Right Back At It

I’ve abandoned this blog for a while now. I don’t remember how long, despite the fact that I can check. I won’t check, but I know I was gone.

Every time I stand up and move towards the better version of me that I’m always fighting for , I fall. Does that happen to you? You think you’re doing so good and then something happens or you just mess up all on your own. It’s such a crappy feeling.

This morning I found myself thinking about my life (the morning part is a load of shit, it was more like late after noon) as I’ve been trying to recuperate and catch up on sleep. During these times I always wonder where I went wrong, what lead me astray this time. What did I miss, what step did I fall off during and how do I fix it?

This time though, I’ve stumbled upon a new answer. I’ve stumbled upon the truth, a truth I’m sure I’m not the only person to realize. Hell I think I’m pretty late to the game here. I’m going to keep falling the rest of my life. Whether it’s for eating too many cookies, skipping a few workouts, or abandoning a novel, I promise to fail here and there. There’s no doubt of that, but the truth that I’ve found is that failure is the key to success. When I fail, I find a way that doesn’t work and I never fail quite the same way again (unless it comes to getting in shape). Each time I fail, no matter the amount of time it takes me to get back up, I do get back up and I come at my goals with a new energy. Failing actually makes me fight harder when I get back up again.

I could allow my MDD or Major Depressive Disorder to hold me back for the rest of my life like it has some of my relatives. I could let each of these failures tear me apart. I could lay down and throw in the towel forever as it seems so many do. I could allow my asthma to ban me from doing a workout program like “Insanity”, but that would be an excuse. Any reason not to get right back up and fight for yourself is an excuse. Besides your coming up with excuses to avoid putting in the work to make yourself happy.

Needless to say, I’m a mess and I’ve got a long road ahead of me. I will always have a long road ahead because I haven’t chosen the easy roads. I’ll get depressed and I’ll fail and I’ll cry and beg for this all to be easier over and over again. Then that little voice inside will come back and say “hey, you can do this. Just keep going, just keep fighting.” Keep writing, keep working out, keep eating healthy, keep trying, keep going….just keep getting back up.

Human beings are an amazing and beautiful race for all our downfalls…

Just remember the greatest of us didn’t become great for no reason. They were born babies without stories just like you and I, which means any of us can reach our success if only we keep trying. I hope at least someone out there in this big world gets a little encouragement from this, if not. . .well I feel better.

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A Poem for Debbie

Twenty nine hours of bus time

a thousand miles behind me

I came to California

Fell in love with your daughter

But you were never ashamed

You welcomed me as family

Allowed me to stay in your home

You filled our lives with laughter

And more jokes than I remember

Throughout the ups and the downs

You were even comforting

Through the tough times I was in

For all these things I thank you

So my new “mother-in-law”

I dedicate this to you

Oh and I apologize

I know this took a long time

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Success…A Definition

The Mad Pianist...

How do you define success?

Is this supposed to be a complicated question? Not necessarily but it is a question that makes you ponder and consider quite a bit. Success is a deeply personal concept and so I hope that you will indulge me for a few moments.

A couple months ago, I read a book by Alain de Botton called Status Anxiety. This is a wonderful book filled with some great insights and I suggest you all find a copy and read. This is a book that I bought in paperback form and highlighted sections as I read.

In this book, de Botton talks about this idea of status and success and this concept’s origins. He talks about the way that religion, art, bohemia, class systems, and politics impact our views of success.

Toward the beginning of the book, he states, “Our sense of identity is held captive…

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Surviving the Daily Grind

I work in a coffee shop and ice cream stop inside of the mall here in Texas, I know I’ve posted that before but I wanted to clarify. Now originally, I loved my job. It’s fun, it’s easy, I meet cool people on daily basis and the pay is good enough. I went from a regular employee, to a shift leader, and now the head assistant manager in less than a years’ time. To be honest, I thought I would like my job more as a manager. As it turns out, I became even more bored than I was very quickly. Nothing is ever quite satisfying because it doesn’t mean anything to me. Yes, it does ensure my survival, but it doesn’t ensure my satisfaction with life.
The truth is, sometimes it’s just plain hard to survive the daily grind, but there are things you can do to cope with it. So if you’ve ever felt this way, then here are my personal tips to get through it and live a happy life even when you aren’t happy with your job.

