My Love Affair With Filming

I finally figured it out. What I truly want to do with my life. I mean I had that epiphany this time last year, but it finally feels real. Like this is something I’m truly supposed to be doing. You know how you have that person in your life. Everyone has one, the one person whose always right there. They make you smile in the morning, they cheer you up when your crying. They hold the key to your happiness and you somehow always seem to overlook them. And it’s not because they aren’t important or they mean nothing to you, you’re just always chasing this dream of what love and romance is supposed to be. Then one day you wake up and they’re gone and you suddenly realize it was them all along. That’s what this feels like, without the dreadful feelings of regret.

For so long I thought I was supposed to live my life one way and chase this dream on a center path. I didn’t realize there was something else calling me always there when I felt like no one else was. Something I was always good at. Something that made me smile in the morning and filled me with laughter on my most tearful of days. Writing, creating, pictures, the whole art of cinematography, something I’ve never lived without.

When I was younger I would create these little scenes in my head, about various parts in my life anywhere form the past to the future, and even the present. I would picture my life as if it were some great motion picture based off of so many different things. I would watch so much television, in fact the same seasons or specials so often, that I’d be able to recite a full episodes almost verbatim (thank you Hanny Montany). I could feel the characters and I always thought about where I would take the shows, what I would do differently. What show would I reboot and execute, dare I say better. 

And the writing was like second nature to me. I kept journals here and there, but it was school that really made me like it. My teachers always said I had nice “voice” in my writing. And for so long I never understood what that meant exactly. I figure it must’ve meant I was a good writer, of course that wasn’t quite it. I later learned it meant my writing had feeling, personality. It meant when you read anything I wrote, you’d be able to tell it was mines, in some way it felt like it was originality I guess. But of course the other parts of my writing needed and many times still need work. The notorious GSP, surprisingly tone, my explanations, etc. and learning I needed work really discouraged me. I got so caught up in learning how to write a “proper essay” I forgot how to have fun with my writing. I had to remind myself to just speak from the heart. That I needed to believe what I was writing in the same way I want the reader to believe it when they read it. And of course GSP was fixed with editing ad spellcheck, which meant I needed to stop being so insecure about the things I was saying and be comfortable with criticizing myself (which I’m sure you can tell is still an uphill battle). 

This beautiful path, of what I guess you could call, self discovery brought me to the happiest decision of my life. I was never good at my other choice, I mean I was okay but major components weren’t there and my skills in certain areas were lacking and it made me miserable. To be asked to demonstrate this task or what some would call a “gift” made me very anxious and very resentful. Now when I think about developing a show or being on the lot of a major production company it feels me with so much joy and excitement. The anticipation is like a high, so much so that learning more about the business doesn’t feel like a chore like it did with my other love affair (career choice). Something about this decision just feels right, I feel at peace, at least in this area of my life..



So I live in this house. In this houuse everyone is just balantly disrespectful to one another. The disrespect has gotten so bad I think everyone’s forgotten what it means to be human. There’s no regard for feelings and how sensitive or hurt someone can be and feel. We all walk around insulting each other and hurting each other’s feelings without thinking about how our words and actions will effect them mentally, physically, and emotionally. It’s gotten really bad. And not to mention all the clutter we live in. I mean we don’t live like extreme hoarders or anything, it’s just there’s stuff everywhere. Too many items in my shared bedroom, stack boxes have claimed the basement which is supposed to be my brothers room, and my parents can barely get around their room. The bathrooms I spend a sweaty hour cleaning from top to bottom, and by the end of the next day they’re a complete disaster. There’s old magazines that take up the living room. And the dishes always seem to pile up in the kitchen. The floors are dingy and the carpets are drenched in dog hair. It’s just a mess. Closet are pack to capacity and falling apart. It’s too much, a human being cannot live like this, one cannot thrive in this space. And when I try to say anything and fix it, it becomes this greater problem, this bigger ordeal, than it even needed to be. It’s quite pathetic. I want to take a minimalistic approach to living. If it’s not a necessity in our lives then we don’t need it. If the food is past expiration date throw it out. Stop eating things that aren’t going to benefit your body and help you live a happy, healthy life. My family doesn’t understand the sort of “fung shui” to living. The space we live in the things we put into our bodies, into our minds, effects the way we think, act, feel, and live on a day to day basis. If we it crap, expired food, dead carcasses, and overall junk that’s how we’re feel. We’re going to be sluggish and tired and anxious and angry and all those things because that’s how our food is made when you really think about it (in some sort of existential type of way I guess). If the space we live in cluttered and trashy we’ll feel that way we’ll act that way. The mind will be cluttered, we’ll be on edge constantly. And this is all probably the reason why we treat each other the way we do. The house looks like we don’t give a crap and in return we treat each other like crap. It’s really sad. So whoever you are, reading this, take my advice… Declutter your life, 360 your home, educate yourself about pretty much everything from food to organization. Look into KonMari and eating things that help you live longer and healthier. Reduce your carbon footprint, donate, and rest your mind, body, and soul. Live a meaningful life. So many people so on just occupying space rather than doing something worthwhile on their lives. Don’t be that person. Make a change. Make your house a home. 

