A nice start.

She reverted back to that fated day when she was a child and she had thought she had reached the end. The apparatus that assisted her in floating had failed and she had begun to sink to the bottom of the pool; which for her might as well have been the bottom of the ocean. She fought and fought. She kicked, she flailed her arms, she reached as far as she could to try to get above the water. Until the water had begun to fill her tiny little lungs and she no longer had the strength to fight. She kicked her last kick and then began to sink. On that fated day, it was her grandmother who saved her. Getting her out of the water in the knick of time, bringing her to safety on the deck, and confidently performing CPR to get the water out of her lungs. All she could remember was coughing hard and loud and finally opening her eyes to see her family above her. Their joy at her survival was quickly replaced with her mother's trademark scolding. And in an instant, what she thought was an inevitable death had returned to complete normalcy.

But this time, drowning was different. It wasn't physical. No one could see her flailing around, kicking, reaching, gasping for air. No one could hear her. No one could feel it, but her. It was within. Her life had somehow become an incessant cause of unfathomable sorrow. She didn't know what she wanted to be, what she wanted for herself, much less what she wanted for others, she didn't even know what to do in any situation. She was completely and seemingly irrevocably, lost. She tried everything she could to think of to save herself from drowning in it all. And then, like a beacon of light a voice had said to her, "You should leave. You need to let go. You need to help yourself before you help others." And with that it seemed so clear. What she had needed all along, was exactly what she had feared the most: leaving everything and everyone she had come to know and love. She decided to leave despite the fear and doubt.

And so, just as she had done with everything else in her life, she mentally and emotionally prepared herself for leaving. Almost beginning to shut herself down. Much like how her tiny body had begun to shut down the first time she nearly drowned so long ago. She was prepared to kick her last kick, close her eyes, gasp her last breath, and go.

But for some ridiculously strange reason, God somehow deemed her worthy of the best man she had ever known. Just when she thought that the next step she needed to take was to be prepared to be unhappy for the rest of her life, everything changed. She fell in love with a man, and for some explanation she would probably never understand, he loved her back. And for the very first time in as long as she could remember, she woke up happy. She was finally able to believe what people meant when they said everyday was a gift. Because while friends and family had been more than she could ever ask for in terms of love and support, respect and kindness, it was different. She was no longer lost as long as she was loved by him. She was given a purpose, a reason for living. She was in love.

It's good.

And just when she thought it wasn't possible, that she would be doomed do a life of incessant sorrow he saved her. There he had been hiding in plain sight, the both of them never believing it was at all possible. That the saying was in fact true: Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, Love gives us a fairytale.

For the longest time, she could not remember what it meant to be happy. Nor could she associate any sort of happiness with any kind of sobriety. And then it was different. Because finally it was uncomplicated and clear. Finally someone had loved her as much as she loved him. It was so simple, and right, and good. And so she wanted to believe that it was all just too good to be true. That soon some kind of ball would drop and he would find out everything horrible about her and leave her for good. But it never did. Thus she was left to wonder what the hell she could've done to have such a wonderful, perfect man love her.

It's Mine.

Here’s a new concept for today’s blog: fuck vague-ness and anonymity. Here’s to complete and total honesty, to facing oneself head on no matter how hard it might be. Here’s to admitting to oneself and the entire world everything that is wrong, and horrible, and sad, and troublesome. And here’s to letting all of that go to find out what exactly will make life glorious, or as close as any of us can get to it.

Pretty much what I’ve gotten from a lifetime of T.V. and movies is that, people are wretched things. I don’t know if people are inherently evil or if there’s something along the way that turns us into selfish creatures. Either way, we are all very selfish beings, no matter what. I get that people can surprise you. That there are people who are ridiculously generous, and who give, give, give and ask nothing in return. I’ve known people who just love, and give, and are amazing. But the fact that they come so far and few between is what makes them amazing, hence leaving the bulk of humanity as I said prior: selfish beings.

