About A Girl

Hair wavy and damp, brushed back away from her face. Her nose is running-decorated in glitter. Now her nose, finger and hair glimmers with colors of blue. “I’m fucked up” she says as her body waves and her thoughts come out aloud disconnected. She drops her phone for the second time beside her foot. She’s searching for something, perhaps a tissue, her lighter, no actually her phone. Again, for the third time she has forgotten something again. She looks down and around; raises her head. A smile lights up across her face-on to find something to drink, preferably water. In the kitchen now to stare at the stove then the fridge. Though she grabs a beer too-a decision to make of which to have first as she quenches both her habit and her thirst. 

Lisa looks into her in blank observation. For a moment she studies the girl before her in her body movements mocking the conflicting options going over in her mind. The move for the night was to make plans for a chill night, a smoke session. But now the dealer is too incompetent as the girl explains. She tells Lisa that he deserves his shitty job at Nachos and Bar. Lisa chuckles slightly to hear the girl’s frustration. In Lisa’s mind now going over what is actually unfortunate. 

An apology to Lisa is begged as the night extends to another hour without progress. “It’s alight, drink something.” Lisa beckons her to come closer. As she does, for a longing hug and a light kiss upon he lips. “It’s okay, do you need to sit?” Lisa pauses as she rubs the girl’s back. “You seem dizz.” 

“Oh no I’m fine, thank you.” The girl smiles again. 

Turning away from the embrace, the girl places her elbows onto the island countertop. Her head rest between her palms. “I’m sorry, just I took too many drugs and then I drank alcohol… and I don’t think that was a great idea now that I’m so fucked. I was looking for a good high and now I’m just.. I feel bad.” She raises her head from her palms to sniff, to wipe her nose again. “Do you mind?” Lisa tells her “no, you’re alright with me.” 

The girl lays her head on Lisa’s shoulder; brushing back her damp hair now. She kisses her on top her head. “You’re alright with me.”

“Thank you”, the girl whispers. She breaks away from the embrace to search her dazzled, glittered pocket purse. A pack of Marblos in hand now as she searches the living room for her lighter. “I need to smoke. Do you want to come outside?” 

“Sure.”

Lisa makes a motion with her feet. Bridget sniffs her shoes, paws at her shoelaces. Only startled for a moment, Lisa shakes her shoe -turns to make her way to the balcony. The girl ahead of her, and now the dog picks up into a pace to follow outdoors. 

The darkness is approaching midnight. 

What source of light allowed is the latter above their heads, a low tone of yellow. A wind chime matching the movement of a warm breeze. The two sit, offering one another a story about their day. As one tells the other, one may have a sense that both here are not altogether right mentally. Something in their respective past has affected them emotionally. And what they do to themselves physically expresses all that is wrong with someone else now a distant, painful memory.

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Free Time

I’ve thought of a few short stories to write over the course of days. The subjects are varied, though all relating to some abstact thought. The summary of them all is that my mind is longing for an ever presence that will transcend time. At this moment I think of how to adequately express what I am writing first in my journal. What I am to present here for mild interest. What I wish to make known to the world in writing will not be justified here. Instead what I wish to relate requires hours of patience and understanding.  

Ditto on love said that we seek immortality. Meaning once we have come to understand that childhood last briefly, we see the time to do something last a short life. The world is full of wonder and inspiration yet so little time to experience it all. And so we find ways to matter to someone, to a whole of society. I think that is what I seek too… to make my presence known and to make an impact of some kind. 


As of now I’m looking over my left shoulder. A spontaneous decision some days ago for a tattoo. It’s a moon, closer to the reality we may view at night. Underneath are Greek letters saying “you’re missing without me”. What it means is something I wish to witness myself. Time to move forward, to change. As I-as a person without a physical sense-to witness something remarkable while timeless. I wish to witness the impossible with no one else to tell. Perhaps a summation of what I’m thinking, what all I wish to write is a sense of longing. 

Before You Waste Her Time

I’m training a new team member twice my age. She tells me of heart ache and troubles everyone seem to suffer through lately. She’s part of the homeless that swear and beg for hours to pay for the extended stay hotels in Gwinnett County. 

In telling me about her situation; a corporate worker lost her job and home in a financial bind. Her eldest daughter is miles away in another state, desperate and heart broken. The daughter left to be with a man in age only, to live and to grow together. But as all relationships, really, they end. Her daughter is now depressed, in distress attempting suicide almost. I told the lady that’s my situation too. 

