Your Buddy, Crocker

Visiting my first farmer’s market, which didn’t take place until way after I moved to FL, was magical. Ever since then I have always wanted to work my own show booth and this past weekend, 10 years after visiting my one, I actually got to. The spectacular part? Not only was it my first trade show, but it was AC’s very first ganja fair, and I got to be a part of it. Holy shite, right?!? The kicker? I had less than a week to mass produce product to sell, order packaging and labels, and gather materials to somewhat decorate my space to better attract buyers. Good thing I am always down for a challenge.

When I began making edibles, I knew that the idea was a solid one but what I didn’t know was how I would fair when there were others in the area doing the same thing. It was an idea that popped up when I was totally fed up with serving. After more than 15 years in the restaurant game, I needed an out. Having no real plan, and genuinely over the work related bullshit, I, one day, cashed out my last tables and walked out. It hadn’t been an easy day and so I spent the day fuming, going over in my mind what had happened at work to get me to the point of quitting. I spent the following day on Indeed going over the listings in hopes of finding work. Due to the pandemic, I was already behind on bills so this last minute decision to quit my was pretty bad timing. Everything that popped up on the site seemed to be restaurant related and although I knew there was money to be made there, instant money, I reminded myself that it was again a restaurant job. They were all the same, therefore why continue down the same path that would produce the same unhappy results? I needed to do something different. I began applying for other types of work, but no matter. Every application I sent in, didn’t make me feel excited one bit. Instead of feeling hopeful and excited, I felt dread and almost would wish for no one to call me. I began picking up odd jobs here and there. A little bit of puppy sitting here, a little bit of babysitting there. A little bit of selling ganja here, a little bit of delivering Mary jane there. It was one day, sitting in the backyard of a client’s house trying smoke a bowl without the neighbors seeing (or smelling) that I thought to myself, “I wish I had an edible instead…it would make this a lot easier…” and that’s when the bulb turned on. Why not make and sell edibles? The clientele was out there. I knew I had some talent in the kitchen. All I needed were the supplies and equipment.

My next move was risky. I guess that entire week I was full of risky moves. I took my last couple hundred dollars and spent it on everything I needed to get started. I had no real plan (seems to be a running theme) other than to bake and sell, “Let’s see where this takes me.. I’ve got nothing to lose.” That was back in July, now 11 months later, after much trial and error, I am elated to see this risk turn into great reward.

Don’t get me wrong, there is still so much more to do to get this little baby of mine fully up and running. I spend my days working towards taking the steps to do MORE, then spend my night’s dreaming of all that will be. Last weekend’s ganja fair allowed me to get a glimpse of what things for me could look like in the future. Selling my product to people, watching their expressions when trying my homemade edibles, and recognizing the look of satisfaction, made me feel so proud. To watch the first product sell out, then the second, my heart was elated.

Although I’ve winged much of this, I now have plans, solid plans, to grow this business. With the support of those around me, and trusting in the Universe, I’m excited for the future of Buddy Crocker Co.

“Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” — Goethe

That Little Prince

It’s summer but I spring cleaned my room this week, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. It’s not that I’m messy. It’s a controlled chaos. Sometimes that controlled chaos gets a little frizzy, so I have to come around and tame it a bit, just like everyone else. Actually, not like anyone else but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because during this so-called “spring cleaning” I stumbled across an item that sent me reeling back to a time that once was. It was a book gifted to me by someone special in the days before me moving back home from CA. The book is “The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint Exupery.

The book came to me initially by recommendation. I was at my local library at the time scanning isles, nothing really jumping out at me. One thing about me and my trips to the library, which could be either good or bad or neither really, is the fact that I never went in with a plan as to what I was looking for. I would just walk up and down the row of bookshelves, with hopes that the right one would jump out at me. On one of my trips searching for that right book, I accidentally (on purpose) bumped into my crush. Now, this tall glass of water worked there restocking books. By this point we hadn’t exchanged more than a few words here and there, and definitely some stolen glances. This particular day was the beginning of something special. After apologizing for the minor collision, he asked me if there was something in particular that I was looking for. I told him the method to my madness and in turn he asked me if I was open to any recommendations. I, of course, accepted. I would have accepted almost anything by him at this point, and that’s when he mentioned The Little Prince.

Typically, I do not judge a book by it’s cover, not in any aspect that you can apply that phrase to. Taking a look at the font cover of this one, however, made me doubt my desire to read this book. It did look a bit adolescent to me, but what did I expect when taking recommendations from an almost complete stranger. That same night I sat on my bed and began reading, and by early the next morning I was finished. I closed the book amazed at the fact that something so small could pack such a big punch.

