The Little Things


At one point in my life, I used to think that expressing love and affection required grandeur gestures and lots of words. I’ve learned now that is pure bullshit. The little things can make a bigger impression than anything else could. This has been proven day after day for me. I’ve compiled a small list of the little things I experience everyday that make me feel like I’m on cloud 9.

  1. A kiss to the back of my hand while we watch tv or when we’re riding in the car. It’s so tender and its makes my heart speed up every time it happens
  2. The way he uses the words “nerd” and “weird” as terms of endearment. Thank you for accepting that I’m in no way, shape or form normal
  3. The lingering kiss he trails from my earlobe to my neck to my shoulder. I can’t even begin to explain the list things that short kiss does to me.
  4. The way he pushes his finger to my lips when my short attention span kicks in during a really important part of a tv show I’m supposed to be paying attention to. I promise I’m not doing that on purpose.
  5.  The fact that he remembers my favorite beer or food item and randomly buys it for me without me asking.
  6. The way he smoothly slides his hand into mine when we’re walking side by side.
  7. When he knows that I’ll always want the bigger portion when we eat, whether its breakfast, lunch or dinner. I’m a proud, little glutton.
  8. The way his hands always find themselves in my hair, even when its an absolute mess.
  9. The way his eyes darken when he stares me straight in the eyes when he’s about to go in for a kiss. My breath always stops when his eyes catch mine.
  10. When he grabs my hands to crack my thumbs. I dont’ know why he does this but I absolutely love it.
  11. The fact that he’ll willingly rewatch his favorite tv shows just to experiece them with me.
  12. The way he’s not afraid to show that I’m his in public. Just a little kiss here, a simple ass grope there lol.
  13. The simple kiss to the forehead he nonchalantly gives me when I’m not expecting it. It’s so damn sweet that I can’t help the goofy grin that comes to my lips when he does it.

These are most of my favorite things he does for me. These are the reasons he’s on my mind 75% of the day (honestly I’m thinking of food the other 25% haha). He may not think I pay attention these little things he does but trust me I do, and they make me so happy.These moments are so special to me and make me feel like the most treasured person when I’m with him.


Simple Things: Waking Up


*Simple Things posts are a small idea I came up with to put words to small actions I do that I seem meaningless. I want to show the beauty of the simple things in life. Enjoy.*


I wake up, feeling sluggish and disorientated, to the sound of my favorite song spilling from my phone. Using muscle memory, I put my phone on snooze by pressing the volume down button and turn over. My consciousness slips further into the world of sleep, for 8 minutes. Sure that is a weird number, but I am a strange person truthfully. After exactly 40 minutes of snoozing, I bring myself to wake mode. It is a slow and fulfilling process.

My bed is the width of your standard couch. My bed is a couch. My couch is made of leather and I have strategically tucked a blanket into the cushions as a makeshift mattress cover. This is what the exposed skin of my legs and arms brush against as I stretch out. My toes slide down the arm of the couch, making small squeaking sounds as they catch against the leather.

I perform a symphony composed of only the percussion of my popping joints as I stretch out. I’d like to believe it sounds like “The Entertainer”. Unladylike grunts turn into impure groans of ecstasy as my spinal cord brings forth the crescendo of the calcium sonata.

My left foot always touches the roughness of my rug first as I turn over on my stomach, pressing my face back into the pillow. My pillow smells like mangoes and the underlying scent of hair products, letting me know my hair did not dry much in my sleep as half the wetness is trapped in the cotton beneath my nose. I breathe in and out and my nose scrunches up against said pillow as the stench of the pork chop I guiltily devoured only hours before hits my nasal cavities.

