You Can’t Touch a Poet and Get Away with It

One of my very dear friends runs a poetry group at her university composed of her fellow poetry-loving, poetry-writing students and the other day she told me about how one of them brought up this point:  No one can touch a poet and get away with it. 

The fact is so simple and obvious that I had never thought about it. But it’s true. You literally can not touch a poet and get away with it. Because we will write about it. We write when we’re touched. We write when we’re moved. Experiences are inspiring. They’re almost more than that, they’re fuel. They’re what pushes us to write. So if you’ve ever impacted a poet or writer in any way, you can pretty much count on being written about. This is because writing helps us to understand the experience, understand how it affected us, why it affected us. Writing helps us to immortalize the experience, to give it life again once it’s passed. I honestly don’t know how people who don’t write cope with only living through something once. Because I live an experience, a feeling, a touch over and over again sometimes in multiple ways from multiple perspectives all the time. Just remembering isn’t good enough. I want to feel it again, live it, read it, be immersed in it. This goes for bad experience too; maybe I don’t want to relive them, but I do. And by doing so I better understand both the experience I had and myself. Reliving an experience by writing allows you to cope, and eventually let go. All the distress, anxiety, confusion and heartbreak are now outside of you, held prison by the words you trapped them with and tethered to the paper.

When I say “you” can’t get away without touching a poet, I really mean anyone and anything. Just like when I say “touching” I don’t just mean it in a physical way. Although many of my poems are about physical touches; the shivers they created, the sighs they induced, the scars they left, there are countless others that are inspired by things beyond the fingertips of another human being. They’re about the hot grains of sand that cling to my legs, the salty breeze whipping through my hair, the power and majesty of the ocean as it swallows me whole. They’re about the infinite feeling of looking up at an expanse of dark sky in the middle of the night with only aging pinpricks of light for companions. They’re about the fresh smell of a new book’s pages, about sunsets and sunrises, beginnings and ends, joyful laughter with friends, people who have come and gone. “You” are the boy who gave me my first kiss and the one who broke my heart. “You” are the friend who betrayed my trust and the one who laughs and cries with me. “You” are the stars in my night sky. “You” are the watercolors in my sunset. “You” are the sand beneath my feet. “You” are my favorite book’s crisp pages. “You” are boys and friends and stars and suns and beaches and lives I haven’t lived through or written about yet.

Sometimes it frustrates me that I write about everything that impacts me, even the seemingly insignificant things. I look back on my work and flip through pages and pages of pieces that were written about people who meant so much to me at the time but are nothing to me now. I already know the person I’m currently fixated on will more than likely be insignificant in a few months time. He doesn’t deserve all the words that I carefully craft and feel deeply within my heart. And yet he still fills up page after page. I scribble endlessly;  in the corner margins of notebook paper at school, the notes app on my iPhone in the middle of the night, and in my trusty weathered journal. I wish I was writing about someone who cared, who mattered. But whoever that person is or will be isn’t the one currently touching me, emotionally or physically. Instead, it’s him.

I guess there’s beauty in that; that even the most insignificant things in my life can be impactful enough to write about. Or maybe it just proves they’re not as insignificant as I’d like to think. Regardless of how this turns out, at least I now have pages and pages of perfectly preserved moments, touches, experiences to flip back through and reminisce on when I find my next fixation. Because I know there will be another one. Whether it’s my love for another boy or for the sea, neither are going to get away with touching me.

– Jade Alexandra

It’s Midafternoon and I’m Drunk

I have to admit, I’m kind of glad the holidays are over. It’s not that I don’t enjoy them, I just feel like I’m not enjoying them as much as I should or could be. All the shopping and cooking and socializing with family you may or may not get along with can be draining and stressful.

I tend to get pretty down around the holidays. My family’s pretty quiet and laid back, which is good in most cases I guess, but it makes holidays pretty anti-climatic because nothing really happens. Sometimes I’d rather have the hustle and bustle and stress and crazy family everywhere because it would mean SOMETHING was going on, instead of boring old nothing. And even though I am lucky enough to get the opportunities to spend the holidays with my family, I often end up feeling lonely and sad, and I’m not sure why this happens. Is it just the fact that I’m getting older, so the sparkle and glow and excitement of  a big turkey dinner, Christmas morning, and the crystal ball dropping at midnight don’t bring the awe and joy as they used to? Or is it just a me problem that causes me to spend at least one holiday upset and in tears? Is it my fault my expectations for the holidays aren’t met? Am I the only one who feels like this during the holidays? Regardless, I’m glad the holiday season is behind us even if it means the quickening approach of the second half of the school year.