I didn’t travel miles to be with her, just decided to live with her in the current city.  I was warned and cautioned but it was love I told myself. I told her since you know me since I relayed all that I am on a dating site. The only means I may find someone. I took to a dating site for a serious relationship. Not a fairy tale forever, but something that will grow and last as we mature and understand the other. Apparently, despite her education being equal to my own, failed at reading and listening comprehension. A roller coaster of emotions about situations that I had told her that I been through before, yet nothing came of it. Reassured after a powwow and again…that everything is fine and that she wished to marry me. I continued with high hopes. It’s like what music tells me that relationships are a struggle, but so long as we struggle together for positive it’ll be well worth the time. No, my time, our time wasted. 

Dumped after my college graduation, dumped after resigning an agreement to live together in financial bondage. I lost it. I lost my temper, emotions overwhelmed me. As I told her that will happen-depressing episode. Her response was not that of love, it was the best way to contact the police officers. Yelling and tearing down my belongings so I could move out easier, though I did so in a fit of rage and I understand her confusion then, is grounds for my arrest and death. Again, a week after my graduation. 

I lost it. I lost myself in emotions. A heart and stress that shows on my face. My color has changed, become darkened. How long has it been since then? Nine months has passed and she is in her eighth month ‘anniversary’ with another woman. I’m tormented and devastated, constantly reminded of her. Always reminded of bullshit as I try again to keep my mind off of it. She wasted my time. Filled me up with hopes, said we could do it again some point. No I wasn’t listening to that part. I listened when she rolled her eyes as I tried to explain, calmly that I could not afford to live with her and her friend, now that there wasn’t a love bondage to ensure we would take care of each other. 

Depression has overcome me. I’m no longer living in anxiety of her presence since she has moved to live with her girlfriend, yet still reminded of a few family members I have met. Trying my best to avoid their presence and scene. Heart break turned into pessimism, almost given up. Trying my best to have goals in mind to keep me going. Homelessness is temporary, work menial task jobs for now to save for your MA degree and home. Continue to find a purpose, by weight training and writing. Even still there in my gym or here on this site I cannot avoid the overwhelming emotion of a heart break. Again I see it in my face, see it as I see my body as plump though I’m skinny. Stopping tears during random moments of songs reminiscing what I thought I had. 

As what most people, as it seems, think that they have is something forever. Combining finances and planning for the future as if it is marriage already. Why? We are taught to never be alone, yet I have witnessed a marriage where being alone is more preferreable than to fall into expectations. Expecting tradition, order in a world full of possibilities and options. Though if that had happened I would not have been born… I sit and think in the pointless mater of forming relationships. You’re infatuated, this person is your everything. Your milk to your chocolate, in my case I like it. It feels good but people cannot stomach bad moments. It just wasn’t going to work, as I was told. What the hell does that mean? Oh it means that love doesn’t exist. Every situation is treated like a stepping stone to something out there ‘better’ without conflict. I typed a post about this, while in a sad state, people want someone to confirm their bias. As she told me, her girlfriend-that’s ignorant of all details previous of her-told her that her causes and concerns were correct. 

What was there to argue about? Abuse. I was used and abused and did not know how to cope and to relate this to my now ex. She interpreted this as untrustworthiness, really cheating. Young as I am forming relationships I never had before. I could not shake the feeling that I had been forced into something previous of my ex. I’ll handle it alone as I tell myself, address the one responsible alone. I suppose this is the incorrect way to handle such a situation as it means one is cheating. Unable to comfort someone in need is her flaw. I suppose she’s right, it just was not going to work. 

Here I am 9 months later sniffling, going over my mind a hundred times more before I rest my eyes in my car. My temporary home. I think again in obsession as I wash dishes at one job; travel. My first job people are looking for a joke and a smile per usual from me. I tell them I’m going through some life troubles but I’m alright. It’s time to work, customers do not want to hear your story in addition so remained focused. 

I did contact her for an apology. Worst decision to make as she affirms she had done nothing wrong per usual. As I knew she would say stubbornly that she was in a dark place, depressed. Well better now it seems with someone new. She tells me this isn’t about ‘race’, since she’s not racist. I never mentioned color difference to her. 

Whatever, whatever a broken record of her words and her apathy and rude, immature behavior towards me plays over again. My reaction reminded to me again. Again, and again. I know why someone may commit suicide. 

I know what the love songs are talking about. It hurts. Wait, every reaction similar in my experience hurts. I understand the hurt as I listen to others or about others hurting. The more aged adults singing about how young a heart may become and it’ll pass. However they too at the age 45 and over dealing with heart breaks and longings, making it seem as if there is an age restriction to this feeling. It’s not immature, it hurts. 

And I listen to others and see why they are hurting. They, like myself, take matters of the heart seriously. Cannot stomach another commitment witnessing the same or similar patterns of behavior. With the common expectation of bitterness. It’s the person, the individual they say. Well I’m referring to her and other people in my past, hence why I made a dating profile address this exact point. In my ignorant assumption thinking she had read the terms and conditions to being with me. 

