Means to An End

What do you do when everything you ever dreamt of suddenly becomes everything that will never exist?

How do you carry on with your life when half of your livelihood is ripped out of you and thrown into a shredder that houses tiny pieces of broken dreams and dismantled hope. Watching as everything slips away, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it; instinctively trying to grab it, hold it a little tighter and more appreciatively, but the more you try to keep hold of it the further away it slips.

How do you move on from yourself? From what you always thought would be? How do you keep your composure when an entirely different song starts playing? How do you say goodbye to something you never thought you'd be without?

And, most importantly, when does it get better? When is the day you start again? 

Does it ever really feel the same? Do you ever really get back to the person you were before? Or are you always broken. Empty, in need of something to fill that inner gap that you somehow wear on your forehead. One that, try as you may, you can never cover up. It's too big to ignore, too big to conceal and perhaps even too big to fill. It just sits there, as a constant reminder of what once was, who you once were, and the pain that now lies in its every crevice. Potential to be patched up, but never again whole. 

And it hurts even more that it's obvious -- when people point it out. It hurts even more when people look at you and can see the bottomless pit that you've been sleeping in; when they tell you you have changed, you're not the person you used to be.

"I know", is all I can say. "I miss her too".

"But how can I get her back?"

I've been trying so hard to keep my spirit bright; to keep my light shining even though it's dull and small. I've been trying so hard to keep positive every day; be grateful for all things great and small, keep my soul and my inner voice intact and upright. But it gets hard sometimes, being positive.

It's hard to not believe that the only thing certain in life is an end. To everything. 

After all, we aren't here forever. 

Love and Time

Sometimes when I think of God, I think of time. Other times when I think of God, I think of love.

Sometimes, I feel like God IS love, and everything else, all the other details and relatively meaningless things that we humans use to separate ourselves, don't matter one bit. And when I think about it, about how we all try to find ways to make our God better than their God, it makes me sad -- the way we hold to our beliefs with such hubris when all that really matters is what we are all trying to achieve: Goodness.

Love; in every religion, place and culture is the same. The only thing that changes is what we choose to love and how we choose to love. I believe we are born knowing only one thing, and it's love. Loving is natural, meanwhile its polar opposites are learned behaviours. We have to be taught to hate, to separate, to judge.

And we all naturally have a moral compass, too. We all know what is right and what is wrong. We all aspire to be better people, whether better in each other's eyes, our parent's, our enemies', our God's, it's the same goal. (Those of us with a conscience and no psychiatric disorders, of course.) It's just unfortunate that we create so many loops and obstacles for ourselves and one another to achieve that goodness and become better humans. We weave them into our bibles, our social constructs, our perceptions, our judgments ... anything to separate and rank. Anything to stop us from loving, selflessly and wholly.

But for those of us who still practise altruism, those of us who haven't gotten caught up in the narcissism that is so rampant in the world, God comes to us in the form of time. He teaches patience and humility, and that too soon is just as bad as too late. He teaches us what to focus on, what to cherish, what we will never get back.

He controls everything, father time. He decides our emotions, and the emotions of even the earth. He decides how we look, how we act, what we do. It is up to him how long heartbreak will last, how long happiness will last, how long relationships will last. He decides our health, our strength and our desires. All of it boiling down to patience. Everything in its time and not a minute earlier. That is especially so for love. We have to wait for love, for someone whose patience and resilience matches ours; wait until we find our truth and ourselves; wait until Father Time leads us right into the arms where we belong.

But in the meantime, most importantly, we have to continue to love, even when it hurts. Even, most times, without getting a single thing in return.

Apples in A Bunch

It's unfair, insulting, and perhaps a little childish to allow one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch.

But let's face it, it's human nature to generalise and group and label. It's how we apply logic to mostly illogical and inexplicable behaviour. It's how we armour up and prepare ourselves to more intelligently battle the same demon that overcame us the last time. (Plus, let's be honest here. It's usually way more than just ONE bad apple.) 

Still, as much as I hate being one of "those people", this cruel, cruel world has finally pushed me over the edge and into the sea of misery where no one is to be trusted and smiles simply cover up inner turmoil. I was invited as a plus one by my friend "company", whose invitation I had been ignoring for quite some time now. 

But grief is the name of the game. 

A person can only handle heartbreak so many times before he/she decides to take full control of his/her affairs of the heart. If you've been an avid reader of my blog, you should know how I feel about emotional pain. (Substitute for a broken leg? I'll even take menstrual cramps for 500. Please?)

Hence, I have made the unfortunate yet necessary decision to take control. And by "take control" I mean to build a wall so high that not even Humpty Dumpty would climb it. (He'd probably fall off anyway so it's probably a good idea for him to stay away. Maybe go to the gym? No pressure.)

