Koi Fish

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted a photo collection! Over the summer I was in Austin, Texas and they had this little botanical garden off the side of the highway. They had the cutest koi fish pond, and I felt like I spiritually communed with these little water dogs. Seriously! They came up right to the side of the pond and just looked so happy! It started to rain and the pitter patter on the surface of the water was beautiful in contrast to the sleek orange of the fish. These images don’t really remind me to be mindful of the peaceful lines of life, but rather to remember to giggle like a summer rain.



Memoirs of a Millenial Chapter 3: Don’t let go of what’s important

I’d be lying if my aspiration in this life is to inspire people. But I’d also be lying if I said that I want to live this life unnoticed.

You know what gets me? It’s that people have to do things, “ironically” for them to feel as if they are worth while.

Example, “ironically” liking anime. “Ironically” enjoying makeup or fashion. “Ironically” writing poetry. “Ironically” becoming an artist.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the fascination with irony is a defense mechanism to protect what is actually important to us. The greatest defense for passion is to pretend that that passion does not, in fact, exist. Yet the ignorance of this passion and the undermining of it’s importance does not make us untouchable Gods.

It makes us fools.

What is so wrong about giving a fuck about something? In 8 years I might look back at this whole blogging thing and think, “HA. Holy shit I was so pretentious what the fuck. What a whim of living in your 20s.”

But why does it have to be? Why should I have to anticipate feeling embarrassed with this whim of mine? Why is it that in order to actually feel something, we hide that real emotion under a thick, heavy, suppressive layer of sarcasm and cynicism and call it authenticity? That’s not authenticity. That’s cowardice. I may be a coward, hiding behind these “essays” I barely proof read which are riddled with cliches and wit. (Or so I hope it appears witty.) But, I don’t want to be.

You can’t let go of what’s important. Those things that make your skin crawl and your heart beat and make you feel like sin- those things that make you  lust for life and for people.

I think, once you’ve allowed yourself to feel that passion, it might be time to find something to be truly passionate about.



Memoirs of a Millennial: Chapter 2, Deep in a Coffee Shop


I’d like you to know that I am writing this blog post while being a stereotype in a coffee shop. It’s raining outside. It’s early December. The wind is chilly as the rain clings to my eyelashes and seeps into my socks, giving the unpleasant feeling of constantly sloshing through a puddle and because I am me, I am constantly tripping. (It was a mistake to wear leather shoes today.) I got off of work early and decided to work a little bit on pursuing my dreams of being a writer. I decided to pursue this dream while sitting in a coffee shop. Sipping my latte. Waiting to approach and be approached by any of the men that are here. I wrote a short poem about this whole dating thing, I think it’s pretty profound:


that is the question

for in this free style poem

lazily disguised as a sonnet

or literally any other type of poem

we will discuss

tinder, bumble, and okcupid.

The stress of the swipe

and the stress of the “match”

is undermined only by the horror

of having no “matches” at all.

I am in a relationship with the possibility of a relationship

which is a sad and slightly over dramatic way...

of saying I’m single asf


Isn’t it weird that coffee shops are analogous to mating holes in the wild? Think about this for a second. Here we are, all high and mighty about our thumbs and shit when in reality, we have grounds that we go to find mates. For sex and for lifetime partners.

I’ve thought about this a little bit. Bars are for sex, coffee shops are for long lasting monogamous relationships. (not that I’ve had luck in either but hey that’s not the point. SOME people do.) I’d like to know if there’s a baller out there that goes to a coffee shop and walks out with a one night stand… if there is and they read this post, please by all means hit me up. You sound dope and we could be friends till the end of the end of the end (that’s forever).

(This was a Sponge bob reference by the way and if you got that then by all means you should hit me up, too.)

Anyway. So I’m here pretending to write something worth while that will change your life and will make you think of me, and of life, as something  deeper than either actually are. Life ultimately is a lens that is viewed by you and in which this lens is your reality. Life is not deep, what is deep is you. 

I read a poem or two the other day. Lemme tell ya. It was intense. I actually felt real emotion. Not stale sarcasm. ACTUAL emotion about ACTUAL THINGSs. incredible, I know. I want to let you know that I have a super deep insight into the state of our reality of being hyper sensitive, egotistically, lonely nimrods. But I really don’t have one.

I’m just sitting in a coffee shop, writing about it, just like everyone else. Hoping to be noticed.