I walked to the library the next day, all the while planning on how I was going to walk up to him directly, without any pretenses other than to thank him for the recommendation. It’s not everyday that someone impresses me with a good read, and so I walk in. I dropped the book into the “return” bin and scanned the library, wondering where he could be. Maybe in the non-fiction, historical section? Religious or Spiritual isle? Or maybe in the cooking section? I couldn’t find him, but it didn’t take him long to find me.

He asked me out on a date that day. I was over the moon. I had always thought I would meet the man of my dreams in a library, and walah! It happened. From the night of our first date, we were inseparable. I found a lot of joy sharing my time with him, as we both learned and experience so much with one another. The tragedy didn’t come for months later, but it was one that I saw coming, hoping in silence that it wouldn’t. I was to return back home after a year of not being able to get my life together there. It had all been so hard, much harder than I ever thought it would be. Jobs were scarce and those that I was able to obtain never lasted long. They were either temp jobs or paid peanuts. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how little I tried to eat, no matter the times I would sit in my home with all the lights off, trying to conserve any bit of electricity I could, I never had enough money to cover life in CA. I had two major heartbreaks that year, leaving CA, and leaving him behind.

After having to deliver the news of my return home, the weeks following that were filled with happiness draped in a woven quilt of sadness. We tried to make sure that we relished in every moment that we spent together, but as the days would turn into darkness, the feeling became more desolate, each day being one day closer to that of me leaving.

On the last day that we spent together, we did nothing remarkably special. We went to our favorite burger joint, the one where we went to the day after I first spent the night and morning with him. We rode around the neighborhoods in his El Camino, taking in the last bit of Cali streets I would be seeing in what I knew would be a long time, if ever again. That night we hung out in his bedroom, and after a while of listening to music and reminiscing of our times together he mentioned that he had something for me. I closed my eyes and once reopened, there in front of me, was the library copy of The Little Prince.

Fast forward to earlier this week when I was cleaning out my room, I began dusting the books that lined the walls of my bedroom. Dusting was something that I hadn’t done the last time I cleaned, which is probably why I hadn’t noticed the book there before. The moment I saw it and picked it up, my heart skipped a beat and slightly sunk. So many memories resurfacing, pulling at my heart, instances that I had thought I tucked away so many years ago. I brushed of the dusty cover and opened the book, and there on the inside cover was the quote…

“But she in herself is more important than all of you because she is the one I watered. Because she is the one I put a glass dome. Because she is the one I sheltered behind a screen. Because it is for her that I killed caterpillars (all except for two or three who were to become butterflies). Because she is the one I have listened to, complaining, or boasting, or sometimes when she says nothing. Because she is my rose.”

Immediately after reading this, I felt almost every emotion one can feel. Happiness and sadness. Anger. Guilt. After leaving CA, it wasn’t long when I had slowly started to cease communication with him. I had been depressed. I felt as though CA was such a painful experience that I just couldn’t continue to remember. I knew I had, too, broken his heart and I didn’t feel ok in knowing that by keeping in touch, I could be hurting him even more. Before I knew it, communication completely stopped, and even though I have since reached out on a number of occasions, our talks have never been longer than just a couple sentences.

By the time I wanted to try to save even a friendship, it had been too late. I lost him.

If I could tell him anything, I would tell him how sorry I was to have let our friendship go silent. I made a mistake by closing a chapter in my life that was too painful to continue reliving and by doing so, I lost one very important highlight of what once was a time so cold. I’ve never forgotten, nor will ever forget what it was to have a person like you on my team, making some of my best memories in CA being shared with one very special Little Prince, that one who got away.

A Pretty Bow Of Sorrow

The sharpie squeaks against the paper as I cross another city off my list. It’s a sound I love hearing for it marks another conquest. Every moment I travel, to new places or old ones, I collect a little piece of it and take it with me, and leave a little piece of me too. Every place I go adds to the addiction of wanting to see, feel, touch, taste… and simply experience more.

New Orleans gave me a different kind of perspective, one I wasn’t expecting. In photos from those who have visited before me, I pictured a town of beautiful French and Spanish inspired architecture, with colorful aromatic flowers over flowing window beds. I imagined luscious greenery blanketing the streets, parks full of old cypress trees waving at you in the breeze. The scent of all sorts of creole inspired dishes, spices tickling your nose and enticing your belly. I thought I knew what New Orleans was before arriving but in all reality, I had no idea.