Now, I'll be the first to call myself out on this and say how ashamed I am to see myself relapse this badly and do exactly what I try to tell others not to do, but I think I've suffered enough emotional pain this year for a lifetime. And quite frankly, I've had enough. It can't possibly hurt me anymore than how I've already been hurt to take a little time to refocus and regroup behind my impenetrable wall. It will be far too hard to do so with people coming in and out of my sanctuary at will, disturbing and destroying everything on their way out -- and sometimes, most times, even blocking the damn entrance. 

And yes, the wall "also keeps good out", not just bad, but I'll take my chances. The probability of the next penis-weilding person to come in only for the purpose of causing a raucous with his narcissism and ADHD is probably far greater than its more selfless, cautious and dedicated opposite. 

Plus, how else will I be able to see who cares enough to climb it?

Dear You.

You'd probably never believe me if I told you that my life has been nothing short of a soap opera this year, judging by the inactivity on my blog.

You probably would also not believe that this has been one of the worst years of my life. 

When I say the lowest of the low ... It's no exaggeration.

The. Absolute. Pits.

It's the kind of stuff that would make for good television -- or at the very least, a few good blogs. But for some reason, I just couldn't get myself to ever open up a page and start writing. Certainly, after the last two blogs about heartbreak, there has been plenty more where that came from -- among other things. And truth be told, it makes me feel extremely pathetic. 

But who wants to sit around writing every day about how pathetic and worthless they are? 

Not me. (You want me to write about Feelings? I'll pass.)

I'd rather write about exciting new developments and positivity and growth (after all, I have been a Miami City Hall reporter for more than a year -- and not the sleezy, sensational kind).

Hence, my last post was about Trayvon Martin. And I wish I were here today to begin down that path of "exciting new developments", but really I came here because, well ... I am on the verge of explosion. So I guess it's time to let it out. (Some of it, anyway. The easy stuff.)

How many times does someone have to treat you like utter rubbish before you finally realise that maybe they aren't right for you? And when did I become THAT girl? The pathetic one who's clinging to something that would rather leap into a piranha's mouth than reach back a few inches?

When did it get this bad, and how, for God's sake, do I make it stop? 

I've got plenty of other things I could be focusing on right now (like finding a job) than this nonsense, AGAIN.

If you don't know how to think ahead about the consequences of your current actions, or how to not say what you don't mean or won't mean in a week ... Then please keep your actions and your bullshit as far away from me as possible. You saw me sitting here alone, quite content. So just let me be. I don't go out of my way to reach out to any of you and I don't see what pleasure you get out of interrupting my solitude with commitments and promises you don't intend to keep. Spare me.

I promise I can do without it.

I've really had enough dream-selling for one year. So the next time you get the urge to save me from myself with lies you think I want to hear, don't.

Because, Justice

I know some of you have probably been waiting for this post.

And honestly, I'd be lying if I told you I had all intentions of writing it.

I never got fired up about the Trayvon Martin case, even though I was 15 minutes away from the incident when it happened -- even though I drove right past the Sanford police department after it happened to go to the homeless shelter and volunteer, and even though they cancelled the volunteering another day because of protests.

Some of you may call this ignorance, indifference, insensitivity ... and maybe, partly, you'd be right. I never got involved in the hoopla of the incident because well, I thought it was a no-brainer. I never thought it would take this long for a verdict, and I certainly never expected that verdict to be "not guilty." (Also, I don't like getting involved in "race" arguments.)

That, was my bad -- for not knowing the law, choosing to stay ignorant, and putting my hope in man.

I was stupid for thinking that the legal system in place was backed by morality.
I was stupid to think that in 2013 the value of a human life is standard across the board and is worth more than gun laws.
I was stupid to think that mankind is still capable of exercising proper judgement.
I was stupid to think that anything about this "justice system" is just.

But when that verdict was read, it took American society back about 100 years. The entire case took society back about 100 years.

Nothing about that case was designed for Trayvon Martin to even stand a chance from the very beginning. A dead man tells no tales, but little does he know, he was on trial for his own murder.

I hate pulling the race card, and anyone who knows me or reads my writing should know that. But how can I look at this case and not see colour? How can anyone tell me that the reason George Zimmerman approached him in the first place is anything other than racial profiling? Shit, I'm guilty of it myself. I moved up here and inherited the subconscious racism that is so embedded in American society that it is almost seen as a natural intelligent form of "cautious." Black person walking around at night? Trouble. Non-black walking around at night? Just a person who felt like taking a walk. (In case you didn't know racism is prevalent in Hispanic culture as well. So this bit about Zimmerman being Hispanic, spare me.)

It's disgusting.