I digress, not actually, but for now I’m tired. It shows physically as my feet swell. In need of two jobs to afford a place and my education in addition. Sore and exhausted thinking work and working will keep me busy from the obsssesive troubles on my mind. I’m open an honesty about my struggles so I’m not stifling through tears trying to come up with a lie about my situation. Honestly I’m stressed and in need of sleep. 

As a child I slept away my loneliness-inability to connect with others, self hatred of my actual plump body, etc. So much sleeping to do as an activity,  I became pale and soft. My mom told me she thought she was doing us a favor by leaving us alone in our bedrooms.  No I tell her I anticipated bed after school so I may continue the story dream and to cry myself to sleep. 10, 12, 23 years old my more bullish family members tell me that I just cannot cope with life.
A funny world that we live in. It’s not funny. The lady’s daughter is being institutionalize, miles away from home, because of someone else. Someone else being inconsiderate means the person damaged is need of medication. If we are a danger to ourselves then we need to be institutionalized. I knew my ex was depressed and I tried my best to relate to her by sharing my own experience. Perhaps if I remained patient and supportive she would see that I love her dearly. No, this acknowledgement required love on her part as well. As I told her I’m sure she feels more appreciated now with someone new. It killed me inside when she said yes. It’s not you, it’s just me. It’s just me. My heart ripping to shreds. How do I cope? 

I try my best to keep my goals in mind. Again, homelessness is temporary, fast food worker as a college graduate is only temporary until I find one less judgemetal and rude employer to give me a chance…and so on. I look forward to purchasing books. I look forward to share my story dream, from my childhood, titled as ‘Rough Draft’. I find something else to do to snap out for only a minute or so until my mind falls back to its broken record.

I gave advice to my ex-essentially stating, please love the woman you’re with now. Nothing worse than time wasted and memories wasted and corrupted. Why? For the simple fact of never being alone. 

I’m sighing, not wanting to culture my space here too, yet feel more relieved as I share.

Girl Blue

Girl turned blue. What did she do?

No I will not attempt to type some elementary rhyme to mention not her hue, but her demeanor. The girl has turned blue.

In a constant to remain hopeful of something to intrigue her mind. What is it? A longing for that star since burnt out beyond her years of existence. She longs to find the other side of the universe. Or perhaps to find that time and space are part of a continuum without a clear beginning or ending. 

How do we imagine the beginning, before the universe as we are becoming to know? A white empty space. How do we imagine the end? A seemingly spontaneous unfortunate event were the moon collapsed and had fallen onto Earth. More accurately, when our star has past its time into death. May we be dragged into the pit. Frightful, panicky, perhaps already extinct. 

This girl is blue because she is unconcerned with what the mundane world, society and life may offer her. There isnt a thing at all imaginative about that relationship to materials; jobs to purchase materials; people around another to reveal, compare, and to relate about materials. 

What is imaginative, inspiring to write what no one would ever be able to read: her trip to visit the stars. A journal of isolationism, omnipotence written for her. A letter to herself in the past about her being so blue. 

She’s lost interest in this mundane world. At some point attempted to reconnect. Only to find the pointlessness of it all. She lost all hope of finding a common understanding in all aspects of appreciating another. Then a slight advice from a concerned spirit raised her interest to rekindle what was lost in the form of communication. What she had found instead was the same, the mundane. Lonely as ever walking through life gazing up and around. Those around staring at someone quite strange, or as some one to take precautionary measures of… she walked alone. 

No one else to understand who she is and why she may appear with her eyes dark and face wet. A polite smile to strangers that walk by in judgement of her. 

How else does she imagine isolation? Oh so much so wanting an unfortunate event to take place where she is then left stranded. On an island that she will not assume possession of, a claim of discovery, and never will deface the nature. What does she imagine? To sit alone on the beach and to stare out at blue. To walk slowly, to feel the sand beneath her toes. She oh so want to feel the deafening silence of loneliness. 

To sit and wait for the sky to turn orange, red, then to turn black. We’ve rotated away to face the moon. She looks up again and imagine the night sky grabbing hold of her body. Shred her being apart so that only in essence does her mind and vision exist. Traveling throughout space to experience the evolutionary happening of possible new beginnings of life-too curious about their purpose. 

To float, no, actually to fall into space forever a wanderer who has lost all sense of contentment. No longer a person, without a pronoun to describe the body’s physicality in a sense. This life falls forever into space for eternity. A blue phenomenon receptive of every other element that extends beyond the universe that was known in the previous history.  

The imagination is extended to spontaneous energy forming to conduct a strike on the blue phenomenon. Hurt in a way, how to rejuvenate in this vastness? As in the previous history, to find a source of energy, perhaps a comet. No cosmic rays existing as natural sources of energy. The blue phenomenon latching on again. The uncoordinated destination is Earth.

