Introvert, part 2.

solitude as a crucial ingredient,
yet i am never be allowed to use it.
even defined, describes unhappy,
that’s not my state-
just being content in my own is what i seek.
a private place for thought to flow
unplugged, unbiased, untouched by all.
peaks inside of myself,
moments spent introverted
moments spent in revelation
where i am free to be undesired,
my own muse,
my own mistake
carefully unfolding my nights and days,
dreams and half thoughts,
feelings that have owned me,
emotions i have choked down, for the sake of
solitude, my missing ingredient.
peace of mind,
comfort in the state of being alone.
solitude, as the main ingredient.

I realize that most people have a great misunderstanding of introversion and extroversion, which is understandable, but very frustrating. This society forces you to be an extrovert, but the world isn’t set up to have so many extroverts. The world needs it’s introverts. It’s a shame more people don’t embrace, love, and support the introverts in their lives.

Tomorrow I’m going to hiking at an Illinois State Park I’ve never been to, I’m pretty excited because of all the rain we’ve had, tomorrow is supposed to be fairly “nice”, and there should be plenty of waterfalls caves to play around. Totally need this little minication, I was supposed to be at a major doctor’s appointment out of state this weekend, but plans change and this is probably going to be much more healing, at least for my soul. This semester is almost over, I’ve completed most of my final projects and committed to some exciting things for fall semester. This back to school venture hasn’t really gone as planned, but by the time I’m done I’ll have a Bachelor’s in Mortuary Science when I’d set out for an Associates, and I’ll just have to be certified and licensed in the states that I plan to work in. This morning I started the day by participating in a community service, volunteer project through school, thankfully they broke us down into smaller groups and we painted a yellow work room that was attached to a greenhouse. Very cool. I like volunteering and helping others, just for the sake of it. Just to help people. I don’t need to fill out any extra paperwork to bank hours and earn an reward, the reward is in the service. That’s yet another part of extroversion that I don’t like; you always have to be doing something for something, a means to an end. You can’t jut be.

I always like to think that I’m very unique in most ways, and I know the reality of things is that I’m not. I’m average at best, and when it comes to being an introvert, I LOVE THAT! I always feel like I’m connected to other introverts through, books, reading, writing, music, arts, being outside and away from it all, long road trips on scenic routes, start gazing, and laying out in open fields, or long hikes and walks in the middle of nowhere…do not burst my bubble! If you’re an introvert, you’re like this. Let me have that fantasy world, please. If you’re an introvert, I thought you might like the Ted Talks, by Susan Cain. It always helps me refocus and jump back into my comfort zone. Back into my little introvertist bubble (I think that’s a word?).

Also, here’s the Astronomy Picture of the Day, because who doesn’t like to look at the Astronomy Picture of the Day? If you’re an introvert, embrace it. If you love an introvert, support them. Let’s just be very quiet and listen to Howlin’ Wolf on vinyl for the rest of the night. xo.

Waiting Rooms

induced anxiety,
up front and in your face
and i was content dying.
until i knew you’d be here, without me.

and this waiting room…
it’s walls are shrinking, i would tell them
label it panic attack.

i tried explaining, things change when you
become a tomb.
i tried explaining,
i would like more time
just to admire you.

Waiting room playlist: In order, not on shuffle, and you may restart whatever track you like.

1. Sister Crayon, Cynic
2. 2 Foot Yard, Octopus
3. Dessa, It’s Only Me (The Year of the Horse Remix)
4. Bike for Three!, Sublimation
5. Aby Wolf, Intentions

They’re kind of sad, because I’m kind of sad. I’m not even sure what I wanted to get out of this life, what I’m doing here. Will I miss this place? How long until I’m forgotten? And as soon as I get close enough to talk about any of this, I’m shut down. No one wants to explore it. They rush me off to have fun, or I’m expected to be the fun (one). It’s okay…to talk about dying. Just like it’s okay to die. No shame in that, we all owe one. Playlist. Listen. Enjoy. This entire life experience is one big waiting room.

A Poem, Pt. 2

definition one; you, cross-legged
on the edge of my bed.
two decades before you died
the moments spilled over into
adulthood, reminders
that magic does exist.

definition two; when i saw her
for the first time, my heart
fluttered, battered and beat
against the backside of my chest.
this was more than unconditional,
this was more than essence,
this was “life’s longing”, at it’s best.

three, i press the palm of my hand,
to the space between my breasts.
inhale, deeply through my nose,
out through my lips.
gentle are these moments,
tugging at my heartstrings,
when i search for nonexistent
words to teach them

about the things that kill us;
the dusks that fade into milky ways,
dawns melt the horizon,
humbling heavens.
enemies never meant to like you,
family trees, housing hearts
built with string and strife.
bees never meant to sting,
birds never meant to sing
losing your religion,
in the name of equality.
casting stones from your
neighbor’s steps
building walls, just to sneak peaks
into gardens where the grass
is greener than the pastures
you’ve failed to water.
patience, as a virtue
embraced by everything
but time and grace
failed to foresee that
we are sure to reap
what we sow.
grief, as stunted growth
growth as a race,
time flies,
sometimes like moths,
fluttering through the night
sometimes runs out,
like wolves through a tangled wood,
under the same moonlight.

definition four; your hands cupped
ready to take all of everything,
every mistake, the hand of
the victim,
the predator
the sinner
and the saint,
every role, all of them you’ve played.

definition five; as simple,
and complex, as incomplete
just as the rest,
as a moment, fleeting
a thought, not a feeling
a belief that barely exists
redefined a million times.

definition six,
reads in each of the lines,
between, each of these lines.

Next on My Bucketlist.