Yes, you will find all of which I mentioned but sadly, it’s slightly hidden behind another world, a far more unpleasant, an almost sinister world. Despair permeates the city, and it’s only after you’re drunk that you seem to forget about it. Souls both dead and alive, roam the streets, tragedy chiseled onto their bodies for the rest of us to witness. It weighs heavy on the heart to witness so many people in pain while knowing there is no way for you to help each and every one of them. Regardless, you’re not there to spend you travel time wallowing over other’s unlucky circumstances, so you move on as best you can.

One thing you seem to not be able to get away from is the ammonia that lingers in the air. Some blocks just pat you on the nose with it. Other blocks, it seems as though you’re getting body slammed. You fear that if you open your mouth to even comment on it, the stench will rip your tongue out and burrow deep inside. Now, I’ve been to many major cities and I understand they don’t smell of warm lavender showers and bubble gum drops, but geeze Louise was this something! With time, your senses become slightly accustomed, and not to mention with every cocktail you sip on the easier it is to forget. Upon my arrival I was fathomed at how such a popular city among tourist could be let to get so dirty but the truth of the matter is, they don’t. Day and night you witness city employees sweeping up garbage, emptying out trash bins, they even street wash every single night late into the early morning with soap and hot water to keep the grime at bay. Yet, with its dense population, a high amount being homeless, and thousands of tourists visiting per day, they can only do so much.

No matter the unpleasantries, they weren’t enough to deter me from visiting again. If anything, I can’t wait to go back. Though we were there for 4 days, there was still so much left to do and try. One of the best things we did during our earlier stay was taking an overall all city tour. Our tour guide was able to give us a fun and informative history, but most importantly highlighted many food and music spots that you wouldn’t have found on your own unless guided by a true local. My bf and I being the only two on this tour got to benefit from being able to ask as many questions as we wanted, getting the real inside scoop of what to do and where do go, and where not to. Some of these spots we were blessed to try, others remain undiscovered until next time. Taking a ride out on the Mississippi River on the oldest steamboat in the city is still left on the todo list, along with a good old fashioned trolley ride, and we can’t forget a trip out to the plantation for a tour of it and its bayou.

All in all, it was another successful trip. No fussing, no drama. Just good food, good music, great company, amazing people. I look forward to my return someday so that I can enjoy the gift of these unique experiences that visiting NOLA brings. A gift that although not made up of diamonds and gold, it still shines in its package, tied up with a pretty bow of sorrow, just waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed.

Growing Out of Judgmental

Funny how at the beginning of a new year, our minds seem to always float back to the previous year, recapping all that you’ve gone through.

As I was getting ready for work this morning I began to reminisce about my time last year in Fort Lauderdale, specifically the last 8 months that I was there. The apartment where I was living and its neighborhood, the neighbor’s I had, the job I worked. Being as though your job is pretty much your second home, where you spend most of your time if not all of it, my thoughts swam here for a bit. I began to remember those I worked with and worked for, and I just couldn’t help but laugh. It was mainly made up of overly wealthy investors that had never worked a day in the restaurant industry, and young 20 year olds with barely any employment history. I pictured my manager friend, Dolly, who would have a mini melt-down when her managing status wasn’t being fully recognized or even slightly respected. I thought about the girls I got along with but truly only due to default. They were basically the “mean girls” of the establishment. Young fashionistas, that had no problem shunning others , never allowing for new people to really enter into their clique. Why they accepted me into their circle? I have no idea. Could have been the age difference? Could have been the tattoos or the way I carried myself? Maybe it was due to the fact that I could care less about whether or not I’d be accepted. Regardless, whether we shot the shit at work or not, I still wasn’t immune from their gossip. The grapevine didn’t take long to reach me, and like water off a duck’s back, I always kept it moving.

Those few months were spent with people close to 10 years younger than me in age and although I wasn’t ecstatic about it (I always assumed that by the age of 30 I would have been long out of the server life), it was fun for me to observe. Now, I know I’m going to sound like some middle-aged know it all, but I do remember back when I was their age, early 20’s, and thinking I had life by the balls. I thought of myself as a mature young lady, wise for her years, a hard worker who knew how to deal with life. Though, some of that may be true, most of it was way off key. I didn’t know diddly squat about life. I had no idea that although you could take steps towards always doing the “right thing”, that life could still come around and knock you on your ass. Back then it was almost a feeling of entitlement, a feeling that you could judge others for their “stupid” mistakes, even sometimes feel like you had the right to look down on them because of those mistakes. This is all before learning how most of the time you’re basing what is “right” and “acceptable” by standards placed on us by society, aka: other human beings. As I lived my life, I was humbled by the experiences I had gone through, and quickly outgrew my judgmental phase.