1. Give yourself a purpose at work
Basically, if you are a basic regular employee then start aiming for a raise or a promotion. You’ll work harder and pass the time a little bit faster. It’s almost like when you just started the job and everything is new and exciting. If you already have had as many promotions as you can receive then try aiming to improve your workplace. Say everyone else slacks off because they know you’ll pick up after them then make some changes. There’s always room for improvement. Also, improving your employees’ lives at work will make you feel great about yourself and they will work harder for you.

2. Have a hobby
I like to think that I’m decent writer. If not, then I will practice and learn every day for the rest of my life to become the best I can be. It gives me a sense of satisfaction with my life outside of work. My hobby is my stress relief and hopefully one day my career. I’ve noticed for myself that it drives me to do well at work because I feel that I’m more than just a barista, I feel less trapped. Even if I am absolutely awful it’s a huge stress reliever and it gets me through the weeks.

3. Stay active
Getting out in the sun, taking a nice walk with the dog, can be a perfect way to start off the day. I like to try and fit a walk and at least a fifteen minute workout in before I go to work. It can improve your energy level, your mood, and of course your physical health. Even simple housework can be a good source of activity.

4. Always work towards a goal
When you give yourself a goal like going back to school, getting a car, or going on vacation, you’ll always have something to look forward to.

5. Be mindful of your perspective
Sometimes you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed and your attitude is crap from the start, but that road will only ever go south. A negative outlook can not only ruin your work ethic but it can add stress to every area of your life.

All in all take care of yourself, stay positive, and always keep moving forward. As my mother always told me, “you can only reap what you sow.”
That’s all for today and thank you for reading this blog.

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The Coffee Stop Thought of the Day :)

Today an elderly man gave me a bit of advice I found hard to ignore.

I asked him how his day was going as I made him his regular cup of Joe and he said, “I woke up today.” The same gentle smile across his face as every day before.

How amazing is that? Most of us get so caught up in our issues and depressions, I know I woke up today feeling sorry for myself. So next time you’re feeling down just remember. . .

You woke up today.

Be thankful for that 🙂

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Live within your means uh?…Well WTF does that mean?




You know, when I ask for help with my finances to people, I hear a few similar things. “Be smart with your money.” “Save more than you spend.” And last but not least, “Live within your means.” I really am looking for advice on how to become financially independent but the general consensus of what money and finances very biased.   

People have this false ideology that we’re poor or in financial debt by mistake and it’s our fault and it must fixed. I graduated with a B.S degree in Biology from Purdue. It cost about 30K a year there. I didn’t even want to go. I told my dad that I wanted to get a full-time job at a grocery store and help out with the bills. So I got a job as a bagger at Jewel Osco my senior year of high school. I worked 35 hours a…

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Part I : My Untitled Life Story

My story begins in 1993 but the year of 2001 is my catalyst. Allow me to explain, I was an only child in an unstable family until 1999. Not only was my brother born that year but my parents got a divorce. Dad ran off to Kentucky with his mistress to start a new life, leaving my mother to care for me and my brand new baby brother on her own. I don’t know when exactly the beginning of the dark times in my life, I had been bullied since the first year I entered the school system. Now I was a big sister, a child of struggling single parent, being bounced from babysitter to baby sitter and all the while still being bullied at school. My safe haven was taken away and even my dog disappeared with my father.  

There were only a total of five or six baby sitters but it seemed each one was worse than the last. The first was good enough but she got evicted. We then landed in a shabby trailer park with a lazy cruel woman who only wanted to get paid. I was glad to be rid of her and her but in comparison to woman who lived in a small hoarder’s home around the block, she was a joke. Even the slightest cross could set you on the shit list so badly so that she held my brand new bike for ransom. We tried the ghetto, the trailer park, the neighborhood, and when that all failed we tried a trailer in the middle of the country. The air smelled like dirt and tomales almost every afternoon. In retrospect the sunsets were nice, but being forced to wear a diaper and kick rusted old cans around with bare feet didn’t set right with me.