Love and Being Alone

*Warning: This is an extremely long post and it’s sort of all over the place, much like me, it’s just somethings I felt needed to be said and things I needed to get off my chest. Hope you enjoy…*

I don’t think I want to fall in love. I just don’t feel like that’s something I want for myself. That’s stuffs scary and it’s too emotional. So much stress, you have to care and live for another person. I can barely take care of myself, I can barely live for myself. It’s just so hard, I mean in all my 19 years of life I have finally come to the realization that life and the world has been stacked against the individual. Times have changed and it’s harder to live life all on your own. From the economy to the now abnormality of being alone, you have to find someone, anyone, to depend on and live the rest of your days with. At least this is what society has taught me. It’s just so strange. I don’t want to need someone else. I truly do love being alone, I thrive when I’m by myself. It’s so peaceful, I’m comfortable, and I promise you I am beyond happy, overjoyed really. And don’t get me wrong sex is amazing and so is conversation, but do I really need to be legally bound to someone for all eternity for those things? No, not in this day and age. We make it so easy to destroy relationships, and have false relationships, I really just wish to ignore and avoid that aspect of life at all cost. Yes marriage sounds beautiful, weddings look fun, and the idea of a family does seem very nice, but the constant and crushing fear of failure is enough for me to come to the conclusion that that’s not where my life is headed. I don’t and I can’t trust anyone. Everytime I’ve ever trusted someone and let them in they let me down. Or I let them in and they give me nothing so I get bored and tried of have to keep up with the one sided charade. It’s agonizing, it truly is painful and to me completely unnecessary. Honestly at this point the only love I want to find is my love for myself. I want to learn and grow to love myself. Every inch, crevice, stretch mark, freckle, curve, bump, cellulite, pimple, eyelash, finger nail, split hair, and discoloration. I want to become my own person, I only want to depend on myself and only love myself. To be quite honest I feel like I’m the only person who truly deserves my love at this point. And the only person who needs it at the same time. I mean who else will give me what I give them. Honestly no one. I mean we as a species have conjured up this idea that everyone is meant for someone and everyone on this beautiful planet has a soulmate, I just don’t think that’s true. I honestly think there are people out there, myself included, who are maybe just meant to be alone. I think we’re all just scared of being alone. I just don’t understand why. Being alone is so beautiful. It isn’t at all crushing or depressing like love is. It’s blissful, truly, truly, blissful. It’s all I want and need. And I’m going to do it. I’m going to be alone. I’m going to take this year to learn to love myself and appreciate the person I am. I’m going to take this year to figure out who I want to be and plan how to get there. I’m going take this year to restart my life, to rebirth myself. It’s time, time I learned to be myself. I know I can do it and I know I need to do it. All my life I dreamed of the perfect guy and all my life I found time and time again he doesn’t exist. I worried so much about others only to find that they didn’t care so much about me. And previously in my life when I’d came to the decision to live out my life alone, I always thought how cruel that was. I thought I’d have to destroy relationships and be a heartbreaker and saw myself as awful. Then I thought I wouldn’t be able to muster up the courage to do it because of the pain I imagined the other person would feel. I also thought I’d be the one getting too attach and end up crush like all the times before. Previous encounters have taught me otherwise. I’m already detached. I don’t think I can feel an emotional connection with anyone, especially not romantically. I just can’t, I don’t think I’m wired that way. I found that I can move on quickly, I’ve learned I’m very self destructive, and that I’m the only one I truly need, that I’ve never and can never love anyone. It’s sad and a harsh reality but I’m sure I’m not the only person that feels this way. And no this isn’t my declaration of Asexuality, no I enjoy being with others, I just don’t want to spend my life searching for the one and getting my hopes up that they’ll somehow “find me”. I no longer care for that fairy tale or storyline anymore. From now on I’m going to live for myself, support myself, and love myself. I just can’t trust that anyone else ever will give me the satisfaction I’m looking for and I don’t think I can do anything for someone else. So here’s to my future, hopefully it’s full up brightness, happiness, and good fortune. And honestly good luck to any and all the souls who read this, may your journey to self love and discovery be pleasant and fulfilling. 