I have my biopsy tomorrow. I’m nervous. I’ve no idea what to expect. I know that everything will be okay. No matter what happens. One of my friends, Ron, recently said, “Someday my energy will be so great that my body won’t be able to contain me.” That’s how I look at this whole life and death thing, someday I’ll be too great to be in this body. And until the day I depart I’ll treat my body as an instrument to do work for the people and Mother Earth.

I’m going to get as much life out of living as possible and there are so many ways that I am ensuring I will never die.

I’ve one more semester left at MCC, then I’m going to complete this degree in Illinois and I’d like to be able to do something here…with these programs, with these people, to help stop this violence, to be part of these people’s lives, and let them be part of mine. Please be aware, do what you can, from where you stand. Stop the Violence.

Rape Rates

photo credit to “”, where they have some information on recent events and happenings, as well as other resources listed in links on the bottom of the page.


I’m hoping that I can get Lee Ann De Reus to speak at MCC before I leave next December, and I would REALLY appreciate my mom helping to make that happen, along with the Social Sciences Club.

For more information the Panzi Hospital, please explore the link below by clicking the photo.



photo credit to google image: “”

From Every Angle 

half coming
half going, always.
she wears eyeliner,
smudged, half knowing why,
“to imitate the goddesses
we worshiped”, meows at the end,
a speech well given,
delivery disrupted by passersby.
removed, to take call
he’s still asking why,
pocket those emotions,
goes through motions,
until the second week in may.
she’s still playing and replaying,
One Day in May, repeat.
momentarily linger,
“do they still stalk your thoughts?”,
over their heads, under their feet.
make note of the wife
who introduced you to her
anxiety, you knew why
she came so close.
a school full of observations.
assumptions on sleeves.
half hearted hellos,
as you walk away.
you’re still trying to make sense,
trying to save what’s left
of womanhood.
what’s left?
a useless uterus,
a lump in your breast.
stop being intense!
it wears your lines,
it takes its toll.
so you stop talking,
to nearly everyone.
you just do as you’re told,
no sense in sinking ships.
no sense in bucking censorship.

It hasn’t happened in awhile, but it’s been happening to me since around age 12, mostly because I looked much older than I was. Nothing I did to enhance my appearance, I was just “developed”, but there’s always been this expectation that because I looked like a “woman”, that I should act like a “lady”, or that I want certain things. Mostly men, or sex, or sex with someone else’s man. I’ve seen it happen, I’ve probably been guilty of promoting it or even doing it myself…I’m not even sure what prompts the behavior, suppose it’s something to do with psychology.  It’s been pointed out to me that because I have large breasts, tattoos, and I wear makeup that I “look” like a [insert anything negative here]. Also add “dark hair”-even, “well you don’t look white, but I don’t know what you are.”-implying that to proceed with a “relationship” of any kind, I have to have a label. There has to be some way I can be explained, because I’m outside of the box of acceptable. Also correlate that with being trusted and my morals, AND standards of beauty as defined by our society, where women are placed in “pretty” versus “slutty”. We judge, categorize, stereotype, make assumptions, develop prejudices-I get that, we all do it, to some extent we can’t help it. We’re programed to do it. It’s science. It’s biology. It’s kept us safe. “Helped us make it this far.” But, really? If you’re going to judge THIS book by it’s cover, you’re missing out. And you’re an asshole. 

I recently had a woman approach me, for no other reason to make observations, because she thought that I wanted her husband. I’ve never even interacted with either of them, I’ve attended the school they teach at for 2 years, I’d actually considered taking her course last semester. I typically sit outside of my classrooms, or in some removed area of the school that has outlet access (to charge phone or laptop), and complete homework and reading so I’m caught up on assignments, which reflects in my grades. And NOW, simply based on my presence-she thinks I want her man. My guess is she doesn’t want his ass half the time. She didn’t even introduce herself when she came up to me. Just stood over me and asked a few questions, mostly trying to see if I was nervous around her. I felt like saying some smart ass shit, but I stopped myself. Why do we do this to one another? Too many women break each other down, not enough women building each other up, as if we’d miss out on somwthing by doing so. I’ve seen it happen to my daughter, already! And she’s only 15. What’s the solution? I know most people would ask, right away, “what were you wearing?” Or if I flirt, or do I “talk to him?”-all very ridiculous and insane ways to look at this, so much wrong with that approach. And my respone would be 1). I was wearing clothes 2). Never even talked to him 3). Refer to 2. 

I won’t even touch on any other shit from that place. I only have one semester left, well-one semester and three weeks. Plus the good outweighs the bad, and there are many people and courses I’m quite fond of. 

I have a biopsy next week, I’m hoping it’s nothing. It’s usually nothing. I really wanted to beat this shit. Fuck cancer. Everything always comes at once, and from every angle. Life always gets in the way of living. And I try to remember, “don’t take life personally”, but how can I not? I haven’t even talked to either of my parents in over a week. I haven’t talked to the person I love in…I guess it’s even important. I’m involved in small talk, social circles I don’t belong to, with people who don’t really like me, and my “personal time” is spent on running errands and being a chauffeur. This is adulthood, this is womanhood, this is what I rushed to. All hail the powers that be! You’re the best comedian/s. 

Fuck Cancer, pt. 4

My appointment was terrible. I spent over 200.00 to hear that I have cancer. I didn’t bother telling them that nothing can kill me. Trust me, I’ve tried. 

I’m sick of people telling me that I’m intense. I’m fucking dying quicker than you are, dickhead. If you’re racing a clock for moments and more life, you’d be pretty passionate about EVERYTHING you do too. I hate people today, they’re very exhausting. But maybe I’m just saying that so I’m not jealous of everyone who takes each breath for granted. Fuck cancer.