My right foot joins its twin and I am now kneeling next to the couch, seemingly praying. Oh what a prayer I would give in the hope of more sleep. My face is now pressed into the “mattress” and without warning I shoot up in a lame attempt to wake myself. It’s lame but it works. I perform a series of scratches – stomach, back, face, left ass check – as I walk to the coffee pot. Yes, the coffee pot, not the bathroom. Sure my bladder probably looks like one of those cartoon renditions of a boiler about to blow, but coffee man. Coffee! Once the coffee pot is turned on, I run with the coordination of a half-sleep person to the bathroom, forgoing closing the door because I am alone. Morning to afternoon is my time in the house. As my bladder empties, my forehead is pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink that is entirely too close to the toilet. I reach my right hand back and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, placing them on the side of the sink and further showing how small my bathroom space is. I finish my business, flush and wash my hands before I start the brushing process. I brush my teeth in the same way I’ve done for years: top front, bottom front, bottom back top, bottom back front and back, top back top, top back front and back, front back, bottom back, tongue, repeat 5 times. Then I sit on the floor and breath for 2 minutes. I breathe because sometimes you have to find the time to do so.

I enter the kitchen and I am happily assaulted by the smell of caffeine. I pour a cup, placing only one spoon of sugar, and place it to the side. As it cools, I fill the sink with water and soap. My morning routine is to wash the dishes from the night before. Sure we could wash them the night before, but old habits die hard. As the sink fills up, I go back to the living room and fold my blankets up and transform my bed back into a couch. Once finished, I walk back and turn off the water and wash up all 6 dishes and the huge pot that is usually in there. As the water runs out the sink when I’m done, I grab my coffee and a piece of bread – no not toast – and head back into the living room. I grab the remote and press 33, smiling when the sounds of The Amazing World of Gumball hit my ears. On the other end of the “jump” button, Supernatural reruns are ready to be watched. If you are pathetic like I am, you will now that it is around 10 AM. I take my first sip of coffee, still hot and bitter, and fall back on the couch, immersing myself into the world of a misunderstood blue cat and two brothers trying to rid the world of evil.

Home Is Where the Heart Is


As I ride around New Orleans with my friend Mike, it sort of hit me that I am way too comfortable in a city this is not really mine. I wasn’t born here and I damn sure didn’t live here, no matter how many times I’ve visited the area. I am actually curious as to when this place became my home. What makes a place a home.

Does birth make a place home? Is a certain city you home just because you were brought into the world there?

If your family moved, is that former city still your home? What about adoption? Can they still call that place home?

Does living somewhere make your home? Everyday people look over the simple things in their lives. You get up every morning and involuntarily walk to a certain room or follow a certain routine. You drive to places everyday, not realizing you automatically know where to go. When giving directions, you can either give street names or basic landmarks that you are so accustomed to seeing. Hunger can be solved with quick thinking and a swift turn. You back roads and short cuts. You have your own special spots that you cherish. This is the home that raised you.

Does your college choice make your home? The first thing that crosses your mind when going off to school is not the place but the college itself. No one realizes that the school has a city or town attached to it and it sort of becomes a part of you. By the time you graduate, this place will be etched into your memory bank and you will always be able to recollect a random thought from those years. This is a place that you spent four to six years and during that time you learned an entire campus and found your way around the city. If you want clothes, you know where there are deals and where you can get a certain item. You know where every food location is and when they open and close, although it is slightly shameful. You know where every CVS or Walgreens is because sickness is a thing. You know the club scene and the bar life. You know all of this and for that reason it makes you forget that this is not your town but it sort of became your home.

Does your family make your home? When life gets stressful and things get to hard, talking on the phone with a family member sometimes makes it alright. A simple hug from a mom, dad or sibling can calm the soul. Just sitting in the same room with the television humming in the background can be relaxing. Is the feeling of closeness and serenity these people bring home?

Do your friends make a home? They might not be legitimate family but they may as well be. You met them as strangers and over time, you became to see them as more. No one can really pinpoint the time and place, but it surely did happen and you’re glad. These are the sisters and brothers you never had. You trust them with so much. They are like the second string quarterback of your family. They may not come before your blood family but they will always be there for the same purpose: to just be there for you. Loving these people is an amazing feeling because they sort of just became a part of you and now share life experiences with you. They make you feel like home.

Is the place where you want to be home? You have spent countless hours imagining this wonderful life you will have at this new city, state, country or continent and now its turned into a longing. Is it possible to be homesick of a place you’ve never been? You add new details to your fictional life, create senarios and tease yourself with ideas of a family. This place seems to turn into a home everyday and maybe even someday.