And so, a full jury of women, most of whom have children, could not even find it fitting to convict Mr. Zimmerman of manslaughter. It was too much punishment to face for killing an unarmed boy who you decided to chase, because you were trying to prevent another neighbourhood break-in. Even though if GZ had never pursued him, Trayvon would still be alive right now. No harm would have been done. But that's besides the point right? Because he had to defend himself against someone he ran after.

"What kind of world would we have to live in anyway, to have seen GZ offer Trayvon a ride home that night instead, to get him out of the rain?"


... Let that marinate for a little ...


Honestly though, I wasn't as appalled at the fact that GZ knew the law and manipulated the incident so that he could get off with a not guilty verdict. That happens every day. I wasn't even appalled that he was found not guilty.

What makes me sick and not want to be a part of this world any more is the fact that there is even a law in the first place that allows you to get away with things like this. Stand your ground? Do you know what that law allows? It allows you, as the aggressor or initiator of a fight, to use deadly force against the person with whom you picked the fight once you start losing.

It says, and I quote:

"a person is justified in the use of deadly force and does not have a duty to retreat if he or she reasonably believes that such force is necessary to prevent imminent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself or another or to prevent the imminent commission of a forcible felony"

And for an aggressor:

"the justification described in the preceding sections of this chapter is not available to a person who initially provokes the use of force against himself or herself, unless such force is so great that the person reasonably believes that he or she is in imminent danger of death or great bodily harm and that he or she has exhausted every reasonable means to escape such danger other than the use of force which is likely to cause death or great bodily harm to the assailant; or in good faith, the person withdraws from physical contact with the assailant and indicates clearly to the assailant that he or she desires to withdraw and terminate the use of force, but the assailant continues or resumes the use of force."

That is what George Zimmerman's defence used to get him off for killing an unarmed 17 year old boy with skittles in his pocket, who he decided on his own to pursue. Or at least, that is what they would like us to believe.

At face value, we are all equally disgusted by the events that have unfolded. All of us are sick that a man was allowed to kill a child for nothing at all - a child who was doing nothing but walking in his own father's neighbourhood. His father, who pays his rent (or mortgage) just like everyone else in the community. But behind the scenes, there is a lot more to it than just that.

The NRA is bigger than Trayvon. That organisation runs this whole country. And in the aftermath of this travesty, I beg you all to PAY ATTENTION. Incidents like these are used to take away our rights, all of us. By using emotionally driven tactics, such as the never-ending race issue, the powers that be are distracting you and I from the real agenda - from whatever the real law is that they want to pass, with an innocent life as the price to pay.

This is the sickening and frightening world we live in.

And btw, for those of you screaming out "black people kill black people every day, so let's talk about that", you make me sick too.

Crime happens. Obviously. Yes, people die every day all over the world. None of us is denying that. But murder is murder. And all of it is wrong. So if you're going to make that argument, then why do we have laws anyway? People break them every day all over the world, right? Might as well we just get rid of all order then huh?

I tell you; social media and the Internet can be the devil. Not everyone deserves to have a platform.

93 Million Miles From the Sun

Time to yourself
Time to be selfish
That's why you never fought for it
At least that's what I thought you said
Time to focus on your other needs
Find you, without me
So I never thought you'd have this up your sleeve

I thought you needed to put the pieces of your broken spirit back together
And something like that was hard to do in rainy weather
Seek shelter
Work on being better
Try to seek out your own pleasure
Not another hidden treasure
Or someone better

But I guess that's just how life plays out
It's harder to find it when you actively seek it out
Hard to find the love we speak about
And dream about
When we feel we cannot do without

But it turns around when you're down and out
People seem to come around about
The time your soul starts reaching out
Not when your mind is screaming out
And full of clout

So I guess that's how it happened
You moved on to her
And, I started rapping
You helped me open up my mind and let the sap in
Express myself in a fashion
That let's other people grasp it

And in the end I know we'll both be ok
I can tell already I'm on my way
To finding back those happy days
Letting the love in my heart light the way
No more doubt and shades of grey
No more clouds to take the sun away
No more reasons to be afraid
So in spite of all the noise you made
And all the lies you gave
All the negative things you had to say
I still appreciate

You, for making me this way

Good Hearts Cannot Be Broken

I never ever wanted to do this.

But enough people have been telling me to let these feelings out the best way I know how, so here's to a few moments of vulnerability and frailty in prose.

The gloves are off, the gun is buried in a shallow grave outside and there's nothing around except me and this mirror. No shots being fired, no more fighting alone -- just me and a couple weeks of emotional reflection in front of a mirror at home; showing me the person looking back at me is someone I hardly know, or recognise. But in a good way.

I've made a lifestyle out of running away.

That is what I've been told, and I guess it's true. I've spent my life living in unrecognised fear of what I believe is one of the most powerful parts of the human experience: love. I've been afraid of love all my life, though I still somehow manage to get others to love me. When it comes close, I push it away. When it seems too far away, I reach out for it -- hoping I can always keep it close enough to keep me warm, in preparation for the inevitable day when I fear no harm, and finally feel I can grab it, fully, and never let it go.