In an attempt to move on from the holidays and 2013 for good, I’m going to leave this poem I wrote on the 31st  here as a reminder that I don’t want to be at this point again for a while. That in a week, I’ll be back at school and I won’t be this kind of sad or lonely. That in a week, the things that happened over break won’t really matter all that much  because I’ll be focused on things that have real value to me; my studies and the relationships I have with the people who make up my second family at school.

 

[New Year’s Eve]

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m feeling

Sad and insecure

And you,

You’re on the other side of the world

Taking shots and partying,

Cheering as the fireworks go off,

Kissing a beautiful girl

That is not me

Dancing her into the year’s first morning

As the alcohol dances in your veins

And taking her to bed where

You fend off the biting cold

With the heat of bare skin inflamed with lust.

Meanwhile I’m lying in my own bed;

Its midafternoon and I’m drunk

On your memories and self-loathing,

The ball isn’t even close to dropping

And I’m already lonely.

 

For those of you who have already returned to your high schools and colleges/universities; I’m sorry you don’t get to enjoy the extra week of freedom I was lucky enough to receive, but good luck  on your first week back and I’ll be joining all you hard workers soon enough!

– Jade Alexandra

Writing Woes

Today I woke up to a text message from a cool somebody that put a smile on my face and made me anxious to return to school to be reunited with said somebody in a sort of happy, huggy, [hopefully even] kissy homecoming.

And then I realized, WAIT. I move back into my little dorm room to start a brand new semester of classes in exactly one week. ONE! One, measly week! Screw my silly fantasies; I don’t know if I’m that anxious to go back to school.

Don’t get me wrong, I miss all my friends from school terribly. I miss the independence of living on my own and doing my own thing. And in a way I miss the structure the schedule of a school week provides. But I don’t miss the early mornings and late nights full of lots of homework and little sleep. I don’t miss the physical, emotional, and academic stress that inevitably comes with being a full-time college student. And I don’t miss not having quiet, private time and space for myself to do whatever I want, whether it be cry myself to sleep after a rough day or dance around my room in my underwear. I love my school and I love dorm life and I love my roommate, but despite this, when I’m on campus, I’m never truly alone which is something I like to have sometimes.

I’m also really nervous about the classes I’m taking this semester. I’ve been undeclared for the past year and a half of my college career, just taking GenEd’s that I neither love nor hate. What I did hate was the unknown and not having a plan for the next few years. After lots of internal stress and deliberation, I finally decided on a writing major within my university’s literature department. One of my short stories is being published in the top five submissions to our student literary journal which helped to give me confirmation for my decision. I also applied to go on a study abroad trip to London with the lit department next fall semester in which only a handful of students are selected to go. I was one of the few chosen and the professors in charge of the trip told me that I had one of the best, well-written application essay’s they’d ever received in their years of running the program.

Despite all this positive affirmation that I’m in the right place with what I’ve chosen to study, I can’t help but be extremely nervous. Writing is something that is very near and dear to my heart. It’s extremely personal to me. There are really only one or two people in my life who have the privilege to read the things I write. I never even used to tell people that writing was something I liked to do. It’s just very personal in a way I can’t explain. I’m equally parts thrilled and terrified that I’m being published and that my peers, student body, and even faculty and staff will be reading words I wrote, will see a secret hidden part of me that very few of seen.

I’m taking three writing classes next semester and one workshop. I’m worried that I don’t have what it takes. That I’m not good enough. That maybe I have raw talent but I’m light-years behind the level of my fellow classmates. I’m afraid of being criticized and ridiculed for my writing. I know those things need to happen so that I can grow as a writer, but its one of my biggest fears. I can’t even read the things I write aloud to my very closest friends, let alone look at them while they’re reading my words. I’m also afraid of the workload, that I’ll be drowned in essays and prompts and readings – all of which are much more time-consuming and challenging for me as I push myself to produce something I’m proud of. Lastly I’m afraid that I’ll start to hate it, that I’ll hate what I love to do because I’m forced to do it for school. Will I have time to keep up with this blog once school starts, or will I even want to as I’ll be writing three to four times more than I have been in the past year or so.

