 16-year-old sister's bedroom and saw something that made my heart melt. In the far left corner of her bedroom is a collection of empty alcohol bottles standing next to a collection of stuffed animals; mostly pandas since that's her favorite animal. It represents teenage years oh so perfectly. To me, I see the dichotomy between wanting to be grown and participate in adult activities, such as drinking, and the infantile comfort one gets from something as simple as a soft, stuffed toy. I believe this duality is inside everyone: the eagerness to get older as well as the yearning to stay young. She's Graham Greene's The Destructer's personified.

the favorite

"Stop acting so small. 

You are the universe in ecstatic motion."

— Rumi

growing

Where I Come From

Sally Fisher

We didn’t say fireflies

but lightning bugs.

We didn’t say carousel

but merry-go-round.

Not seesaw,

teeter-totter.

Not lollipop,

sucker.

We didn’t say pasta, but

spaghetti, macaroni, noodles:

the three kinds.

We didn’t get angry;

we got mad.

And we never felt depressed

dismayed, disappointed

disheartened, discouraged

disillusioned or anything,

even unhappy:

just sad.

666

   As I was leaving Wal-Mart earlier today, I heard the greeter tell another customer, "God bless you." My thoughts instantly entered into Hypothetical Conversations™ mode.

   "If he would have said that to me, I would have replied with, 'Oh, I'm Atheist,'" myself told myself.

   "And that would have accomplished what?" myself asked. 

   "Ope! Ya got me there!" I replied. And then we all laughed together.

   My second line of thought went to a more empathetic place. If he would have said that to me, I should just interpret it as I know it. "May the Universe bless you," is what I would have heard. A friendly "And you, too, sir!" is what I would have responded. Beliefs are sacred but so so variegated. One sect alone can spawn thousands of unique ideologies. One person might believe Jesus was the son of God and be completely against same-sex marriage. One person might believe Jesus was the son of God and be completely for same-sex marriage. Muslims and Christians both agree that Jesus lived, however one believes he was a prophet and the other believes he was the messiah himself. Native Americans and Ancient Greeks both believed in polytheism, but the representations of each god took on different roles. 
   It took me a long time to not be pompous about my atheism. And I'm actually not even Atheist! I just tell people that to make myself clear: no. white. omnipotent. male. god. for. Nessie. I've studied it, flipped it, and reversed it. Doesn't make an ounce of sense to me. Seeing how bushes and snakes can't speak, I think the author of the Bible had some dank-ass shroomies on deck. Most importanly though, Jesus wasn't white.
   I am Pantheist. One definition says: a doctrine that identifies God with the universe. I love it. Nail on the head. Yes. Scientists claim our galaxy began with the Big Bang Theory. So nature did this on its own, because it's gangster like that. From there emerged trees, oceans, volcanoes, mountains, fields, deserts, sharks, otters, sloths, dogs, and flowers... all the radiant and lively aspects of this Earth. Don't even get me started with humans. The way we have a muscular system to move our bones. The way adenosine triphosphate is created during the Kreb cycle. The way our distorted vision can be fixed with a fine laser. The way we know DNA is a double-helix (shout out to Rosalind Franklin). THE WAY WE EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK DNA IS. Majestic. Magnificent. Magical. Nature is perfect and beautiful.
   The second definition says: worship that admits or tolerates all gods. I like that. There are truths across all faiths and religions and creeds. I don't believe in Christianity, but when Jesus said, "Do to others what you would have them do to you," I'm like, my nigga. I don't know anything about Judaism, but when I see quotes from the Torah like, "Seek peace, and pursue it," I'm with the shit. When considering Greek mythology, it makes way more sense to me to have multiple gods handling humanly affairs: one rules love, one rules war, one rules the ocean, one rules the underworld. I'm sure if I looked into Satanism I'd find something I'd like about it. Same with Mormonism and Catholicism and Zoroastrianism, etc. There's a picture I've seen on the internet of Jesus, Buddha, and Krishna with their arms wrapped around each other. Above them reads, "We're all just walking each other home. ~Ram Dass" And it's true. Whatever gets you through the day. 
   What keeps me going is relatively simple: it's knowledge. For monotheists, most of their questions have answers. They can consult their holy book or a religious leader. For me, there is a world out there full of vast unknowns and possibilities. I'm still searching for my answer, and I suspect I always be. I love to learn about history (local, national, global), psychology, sociology, biology, anthropology, politics, technology, nutrition, photography, literature, and other cultures. I love to write in journals and to give myself tarot readings and to trip on DMT and to go on walks with my dog at midnight when the streets are lonely. I love to read good books and poetry. I love to make myself tea and take soothing hot showers that wash my transgressions away. I'm a very simple person. I love depth, intellect, ambition, and a sense of purpose in people. I dabble in witchcraft and voodoo shit. I don't believe in astrology or know when Mercury will be in retrograde, but that doesn't stop me from peeping at the paragraph titled Aquarius at the end of my magazine. I don't own crystals that will cleanse my chakras, but I meditate in the sunshine on windy days and do yoga to stretch my fears away, waiting for peace to meet me in the middle. This is the religion of me.

Mis

   "...and then, I have nature and art and poetry,

and if that is not enough,

what is enough?"

— Vincent van Gogh

?

or maybe did
something go away
ever so quietly
when we weren't looking
— e.e. cummings

flor

I wanted to ask,

"what aisle did you find

your serenity, do you know

how to be married for fifty years,

or how to live alone?

excuse me for interrupting,

but you seem to possess

some knowledge that makes

the earth burn and turn on its axis."

but we don't request such things from strangers

nowadays. so I said, "I love your hair."

— Alison Luterman