Last year I took a couple steps forward; steps I thought were leading me in the right direction. And for a while, they were. Until I hit a roadblock at a force that was strong enough to push me further back than where I had originally begun walking.

When I got back on my feet to prepare myself once again for the journey ahead, I realised ... I was alone. Alone, but in recognisable territory that for a while made me feel comfortable. For a while, I felt that maybe it's just where I belonged -- except as I looked around and felt a sense of solace in the familiar things I saw and felt, I noticed I was walking backward.

I hadn't gone too far. But by the time I ran back to where the road was blocked, to where I thought I saw you waiting for me, you were gone. I was alone again. Just me and my road block.

And that is when the rocks began falling.

Brick by brick they came crashing down on me. The wall that had stopped me before was falling apart, right in front of me. And not until I was able to wipe my tears long enough to clearly see did I realise ... it was you who threw them at me.

You took my roadblock apart and turned it into a million stones; finding ways to pelt me with every one so each struck a different part of my soul.

It hurt me for a while, some bruises still linger. But eventually, lately, I realised, you cleared the way for me, using the same stones that had once enclosed me. Then you took them with you to rebuild your own sanctuary.

And even though sometimes I still feel used, ashamed and hurt. And even though sometimes I still find my vision obstructed by the water in my eyes, and still resent you for giving up before trying ... Had it not been for that journey, my reflection would still be the same, my road block would still keep me where I thought I was to remain, and my path would still lay before me, unpaved.

Eventually, all the pain and anger will subside, and I'll be able to bring the sunshine with me as I continue down this unexplored path, hopefully walking with someone more willing than you to share the journey with me.

But in the mean time, while I sit here waiting for these bruises to heal, and for heartache to not be the only thing I feel, I just want to say: thank you.

What Matters Most?

In continuation from my last blog, I was thinking about what I had written about people working harder for what they can buy than what they can feel, when it hit me.

I finally realised the problem with our society today, from where I sit of course. (Not that I didn't already have an idea, but now I can break it down for you.)

We live in a world where people who are more interested in personal growth, discovery and human interaction than career paths and money-making pursuits are mostly chastised and not taken seriously -- if they aren't celebrities of course.

It's like from birth we have it ingrained in us that the most ideal person to be is one who has a definite money-making goal. So, we spend our lives focusing on and working toward that goal and by the time we are old enough to think for ourselves, we don't even know who we are or what we want ... or why we even want it.

I ran into an old friend of mine at the mall last weekend and in the middle of our small talk she cracked a little and began telling me that she feels empty and is trying to figure out her path in life -- all the while I was standing there thinking 'wow, so it's not just me.'

After we had finished talking and I walked away, I started thinking about all the people in my age group who I know are going through that same crisis, and I can't help but think that this is the reason why. We have been forced our whole lives down the path of going to school and getting "educated", which takes up at least 16 years of our lives, and then somewhere in the next 4 to 6 years, or more, we are left to "figure it all out." But by then, we are so lost that we don't even know where to begin. If some weight had been put on personal development and reflection throughout those years, however, then maybe we'd have a better grasp on ourselves and how to interact with people.

And maybe some of us wouldn't be such inconsiderate selfish assholes. (Bitter statement, I know.)

This is just a theory, of course. But think about it. How often do people these days work hard for love, happiness or peace? How often do you meet someone who wants to "be a good person" when they grow up? How many people actually want to go to college just to be a more knowledgeable individual?

I'm going to go ahead and guess and say not very often and not very many. The truth is, we don't put a lot of weight on being good, kind-hearted people any more. Not by a societal standpoint anyway. (I mean, it's not like prevention is better than a cure, right?) We don't take the time to develop our personalities; learn what we like and don't like; learn how to interact well with people; learn how to deal with tragedy and disappointment; learn that loving is natural and starts with self; learn how to make ourselves happy so that we can in turn make others happy also; learn that we are actually built to receive pleasure from giving to others.

Instead, we are taught to be selfish under the guise of "independence"; rude under the guise of "being real"; and valueless under the guise of "being free."

And honestly, I think that is the biggest tragedy of this world. 

Material for Your Material

I feel like what you are about to read is going to make absolutely no sense all together, but I have been walking around for a couple months now with a tremendous variety of emotions inside that pose as carbonation in a soda can. Shake it up, and it will explode. Leave it be, it will sit there forever.

Here's to opening it carefully and taking a sip..

Let's talk for a minute.

How is it really possible that creatures with the innate ability to think, analyse and reflect, do everything but that? The mind is one of the main things that separates us as humans from the rest of the animals in this universe, yet there are so many people out there who don't utilise its abilities.