I think that this semester will be challenging for me. A challenge in a good way, but a challenge nonetheless. I have a bad habit of breaking down and wanting to give up when things get hard. If I can’t execute things to the level I’d like or can’t accomplish little things I think I should be capable of, I start to crumble. If one thing is going wrong, suddenly I think and feel like everything is going wrong. I know that I’m a strong person and a good student and a talented writer in my own way. I know I should be confident in myself and my abilities. But I’m still nervous.

My mom and a very dear family friend of mine told me the other night that the fact that I’m pursuing something I love  and it’s scaring the death out of me is a good thing. It means I’m on the right track and it’s where I’m where I’m supposed to be. After years of feeling lost and confused and not knowing what I wanted for myself and my future, I can only hope they’re right.

– Jade Alexandra

I’ll Stop Wearing Black When They Make a Darker Color

Hooray, hooray! I’m feeling better today!

So much better in fact that I dragged myself out of bed, put on real clothes, did my make-up and went out for a little shopping spree. I had Christmas money and returns to make, it was bright and sunny outside, and therefore a perfect day for a stroll around the mall.

Although you wouldn’t be able to tell from the past week or so, I’m actually quite the fashionista. I love clothes and fashion and shopping and makeup. But when I’m at home on break and I spend most of my time lounging on the couch with my dogs and family, I don’t get dressed like I usually do when I’m at school. So it felt ridiculously good to go through my closet and put on some of my favorite pieces.

Upon speaking with my very best friend, who happens to also be my roommate and fellow fashionista, she told me that I looked like I should be in a 90’s R&B music video. And I sorta died because how cool would that be? Can somebody please transport me back in time and please make that happen?? Please? I’d love you forever.

Head to toe:

I got the beanie at a sale at Old Navy right after New Years. I’m stoked about it because I love hats and beanies. I have a massive head and tons of hair so as a kid hats never fit. Now I try to wear them every chance I get. The black goes with everything and can make any outfit hip with a gangster flair.

The denim jacket is literally one of my all time favorite pieces of clothing EVER. It, too, is from Old Navy and is my moms from ages ago. I got one at the same time as her, I was probably in fourth grade. I’ve worn the death out of mine, which is cropped with a lighter wash. I still love and wear it, but this past summer I found my mom’s hanging in this little coat closet we have, untouched and unworn for who knows how long. I was stoked when she said I could have it and I’ve barely taken it off since. If you don’t own a jean jacket, go get one NOW! They go with everything and can be worn so many different ways and fit so many different styles.

I got the little black dress at Cotton On. Cotton On is a hit or miss store with me. Usually when I stop in I don’t really find anything I like. But this dress was a steal; only $10! Every girl needs a LBD and this one is perfect. It’s simple and and cute and classic enough that it can be dressed up or down which makes it super versatile! I love juxtaposition so the bulky grungy jean jacket with the flirty little dress is one of my favorite parts of this look.

The shoes are platform cheetah-print sneakers that I got for cheap at Target. I like them because they’re interesting and funky without being too in your face and obnoxious. And they go with a lot of things in my wardrobe which is cool because I’ve gotten lots of use out of them. One of the worst things is buying something you love but can never work into your wardrobe and it sits in the back of your closet feeling sad lonely. I wore black socks with grey stripes scrunched up with the shoes…I have no idea where I got the socks. I tend to get socks for Christmas from numerous people I know so I’ve accumulated quite a collection.

Lastly, my gold chain necklace is literally just a gold chain. It came with a Vans brand wallet with the intention you could wear the wallet like a purse. I said screw that and used it as a necklace instead. So far it works so much better for me this way.

There is a lot of black in this outfit which is cool because it’s one of my favorite colors to wear. It’s simple and versatile and edgy and cool and I love it. So it’s no surprise my shopping trip resulted in me purchasing even more black for my wardrobe.

I bought:

A leather motorcycle jacket from H&M . Love, love, love. Can’t wait to wear it. And I sorta already did. It looked great with the outfit I already had on. Black on black on black. Sick.

