Walk With the Sun, Love With the Moon. (11.16.16)

She is a wildflower,
Sprouting where nothing dares to grow.
The sun light flits over her garden,
That grows on the side of highway 66.

Her eyes shimmer like gold dust in a California river,
Given the chance she'd rather be panning for minerals
Then pining over missed chances.

Because to her there is nothing quite like the air,
Mixed with starlit woods.
Something about the dead of night
Makes her feel alive.

Let's get one thing straight (Think Thoughts.)

My brain is not my friend.
On that note neither is my body.
Both of these offending objects try and kill me on multiple occasions. Normally that processes is attempted like 40 times in the same day. Like today, I've been working my tail off for an 8 hour shift, and I've been doing my best to keep in contact with friends. My brain however, doesn't care. It looks me in the soul and says,
"You're not working hard enough, I wonder if you worked harder people might actually want to spend time with you."

What the hell?
NO!

Listen, I know what that voice is, it's Anxiety or Depression. Some kind of chemical changing my vibe from good to gross in a matter of seconds. No one thinks I'm not working hard, and people love me!
But that doesn't stop the voice.

So, why write this?
Why post yet another homage to my messed up connections?

You might just be thinking the same thing. You might feel useless and hopeless, like no one in the world likes you. Don't believe the hype, you are so wonderful! You're the most wonderful you in the world! The only you.
So don't listen to your bastard track.
You go be the most wonderful you that you can manage.

Refractory (6.29.16)

He is a child of the sun,
Spurned by a world who would not know him.
His heart is warped wood,
Rotten in some places but still beating.
He still pulses with light.
Whispering to the stars above to
Deliver him from the ache of living.
What he doesn't hear are the stars,
In hushed tones the remind him of joy.
The light shimmer of dew on grass
The droplets reflect the brilliant saccharine orange that reverberated through the mountain tops.
The way clouds roll lazily overhead. 
The fresh scent of wet earth after an unexpected storm.
He weathered that storm, 
And finally he sees the sun on the other side.

Aching. (6.14.16)

There is a bone deep tiredness,
I am washed in.
Bathed in emotions.

A pain so vibrant in its'
Rainbow hue.
People crying.

Tears like acid,
Burns the skin of a nation.
A familiar ache.

Promise it will never happen again,

As we count our dead.

As we consoul the living.

Gaslighting. (6.3.16)

I am searching.
I am looking for answers in between lines of code.
Strings of data attaching me,
To the Earth like
Anchors.

I am lost.
I am wondering hapless in the night.
Groping around in the darkness,
For a hand to pull me up.
Away.

I wish for little.
Love in the form of
Soft kisses
And 'good nights'.

Why is it
That my soft heart melts
At the sound
Of a blazing gun?

Ambient Thoughts. (5.30.16)

Phosphoric bones snap and glow,
Giving the world a brand new shine.

Something is glistening, wet and unruly
In the corner of her eye.

The sun lives inside.
A body, hollowed out.

Somewhere along the way
Her soul left her behind.

Through each hazy rain cloud,
A million new ideals drop down.

An unforgiving world is waiting
For their daily dose.

Surface thoughts hide deeper dreams,
Living in oppressive atmospheres.

She breaks.
Like waves,

Like dawn.

An Update, and A Reminder.

Well hello gentlefolk.

I hope this update finds you well as I've been doing quite well myself.

Last update I clued you all in that I wasn't doing very well, problems with my mental health and problems with my physical stress. But the hurdles were jumped, the hoops set ablaze, and I came out the triumphant victor.
I quit my retail job because I hated it, and while not having a source of income sucked, it eventually led me to my current profession. I watch kids now (meaning I'm a nanny for hire), how fun. I make good enough money that I'm satisfied for now, I'm already thinking about getting another job on top of it, to help propel myself forward into new and untested waters.
I graduated high school, an anticlimactic event in itself. Perhaps more interesting come May 23rd, as that is the official ceremony date. The math was completed, the hours turned in, and the bell rung. I'm on my way to college now, I've decided to take a summer course. All to help maintain a scholarly mind. To, hopefully, give me better insight on how I'll fare in this new world, as well.

I am wishing you the best, because we must wish the best for one another.

-Vand.

Vand (an Update.)

Hello gentlefolk,

It is I, your fearful leader, I hope you're doing well.

I am not. I wish I could bare better news, but unfortunately I haven't been doing well. I've been feeling stuck lately. My fight or flight instincts have been doing funny little flips in my tummy.
As the months have progressed, I've attempted to be an 'adult' good lordie is it a pain. I am putting myself in the view of unnecessary stress, working a job I kind of hate, just so I can make it out of here alive. I'm not very good at it I'm afraid, having called in sick twice this week because I couldn't get out of bed. I have to finish a geometry class this month, that's stressful. I'm also attempting to do college.