Around this time last year I was lonely and sad and just depressed.

I’m different this year. I’m happier. I have better friends. I’m healthier and more motivated than ever been in life. I think I’m in not love, but a very meaningful like. He’s fantastic and he feels it too, I hope, at least I think he does.

Life is just going well. I have days where I still get sad and paranoid that all the bad stuff will come back, but I remind myself to breathe. That I deserve this happiness and good fortune. That I have a right to all the good things that are happening in my life. I remind myself that I’m worthy. I won’t lie there’s been ups and downs, but I’m getting through them and I’m making the best.

I’ve never been happier or felt this way ever. I’m going to bask in the light I’ve been blessed with and be grateful for these days. And hope and look forward to even brighter futures.

You Think You Know

So because your mother has been pregnant damn near 80 times, you think that gives you a right to examine my anatomy.

You think that because your family has been plagued with the curse (in my opinion) of being an unlucky teenage mother, that that somehow allows you to make judgements about my appearance.

See what you don’t know is that your comments and your side-eyed stairs will only make me stronger. They will only drive me to reach my success. They will only push me to be better than you. I will get out. I will become someone. And you, not to be evil but, you will stay no one.

Even as I give you this post, I will not give you the satisfaction of saying you name. I will not allow you to claim me as your victim. No, you see you know who you are, no one else cares.

You have no glory. No importance. You are simple a page in the book all about me. Not even a chapter in my life. Simply a paragraph, that I have grown beyond. When I mention you people will not dwell on what you’ve done, or what you’ve said, or even who you are, no. They will focus on how I overcame. They will ask me how I got through it, and drew strength from it. They will applaud my triumph and congratulate me. They will not think of you. I will no longer think of you. I will rejoice in the success I WILL create for MYSELF and laugh at the destruction you’ll still be surrounded by. I will no longer cry out in pain from the hurt I felt, but cry out in laughter at the karma you have received.

This even goes out to those who tormented my heart and took it for granted. I will breathe easier knowing you missed out on something spectacular. I want to hear how much you’ve tried to reach out and repair what, in hindsight, truly was never broken. The regret you feel for your treatment towards me will give me great pleasure in the mornings. I will make you daily adversities the throne I shall sit upon, in my later years. I will do things and create arts that you will not be capable of resisting, so that I may capitalize off of you in the future. I will then spend “your” money to create a better life and greater happiness for me and my true loved ones. I will make everyone of my dreams come true so you can see the beautiful smile on my face and look away in envy.

I will overcome you all and find my true happiness. Thank you.


July 17th, 2016

Money can buy love. That’s a given. Let’s stop pretending that it can’t. You can buy sex, you can pay someone to pretend to love you. Hell when you get wealthy you never know if people trulylove you for who are or if they simply just love your money. It’s sad but, it’s the world we live in. I don’t know how many times my affection has tried to be bought back. When you know you’ve done something wrong why not just admit to it and apologize. I know I’ve tried buying others affection unknowingly. I think even when you help someone financially, if you expect something in return (non monetary), then that counts too. That makes us a very pathetic society. And what makes it even worst is that we prance around making it such a cliché or calling it a bad thing, when people do it shamelessly, yet we’ve all done it at some point in our lives. I personally don’t care. Buy my love. Give me every dime you have and I will make you feel so loved, you’ll grow sick of love. That being said, of course it depends on who’s buying it. There are still boundaries. Relatives and loved ones should never try to buy your love. They should just do right by you. Anyone else is fair game.