Dead stars become blurred, new formations become seemingly rapid. A color of blanketed clouds, or as it seems in a stand still. Swirls of light, color, pressure all around. The blue phenomenon overwhelmed. Snatched and sling forward, thrown from its attachment, declining back down to Earth at an ever increasing speed.

The girl wakes from her trance. Where is she? ‘She’ is I, and I am here walking past hotels. Sitting alone at a table abandoned somewhere that was once something. I am she dozing off thinking of an island with the sky reflecting the ocean blue. This is me, my upset, my longing and so forth. A life lived in the present has nothing to offer for a curious star gazer.

A Heart That Is Gold

After writing Hashtag ‘Talk To Someone’ the thought occurred to me that I should share this fact to two people. I told my mom and I told my only associate. I told my mom that I have a strong desire to just simply walk away. I told my associate that I rather not waste time on another person again, expecting them to be honest and truthful about their nature or character. My mom called me to tell me that, of course, I’m not alone. It’s a mental illness that runs throughout our family, from a grand mother that suffered from a more severe mental illness. Depression is a common illness in my family, something I know my mom to have. She told me that she too becomes depressed, to cry at night. I know the source of her problems, one that refuses to just leave on his own accord. A selfish and self-centered human being, just as the individuals I have encountered throughout my life so far. She told me that she too will cry, only to roll over and to fall asleep. To wake up and to pray that everything will be better. She told me of her distractions too, one that I have been aware of and concerned about as I age. The two parts of the conversation that…when my mom told me that she will cry sometimes, I found it difficult to imagine. You see, in my mind and through my observations growing up, I have never once seen my mom, or my dad cry. Though every time the topic of depression surfaces my mom will tell me that yes, they are human too and that they too express a common human physical response to emotions. I still find it difficult to imagine that my mom is just as vulnerable as I am. Even if I have witnessed her sad, I have never witnessed her to cry.

She told me that yes, as I grow older the more my nature will become challenged. She has always known and accepted that her two children are different from other children. She has had to explain and to defend to her own family members why and how her children are different. Per society standards, as young black people, my younger brother and I fail to be loud, eccentric, or to ‘live in the moment’. We are so different because we both value intellectualism, idealism, concept knowledge, abstract thinking, an inclination to reason and to challenge established norms. All that is considered odd because we are black; all that is considered disrespectful in some cases. An important point to make as this a cause for our experience in being bullied and harassed, as well for others to misinterpret who we are. The greater point here is that we are both quiet introverts, something strange to a group of people that only understand ‘voices are to be raised and heard’. This is my nature, to live in a world that is so loud and demanding for myself to speak up and state your position clearly for us all to hear. What else did my mom tell me? She told me that I am sensitive because I care. And she’s right. I have always been sensitive. I have always been the one to care a great deal about how  others are in their nature.

When I care, I care to understand the purpose and point of it all. I am also inclined to apply logic to what is emotional. As I described within my article of confession, the source of my depressed state has always been other people. Not only the fact that people generally make me anxious and uncomfortable, as I am hyper-aware that they have the ability to judge. People, as individuals who are all typically self-centered, unkind, judgmental and rude. I grew up within an environment where the strongest individuals were those that are rude, seemingly uncaring of other’s emotions and careless with emotions. Though they reveal how truly vulnerable they are whenever they feel the need to take revenge on those that may mistake them as weak. That is to return hatred with hate. Or to not concern themselves with the disadvantages of others by forming an attitude whenever asked for a favor, because the thought of being ‘used’ matters more than a person truly in need.  It is along the lines of this fact and those type of behaviors that caused me to be sensitive and to care a great deal into understanding them. To understand why such forms of behavior are expected to be justified.


Love

I am to apply logic to what is emotional. If you do not love a person, yet you tell them so as an obligated response within a relationship, why do you do it? What compels you, a person with emotions, to lie to someone else with emotions as well? This may apply to your current partner, spouse, friend, or even child and parent. Why is it deemed an obligation to face another human being and to lie about how you may feel about that person? In this society, or as I’m referring to the United States poor cultural habits, we are to lie to a person in order to spare their feelings. We are to believe that initial honesty within relationships are to be forgotten and regarded as sensitive matter not worth the trouble to share and to tell. Though we are creatures with the urge to tell. Instead of initial honesty, some people may tell a person their true feelings in a more passive sense. Instead of telling the person ‘I do not love you’, the unloving individual will purposefully purchase an item different from what you asked for exactly. Instead of confessing one’s true feelings, the person may lash out in anger over something petty or insignificant. As there are many ways to tell a person that you love them without those exact words, there are many ways to do the opposite. For whatever reason the exact purpose or point of this behavior is not understood.

The question remains ‘why do you do it?’