People are just walking around from day to day like robots -- programmed to get up every day and go to work, programmed to watch TV every evening, programmed to follow what every one else is doing, programmed to chase money as the source of all things wonderful and shiny.

That is life as they know it. Get a little living in between paychecks and then die. But make sure that before you die, you drive a nice car to work. Because FYI, your car can fit into your coffin. And then, you can drive it around in your after life. You and all your ghastly buddies can take joyrides in it to impress ... all the other soul-less people who will exist wherever you are. (And, luckily for you, there will probably be a whole lot of people to choose from.)

I mean come on people. You really think there is nothing else to life besides working and spending money?

That can't be life. It can't be. I refuse to believe that.

Yet for some people - it is. They  have made it that way. Some people literally will work hard for nothing else in this world except that little piece of paper that they think makes them who they are. It's funny though, when I think about it. There are so many people who claim they want something that isn't materialistic, yet they refuse to work for it. Because at the end of the day, all it is, is simply a claim. They will work forty hours a week for something borrowed and fleeting, yet they won't put any real effort or genuine energy into true felicity and peace. (You know, the intangible things that "distract" them from their sacred dollar signs.)

Those intangibles that will at least make the ride in that Ferrari F12berlinetta a little bit less lonely. The ones that make that space in your heart a little bit less empty.. And the feeling behind your smile a little bit less forced.

But, I digress.

It takes all kinds of people to make up this world -- I just hope that when you are 60 years old and have grown tired of sleeping beside your bag of money and kissing your Michael Kors purse good night, that all the things that are important to you now will still be important to you then.

Ciao.

Introverted

I happened upon a post today that I felt was describing me to the entire T, so I thought I would share it with you guys.

For those who don't really know me, this will help you understand me perfectly. And for those who do, I'm hoping you'll find as much truth in this as I did.

Enjoy.

10 Myths About Introverts. 

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk.
This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.

Myth #2 – Introverts are shy.
Shyness has nothing to do with being an Introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting. If you want to talk to an Introvert, just start talking. Don’t worry about being polite.

Myth #3 – Introverts are rude.
Introverts often don’t see a reason for beating around the bush with social pleasantries. They want everyone to just be real and honest. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable in most settings, so Introverts can feel a lot of pressure to fit in, which they find exhausting.

Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people.
On the contrary, Introverts intensely value the few friends they have. They can count their close friends on one hand. If you are lucky enough for an introvert to consider you a friend, you probably have a loyal ally for life. Once you have earned their respect as being a person of substance, you’re in.

Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public.
Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for Introverts.

Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone.
Introverts are perfectly comfortable with their own thoughts. They think a lot. They daydream. They like to have problems to work on, puzzles to solve. But they can also get incredibly lonely if they don’t have anyone to share their discoveries with. They crave an authentic and sincere connection with ONE PERSON at a time.

Myth #7 – Introverts are weird.
Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.

Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds.
Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions. It’s not that they are incapable of paying attention to what is going on around them, it’s just that their inner world is much more stimulating and rewarding to them.

Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun.
Introverts typically relax at home or in nature, not in busy public places. Introverts are not thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. If there is too much talking and noise going on, they shut down. Their brains are too sensitive to the neurotransmitter called Dopamine. Introverts and Extroverts have different dominant neuro-pathways. Just look it up.

Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.
A world without Introverts would be a world with few scientists, musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, doctors, mathematicians, writers, and philosophers. That being said, there are still plenty of techniques an Extrovert can learn in order to interact with Introverts. (Yes, I reversed these two terms on purpose to show you how biased our society is.) Introverts cannot “fix themselves” and deserve respect for their natural temperament and contributions to the human race. In fact, one study (Silverman, 1986) showed that the percentage of Introverts increases with IQ.

Structured Exploitation

I knew I was obsessed with Ed Sheeran for a reason.

This morning I was on my way to work listening to the Elvis Duran morning show, as usual, and to my very very pleasant surprise, their special guest today was my boy Ed. (Have I mentioned I am obsessed yet?)

For anyone who listens to the show, you know the guests really are not on for longer than maybe 15 minutes, commercials included. But during that time, one of the radio personalities managed to say something that really caught my ear. He was referencing a prior interview he had had with Mr. Sheeran about his take on school.

And to my even more pleasant surprise, his response was practically verbatim to what I ranted about on Twitter a few weeks ago, and what I said to a friend via text message.

University. Is. Overrated.

A university education, more specifically, is unnecessary.

We have grown up in a society that boasts to be the most highly educated of generations and such, whereby anyone who decides not to pursue an institutional education beyond high school is shunned and scorned and held with disdain. And naturally, like the sheep they are, most people hold that passed-down belief as their own and spread it around like an STD.

So before you get your panties all in a bunch, allow me to break it down for you.