Not that I ever thought I wouldn't do college, I just thought it would be different. I've also attempted dating, a piss poor attempt, but an attempt none the less. I'm not good at expressing my less extreme emotions, I don't know which words to choose. I always feel as though I'm reciting poetry, or a bad script. It never makes me feel confident.
I think I'll do better soon, once I get out of my head. Once I get out of this house.

I hope that this post finds you well, because we have to hope the best for each other.

-Vand

Who I am (Who am I?)

While writing a piece on perceptions of people and how we present ourselves, I encountered a problem. Not the same question I wanted to pose when I set out to write this, but an interesting problem all the same.

Why is it that people who are kind and patient are seen as stupid?

Why is it that while writing this piece, I equated my genuine feelings of kindness and patients as naivety? Throughout the piece, I felt like I painted myself in a negative light. And I did! I called myself stupid and naive multiple times.  Why is it that people who are positive and who want to make people happy, are seen as idiots on a fool's errand? I noticed while thinking back to situations in my life that a lot of people are surprised when I am both kind and intelligent(Like the two are mutually exclusive), even myself! Has the world really been painted as so dark that anyone who believes in light is immediately considered an idiot?
More questions than answers, I'm afraid, but maybe one day we'll all see that kindness is truly the smartest option.
As they say, you catch more flies with honey, than you do with vinegar.

Mid Life and Reclaiming the Crown.

Ladies and gentlefolk we've entered a new era.

Sorry that I haven't really updated anyone on the current state of affairs. Though I guess I haven't really done that at all on this blog. I've been having tons of thoughts and things I've wanted to talk about but they never organized themselves past, "Oh dear, think about this..."

I've attempted to corral them into paragraphs. But so far my life at 18 (which, I'll give, has only been a month or so.) has been a string of tasks to accomplish. That's been helpful in the emotional stability, but not in the expression of emotions.
I'm not sure where this is going, I just want to chill out and read a book or something.

Little life update:

• Turned 18
• Gained a job
• Almost done with high school (Curse you geometry) 
• Bought a mattress 

Yeah, that's the accomplishments of 2k15. 

-H

New Dog, New Tricks.

This year's Thanksgiving (or Native American Heritage week for people who know that Chris Columbus was a Major Asshole™ -source- and that the original thanksgiving was a sham.)  break was pretty different from last years.
Well, I still started out by saying C.C. isn't deserving of a holiday, so maybe not super different.

This year I got a job! I worked Black Friday (yes, anti-capitalist Hunter of the past, you took part in the most capitalist holiday of the year. And you were kinda good at it.) I also got a dog. Well the dog actually kinda got me. We were just supposed to be a temporary home for her, but she's so sweet. So now her name is Frieda Friday and she's the most amazing friend ever. 

I'm also almost done with school, and I have my drivers licence appointment soon. Things are really shaping up. OH! I also bought a bed! It's the most adult thing I've spent my money on since I had more than $27 dollars to spend. It's been a pretty good year.
The best thing? My favorite pagan holiday is coming up, Yule. All pine trees and warm feelings.

-H

Seek Medical Attention.

I have a habit.
A very sever habit of staying up for days at a time, and allowing exhaustion to crash over me like a wave. I will stay up for 20 hours and sleep for 2, then repeat until the weekend. Then, and only then, will I crash for 16-24 hours.
I never figured out why I did this, but it's been happening since I was a very little girl. When I was six, I would lay in bed until midnight, then I would creep into my grandpa's lap and watch some R rated movie. I would watch stories of women seeking revenge. I would watch stories of warlords reigning over their territory.
As I got older, the habit grew. With the dawn of the Internet, I used my sleepless nights to learn. Mostly words, sometimes different ideas. I attempted to teach myself other languages and got pretty far in it too. I would watch different stories. Ones of love and heroic sacrifice.
Now I am older still. I sleep less frequently than I did before, I chalk it up to safety. I never feel safe enough to sleep. I don't live in an environment where I feel it's okay to shut down, so I don't until I push myself to the shore of exhaustion.
I want to sleep. Go to bed at eleven, wake up at seven and repeat the process.
But then I feel like I would miss the night and all its charms. The way silence sounds at 3AM. The way hysterical laughter feels after 24+ hours without sleep. I know it isn't good to force yourself into mini comas, but what else could I possibly do.
-H

Outstanding Child, Average Adult.

There is an old saying about visualization, that I can't quite remember but, it goes something like "See the things you want, have the things you see." or something.
I have been repeating the same mantra for the last three weeks to maintain the last stretches of my sanity.
"Two jobs, rent, college."
That is my dream. To work two shitty retail jobs, to be able to make my exorbitant Southern California rent, to go to a shitty pre college.
My dreams used to include changing the world, breeding a dinosaur super army so I could become queen of Atlantis, becoming the first paleontologist to discover something cooler than a t-rex (though apatosaurus was always my personal favorite.)
When did my dreams become so little and mundane.
"Yeah, one day I'd like to be able to work one job to be able to afford rent."
"Totally understandable, I dream of one day being able to sleep without fear of a dick being drawn on my face."