Forgive me if I ramble on tangents. Anyway, I was admittedly a very selfish child, you can ask any of my family members. I didn’t like to share anything, and would rather play in a corner alone than share my favorite toy. I told on people a lot, and cried when I didn’t get what I wanted. I was a complete and total bitch of a child. If I saw myself as a child now, it would take an incredible amount of self-restraint not to bitch slap myself. Anyway, somewhere down the line, I started living my life for other people. But not in the healthy, self-less way. I wanted other people to respect me, look up to me, be proud of me, praise me, and mostly just like me. I was surrounded by a family of nay-sayers who loved to gossip about me, talk down to me, and do everything they could to make themselves feel superior. I think it was because they thought they had to, to make me a stronger person. I think it was because they had no idea that they were doing it, and furthermore that they had no idea what it would do to a child, and that raising a child this way was incredibly detrimental.

Enough with the sob story, my family was/is fucked up. (Who’s isn’t in their own way?) The end.

So I moved away. I moved as far away as my mother, finances, and college acceptances allowed. And I earned my right by going to a top 25 university in our great nation to say whatever the hell I wanted to say to my so-called “elders” whether or not they think so. And the more I stayed away, the more I got so damn tired of living my life for other people. It probably all goes back to the whole selfish child thing, but I don’t really care.

I’m not getting a degree because it’s what my parents have always wanted for me. I can’t do that to myself anymore. I’m not going to be the one with fifty extra curricular activities, a stupid high gpa, and the LSAT score everyone prays for. I’m not going to pick some arbitrary career because people are counting on me to be the smart, successful one. I honestly don’t care about any of it, graduating, the degree, the walking on the stage, the pats on the back from my family. Fuck success, fuck praise, fuck false pride.

Okay well, maybe not fuck success, but let it be for me, because I wanted it. Because I busted my ass for no other reason than I wanted to, I felt like it at the time, and it made me happy.

I’m leaving my favorite city incredibly soon. I’m moving even farther away and taking a much needed break from literally everything I know. I want to know what it’s like to wake up in the morning and not feel like complete shit. I want to make a decision for myself, for my own well being and no one else‘s. And if it means not getting my degree when literally everyone was expecting me to, if it means moving to the opposite coast somewhat prematurely, if it means leaving the city I love so much, and the friends I love more than anything, so be it.

I know it’s going to suck for a little bit. I know I’m going to be sad and miss everyone. And I know it’s going to be a lot harder than I would like to admit, but I’m doing it anyway.

Because for once, while I used to say, “This is my toy, don’t touch it” This is my life, and no one else is going to play with it ever again.

Farewell. (Or as a good friend of mine said, “See you later.”)

Circles.

It was that point in the evening where the clouds began to cover the city. Staring at what stars you had to struggle to see, it starts to become easier to notice that something else was going on in the sky. The clouds begin their graceful dance to come together and envelop the city. As if they wanted to rock everyone to sleep in their embrace; to shield everyone from the fears of the night. And there she stood. Tonight wearing her silver sexy-yet-functional heels, her favorite and most versatile little black dress, the floating diamond necklace from her mother, and her hair perfectly straightened hanging just past her shoulder blades. She turned when she heard someone coming, and immediately put out her Marlboro light. It was Stephen.

“How many times to I have to tell you to quit that shit?” He was leaning in the doorway to the terrace with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket at his side. “Damn he looks good tonight.” She thought quietly to herself. He wore his Gucci black pinstripe suit that night, with a sky blue dress shirt rather than the typical white, and the matching pinstripe tie he got for Christmas years ago. “Well you know the more you tell me not to, the more I’m gonna want to do something.” She said playfully as she put her pack of cigarettes back into her purse. “What the hell are you doing here so early anyway?” she asked. “Maybe I just thought I’d keep you company. Want a drink?” he then asked her. She turned back around to face out again and responded with a quick, “No.” And then he asked, “So what do you want to do?” “I just want to stand here for a while, if that’s okay.” “Yeah, okay.” So he stood by her leaning on the balcony as well. Without saying a word, with the both of them knowing that just being with each other was enough.

It had been years since they had seen each other. She left to travel the world and find her purpose, only to settle in New York City a year later. He stayed and did everything he set out to do: law school, the six figure salary to start, everything. But before that, they were in love. At one point they were even thinking about getting married. But as so-called cynics say, you can’t live off of love. So she left. And now here they were, standing side by side waiting for their best friends’ rehearsal dinner to start.

It’s quite strange seeing where life takes you, and even stranger how many times, it merely leads you back to where you started.

