My Syndicated Life: Why You Should Start A Journal

Two pastel-colored journals, one pink and the other white, stacked on top of each other shot close up. Two wooden art pencils with pink lead sit on top.
Photo by Jess Bailey from Pexels

I spent the better half of the last two weeks reuniting with blasts from the past like every other television show cast coming together after being off the air for years. We talked about things we saw on each other’s social media feeds like our lives were syndicated classics playing in the background. The video streaming and conference calling replaced the feeling of knowing everything about some of these people, but not truly knowing who they have become as individuals. Reaching out to life’s puzzle pieces of the past was a nice reminder that things haven’t always been bad and that things will eventually get better.

Continue reading “My Syndicated Life: Why You Should Start A Journal”

The First Job I Ever Had

The very first job I ever had was something I built for myself back in elementary school. I confess that It’s not something I can ever put on my resume. In fact, I was actually threatened with arrest at one point during the height of my business success.

The tail-end of my elementary school years changed my entire life for the better. This was around the time when I decided I would try writing more and that I would pursue a career in the arts. I picked up the pen, went through dozens of sketchbooks, notepads, journals, and paper that I stole out of the large recycling bin on campus, and started writing and drawing. This was also the time that my crazy ideas began to have more of an impact on the lives of me and everyone around me.

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When Thought Puzzles Become Art

I like to think that my thoughts are shaped like puzzles that I can use to piece together in different ways. I like to think I can use these puzzles to construct new ideas and new concepts. I like to think that makes dreams the involuntary abstract ideas that run wild. Dreams are evolutionary. They grow and change as we grow and change until they become something more tangible, and even then, dreams still evolve as we age.

I like to think that opposing thoughts are there to push the boundaries and shapes of the thought puzzles and that these new pieces create even more structures and works of art that we had no way of seeing before you began inviting other thoughts into your mind.

All these things built by thoughts and ideas create new spaces with new rules. The spaces pool into new worlds and congeal together into varying universes. I like to believe that thoughts are things and things are thoughts and that if you keep pondering the confines of the known and unknown universe, that you will begin to create amazing things.

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 24 – 31

October 24: Her

Sometimes I think about it in swiftly passing glances,

That it were me that you had chosen instead of her.

I ponder for a moment, but what I find in my intent is that I wouldn’t have lived my life this way.

I would have never climbed mountains, ran marathons, or have seen so many places.

I would not be the girl happily sitting here today.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Although a lot is what I endured,

But where I want to be and what I have loved along the way is being able to meet so many brilliant faces that have shaped the girl happily sitting here today.


October 25: Pretty

She was pretty.

Pretty enough to paint every line and curve that defined her face.

She could have been a portrait. Perhaps, she was a portrait, and we had been tip-toeing around a pretty inanimate object in the middle of the living space.

Room, she captured all of it, a space filled with eyes all resting on her.

She lived her life oblivious to the stares from the crowd.

She could kill any person with glancing murder.

She could have been an assassin. Perhaps, she failed at being an assassin because for her entire life she was a killer.


October 26: Light

I saw the light leave your eyes like the setting sun sinking softly out at sea,

And like the twilight of the evening I noticed the dark and grew concerned.

I was alone now under the floating tarp covered in thousands of twinkling lights.

Your light was no longer beside me.

And all I could do was continue moving forward.

Then suddenly, sometime soon, I know another sun will rise to greet a new day,

And I, like the dawn of the morning, will be drowned in warm light again.


October 27: Meaning

He asked me what I would say to God if I could have any question answered,

And I said that I would have little to say.

If I had to go on living after the question I would endure the rest of a life substandard,

And I would feel cheated at the end of the day.

To know what you shouldn’t know takes away the mysteries of life, And that is not how you should live.

You do the best you can until you reach the afterlife

Leaving everything else on earth with more stories to share and love to give.


October 28: Memories

We walk haphazardly down the street with our fake smiles

And all I think about are the other times we’ve been here in this place.

You think your own set of unique questions and I watch as your mind runs a race.