Trust

The idea of trust is foreign.  Actually, Pew Research Center has found that U.S. Americans are unable to trust their neighbors more so now than before. This fact is associated to different environments where poverty and [apparent] crime are heavily concentrated and specific. This fact too remains as our society becomes increasingly more diverse and that our economy becomes increasingly dire. On the subject of relationships, we find it difficult to trust  another person. And whenever a person expresses a sense of distrust in others, not considering those that are in abusive situations, the attitude that surfaces proves to be damaging. The idea of a lack of trust in individuals initially is the fear that all others will prove to be damaging to the person. Then a vicious cycle has been created. One person refusing to trust may become agitated, rude and the like towards someone that may be honest with their emotions.  Then the one honest by their emotions may then become distrustful of others, because of their experience with people that are agitated and rude. So on and so forth until a large population of people warn their children, or to give advice to someone that is troubled-that this is simply how people are.

Then there are those whose fears are confirmed as they are left abandoned in their personal issue to trust. In their minds it is then confirmed that people are not only untrustworthy, but they are just as uncaring as expected. A misunderstanding is then formed as every relationship is either sabotaged or put to a test.


Judgement

The fear to be ‘used’ is a fear to be judged by others. It seems that within our culture we must display a hard surface that is not easily penetrated by others. This is to say, if we are ever to find ourselves in a situation that causes for the kindness of heart we are told to never let it bleed. If we are to allow the heart to bleed we may find ourselves stripped of our dignity; of our possessions, time, money and body. If we are to allow ourselves to be ‘used’ we may find ourselves weak and judged. The last association we should want to have to our name is that we are easy and vulnerable. And the last thought we wish to have is someone, either closely associated or a stranger, to judge us.

So in turn a person establish clear boundaries of what requests are okay. One may find a person reluctant to give another person in need a ride to work. The reason given that it is their responsibility to have their own transportation, so if I were to forget then oh well. They will know. Of course a favor that is offered is a favor given in kindness. However, this is deed is concerned by how others may interpret the action as being ‘too much’. And by ‘too much’ meaning too easy, too vulnerable, well then anyone can ask this person anything and they will give. The fear to be judged, as applies to this examples and others not mentioned here, trumps the act of kindness.

 

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Unsung Hero Commercial

 


A Heart That is Gold

It is those subjects and others more personal that causes me to feel disheartened. It is those understandings I have formed that leaves me to be questionable and concerned about others. But my mom told me, too in this conversation-that I will certainly lose myself in them. She told me, encouraged me to find my happy.  As she told me about her distractions from reality, or what keeps her going and anticipating for more, I was thinking of my happy. I had written in my confession that walking and writing are my happy. If one ever writes something sad or discouraging it always best to end with something that is hopeful or that it is a remedy. I am truthful in what allows me to escape though. I find my happy in those activities and in exercise. Obesity in the U.S. is another anticipated writing, as it was my personal experience as well. I never knew that exercise, taking a risk to lift something heavy would excite me so.

As I partake in all activities that are my happy, the conclusion then is that I should focus on myself. As my close associate told me, it’s alright to focus on yourself now. Then when you are ready to open up and to allow a person into your life again it will be worth it. If someone cannot accept who you are then it is their loss- to forget someone worth knowing about.

I’m not in the belief that my heart is so pure that I am without flaws too. I understand how my nature can be off-putting; seeming to cause conflict with others. This is true that I am sensitive about the greater sense of human behavior, but as far as individual troubles I seem more bothered by the request to listen and to answer. Well, especially since I assume the person is wanting for an answer to their troubles that is based on logic, rather than to simply listen and to agree. I disregard social cues. I may even belittle a person for simply being human without understanding what all I am saying or doing to that person. I am always willing to add self-criticism in addition to what I understand to be flaws in human behavior. I am human too, of course. And I am guilty of assuming one of those subjects of behaviors listed above. My inability to trust as I deny any chance to have close association with others or to form a relationship of any kind. My attitude then becomes of rudeness and being overcritical of how this too may fail. All because of my depression, pessimism and the like.

My mom told me to find my happy, but to also form happy thoughts. The concept here is that if I accept the negative thoughts that only deepens my depression, then to assume positive thoughts will increase my level of contentment. In that time I may attract the same within my environment and with others to be happy, as my close associate told me. In that case, to find what will work is the ability to find a balance.

 

Would You Like To Upsize?

In the time being that I an here, I am aiming for a purpose or something anticipated. I am aiming for a career as a writer, as an author, as an acclaimed thinker. This has always been an underlying desire since childhood, though never brought forth and managed until now. Only until recently have others suggested that ‘with all of your knowledge and quest for more, as well for your need to express such a need to let it all out…’ Why not become a writer? I made a post, inspired by a questioned phrase stated by myself. ‘Why not now?’