I live in a house of angry people, it's made me a really volatile person. I get sad over very small things, because I'm used to molehill mountains. I have a visible flinch when someone raises their voice over the octave of excitement. I don't actually know what it would be like to be able to live without the constant fear of my family walking into my room, without any care to my privacy, and screaming at me.
I've been doing a sort of experiment, whenever someone I'm related to talks to me, I see what they'll say. It's been pretty easy to pattern out so far;
Mother: "Can you take out the trash?"
Grandma: "You missed something."
Grandpa: *Something slightly patronizing, meant in good humor but gets on my nerves anyhow*

I certainly have more relatives I live with, but those are the stand outs.

I'm really sad. Like, truly in my soul, kind of sad. I used to have such outstanding dreams, and such an indomitable spirit when it came to the future. Now I just feel like I'm running on autopilot.
-H

(Think Thoughts): Writing Words.

Hello Gentlefolk,
It is I your, sometimes late and always flirty, leader.
I'm thinking about calling all my personal posts (Think Thoughts). Not sure about it yet, so that's subject to change. Whatever they end up being called, you will be able to find them tagged on the upper right corner of your screen. With all the other words, like 'writing' and 'metaphysical'.
What thoughts may I be thinking today? Well, I'm on a sort of mini vacation. It's honestly more like purgatory before I get sent back to earth because I reaaally fucked up. Kidding, earth is amazing and we should love it and all its inhabitants #spreadpeace. I decided that I wasn't going to spend a year of my life in exchange for community college, I would instead undertake independent study and finish in three months.
That's just been on my mind, as well as the thoughts of kids wanting to be the 'Next Kurt Cobain' because it seems tragic and beautiful. Yeah, you probably guessed, but I wasn't talking about K.C.'s major influence on the grunge movement of the 90's.
My brain has been pretty fuzzy lately, partially because I've been really struggling with my mental illness. As well as the whole 'Giant Choices That Will Influence Most Of My Life' thing. Oh yeah, I'm totally sick right now. Which anyone who's followed my hop from blog to blog knows is hilarious.
I'm pretty much losing my longest standing support system because of these decisions. My knee jerk reaction was to say,
"Fine, it's not like I want them in my life anyway."
Then I thought about the consequences of my actions and the fact that isolation will only make problem A worse (Mental Illness will hereby be known as Problem A.) Now I'm left reeling.
Lucky me I have such great friends, they swooped in and told me to
1) Screw Them

• They decided that they didn't want to support me, that's not my fault. 

2) Breath

and to finally
3) Believe In Myself

• Let's face it, I'm pretty rad. My friends are more rad, and cool sharks are even more rad. But I digress. I keep getting all junked up with freaking out that I forget to have fun. So the most rational answer? Believe in my radness. 

Those are the thoughts I'm thinking right now, among other things.
Pretty tame compared to other blogs, I think.
-H.

The Chase.

Vincent Van Gogh told me to go out and taste the stars. To paint them with my wide eyed brush. That same brush that was tinted rose with the words of Emerson and Aristotle. Those 'great' poets told me to live my adventure, and to hold close my dreams. Scientists have spouted for years that I am special. That I am made from the building blocks of universes and I am innumerable.
All throughout my childhood, Doctor Seuss wrote for me a path of confounded prose. Telling me stories of all the places I could go and I believed every word. I remember the first time I picked up a Harry Potter novel and I heard Dumbledore tell me about his mismatched wool socks. I recall the sense of whimsy the words ignited in my chest.
I remember picking up Shakespeare's 'A MidSummer's Night's Dream' and having that whimsy run wild. I was entranced by the pitter patter of Iambic pentameter. I recall being engrossed by Edgar Allen Poe's trokey, as he talked about ravens rapping on his door. All these voices calling to me from the past, inspiring my mind to rebel against my present.
I remember finding out about Van Gogh's depression, Poe's too. I learned about Shakespeare being a drunkard, and my dearest Doctor fighting nazis. The way those realizations dawned upon me, the weight of their words only increased. Suddenly the raven was no longer a mischievous friend, but a sullen companion. No longer did Puck seem to be the lovable scamp, but more the righteous hand of fate.
The beauty of 'Starry Night' became insurmountable.
There is a sense of wonder that never left me. Inspired by the greats of old. They whisper to me while I try to sleep. They tell me their tales and ask me mine.
"Who are you?" They say, and "What are your sorrows?"
I miss the days when I responded freely
"I wish I had more money." "I wish that I was in love."
But now things have changed. I am no longer chasing sorrows, because despite what the greats told me, I chose to chase a more finicky beast. I chose to follow hope. The light that glows in the flowers at dawn. The way the ocean sounds at midnight. I chose to follow my heart and chase my dreams like wisps off a wishing weed. I don't know where this road leads me, because more often than not it's not a road, but I know I will land one day. Wherever I land those greats will follow.
Because people like us can't help but to chase a story.
-H.