Good Day.

Does coffee make a difference?

After about a month of no caffeine, I succumbed to the desires of my heart this morning. I brewed a hot mug of caramel-rich, living-life juice. I have been a little shaky today, but that is normal…one of the side effects of living the dream, I suppose.

Such great things happen when I hook up to this coffee induced euphoria. My outlook on life brightens up, and I am actually excited to be majoring in an art form and a magic that awakens the senses.

It’s a good day.

Thank you, cup of Joe.



Hearing the washing machine and the dishwasher murmur gently in my ear is one of the most relaxing noises I know. Maybe it is because I have accomplished something for the day, or maybe because it reminds me of home. I love the whirring of the machines doing their jobs and living the life they were created for.

(Is everything a metaphor in my mind? Yeah. It is. I am a literal person when the context calls for it, but I believe in a deeper meaning most of the time).

Sound has always been something that I relate well to. Sound connects me to memories. I understand because I have heard. Lately, I have learned that I am able to block out sound…all sounds except for the voice in my head.

The voice in my head goes away when I can focus on reading. The voice becomes nice and mannered. It sneaks back when all is quiet and I provoke it with thoughts of my future. Maybe it is not so much a voice as it is a presence. This presence is a comet of darkness emitted through my electrons in my brain. It is almost as if the darkness is shocking my mind.

Sound is good.

Up and at ‘Em

What will you get out of bed for?

I’ve been wondering recently what to do with my life and I can’t seem to get an answer. Currently, I am studying music education. However, I love language, literature, and humor.

I love kids.

I also want to be excited for my job.

I also want to be in a good place mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I would like to make money.

Recently, I’ve been making a list of the things that I know I enjoy. As if a routine, I forget who I am at least once a month. I do not know what I like, I know exactly what I dislike, and I seem to be holding my breath waiting for the an event to bring me back to life. I am not living right now. I am technically “living,” but my soul is not being inspired, my heart not fueled. I am, essentially, burnt out.

Luckily, I have not started doing “hard” drugs…yet.


Envied, Doubted, and Pressured

Emotions are inevitable. Are feelings? I could argue that emotions and feelings are directly correlated. On the other hand, is it possible to choose to feel and to choose to ignore? Can I say to an emotion that “I do not want to feel you today.” Is this something I can control? Every Tuesday, I am pressured into focusing and choosing my feelings. Why can’t I be free?

I think that many times feelings and emotions are thought of as the same thing. I think that it is true that they are very similar. I think certain emotions have increased rates of feeling attached to them. Happiness is like sunshine and sadness is like darkness. Does the sun choose to peek out through the clouds, or does it simply wait for the clouds to pass? I think that certain emotions are more “controllable” than others.




I have a mental illness. This is something that I recognize and it is something that I think I have blocked out for long enough. I have uncontrollably felt sad and anxious for most of my life. Environment has been a root of this disorder. I go from feeling happy, inspired, even motivated and in the next few moments, I am spiraling down. I have friends who I am happy to see at first and then I have a voice in my head saying twisted, confusing stories about them that feel like reality. I have extremely vivid dreams that mislead me beyond belief. At a surface level, I am okay. It is a different story when it comes to the depth of my being.

My brain sparks with distraction. Everything, every little word, every glance…I am not focused. I am worried about the next minutes, hours, days, and what they will hold. I am grasping on to my pebble repeating the mantra “be here, be here, be here.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” my counselor says.

Why should I be soft?



The Swaying of Perfection

I am twenty years old, but I am an old twenty. Basically, I’m 38…on the inside. I enjoy a mug of something warm and opaque silence. I like soft surfaces and tender expressions.I do not enjoy abruptly callous and arrogant authority. I do not like to be negatively reinforced and expected to have a successful outcome. I do not like being named things that I am not.

Being pushed to the limits on a daily basis invites consequences and mental illness into your life. If you have seen the movie “Whiplash,” well that is an accurate representation of the life I am currently living. Music has always been a part of my life. You could say that music is my life. Why do I want to give it up? Could I do that? I can do whatever I want. Music makes my brain spark in the best and worst ways imaginable. It hurts me, it builds me up, it drives me to a dark, dismal, delightful place. It is the most wonderful, yet abusive relationship that I have ever had in my entire life…and I’ve had a rape inclined boyfriend. I blame music for a lot of things that fall on the feelings leading up to a successful lesson, which I feel like I never have, or even a decent practice session. “You are a failure.” “Stop trying.” The voice in my head is the most cynical part of the journey. I’ve had negativity in my brain since I began. The pressure to be perfect, the pressure to be the best.


I am good for me. I am good enough for me. I do not want to be great, I do not want to be perfect, I want to be good enough for me.