This has been a new pursuit, well a rekindled desire with a direct purpose and reasons to back it. It was of my sophomore year as a an undergraduate college student that I found my desire. I wanted to write, I had typed and shared on a previous blog. I wanted to express myself, however I did not know whether fact or fiction would be my strongest. So I had tried fiction first. As imaginative as my words may appear to be, I have found that my challenge to write a fictional character about an emotion or thought I have not expressed or felt myself proved to be more difficult. I can write, well I can express myself poetically but the stories I find myself writing have no beginning or ending. They are at random occurrence, in the middle of a sentence or thought. For example, the boy walking through the woods. It was at random, a young masculine of center appearing person. The time and place was undefined. The nature was not adequately expressed but I was thinking of autumn. Where he was walking from and to was unknown to the reader and myself. In a sense what I aimed to capture was a feeling, or something I have felt and experienced myself. A person walking through the woods. A person that feels and hears the overwhelming presence of nature in the absence of disturbance by humans-except myself. What I was I thinking remained in my mind alone-chaotic. What I was feeling was so profound at that moment that I had wished to share it. The ability to express that moment and feeling in writing remains as a task to master.

I found that writing in fact to something proved to be more rewarding; inclined to my nature and thought process. The way in which I think is called ‘conceptual knowledge’, though not in reference to math functions but to a personality or way of thinking about ideas. I have shown this in one of my lengthy blogs, The ‘Borg’, as I relate a larger sporadic concept to a defined understanding as it relates to our own reality. I anticipate to write further in this way. As well, constructing arguments to widely held ideas is best described as a ‘brain workout’ for me. Again, another anticipated writing.

The Hunt

Through all of this anticipation, pursuits, and fire where am I? Outside of this screen, outside of my books and journal I am a fast food worker. A recent college graduate who is finding the ‘recentness’ of her expensive, yet to have been paid off, piece of paper- indicating ‘this person is versatile and educated’-is a negative. The moment an employer looks upon my resume they see food- menial task and job regarded for those without a degree. The moment that the employer see a list of my work experience primarily being in food-the assumption goes that I have absolutely no experience worth noting, worth to take a chance on. It is discouraging. Actually quite frustrating knowing that at the beginning of my resume list all of my achievements, education and skills and knowledge acquired that they all claim to so desperately want and need in a qualified candidate. Yet, here I am denied before I make an appearance, denied because they refuse to think outside of the box. As one interviewer rudely, and by ignorance, stated “but you only have fast food experience here”. I would assume that in order for me to not ‘only have something’ I must be given the chance to have something else. However, since I had managed to struggle for years to acquire what I only have now, then what I anticipate to have instead will be years to come. As a fast food manager, I wait and write until that chance is given.

I have played all of the possibilities for myself to become someone to another. I have tried every entry-level job position though without success. They want actual work experience. Since I am unable to lie as it is suggested often to me, I have totally given up. Why? I can rewrite my resume to reflect either the exact details as described in the job advertisement or write all that I am and can potentially be, but still I am worth nothing without experience. To have experience is to be given that chance to acquire experience and not to be judged for not having it. My struggle is in line with all other college graduates underprivileged, yet hopeful.

Though my family would have me to believe that it is my appearance that causes for my denial at every turn. They wish the best for me, though in their taking my interest at heart they ignore their own prejudices loudly projected. In the time I have applied for jobs, similar positions at a time, resume rewritten to reflect their purpose as my own, I have only received 4 interviews in this year thus far. Of those four interviews I have received one position for a temporary job working for the state education system. For every interview I had had, I have followed the correct behaviors and formal dress codes. I came prepared, pen and folder in hand. I came neatly, well dressed and groomed. My tone, manner of speaking always considered professional, proper or well spoken. What is the issue then? I am clearly a masculine of center female destroying heteronormative values and expectations, though not as a stereotype. Those within my community will consider me to be a dapper ‘stud’, or a masculine of center black lesbian female well dressed. According to my family this would all be fine if I were a male, preferably heterosexual, but as a female I should not exemplify that standard. And if I refuse the standard to be feminine then what will come to me is discrimination, but that is not how they phrase it. What will come to me are employers judging me based on my appearance and deciding to not give me a chance because of that fact, and they are right to do so because that is how society works. As I am often told, ‘we have to play the game’. But in their assumption they believe I have had more interviews requiring my presence, or what I look like to be known. No, out of hundreds of applications I have only had four interviews. This means only four out of hundreds know what I look like beyond my name in bold. And what my name bolded and enlarged can tell about my appearance is that I am a black American and that I am female.