I also got a little black belt from H&M along with some little gold studs. They were ‘buy one get one free’, and the earrings and the belt ended up being $3 for both. Score.

A leather studded purse from DSW. ON SALE! I”m really cheap, if you can’t tell. It’s actually kind of funny. I can count on one hand the number of things I’ve purchased full price. I thrift or only get things if they’re on sale or clearance. I think its important people know they can look great without spending loads. Because living a fashionable lifestyle can be a pretty expensive one.

AND LASTLY MY FAVORITE PURCHASE OF THE DAY: Authentic leather Dr. Martens omg omg omg I’m freaking out so hard. They were on the clearance rack at DSW for WAY cheaper than they’d normally be. They are the freaking most comfortable things I’ve ever worn. I have a burgundy/maroon/reddish colored pair that I adore, but these are the most supple soft beautiful things I’ve ever put on my feet. They are literal perfection and I may or may not go to sleep wearing them tonight. If you’re ever considering getting a pair of Docs, stop considering and just get a pair. Yeah they’re a little pricey but they’re comfortable and cool and last forever. My mom still has and wears a few pairs she had in high school. DO IT.

So yes! Today was successful. I got dressed in cute clothes, went shopping and got more cute clothes, and can’t wait to incorporate said cute clothes into my existing wardrobe. Hope everyone’s day was as wonderful as mine!

– Jade Alexandra

I’m Sick & Boys Suck

This morning I woke up feeling especially glamorous; the sun was shining softly through my window, birds were cheerfully singing to one another, and I felt happy and refreshed and ready for the day as my loyal butler brought my morning omelet and orange juice to me in bed on a silver platter.

PSYCH.

I was actually jolted awake by the sound of my dog barking frantically at 10:45 am. I jumped up quickly to see what the matter was, head pounding like a drum and body aching like no other. Turns out the wind was rustling the leaves on the tree across the street and clearly I needed to be alerted of that fact. Thanks bud. I shakily fed myself a few bites of cereal before crashing on the couch with him.

I woke up for the second time, disoriented and still feeling awful. I realized that I had not seen any of my family members and that it was late enough into the day that I should have by this point. I proceeded to call and text them frantically. No one responded or answered so I worriedly fell back into a restless sleep, assuming that they had died seeing as that would be the only reasonable conclusion to draw; why else wouldn’t they reply to my caps locked over-punctuated messages?

I woke up a third time to a text from my mother saying to not worry, they were at the movies. Whew. They were alive.

Just as I was drifting off into a relieved slumber, my phone hummed again, alerting me of another message. With blurred eyes I clicked on the notification. I had to do a double-take at the name of the sender that was glowing at me. It was him! My said “friend” from the last post! Wasn’t I just saying that he hadn’t talked to or thought about me for the past two weeks? And yet here was his message, saying hello and asking how my break was going! I stared at the message in disbelief and amusement for a few moments before I put my phone down and rolled over to go back to sleep. It’d be stupid to reply instantly, and I was too sick and incoherent to reply sanely anyways. Better to wait til I was less sleepy and more well to deal with him.

The fourth and final time I woke up this morning, I was still feeling less than glamorous. Like, much much less. My headache was splitting, my throat was sore, and the aches in my bones and muscles were unbearable. My family had returned from the movies and came to my rescue, making me tea and inspiring me to get up and start moving around.

When I checked my phone again to reply to my friend, I saw that he had sent me a second message. “By the way, ” it began, and already I knew I was going to be disappointed, “can I borrow…” And yup. There it was. My disappointment. The friendly message about my holiday and well-being were just a precursor to a favor I could help him out with. Because at least he’s considerate and aware enough to realize that asking me out of the blue after having not spoken to me in two weeks would have been rude. He could have, however, at least done me the favor of pretending that he wasn’t contacting me only because I could possibly help him by waiting for me to respond to his first message and maybe carrying out a short conversation with me, like friends do, before interjecting with his “by the wayyyyy….”

It’s cool though, it’s cool. It’s whatever. Turns out, I couldn’t help him out (what he wanted to borrow was no longer in my possession) so, hah, SUCKS TO SUCK now doesn’t it? Especially since he clearly saw, but never replied to my “Oh, sorry, I can’t help you! But, hey, how are you?? Break is going well thanks, how’s yours?”