There are so many memories, but we comment on none.

We never pause to recollect or relive the fun,

And that’s how I knew we were over and passed the point of done.

I ended the relationship in my mind in an instant as if I solved our problem with a gun.


October 29: Language

I see your mouth move and contort into different shapes,

But I do not understand any of the sounds it makes.

Your voice has changed and the sounds that leave your body are unknown.

I listen to you like I’m having a conversation under water over the phone.

I know less of who you are as you go about your day. Your interests are different and you only deeply consider your pay.

Your familiarity grows strange as I lose my grasp of who you are.

You become the blurred details on the side of the road as I speed by in my car.


October 30: God

I am not a man.

I am the whole Universe,

Though no one believes.


October 31: Friendship

Here we are, five hundred and seventy- four fortnights after we first said, “hello.”

We were babies then and couldn’t imagine a life at the time where we ended up together.

You were the wild one, and I was the girl that was mellow.

We both rubbed off on each other and continue to evolve on this journey forever.

You said once that we were soulmates and I believe it to be so.

I think about this sometimes during the day, and I promise to find you in the next life when we both go.

#OctPoWriMo | Oct 18 – 23

Oct 18 | Fear

The unknown territory is rarely crossed and, for a reason.

When we don’t know, we are afraid.

We live with uncertainty in every season,

When we couldn’t explain it with science, we prayed.

Some let the strange thought slowly creep in

And push society to the next upgrade.

These “some” get charged with crimes of treason,

And forever crazy they are portrayed.

That is until society’s thought is no longer full of unreason

And society wishes no longer to degrade.

These “some” become knowledgeable with lots of expertise in

And all of their descendants are the ones lofty paid.


Oct 19 | Autumn

The leaf falls to the forest floor undisturbed by a passerby,

For it is during this time the leaves begin to slowly wither up and die.

The wind grows crisp and their air becomes cold,

And dampened leaves on the dirt-packed floor grow old with mold.

I walk along a nature-made path through the dying trees,

And crunch happily along the decorative piles of discolored leaves.

I praise autumn for the harvest and the spooky season too,

It is a time for great change and the time to start anew.


Oct 20 | Rose

The soft buds kissed her lips 

as she leaned forward 

and politely sniffed the floral scent 

from the deeply red rose.

Her eyes, half-closed, 

as she did so, 

flickered open causing her long dark lashes to flutter 

and her sweet smile to sweeten further.

The long stems, 

freshly cut, 

were still held in her soft and supple hands, 

and absent was the sharp harsh rose thorn.

She felt the love radiate from the other woman 

with a similar sweet smile 

through the fresh roses 

and thanked her passionately with a kiss.

She saw her future flash brilliantly before her in an instant 

and was so thankful that she did not pass up true love 

because of the way she was born.


Oct 21 | Fire

I peered deeply into the brilliantly orange glow 

past the puffs of billowing smoke from weathered bark,

And I outstretched my bare hands towards the climbing flames 

for only a sample of emerging warmth.

My back positioned toward the cold damp and darkening woods 

twitched with every wafting breeze through our home for the night,  

And my ears listened to the whispering ruffling of leaves 

through the robust towering trees.

My mind wandered a little to no thought in particular 

as the campfire beckoned for me to sit a little closer,

And without touching the miraculously crackling flames, I complied.


Oct 22 | Photograph

I found a photograph the other day and fell back into deep thought with you at the center.

The two of us were trapped on the page in a previous time and there was no erasing this.

There we were, still existing in a pause between breaths that attempted to move life forward. 

Our mouths were wide with smiles and our eyes frozen never seeing the day we grew apart.

Our flimsy time capsule tethered me to a past nearly forgotten.

We are no longer who we were, and we will one day notice change again.


Oct 23 | River

The swiftly swishing sound of the wild water in the rushing river 

Elevated the pace of the beating booming of my hasted heart 

So much so, that I felt the battered beating in my brain.