Note to Self. Two.

I would normally hand write this in a journal, add it to the document on my laptop with everything I have ever blogged, then paste it on here. But alas I lack all my materials for said ritual. Thus I am forced to type as quitely as possible in my sister's guestroom while simultaneously attempting to not wake her sleeping children.

Anyway...

The people I have chosen to be in my life are everything to me. I choose to love them, support them, entertain them and forgive them unconditionally. Of course when you care about people so much, many times it's going to hurt a lot. When people leave, when they make mistakes, when they worry the hell out of you, it (for lack of a less favorite phrase) sucks. And then they come back to you, or you come back to them, and everything feels the way it always had, if not better. And that's the thing about reunions, more important than catching up is the remembering. Looking back on the stories of ditching class to go to the grand opening of Hollister in high school, or friends not being able to make "Easy Mac," or driving around your undergraduate college shooting nerf guns at each other, or seeing your roommate passed out on the couch with his laptop next to his face and his hand still on the keyboard.

Life is ridiculously hard. But sometimes life is just ridiculous. Maybe it's to offset the difficulty. Or maybe it's just because I have insanely amazing people in my life. Either way, try to live for the simply ridiculous. You'll smile more, I promise.

Note to self. One.

I am going to try to begin a new series. Of course I will continue my usual blogs, but this series is meant to be more vaguely personal. Here is the first of more to come. I hope you enjoy.

He’s the guy that you always know you can’t really have. You may have had him once upon a time, but that time no longer exists. He’s the man that you fall in love with time and time again, and every time it always feels like the first. You both know that if things were different and your life situations permitted it, you’d be together. And since you both know that isn’t possible you keep trying to go on with your lives pretending that your heart is completely your own. But forgive me, my love, you are wrong. You two are bound by fate. You will always love him, and he will always love you. And while this is known to both parties it still does not by any means ensure that you two will ever be together. Perhaps, my dear love, you both are doomed to never be completely happy. For you are doomed to never be together. And as sad and depressing as it may seem, would it be so bad? For while you may never be with your fated soul mate, you may yet have other loves of your life. Do not limit yourself, rather allow the love you have enhance your love for others.

AmeriCorps.

I grew up with scarcity. I lived in the same house my entire life built in 1942 in the worst part of my small town back home. My father was a drug addict, my mother was always ill due to a severe heart condition, my sister is bi-polar, and my stepfather has a gambling addiction and is an alcoholic. And for most of my life there were at least seven people living in a three bedroom one bathroom home. I don’t have one small moment in my life that has made me want to reach out to others, I have a lifetime.

I have never had money and I have never felt completely secure. And for a long time because of all of this, I was resentful of all that I came from. From 3rd through 12th grade, I worked myself to the bone to guarantee my place at a university far away from home. I wanted to get out, and I did.

But then I grew up. In my four years at UCLA I have come to realize that my life full of nothing but adversity has made me a better mentor, a better friend, and most importantly a better person. I learned to let go of whatever made me want to leave everything that was familiar, and to embrace everything and everyone that came my way. I realized, that maybe I was meant to experience all of the hardship I’ve endured in order to better understand and help others.

I have always known that while I have never had everything, there are others with absolutely nothing. And since I have never had much, I am able to identify with people in need. I have gone without many times in my life, and I feel that now it is my responsibility to at least try to ensure that others don’t have to experience what I have.

The truth of the matter is, I’m about to graduate from one of the most prestigious universities in the nation. People are telling me to go to law school, or take a year off to travel, or work at some big fortune 500 company. But I don’t see the point in doing any of those things. Because while a job would make a lot of money, law school would ensure a good career, and traveling would be a good experience, none of it seems worthwhile. I have lived my entire life listening to what people told me I was supposed to be doing. I got fantastic grades for 12 years because going to college was expected. I am graduating in June because my family expects it. But I have given my family and the rest of society 21 years of dictating what I should do with my life. This time, I am making a life decision completely of my own volition: I am going to help people. I don’t need any pats on the back, or thanks, or praise for being so generous. I just want a chance to make a year’s commitment to simply serve others, and if I’m lucky, maybe even make a small difference.

I want to serve because I know it’s needed. I want to serve because I know I can. I want to serve because I know that my life has made me perfect for it.