Ugh. Boys. Why.

But to be completely honest, if I could have helped him I totally would have, regardless of the fact he only talked to me to ask a favor. Because to be fair, I use him just about as much as he uses me. Don’t get me wrong, I care about him, but I manage to use him regardless. Like I said, it’s a complicated friendship. One to probably be discussed at a later point.

My day continued to be significantly unglamorous. I’m not sure that’s a word, but I don’t really care. I never got an omelet or orange juice, although I did consume massive amounts of water and tea with honey to the point where I pretty much went pee all day. Unglamorous. I spent more than half of my waking hours on the couch in PJ’s under blankets. Unglamorous. I also coughed, sniffled, and burped endlessly. Unglamorous.

I did, however, manage to shower and put on fresh clothes that I hadn’t been wearing for the past 12 hours to hang out with a very good friend of mine who came to see me. She and I lazed around on my bed, talking and catching up and concluded our evening eating quesadillas and watching one of our absolute favorite movies; The Perks of Being a Wallflower. My intense feelings of love and adoration for this book/movie/story are too extensive to talk about now, but you can pretty much expect a post on Perks eventually/soon/multiple times because it’s literally my favorite. I- I- I don’t even have the words to say right now just THINKING about it so I’m just going to stop talking.

The streak of my unglamorousness continued as I cried throughout the movie and stuffed my face with greasy cheesy tortilla goodness. Unglamorous, indeed.

Now I want nothing more than to crawl into bed, although I spent most of the day sleeping. Maybe I’ll read Perks again for the 50th time before falling asleep. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my glamorous, sun shining, birds singing morning tomorrow. I might even make an omelet.

– Jade Alexandra

Day 2 Struggles: The Vast Options of Blogging & Kitty Dreams

It is only the second day of my blog’s existence and I’m already overwhelmed by the seemingly endless pages of blank internet space in which I am challenging myself to fill with my thoughts and stories and ideas for the next 362 days or so. It’s quite a daunting task and I think I’m getting stage fright (internet fright? blog fright?) or something because much like my blog, my mind is also relatively empty.

But seriously, what the heck am I going to write about for the next month, year, and so on (if this blogging experience goes well)???

Theoretically, I understand that there’s no real pressure. There’s no deadlines, no rules, no restrictions; I’m doing this for me. I can write about whatever the hell I want, I mean it is my blog, right? So why is my mind going completely blank? Where has all my creativity gone??

I’m convinced that I did have some creativity to begin with in the past 24 hours or so because I did manage to put together and publish coherent post last night/this morning. Other evidence of my creativity is that I succeeded in creating and customizing and editing my actual blog. Also, I dreamed about surfing cats. So there’s that.

No, seriously. Surfing cats. A kitten to be specific. I don’t remember the entire logistics of it. But there was this little grey striped kitten that I had saved from something…I don’t know, like a pond in some sort of outdoor mall. And I made the news and everything; “LOCAL GIRL SAVES KITTEN” and I was like San Diego’s hero for like the entire day. Everyone would come talk to me and tell me what a wonderful person I was and how much they admired me and would ask for my autograph. I was basically a celebrity. The kitten was adopted by a sweet elderly lady and everyone lived happily ever after, right? WRONG.

You see, the next day I decided to go surfing and the old lady just happened to be there too. With the kitten. In the water. And I was like, what the hell lady, why are you surfing with your little baby kitten after it just nearly drowned yesterday?? But she didn’t hear the confused angry tone in the thoughts I was furiously thinking at her (seriously why didn’t I shout or something?) so she saw a wave coming and started paddling, kitten on board. Alas, the duo was top-heavy and as the wave picked them up, they nose-dived into the water. They both came up out of the water spluttering and trying to get their bearing, the kitten struggling to swim. Little did they know that the surfboard had been flung up into the air and was now quickly on its downward descend. I began swimming towards them to warn them of the impending doom. The old lady dove out of the way just in time but the surfboard landed on top of the kitten with a smack. I flung the board off of him and grabbed the kitten in my arms, but it was too late. He was dead. He couldn’t survive the harsh blow to his head.