We were carefully crossing the crazy river 

When I nearly knocked myself down 

While tripping terribly over my tired toes.

I felt the fleeting flash of my fantastic life flood my flickering eyes—

And then I took a deep breath.

#OctPoWriMo | Oct 12 – 17

October 12 | Danger

The canyon lured me to the edge of its lips with its entrancing beauty, And I for one could never pass up the undulating rock formations jetting up from the crust of the earth.

I stare wildly watching the gliding birds soar above the rushing Colorado River, And I grin happily as I stand motionless before the natural wonder.

A deep vast canyon with towering red rocks tower before me as I peer into the depths of danger. If I tripped, a fast-paced rushing river would break my fall and carry my body out to sea.


October 13 | Universe

I am one part of the whole of the entire universe, And I gaze up into myself and watch myself gaze back at me.

My energy connected and my soul revealed to yours, I recognize the connection from one another is really the key.

I am the universe and the universe is every various shape and outcome of me. I exist in every possibility and, express myself in every way.

I am everything in this universe that I can and cannot see. I am every passing moment all at once and every single day.


October 14 | Love

Virgil says, “love conquers all things, so we too shall yield to love,” But unlike Virgil or Dante, I do not believe that such a thing is sin.

Powerful? Yes, but never wrong. Hell should not be the destination, nor should heaven or hell exist.

A life after life very similar to this where living and non-living organisms is our eternal kin.

Loves moves all thins and keeps life protected and moving forward, While love also drive empathetic pursuit of happiness and justice for all.

If you want love–love. If you want to give love–love yourself first, And loving everything else as yourself becomes the protocol.


October 15 | Ravens

The same two ravens see me out at the start of my day, And they peer down from their hung telephone wire onto me as I pass by.

I see their complex interactions shift and mix as they continue to spy, And then allow me to pass on my merry way.

They sit right outside my window of the room where I lay, And pitch their great black silhouettes prominently against the night’s sky.

I fear that they will be there beside me till the day after I die, And with all that they have seen still have nothing to say.


October 16 | Down

High on the mountains

We thought we’d never come down–

Until the sun fell.


October 17 | Purpose

I’ve allowed the earth to haul to hurl myself around the sun 29 times, And what that means is that I’m always moving forward.

I recorded my life in in tears and burgeoning laugh lines, And I
occasionally write them down in inked word.

Some rotations more recognizable than others though I keep living until I
die. Creating, learning, loving and crying I just scratch the surface.

I live exactly how I want to live and that is what I abide by, As long as I
never harm anyone or any living thing on purpose.

#OctPoWriMo | Oct 5 – 11

October 5 | Run

The First heel strike on the hard black asphalt sent a message to my brain that day that hasn’t left my mind since.

It took me outdoors and into the woods, up mountains, and past rows of tall and thick densely packed trees.

I let the message guide me along road races for miles across multiple states and in different terrains,

And I thanked the message for introducing me to a new life with so many wonderful and amazing friends.

I have found my new self in the outdoors because of this, and I wholeheartedly welcome the change.

Because of it, I have sen the world, and I will continue to do the same.


October 6 | Ocean

I allow my toes to dig a little deeper into the wet sand as you pass through my feet and flow by.

Your cool touch awakens me with surprise every time, but I continue to wander even further into youas the hour passes.

When my waist is held by your forceful embrace, I stand still while looking out onto the endless horizon.

You try pulling me deeper into you, and I oblige for amoment before even realizing it.

You continue to call out to me as my heart does to you, so I swim into your embrace for a while.

I leave as the sun begins to fall behind you, but I always promise to return.


October 7 | Moon

I look up to you under dark skies and see you sitting proudly above the heavens for all the world to see.

You light up the night and steal the wandering eyes floating in the darkness.

Without hesitation, you lift the tides that try to carry the mountains out to sea, and keep track of time after the sun runs away.

Your magical body shifts and contorts itself into dazzling shapes, and on your foggier evenings, you inspire intense stories that last generations.

You watch over the harvest, and occasionally visit while dressed in red or discussing blue.