November 30th, 2015

I don’t even know how to start. I’ve started working. It feels nice. My family still upsets me. I still have the days when I feel like dying, what else is new. They know now, my family, just the small details not the serious ones. It isn’t better, if anything it’s worst, now. I still don’t care about anything. And my 18th birthday is coming up soon. I’m excited, but I’m also scared, I’ve learned something about myself. It’s a scary thought, but it’s help me to understand who I am better. What I’ve realized is that, in this life all I want is to be loved. To feel loved, appreciated, and like I matter. To feel as though my life meant something to somebody. No matter what type of love it is. Even if it’s a false sense of the word I’ll still take it at this point in my life. That to me is dangerous. I see it as me allowing for someone to hurt me because, they say in order to be loved you have to let love in. I fully believe that love is dangerous, a powerful weapon, that can be used to control anyone it possesses. I want that but without getting hurt myself. I don’t even think that’s possible.


Lie to Me

October 24, 2015

Lie to me. Tell me things we both know aren’t true. Tell me I’m beautiful, that you love me, that there’s no one else out there for you. I only want to hear your lies, never any truths. Fuel my ego, I crave the boost in my self-esteem. I yearn for that false sense of confidence. It’s as if the lies are a necessity in my survival. I despise the truth. Such a sad and ugly brutality. The lies protect my heart and my mind. Does that make me delusional? Does it make me crazy? I just don’t think I’m strong enough to face the truth. My teacher says all the time “The truth hurts and lies heal”. It’s true, ironically. I’m too fragile to handle the truth. That scares me. I want to be invincible and capable of handling anything, but I’m not. I’m not indestructible, I’m human. I have feelings, I get hurt, I mess up. Maybe that’s why I need the lies. I’m in desperate need of a fantasy, the imaginative things I create in my mind, and the dreams I dream at night. Perhaps I need them to get through life. That’s why I like lies and being lied to. It took me a while to realize that.​



October 10th, 2015

He’s here, but not mentally or emotionally. He thinks he does so much, but really he does nothing for me at all. He’s like a piggy bank that has it’s limit. Just money, money has no emotional connection to anyone ever. I finally know what it really means when they say “Money can’t buy you happiness or love”. It sure can’t. It hasn’t. The house. The cars. The beds. The clothes. The food. These materialistic things he says he has worked so hard for, have not satisfied my hunger for the few things I needed most from him. Love, emotional support, an ear to hear me. I’m not being heard. Yes he’s been to graduations, and births, and when I’ve been in trouble at school he’s been my advocate, but what good is all that if at the end of the day I constantly feel like there were no emotions behind those actions. Like he does them because he thinks that’s what he’s suppose to do. I’ll always question for the rest of my life if I am loved paternally, or just a regret that he puts up with. And I feel this way everyday, especially now while I sit here with tears like open flood gates streaming down my face, I wish my mother had just aborted my mission. I wish either I hadn’t been born or that I didn’t know who he was. I just feel like not knowing him would mean being angry at him. Knowing him only brings pain. It’s easier to stop hating someone you don’t know, than to forgive the hurt you feel because of someone you’re naturally obligated to love. But in the way my life has panned out, I practically don’t know him so… I mean I truly have no idea who he really is. Who are you father? Sometimes I wish I could express these feelings, but he once told me we’re alike. Which is why I fear if I told him and he stepped out, he’d never come back. For our hearts are too fragile to withstand that kind of hurt, that I feel, he’d decide to leave this world. I wish I didn’t feel this way. I feel guilty, but it’s not my fault. He didn’t try. He never tried. He’d always work, he’d never talk, his face always looked distant or disinterested. He’d leave everytime we’d have a family discussion about our days. And then he’d feel hurt and want us to put in more of an effort to include him. I did! I did daddy! And you still didn’t try. You didn’t even meet me halfway. I always thought of you. I always tried to include you, talk to you, inform you about the things that went on in my life, about what interested me, what I cared about. Yet it still wasn’t good enough. And today you yelled at me, you told me you do so much and only ask for a little in return. I wanted to scream you don’t do enough. I wanted to say is your love too much to ask? You can say it however many times you want, but if I can never feel it how will I ever know? Will I ever know? Is it too late? I hope you fix it for them. I hope you do better to reverse what’s been done for them, because it’s not too late. But for me I think it is. It is too late, the damage has been done, and I can’t go back, or forget, and only time will help me to forgive and heal. Until then I do love you father, I’m sorry our relationship is the way it is, and I hope time does heal it. I hope it gets better. But I promise I do love you, no matter the hurt, I just, I can’t tell if your love was really true, or just an obligation. Because I feel it is, and your true love for me is out of reach.