Finally we come to the last babysitter in the spring of 2001.  At first I thought she was beautiful and kind. Her long brown hair flowed against her back, Crystal green eyes and the body of a dancer. I remember so vividly her spicy Hispanic attitude and the flare with which she would roll the words right from her tongue. She had this energy, full of fun and life. I couldn’t say the same for her son’s, J.R and junior but her daughter Marissa followed effortlessly in her mother’s genes.

I thought we had finally found a safe place. No more getting beat, no more cruel words and punishments from caretakers. I genuinely enjoyed their company. My brother didn’t too much care, of course, he was only two. I felt like his guardian, if anything upset him I was right there to aid. He was strange and alien to me but I love him even still. I just wanted to be the best big sister, although I know I was no better than any other sister.

For a while it was nice, there were no conflicts and lunch was always decent. I had a new friend and basically played all day long. I even began to develop a routine. Grandmother would pick me up from school and we would talk and laugh all the way there. Stopping each time for a bag of gummy worms or an afterschool snack and then off to the babysitters where my brother would already be. I would check on him and then immediately go to play with Marissa until my mother picked us up that night. I seem to have so many memories there from such a short period of time. I learned about Salina and genuine Hispanic cooking. I learned that drinks don’t always come during your overly spicy lunch. I experienced going to the supermarket and waiting in the car during a violent tornadic storm. Ironically only a week after the storm Marissa gave a piece of advice I didn’t quite understand. She told me her mother had hurt other kids. Broken arms, beatings and more, I just couldn’t believe it. She told me my brother and I should find a new babysitter. Warning the same would happen to us soon.

I never ended up telling my mom, though I know that may have made a difference, in fact I think I forgot all about it. She freaked me out, remembering what all the other babysitters were like, but I just couldn’t believe it with her. She had always been nice to us, she even gave me some new clothes and let us watch scary movie. At eight years old, I just didn’t know any better.

A couple days later J.R  was sitting on the couch laughing. He said Candace had her hands over my brother’s mouth, she choked him. I ran to the back room to check on him but Candace was just brushing his hair. I didn’t think to question why she had him in her room with the door closed. If I could just go back and tell my eight year old self to tell my mother what Marissa had said. . .

For the next few days everything was normal and then Saturday came, turning me and my family into refugees of a tragedy that would echo through our family to this day. We were sitting down early afternoon eating hot dogs and chili. Delicious in fact but I remember begging for my drink to come early, I never handled spicy food well. My brother on the other hand could barely eat a bite. Candace kept yelling at him to eat his food. Even to me the tension was obvious but I tried to ignore the feeling that something was building. I finished my food and told my brother to come outside and play with us afterwards. All day we had been playing a game of freeze tags and climbing in and out of the giant oak tree in the back yard. I finish my hot dog and we run outside to play leaving my brother behind to finish his food. Next thing I know he’s walking outside with half a hot dog still hanging from his mouth, then Candace begins to scream at him to finish his food before he comes outside. It all happened so fast, the look of emptiness in his eyes was unmistakable, I knew something was wrong. I was frozen in place watching his every move. Candace’s yells became a matter of background.

                All of sudden he dropped to the ground, first to his knees then plummeting head first into the concrete. I ran to him, trying to help him up as his eyes were still barely open. Placing his hands on the big yellow Tonka truck he loved so much the day before.

                Candace picked him up from the ground, but his head only flopped over to the side. I wasn’t sure if he was even alive at first. After she laid him on a couch with a blanket and no further cares’ I began to beg to call for my mother. He needed a hospital and he needed it right that second, but the babysitter freaked when I mentioned the idea. I kept pushing and pushing, if we couldn’t call my mother we were going to call 911 but before I could do anything she unhooked the phone and locked me in Marissa’s bedroom. I couldn’t get out and the phone lines were off, there was nothing I could do except sit, wait, and pray for the evening to come in time.

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