You are a cosmic masterpiece hanging on a board with more than a billion stars.

In the evening, we rightfully focus our attention on you before the period of time that you graciously watch over us as we sleep.


October 8 | Writing

I married you in the spring while sitting in a Catholic grade school classroom,

And all it took was for you to emerge when I read my first chapter book story on my own.

You introduced me to new characters and took me on holiday to multiple places.

We travelled the world hand in hand and you inspired me to help build you up with my own efforts.

I fell in love with your words and the way you carefully arranged them in decorative ways.

You captured my attention, and I still have yet to steal it back.

You have become my life, my passion, all of my ambitions, and you have washed away pain and confusion as time has gone on.

You were with me when I first learned how to inscribe my name with your elements,

And you continue to guide me as I continue my life as a writer.


October 9 | Journal

I write it all down so I don’t forget the way I take me tea or the rendition of my favorite song.

I try to hold on to all the passing moments as they wisp by in the heavy current of life.

I arrange symbols on a naked page that is hungry for graphite and sticky wet ink.

I can relive my life in any memory, and can write down future messages to the newer me.

My story becomes a passage for time travel with every stroke of the pen.

And it evolves into a lasting memory of me and all of my deepest personal thoughts.

I write it all down for no one and nothing but myself.

The daunting task of scribing my life if for me to do as I continue to provide content to fill the pages.

Those pages are my most prized possession. They are my past, my future, and they are most certainly me.


October 10 | Suitcase

Filled to the brim, my international tie to home houses the essentials in my world.

It billows with grooming tools, warm cloth to keep me clothed, and the occasional snack or two.

It usually follows me from behind as I roll it through the busy passage ways that lead to the giant metal birds of the sky,

And it conveniently fits snuggly in overhead compartments.

Although my cat gets sad when she sees it, my heart jumps for joy as I drag the thing out from behind a pile of other bags in my closet.

It’s a symbol of freedom and independence, of wanderlust and getting completely lost.

It’s a seat on the side of the road while I wait for a ride in a car, a coat rack when I arrive in an entirely new destination,

And a portal linking my life at home to the rest of the entire world.


October 11| Flower

It grew in the dirt,

And reached up into the sky

Following the sun.

OctPoWriMo | Oct 1st – Oct 4th

October 1 | ASL

I watch as your hands fold and bend around invisible objects.

Your eyes widen, but your mouth barely moves.

Although there is no sound, I can hear the words that are painted with your fingertips,

And I can see the power emanating from your hands.

Your language is beautiful, and your descriptions of things lets me know how creative and smart you are.

Your movements are fluid, but unlike a dance they dive into a deeper meaning.

I envy those movements, and so I spend my nights learning to move just like you.

Continue reading “OctPoWriMo | Oct 1st – Oct 4th”

Living History

photos on the wall containing living history

History comes to life when you learn about someone who has actually lived through it. To hear first-hand accounts of something that was solidified in time is intriguing. Their account is valued, personal and, in many cases, can even be misleading.

These historical figures hold a key that unlocks the mysteries of the past. They can help paint pictures that dive into the very heart of humanity. However, they can also be incredibly one-sided. Never-the-less, their stories are also an important part of the vibrant quilt work of fabric that helps us to define time itself. Continue reading “Living History”

Eyes Without A Face

Eyes Without A Face

Sometimes I find myself missing literature that I have not and probably will not ever read. I find myself daydreaming of the non-existent day when some kind stranger returns the series of poems that my mother wrote and lent to a friend to read. I sit in the immaterialized section of reality hidden deep within my conscious to see the book of poems—forever lost—that I will never see.

I regard my mother as a brilliant writer able to make points, sway opinions, and write beautiful poetry and prose. She can spin stories with a pen out of thin air, but you can rarely capture her in the act. My mother said her love of writing poems died the day the book of poetry she wrote was lost under the guardianship of a friend who left them on an airplane. She would tell me that she had documented her entire life, up until that point, in prose.

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