Ms. DuBois

October 8th, 2015

Streetcar Named Desire, reads me so well.

Specially, Blanche.

Oh Blanche. She, she is me, and I, I am her. A number of similarities, as if Mr. Williams model her after me. She craves attention, even when it’s negative, she loves it from men and constantly seeks the approval of others. She is immensely insecure, and at times a bit of a petty bitch, yet has this awkward kindness to her at times. My teacher put it best: “she’s an actress”, he says. “She reads people very well” and then as if she possess some sort of magical shape-shifting ability, she molds “herself into what people want”.

I found every word of his description fascinating, because I identified with it so well. Before this, I use to always say to myself “you’re a sponge, you absorb the things around you, only to eventually become them.” I’d always sit and think how I would act in a relationship (never having been in one before), and it didn’t take long to realize in every scenario I’d changed my personality to match the wants of the guy I’d paired myself with. It’s kind of a scary thought. Like a dangerous superpower. I’m an etch-a-sketch. I draw what you want to see and wear that for a while, then when I’m done with you, I shake away the image and prepare for what the next person wants. Medically I believe the term for that would be Split Personality Disorder.

My teacher said its sort of amazing, Blanche’s behavior. He said “you could either love her because it’s kind of cool, or you could hate her because it’s kind of crazy and dangerously insane”. Is it sick how intriguing I find that phrase? “DANGEROUSLY INSANE”. A tremendously enchanting ideology. That one simple human being can possess character traits that are “dangerously insane”. To have this sort of power, I don’t know it excites me. Is that awful? To think that I, could and can manipulate people better than they try to manipulate me, gets me excited for my adult life. Like everyday I can put on a new personality and be someone different to so many different people. Oh boy! I guess that’s why the ideas of dressing up and cosplay and makeup, truly entice me. I mean if you’re unhappy with who you are now, then why not be someone else, someone who not only you, but everyone will adore. I think life is better that way. Blanche taught me something today. Fuck everybody. If they can’t see you for who you are, be something they’ll love to see. Something they’ll never forget. I think I did that today.

A boy. I’ve read him as very materialistic. He likes to look good, so that everyone will see. He stays up to date on all the latest lingo, and I feel he’s a bit arrogant, in more than an annoying way. He’s the true definition of a fuckboy. I felt as though he’d appreciate a more friendly and bubbly type of girl, you know the type that looks at you as if you’re some kind of deity and she’ll do anything for you. Now mind you I’m not the prettiest flower in the bunch, especially today with the ginormous bags under my eyes today, but nevertheless I figured a big bright smile, a few quick flashes of the tongue, and a bit of eye batting with doey looking eyes that said “I want to please you, Sir”, would go a long way with Mr. FB. And boy was I right.

You see the weakness for guys like this is some good ol’ fashioned ego stroking. In other words compliments. I fully believe males love compliments just as much, if not more than females do. For this boy all I had to say was “Nice shirt” while he passed by. And then the next time “nice shirt”, followed by, “you always dress so nice”. His eyes get happy, he likes it, he responds “oh thank you, you know I try” with a nice teethy smile. So I go further, because you know, I’m Blanche I like the attention. I go “are you going for best dress?”, and he keeps it going, he mentions he nominated himself after others told him he should (like I told you before, FUCKBOY, looks good so others will see, and I guess his efforts did not go to waste). Then the situation got even more entertaining because my beautiful distant friend is a Stella. She likes to compete with others over everything. She enjoys possessing the objects of others desires, no matter what they are. She has taken an interest in the fact that I’ve taken “interest” in this boy. Little does she know, my interest is just temporary and false, a charade that will fade by the end of this very class. The most interesting fact for me though is, that she has a boyfriend and she still wants to go tit-for-tat. I don’t mind it. I get to mess with them both. I get to mockingly boost this cute little boys ego, and challenge my “friend” and see how much I can make her do for this boys attention, which before this week she couldn’t have care anything about. People truly amuse me. They really do. And they never cease to amaze me.

Holy shit I just realized, this boy is a sadder version of Stanley.