If you were wearing the ruby slippers and chanting those magical words, where would your home be? Home can be so many things, places and people and it gets confusing sometimes. Yet as cliche as the saying is, home really is where the heart is.

F…is for FRIENDS who do stuff together!


Over these last few weeks, I have been mulling over little tidbits of my life so far. More precisely, my friends. Friends, such a strange, yet calming word. I had to pause today and think over that word and its implications.

When did a ‘good morning’ said out of manners become something that comes freely with a smile? To others, I greet them out of routine but with my friends, I genuinely want to know. How was your day? Did you read a good book? Did you eat something spectacular? Did you cry? As your friend, I don’t deserve to know but I’d like to know about your life.

How did we go from that first awkward hug to embracing until we can’t breath? There are days when the hugs I give reflect how my day is going, and I feel it is the same with you all. A tight hug can mean two different things if you look carefully.

When did we fall into comfort? Usually when I sit by someone, I feel tense and uncomfortable. With you, I feel…content. We’re just there. No talking is needed to fill in the gaps of time. The low buzz of the television or background music is perfect sometimes.

When did you become the first person I wanted to tell everything? I tell most people enough to get them by, but not you. I can tell you almost everything without a second thought. I don’t even try and lie. Things I don’t even tell my family can be told to you because I trust you.

When did you begin to mean something to me? In the beginning you were just another person walking past my life. Now you are apart of it and it would actually hurt to see you leave it. You are family now. I actually cry when you cry. I laugh when you laugh. I smile because you are smiling and I love that about us.

So after all these questions, I really want to know one thing: when did we become friends. That is the question of the day. I don’t know when it happened, but I am oh so happy it did.

Pressure (Pushing Down On Me)


Usually people use the first post of their blog to introduce themselves, but today that I isn’t going to happen. Today I am going to unload a bit as my head feels like it is being compressed and expanded at the same time. Well here goes…enjoy.

It is Sunday, the seventh day of the week and the mark of a new one tomorrow. To me that means I got through an entire week of feeling like I was going to explode on any occasion. Mostly it’s my classes.

Rock and Rock History – I thoroughly enjoy this class but not at 8:35 A.M.

Web Design – I despise the very existence of this class and the teacher makes my blood pressure rise dangerously

Theater Appreciation –  I would love it more if it was more organized.

Broadcast Journalism – I have no choice but to love this one as it is my life in the form of a class. The work load and time constraint is the only thing that gets to me.

Publishing Practicum – This one is quite enjoyable but it makes me feel really inadequate because while I love poetry and all other literary forms, I am nowhere near the level my peers are at and I feel left behind in this here.

That is my life everyday, well academically. These five classes alone are causing stress I never new existed. I didn’t even know you can be unconsciously stressed. I am seriously walking around not knowing that I am stressed until someone points it out to me. I think overall, I am stressed about classes because recently I have just gotten into the swing of good grades and I honestly don’t want to go back to the way my grades used to be before I got my life together. This is especially crucial since I am literally 6 months away from the day I have to wear that lovely cap and gown.

Another thing that is wearing down on my shoulders is work. My job is to sit at a desk for a few hours, take the cards of residents and guests of the residential hall, keep the lobby calm and log each hour. It is the definition of simplistic. You would think this would be a easy paycheck, and it is, but at the same time it isn’t. When you have class early every Monday through Friday, it feels crappy to have to work every night until 1 A.M. Now it is money so I can’t complain but at the same time, I kind of like sleep a lot. I only have a few more weeks of this so there’s no use and trying to fix this now. At least next semester, I’ll have more free time and I can work easier.

There is one final thing that is bothering me but I can’t name it and it annoys me. There will be days when I will get this emotion that I can’t categorize or name, and it feels pleasurable nor painful. It’s just kind of there. It makes me stop some days in the middle of doing things. It even wakes me up. It’s just there. I feel like soon I will know what it is but as of now, my body is keeping me out of the loop.