What I tell them then, what they are suggesting is the issue now, is that I am to expect discrimination based on my gender expression. However, if I am to walk the line, to appear feminine as society may demand, what if I am denied a chance because I am a black American? The discussion changes, as this is a common issue that they are most passionate about. What if I were denied simply because I am female? To suggest that I must change would also reinforce a common racist and sexist mindset that once denied qualified or candidates with potential that so happen to be not white and not male. And as I recall- throughout my lessons and personal readings-that such forms of discriminations are not to be tolerated any longer. What I tell them then is that they are simply projecting their own prejudice about my appearance. And that they are living in a time where they are unable to give me, anyone else young, advice in how to navigate this struggling economy.

A Crowd

As I tell my mom, as worried as she is about my prospects in life-that I am one among millions of young hopefuls unable to prove their worth in such a tough economy. She will ask me often what I am doing, implying what am I doing with my life so that I can honor my degree. I tell her that I am trying, have given up but trying again. In the process of myself trying I do not mind so much working in the restaurant industry. There I am among several others thinking about obtaining a degree, those in the process of obtaining a degree, and those that have since graduated and searching for a purpose too.

We all discuss our dreams. I wish to be a medical assistant. I wish to be part of a professional sport. I wish to own my restaurant, too. I wish to do something but have not quite figured it out yet. Then I add, I wish to be a writer, but in the meantime I wish to teach. As we discuss everything other than fries and rude customers, it’s like we bond more closely. We are able to laugh. We cut up sometimes and I too try to remind them that this life is only temporary. Why? Those fries, temperature logs and a higher manager yelling about what we didn’t do or could do better again will get to a person. As I tell the others, sit them down, focus on the best that you can do and laugh at everything else. Yes the older customers tend to think of you as ‘lesser than’ or uneducated as they forever remain indecisive and entitled, or unknowing how much of a skill it takes to multitask at an ever increasing speed. I’m referring to restaurants where short staffing means you are the only person taking the order, cashing out the order, filling the drinks, bagging the orders, then ding! next person in line and impatient. I tell them, yes pick up the pace as I am your manager, but relax. Find your rhythm and relax, because you will have something better waiting for you.

Then I think of all others that have given up. The retail managers that laugh about their expensive piece of paper that is still worth everything to them. The same ones that make enough money to afford the essentials and all other leisure time, since they can pay as little as they can to their student loan debt. Not all, but some here are this way. They are those older than I am, a college graduate four years ago or more. And really, what is there to do when one lacks work experience for a position that basically requires what we have been doing and prepared for since the age 9 years old or so? I told this to my coworkers. I was denied a job once for something that I had experienced for years now and that is typing and knowing Microsoft programs. All of this practice, and as I remember began when I was 10 years old to my college freshman year, worth nothing at all. You are among everyone else with the same exact experience and know-how, aiming for the same entry-level positions to get a foot into a door for another.

Here we go, begging for more hours and better pay instead. We ask for a higher position, management, for those exact purposes. Then left limited as the business is limited as well-sent off to other stores to save hours and to gain more. Our best bet is for a second job, another possible yet impossible endeavor. Employers seem to want your time indefinitely no matter if they only schedule you for 15 hours per week. This means that they much rather have people whose hours a free of hassle and careful consideration. Why? They have enough on their plate too, perhaps struggling as we are in home life, work, college classes, etc.

The Purpose of This

I’m not trying to make a statement. Or to make this experience beautiful in writing to captivate an audience that is, too, disinterested. This is simply practice. I am to tell others of my experience, my current thoughts, and what I am about in several post. Then along the way to showcase my true interest in writing, in forms of analytical essays. Or an amateur approach at philosophy. Those are of my greater interest and purpose in writing, and wanting to write and to share more. And I do think this is my true calling here. That is to write in fact to something. This is to share my experience, feelings and knowledge rather than to give a fictional character to represent it all.

Heaviness of Heart

Negative emotions seeps way down into the very pit of her stomach. Friendless and without a companion, she stirs the feeling of loneliness within her mind. When existing with an innate wanting for companionship, you feel the isolation of being without another person. When existing within a society that craves a companion for the sake of having one, for the sake of never ever being alone, it’ll torment your mind. Why? She longs for a connection of a likeminded person. She doesn’t believe in souls or soulmates, or anything else of the imagined spiritual world. She craves for someone real and likable for once. But not to crave a body, but of a person. A body is merely a vessel that carries the character that exist within our minds. Have you ever thought about that exactly? The essence of our existence, what makes us the person that we are, is entirely composed of neurons and tissue that exist as the brain. She wants more than ever to crave that person, and to have and to hold dear of that person for forever long. This is simply not possible. She exist among a popular frame of mind that being with someone, rather, is better than being alone. A culture shock as she flip through the books of ups and downs in relationships that cares more for a person’s body than the actual person. She is sick, now, as she too was used by past lovers to satisfy this insisting need to not be alone.