By this point, other people in the water and on the beach were just beginning to realize something was wrong. But all they could see was me, the kitten hero celebrity girl holding said dead kitten in the water with my surfboard. The old lady disappeared, as people often do in dreams, so the evidence was incriminating. Instead of the praise I had received the day before, I was now being showered with hate. “LOCAL GIRL TAKES KITTEN SURFING AND IT DIES IN AN ACCIDENT I MEAN WHO THE HELL TAKES KITTENS SURFING ANYWAYS?!” read all the articles and news and newspapers and newspaper articles and social media posts. Everyone hated me and I kept trying to tell everyone that I didn’t kill him, that I was trying to help, that it wasn’t me that took the kitten to the ocean –  it was that crazy old lady who is now nowhere to be found. People were so invested in the kitten’s short life story and were so upset by its untimely and tragic death that I couldn’t even go outside anymore without being bombarded by mobs of people who wanted to kill me with a surfboard in an “accident.”

The dream ended with a friend of mine making a Facebook page in support of me. This friend will eventually get a post or two (dozen) of his own at some point because our relationship is confusing, unclear, and very interesting. I was so surprised that he was the one who made the page and got a huge following of our friends and people in general to like and post in the page to show that not everyone believed I was a reckless surfing kitten murderer, because as in most relationships I have, I feel like I care about him and his well-being more than he cares about me. Overjoyed and feeling loved, I spent the rest of my day with him where I completely forgot about the whole ordeal and was able to put the kitten nightmare behind me.

So the dream got a happy ending after all. Except for the kitten. The kitten didn’t get such a happy ending. I woke up with a smile on my face, that quickly faded upon realizing it was all a dream and said friend didn’t really make a Facebook support page for me and in reality hasn’t talked to, let alone thought of, me during the past two weeks of winter break.

Dreams are weird. I mean, a kitten surfing against its will?! Wtf brain! I don’t really even like cats all that much, and I can’t remember the last time I went surfing.

Well, so concludes blog post 2, day 2. And it was surprisingly easier than I thought, once I got going. So, yay me! Yay for internet vastness! Yay for infinite blogging options! Yay for surfing cat dreams that although dramatic bring small moments of blissful happiness! Yay creative crazy sleepy brains!

– Jade Alexandra

#newyearnewme

Well, what do you know its 2014.

In the blink of an eye, 2013 has passed and a new year is upon us with a fresh-face and the hopeful promise of a clean slate. And sure, most of us have good intentions at the beginning of the year. We clean our slates of last year’s crap and plan to eat better, work out more, complain less and fix our bad habits. I can’t even tell you how many times my New Year’s Resolution was to stop biting my fingernails. I’m at least 97.5% sure that ever since I was old enough to know what resolutions were, I’d promise myself to end my disgusting habit once and for all and I’m 100% sure that I failed in about 1-2 weeks every single year.

Don’t get me wrong, I tried to keep up with it. Don’t we all? The first month or so goes really well. You’re working out and eating healthy and feeling good and loving life but then you get to February and Valentines Day and you’re lonely so you decide to have a piece of chocolate or ten because they’re just so good and you deserve this gosh darn it you’ve been working so hard and nobody loves you but chocolate always will. Then you sleep in late the next morning instead of going to the gym and once you’ve slacked off on your resolution once, it’s even easier to do it again and the next thing you know it spirals out of control and its November and you’re a fat couch-potato again.

Maybe that’s a little extreme but whatever.

The point is that I had kinda given up on resolutions. Not because it’s bad to set yourself goals or have hopes and desires for the new year, but because they always fail. Like always. No seriously, always. For anybody and everybody. Who the hell keeps their resolution all freaking year anyways? If you have, please come talk to me and I will give you a hug and a gold star and commend you for your hard work and dedication and then probably be really bitter for the next week or so that someone out there has way more dedication and resolve than I do.

But I mean, is biting your nails really that bad? Do I really need to dedicate an entire year to focus on curing my bad habit of gnawing at my fingers? I don’t mind that I bite them. Yeah its gross, it’s not endearing, I’ll get sick, no I don’t know how many people’s germs I’m chewing on, fine okay I’ll stop. No! I won’t! Not because I can’t. But because I really don’t think it matters. I only ever tried to stop because people kept telling me it was disgusting and that I should stop. (And by people I mean my mother.)