As most of you know, I graduated from university with my Bachelor's degree last year, (Damn, almost a year already?) which means I have more than enough room to speak on this matter. While we all enjoy being able to act like intelligent superiors in the presence of our peers, the fact of the matter is, in most cases experience is the best teacher.

You can go to school every day for the rest of your life and never ever learn street smarts, common sense or how to handle money. For the most part, the institution itself does not teach these things. That's not to say that book knowledge is a bad thing, but we also need to see that street knowledge is not either.

Going to university wastes a good four to five (or more) of our youthful years in setting us up to be indebted for years to come to student loans. But we don't need a university education to learn how to be businessmen or how to fix a car or how to write for a newspaper or how to be a freakin' human being. If you start working at 16, by the time you are 22 I'd say you are just as equipped with knowledge as someone who is fresh out of college - if not more.

Furthermore, there is a such thing as a certificate, you know. If you want specialised knowledge, you can simply take one or two classes on a subject instead of wasting two years in university doing "general education" classes while racking up the debt and helping the school build a new unnecessary building.

Want to learn how to fix a car? Work in a mechanic shop and be an apprentice. After two years there, you can learn all the ins and outs of cars better than someone who spent four years looking at photographs.

Just as Ed said, I honestly believe that the only reason to ever go to university, which I'd argue and say does not need to be such a long process, is if you want to do something in the medical field like be a Doctor or a Nurse, or if you want to be an engineer. And that is only because in those fields, you can't really learn by trial-and-error. 

Aside from that, however, if you decide you want to be a radio DJ, start out by grabbing Elvis Duran's coffee when you're 16 years old, and if you want it badly enough and it's a good fit for you, I see no reason why you won't be able to be on the radio by the time you are 23. In those learning years, you will not only learn what it takes to be a good DJ, but you will also learn how to manage your time, how to work toward a tangible goal, the value of and how to manage money, how to work with other people, and you will gain valuable interpersonal communication skills.

If you ask me, that far beats depending on social media for communication skills, graduating from university with $30,000 loans to payback, and searching for a job that will hire you with little to no work experience - but pay you enough so you can move out of your parent's house before you hit 40.

All while already being at least four years behind.

The Over-thinker

For some reason, whenever we are going through something, we are always urged by everyone to talk about it.

Why is that?

Is there some sort of a link between our mouths and our feelings whereby as soon as we express them verbally, they get released from us? Because if so, I think I need to get rewired.

Anyone who knows me personally knows I don't like to talk about my feelings. It's bad enough I don't even know how to express them or deal with them appropriately ... now you want me to talk about it? No thank you.

I mean even on this blog where I am supposed to write about my personal feelings (you know, From my heart to yours?) I never actually ever say exactly what is going on in my life. And that is how I deal with things in real life too. Like the true writer I am, I speak and deliver messages in metaphors, similes and analogies - anything to avoid actually opening up.

But for those very few times when someone has gotten me to chat, I discovered that talking about my feelings does not cheer me up. In fact, I wholeheartedly believe that all it does is the exact opposite. It opens up wounds that were otherwise stitched up. Maybe the stitches needed to be tightened or a new bandage added, but the fact of the matter is, I always have been and always will be an introvert. Journalist or not. I am naturally a quiet, analytical and pensive observer.

An over-thinker.

And I get by just fine on good days when everything is swept under the rug. 

This is the reason why I have never ever been interested in taking part in recreational "drug" use, if you get my drift. I just feel like my brain would kick into an analytical overdrive that is not safe for human capacity and quite frankly, I'd just die.

I think more than enough when I am sober.

With that being said, it is very rare that I share my personal thoughts with anyone - almost never willingly. So while I do appreciate everyone's concern, I would also appreciate if my "thanks, but no thanks" got adhered to after the first time (as opposed to the second or third or fourth ... after which I'm sure to be extremely irritated and probably am going to ignore you).

Most of the times, I am probably not that sad anyway. I've just never learned how to properly let go of anything and I still really believe that I can singlehandedly save the world and make every one happy all the time.

Everyone, that is, except myself.


P.S. It's no coincidence that I am writing this blog today, Jan. 29, on the anniversary, for lack of a more appropriate word, of my cousin's death. It's also no coincidence that I am in a somber mood. My January's have never been the same.. (yes, that is a link for those who don't know the story.)

Rest in paradise Zanz. We remember you today and always. <3>

A Life Worth Living

There's a genocide going on in America.

It's not the senseless shooting inside an Aurora Colorado movie theatre that killed 12 people, or the "devastating" staged shooting of Sandy Hook Elementary School that supposedly killed 26.

This genocide is real. And it's killing more than a million innocent people every year -- some being dragged out of their home and ripped apart limb by limb before they even get a chance to make a sound.

Before they even get a chance to open their eyes for the first time.

This genocide ... Is abortion.