She is bitter. An emotion that cannot be denied as she questions the predators of her lonely sensitive heart. Do you understand her or do you simply want of what you see? Do you like her or do you like an idea of someone so insightful and inquisitive that you cannot wait to master the experience of someone like her? Like her to place on a pedestal, like her to use as someone to make up the time and space left and forgotten by a past lover-or so it seemed. You do not actually care for the person that she is, really. She is a place holder within the chapter of your life, as you navigate your wants and need in a person through trial and error. Her limbs trembling with…stress, perhaps anxiety of meeting someone like you. Like the ones that left her broken, sunken in self-pity and regret that she may never let go. She may never trust again.

To exist alone until someone takes her love seriously.

On Dating A Narcissist

I have had unsuccessful immature relationships so far in life, and so far into my adult life. I have yet to experience a relationship whereby the person has not said, towards the end of it all, that we are ‘two different people’. In my mind this is plainly obvious that we are two different people. I do not understand by the key break up line-that concludes every relationship that I have had-that we are too different to be together for an indefinite amount of time. Here, I’m thinking these geniuses are truly and remarkably blind. How did you not know that, in the beginning, I preferred talking insistently about abstract ideas and of society, whereas you preferred the behaviors in the expression of love [i.e. cuddling]? How did you not know that my version of relaxation is to nap and to sustain knowledge on various subjects at once, whereas you wanted to go outside for play? How did you not know that I prefer meaningful and thought-provoking conversations, whereas you assumed I required frequent responses of infatuation and laughter? I was certainly aware of such differences and of others more personal. Why are you only aware towards the end of it all? Or, a better question here, why do you assume that awareness of differences is a sign that we are a mismatch, or too imperfect to remain as a couple?

Some people tend to assume that true companionship is with a person that complements in a way that they are ‘twins’. They are the exact copy of the other. They are the reflection in the mirror that they wake up to and either reluctantly stare or smile. I cannot bear the thought of being with someone that is the reflection of me. Not that I do not love myself. However, if I am to want someone that is the exact version of myself or somewhat similar then I rather be single. Why take on an extra bill for takeout dinner, or to purchase matching outfits for my personality doppelgänger, when I can do so cheaply and alone? What satisfaction is there, for myself, if I am constantly surrounded by my own mindset, beliefs and ideas when my personality craves for different opinions and intellectual arguments? I enjoy the debate between individuals, preferably with someone who is different. Now my character, my personality resembles that of the Carl Jung/Myers-Briggs personality type INTP. I do not give much weight to astrology or personality typing, however I find it very helpful to explain my nature and character-which is considered odd and rare to most people. As I crave intellectual stimulation, I have been accused of wanting someone who is of that exact type. I have been accused of, towards the end of a relationship, of being a narcissist. Why is that? I insisted on doing something that is of my character to do. Howlever they are mistaken. I wish to create meaningful conversations with people regardless if it is of their nature or character to argue. I wish to engage their minds, of their thoughts and opinions on various abstract thought or of society. This person need not to have a preference for doing so, as I find arguments or any sign of disagreement scares people. I crave different experiences from those of different backgrounds, so that I may better understand the greater subject of humanity. If I had some exactly like myself we would write a book together. While that is all fine and anticipated for future collaboration, I have not gained nothing more with someone who simply wish to analyze and to retain as well.

Do opposites attract then? According to the article, ‘The Science of Narcissism: Why We Really Just Want to Date Ourselves’, relationship ‘twining’ or a person wanting a complement is greatly desired. As a side note here, I will reference the article that first presented the idea from my original search. Then I will follow the links provided by the author in order to find the original topic or study published. I have found that Business Insider will have authors linking to a previous Business Insider article- for more views I suppose. The original article cited included a study about how humans, as all animals, tend to have or to seek partners that bear similarities to their parents. The comparison used was the hair color and the eye color of the person’s partner compared to their parents. The study claims that there is a form of genetic imprinting that conditions us to continue a preference for certain genes. This may be the case for basic, instinctive tribal survival. However, in a more modern world I would see that this is more of a cultural familiarity or preference due to some perceived ideological necessity. For example, the black activist that insist that interracial dating is futile to the radical and never-ending upset nature of one. And since this study indicates a bias towards heterosexuals or those that engage in opposite-sex attraction more so than others, I find the study to have little understanding of human attraction.

But can opposites attract then? According to several articles, though one I’ll site here: ‘Attracted to Your Opposite?, people do prefer their ‘twin’. This is a chemical balance that we are unable to detect, but are sure to know when we find someone exactly like ourselves. Essentially, if you like something, then you like what you like and will seek out that likeness in someone else. While others enjoy a reflection of themselves in others, there are those that are truly attracted to opposites. This is to say that everyone loves differently and in regardless of their reason. The point that I agree with is concluded within the article about the subject of love. It is concise-love is ‘the simple ability to overlook everything you cannot stand in someone’. I have experienced that precise point. To be aware of such differences, but to make it work  regardless because that is love.