Is biting my fingernails hurting me? Maybe.

Am I mature enough to understand and deal with the consequences that chewing on my fingernails brings dirt and germs from all over the world into my mouth? Yes.

Is it an outward sign of and coping mechanism  for my internal anxiety and nervousness? Probably. But alas, biting my nails is much easier and cheaper than seeing a shrink for the insignificant day to day occurrences that cause me to bite them.

Like I said, the only real reason I ever tried stop was because other people didn’t like it. Maybe this is gross, but I do like it. It’s comforting. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time. I gave up resolving to stop biting my nails every year because why shouldn’t I be happy with myself? Why should I make a resolution to please others? Do I really need to lose ten pounds? Would that make me happy, or would it make society happy? I’m only telling myself I need to lose the weight because other people are telling me to. Do I, and my body, and my habits exist to please them? Why don’t I spend my year making something of myself, doing things, living life instead of picking apart all my flaws and trying to fix them?

But then today, I read this article. And it was pretty eye-opening. It was less about New Years Resolutions and more about facts of life that, if you accept and understand them, you’ll be on the way to making yourself a better person. Some parts of it were irritatingly cynical and hard to read. It argues that we do exist to serve people, which in a way contradicts what I said about us not existing to please others. But that’s not the main thing I got out of the article. What hit home for me is that we as humans are happier when we are DOING. When we are creating. When we are LIVING. I have an extremely bad tendency to be super lazy. I’m currently on Christmas Break like all other students, and almost every day I’ve done literally nothing but sleep and watch TV and lay around. And then I wonder why I feel bad and hate myself. It’s up to me what I do with my life. It’s up to me whether or not I’m a boring or interesting person. There are so many options, possibilities in this life. I technically have the power to do pretty much whatever I want right now. I could pack up my things, drop out of school, move to a small town in the mid-west and work as a waitress at Denny’s. I could buy a really weird hat and start wearing it all the time and literally never take it off, even in the shower. I could go stand at the side of the road with my thumb out and hitchhike to wherever anyone will take me (and possibly kidnap and rape me) but the point is I could do anything. SO WHY DON’T I.

I spend year after year doing the same old thing. School. I’m a sophmore in college now and I’ve literally done nothing extremely significant with my life. And whose fault is that? Mine. I can’t blame the fact that I don’t have a lot of money. I can’t blame my parents for being boring uninteresting home-bodies who never took me traveling or out to do things when I was a kid or even now. I can’t blame being busy because what the hell, I’ve had three weeks of no school and I’ve literally sat on my ass watching Netflix, scrolling through Tumblr, and stalking my friends on social media wishing I was doing fun, exciting things like them for about half of it now.

So I’ve decided it’s time.

I’m going to improve myself. I’m going to improve my life. I’m going to improve my happiness.

I’m going to write.

So, ta-daaa!! Here’s my blog! The one I’ve been thinking about for years now and yet never created because 1) I’m lazy and 2) I always convince myself I’m not good enough to write a blog but 3) what the hell do I mean I’m not good enough literally half the people on this planet blog and 4) if it sucks, oh well because 5) how the hell am I going to become a good writer if I never write??

I don’t really know what I’m going to write about yet. Everything, I guess? I mean, haha, oops I don’t know if you know this but I really have no clue of what I’m doing with my life but who knows? Maybe this will help me figure some of it out. Maybe it’ll force me to look at the world and my life more closely and in different ways so that I actually have things to write about. Maybe it’ll force me to go out and do shit because no one’s going to want to read about how late I slept in and all the series I’m watching on Netflix.

Well, I doubt anyone is going to read about my pathetic life at all, but regardless, it will give ME purpose and that is the point. A focus. A purpose. An inspiration. An outlet to produce. A platform for my creativity. A place to practice and perfect my craft so that maybe someday people actually WILL read the pathetic things I write.

So here I am, 12:30 a.m. on the third day of this brand new year with my brand new blog that will hopefully help bring me brand new ways to think about and experience life. Maybe this new year actually WILL bring a new me this time.

And I’m pretty sure this new me also bites her fingernails.

Cheers, here’s to 2014.

– Jade Alexandra