It happens so often and is so seemingly insignificant these days that you have to wonder if people really realise what they are doing. You have to wonder if people ever really took another person's life into consideration before making the selfish decision to end it.

More than 1,200,000 abortions happen in the US every year. Forty-two million abortions happen in the world every year. One hundred and fifty thousand babies are killed every day.

One hundred and fifty thousand.

150,000.

That means that around 20 percent of the world's pregnancies end in abortion. Forty two million people don't get a chance to be people. They don't get a chance to hear music. To eat food. Feel pain.. Fall in love.. Laugh.. Cry.. Smile..

Breathe.

They don't even get to finish putting themselves together.

Why?

Because two careless people chose not to deal with the consequences of their actions; majority of whom willingly engaged in risky activity. Two people who know exactly what the consequences are before they commit the action. Two people who are armed with a barrage of easily accessible options to preventing pregnancy.

I. Am. Disgusted.

I have always been on the fence when it comes to the abortion topic, leaning more toward the pro-life side of the grass but still a little confused because as with every rule, it's always easy to come up with an exception. "Oh what about rape? What about incest? What about the mother's health?"

Well, what about it? Other than the fact that those are very rare instances? If you ask me, we are worried about the wrong shit. We wouldn't have to focus so much on these exceptions if we simply taught people not to do those things, instead of teaching them that there's a way out. It's not a choice between soda and juice. You're not choosing an outfit for the day or choosing which school you want to attend.

This is a life. A human being.

If it's the mother or baby's health you're worried about, then it's not really a choice, is it? And if you were raped or abused, as terrible as that is, then you had time to grab a plan B. Punish the rapist, not the child.

Otherwise, how can we really expect people to value life and believe that murder is wrong when there are so many lives being taken every day just because people want to be selfish and irresponsible? Abortion is no different from walking into a crowded movie theatre and opening fire. It's no different from giving birth and then drowning your child in the tub or throwing him or her in a dumpster behind a hotel because you don't feel like caring for him or her anymore or you don't love the person you had sex with or you're not "financially stable."

Or because you're just reckless.

And we are all temporarily outraged by those stories when they air, aren't we?

Well, the only difference is that with abortion you haven't seen a face yet. That's the only reason 1.2 million women are able to sleep at night -- most of whom opened their legs willingly and put themselves in the position to conceive.

Prevention is better than a cure people.

If men and women of child-bearing age don't feel like they are capable or willing to care for another human being, then they should make sure to not let it happen. If you don't want to get robbed you don't walk around bad areas with a stash of money in your hand late at night. If you don't want to get struck by lightning, you don't walk outside during a thunderstorm. If you don't want to get hit by a car, you don't cross the street when the light is green.

And if you don't want to get pregnant then don't have unprotected sex. (Since it seems preposterous to say "just keep your legs closed and your pants zipped.")

It's simple logic.

If we don't want people to have abortions, then teach them how to prevent it. Focus more on what they can to do avoid pregnancy, than on what they can do to "solve the problem." Pregnancy is not a "problem." And killing a baby is not a problem-solver. If someone in your life is causing you trouble and you don't feel like dealing with them, do you just pull out a gun and kill them? No. You find ways to work around it.

And sometimes it's just meant to be.

You can sugarcoat it all you want, but abortion is murder. And my issue is that it should not even be an option, let alone a widely accepted "solution" for a sexually reckless populace. Make people believe they have no choice but to care for the child once they have been blessed with one, and maybe then they would have more self-control and be more considerate in the first place.

It's just like Mike Huckabee said, we wouldn't have to worry about making exceptions to rules if we simply practice and teach people to follow the age-old rule that everyone already knows: Thou shall not kill.

I can't imagine not giving him a chance at life. He brings me so much joy ... and he's not even mine. 

(FYI, There are FIVE times as many women who are unable to get pregnant as there are abortions.)

I Can, Therefore, I Think

Considering how many times a day being on Twitter sets me off, it really is a shame that I don't blog more often.

I usually express my outrage for popular opinion and societal "norms" and behaviours in the form of Twitter rants, (or personalised text messages to those who instigated it) which more times than not falls upon deaf ears -- as does most logic in this generation. But I think I am going to go ahead and make the shift from ranting on social media to ranting on my own designated rant page.

This one.

Of course, I should clarify for any of my new readers that my version of a "rant" is not a barrage of unintelligent banter that is backed up by nothing but "he said" and "she said", if anything it all. Nor is it an overly emotional speech that would be appropriate for a wedding (or a funeral). Granted, a rant is a rant is a rant. But I do try my best to keep it not only entertaining but also useful and thought-provoking.

So here goes.

There are three things I've seen on Twitter just in the three days since I've been back in this country that have irritated me. (When I am in Jamaica I have absolutely no interest in the things that people here kill themselves over on a daily basis. Social media is one of them.)

