this is how you lose her.

i’ve been thinking a lot about fire escapes. about lofts high up in sleepless cities. about clear night skies and clearer days. about vitamin d deficiencies and short daylight hours. about very little daylight. the sun marred by cloudy skies. maybe it’ll rain, maybe not, but here’s four or so days of the sky making up its mind. about red meat being good for nails – but terrible for my skin. about my terrible skin and how certain times of the month it’s all i can do to stop myself from taking sandpaper to it. instead i just slather on layers of foundation, and going on about my day with painted nails growing longer than usual.

i’ve been wanting to write, thinking about it, but not seriously doing it. i’ve been reading. maybe not as much as i make it seem, but more than i have in recent months.

most of all, i’ve been hurting and i’m trying to be okay with that.

she’s sensitive, too. takes to hurt the way water takes to paper.


“i’m not here looking for absolution because i’ve found myself an old solution”

i’ve had better first days in a new year. i can’t say i’ve genuinely smiled once. i can’t say i’ve said much.

my dreams contain a wall of water wielded by another and caves into which i didn’t dare venture. i don’t need a dream dictionary to figure this one out.

usually i can’t write because i’m feeling. now i can’t feel because i’m not writing.

time to channel.


“life doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints”

i thought i wanted to write a “year in review” post, catalog my triumphs and foibles – and i’ve had an even share of both. but, eso si que es, c’est la vie, et cetera…

i’ve extrapolated about the major things and mentioned the minors. i am actively thinking (😉) of the quickly approaching year, but… as i lie in the tub with a glass of wine – pre-gaming for my coquitos – and listen to “inútil” (“useless”) from the in the heights original broadway cast recording, i’ve decided to simply to lay this year to rest.

had some first. some lasts. met people who have forever changed my life just by touching it. let go of others and am grateful for the consistent ones. if anything, i’m proud to say this year i left it all on the mat.

this was my arc of character development. 2k16 will be all plot and action.

one last thing –

can the universe send me whoever exists who is as similar in every possible aspect to lin-manuel miranda – except let them be single?



on doubt, inspiration, and doing better.

writing has been…slow going. ever since graduation, all those stories that had been bubbling up and demanding attention i couldn’t give them have kind of disapated. i mean, there’s been one, two ticking about but not anything terribly urgent. back in 2012, i wrote a novel in five months. granted, it’s been in editing since then but it was that story. it begged to be written. i even got a tattoo to commemorate it.

  (a red ace – not a heart)

a few weeks ago, my mind traveled back to that original story. what do i do with it? is it the same story i want to tell? what do i want to keep? change? (hey, if stephenie meyer can genderbend twilight, why can’t i?) can i make it better? can i do better?

concurrently, nikki lorenzo’s a capella mash-up of nina simone’s and the beatles’ “blackbird”s keeps springing up in the back of my thoughts. especially the juxtaposition of the lyrics “why you wanna fly / blackbird / you ain’t ever gonna fly / so blackbird fly”. a few posts back, i called it the musical embodiment of doubt, a feeling i’m well-versed with. the song was brought back to mind when an overly talkative customer told me not to listen to doubt. i responded that doubt can be a good thing because it helps me solidify what i’m doing. if i question myself, i give pause to make sure i’m doing something for the right reasons.

to further drive things home, i have been obsessed with lin-manuel miranda’s broadway musical hamilton. the act i finale song “non-stop” has the line “how do you write like you’re running out of time / how do you write like you need it to survive / how do you write every second you’re alive”, which is, like, damn. yaaas, how do i get on that level? how do i match alexander hamilton’s zeal for the written word?

i realized it’s not just the musical i’m fascinated with. it’s the playright/composer/lyricst/actor miranda. he took a book he saw as vacation reading and made it a sold-out, acclaimed musical breaking records and boundaries. how fucking mind-blowing is that? everyone i talk to cannot escape my telling them to look into hamilton. people i work with, friends, family members… everyone. it feels like not only a catalyst but a bookend of an era, really.

about ten years ago, i watched the film thirteen, co-written by nikki reed. as an out of sorts teenager, i didn’t know what the hell writing meant to me. i knew i loved reading and was interested in telling my own stories. i knew i was excelling  in my english/language arts classes and i never complained about the papers we’d get assigned. ever. but what the hell did i, as a fourteen year old girl, have to offer to the world? what the hell kind of story could i tell?

and then i watched thirteen. and saw what the film did, the conversations it opened. yet for me…i received confirmation. what i feel and what i think is completely valid and my age doesn’t discredit any of it. if there is one person i give credit to for why i took my writing seriously – it’s nikki reed.

and now i’ve got lin-manuel miranda (and by proxy, the ten dollar founding father without a father, alexander hamilton). and with twenty-five finally in full effect, it’s time i take myself seriously. what’s the point of doubt if i don’t put it to work? know better, do better, right?

now that i’m officially finished with college (i got my bachelor’s of arts in the mail this past week), i am a full-fledged adult. like, i know i have been for years but now i feel like it…? well, at least now i can fully enjoy my twenties. who cares that it’s half over.

time to take advantage of the next five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes and then some.



“hello from the other side”


  • scorpio season is upon us, folks. oh, yes.
  • i’ve finished season one of jane the virgin and i can’t remember the last time a show – with smart writing – ever made me this emotional. so, yeah. watch it.   also, this happened and i’m freaking out. 
  • i’m sure that i don’t need to be the one to tell you this, but adele’s “hello” is everything.

‘got my vices in a vice again’

i collage’d my face yesterday because sc was/maybe still is under a state of emergency due to all the weather and flooding (i don’t actually know; i stayed in bed all weekend) and i had writer’s block but also allergies so why the hell not? (there are fifteen pictures of me in this one photo alone)

“you’re running like you’re being chased. you’re not running like you want to cross the finish line first.”

whenever life gets hard – and my best friend will not let me gone girl myself, ugh – i come back to this scene from season two of scandal. it’s got its quirks and faults and it’s on my list of shows i should probably catch up on, but the show has its very poignant moments. so i’m going to stop running like i’m being chased – or, well, like i’m being pushed.

if there is one person to which i attribute why i write/why i still write it’s nikki reed. this spans all the way back to me being a fourteen year old making my mom watch thirteen with me. she does a recurring column with elle magazine and it’s always a pleasure for me to read.