1. Overconfidence: The defense mechanism.

Now more than ever it has become increasingly obvious to me that empty barrels make the most noise. Even though I am certain I am one in very very few who feels this way, whenever I see self-praise on Twitter that is overbearing I see it as a cry for help. (And no I did not study psychology in school. You know that.) I just feel that if something is really as good as you say it is ... you don't have to say it is.  So if you're the first person trying to be noticed by the fact that you said you're the best *insert something here* ever, all that says to me is that someone out there thinks you aren't really that good at all and now you're trying to overcompensate for the fact that a part of you, be it major or not, actually believes them.

I mean people on my timeline toot their own horns all day.. every day.. about everything under the sun. And while I know personalities vary, and this doesn't apply to everyone because some people are just comical (or like to chat shit), I still believe that they have underlying meanings. Are you trying to sell yourself on Twitter to people who don't really know you in real life? Or are you just an attention whore?

If the latter is the answer, then, I guess social media is the right place for you. Maybe I am the one who doesn't  belong -- the fish out of water. (No pun intended.)

But I like to express myself too, most times. I just feel there is a limit, which brings me to my next point.

2. Shallow and non-ladylike women.

This can kind of go hand-in-hand with my last point, but I felt it necessary to make it a separate item.

I know we are all adults and we are not nearly as prude as a whole as we once were. That being said, I still believe that some most things should be left to the imagination. Even though I am quite aware that I am not a man and have no legitimate interest in women, I just can't express enough how increasingly turned off I am by most of the women in my generation and their lack of tact.

I have a sense of humour, yes. But at what point does you joking about how good your private part is become funny? Because I am still waiting to laugh. And why is that necessary to put on twitter? Likewise, why do we need to know that you are sexually deprived, frustrated or abstaining?

Would you put that as a sign on your forehead? Because to me, that's what Twitter is; a sign on your forehead.

And what decent young man would want to date a girl who spends her time on Twitter talking about her sex life, or lack thereof? 

Furthermore, most of you have extremely shallow and unrealistic perceptions of what a man and/or relationship is. And you wonder why you can't keep one.

Have some discretion. Please.

3. Pop culture.

Lastly, Twitter is the land of pop culture, obviously. And that's cool. This one isn't as much irritating as it is amusing. It amuses me to see people take a popular topic, like Kim and Kanye's pregnancy, and run laps with it as if it affects their lives directly. This happens on Instagram too where people post back-and-forth comments on celebrity photos defending the person as if they have ever met in real life.

It's comical, really.

It is also comical how easily manipulated they are by those same celebrities. Rihanna posts a picture of something that 5 billion other people have already posted before, and all of a sudden it's like the holy gospel. You all are like sheep being herded by a shepherd to drink dirty water and you don't even know it. That's pretty pathetic if you think about it.

But that's the catch right there ... you have to think. 

Where The Heart Is

I am really surprised that I never came on here to express my elation with the fact that my boss gave me time off from work for the holidays. I am also, though not equally, surprised that I never came on here to express my subsequent, albeit short-term, depression following the disclosure of something I was expecting but dreading.

I must have been too busy dealing with emotions.

Although the time off doesn't really surmount the bad news, I can't say enough how perfect the timing was and how it wound me up and kept me together before I even got the chance to fall apart.

And we both know the obvious answer to what I did with two weeks off of work; but I'll tell you anyway.

I went to Jamaica. (Surprise!)

But this trip, was different. I went down there by myself with basically no plans outside of going to the beach. If they allowed me to bring a hammock and my suitcase I really think I'd have slept right on Doctor's Cave Beach every night.

Still, no matter the occasion or the circumstances, there is one thing that always remains: I never want to leave. No matter how frustrating it is going to the cambio and finding out they have no money.. Or getting clamped on bottom road for not buying a parking ticket even though the rules are always changing.. Or having to wait an hour in the KFC drive-through when the line isn't even that long.. Or waiting six hours in the airport because the flight crew needs to sleep.. Or just the simple fact that there is basically no form of organization or preparedness or even discipline when dealing with business.

Because despite all of that, there is just a warmth and a welcome there that is unmatched. Every time I go home, I recenter and come back with a rejuvenated perception and attitude. I get a lot of thinking and observing done in between the beach days and trips to visit my family that is always humbling and inspiring.

There is nothing like being around genuine people who are at peace with the little they have -- people who are not always on the hunt for more of what they don't need under the guise that it will supplement their otherwise empty personalities or fill a void they don't even know they have. Just more stuff that they simply use to hide the fact that they are so incomplete as human beings.

It's so refreshing seeing that people actually can be content.

I am always and forever grateful that I am able to take these trips, even still now that I am working. If I weren't able to go home every now and then, I surely would eventually fall apart.