Not taking life too seriously was something that took me a while to learn but once I did, it was like I released my self from self imposed chains. You start to realize all the stress and anxiety you placed upon yourself by caring too much about the things you cannot change, and caring too little about the things that truly matter. I would watch and listen to my young co-workers and internally wonder when this realization would flick them on their forehead, a necessary wake up call.

I have since then moved and have fallen out of contact with many of these people, but still, I can’t help but wonder if they’ve humbled up some and have grown out of being judgmental of others. I can only hope that they’re currently on that journey, and that someday they look back to their early years and have that moment of realization. I hope that when entering their 30’s they do so with humble new hearts.

Shhh… Just Be Humble.

“Live and let live!”

It’s a phrase I hear often from the mouths of those who don’t.

Individuals that always pride themselves in being so “laid back” and “down to earth” are, most times, the most judgmental people I have encountered. Sadly, it takes some time to figure this out because it takes them some time to slowly drop that façade and show who they truly are. These people are the kinds of people that believe to be so darn knowledgeable on the way life works, to the point that they become arrogant in their teachings. They no longer accept or stand to listen to outside thoughts or opinions. You’ll find yourself talking to them and will quickly realize that they are not listening but instead coming up with strategic ways to counter ever word you were expressing. They shoot you a look of pity due to what they perceive to see in you, ignorance.

Conversation, a dance of two people’s thoughts and opinions bouncing off of one another in hopes of communicating and possibly learning a thing or two from one another, or at the very least, allow room for growth. Yet, with these kids of people conversations aren’t had, or simply put, it’s almost painfully impossible to be had. It’ll quickly become a one sided chat where you’ll do the listening as they begin to spew their ways of thinking into your direction, hoping that it’ll stick. Once I begin to observe that they’re continuously forcing their thoughts or way of life onto me or others, without allowing room for uniqueness and individuality, that’s when I begin to slowly back away.

Humility for me goes a long way and life will make sure to do that for you if you tend to get too lost in what you’re doing to remember that. I try to remind myself of this when I encounter people who have forgotten to be humble. The very same people who have become so “enlightened” that they find it hard to except others who are still well on their journey.

I’m nowhere near being perfect, and of course Ego will at times blind you at that fact. I do however try to keep myself in check. Even when I get excited about the new things life has bestowed upon me be it knowledge or more tangible items, I try hard to not to let that get the best of me. At least not to the point in which I’m turning off the most important people in my life. I try to remember that we are all in a different place of our experience here. I have certain people who come to me for advice or guidance. I try my hardest to listen to them to see what stage of the game they’re in and depending on that is where I’ll begin. Being present to fully take in all variables (who they are, what they are currently going through, what they have in the past gone through) it’s all important when it comes to guiding others. It’s like they say “We have two ears and one mouth for a reason.” Double up on the listening instead of exhausting your mouth in beating in your agenda. Remind yourself that not everyone is willing to be taught or are ready to listen. Some aren’t up for the enlightening process and maybe that’s their role here in life, to teach us that. No matter the scenario, let’s put forth patience and kindness towards one another. Think in terms of love and let everything else just be.

Learning Lesson #192020

You can plan something meticulously, like a complex move across the state or something as simple as tonight’s box mac and cheese dinner. You can make sure you try everything in your power to have crossed all your t’s and that you’ve dotted all your i’s. Yes, you can take every precaution necessary to make sure you did all the right things, and that, yes, that you also spoke all the right words. Of course you did your research. Still, here comes life and with one swift swoop sends your building blocks crumbling to the ground.

This tid-bit of knowledge is something I’ve noticed for years now but only once the COVID19 pandemic of 2020 hit did it really sink in that we have absolutely no control, nor will we ever be fully prepared for what life will have in store for us. Something so outlandish such as a global health crisis stopped the world in its tracks. Who would have thought? Not me. This was like something out of an apocalyptic movie, a story plot created by a creative writer with the imagination of a rebel teenager. Yet, here we are almost 8 months into this and my plans have still been highjacked.

Moments like these is when it pays to be easy going. Don’t get me wrong, I get ridiculously frustrated at the fact that there is an abundance of activities that I would like to plan but yet, with no end in sight to the pandemic, I can’t even begin execute. I can’t imagine the people out there that typically have their entire day, weeks, years planned much in advance down to the tiniest of details. To be kicked out of the driver’s seat and to be told that you have to just sit and wait I’m sure has some of those people’s skin crawling with uncertainty. I try to focus not on them, but on my self. Whenever I start feeling uneasy I need to remind myself that there is nothing I can do but dream about my plans someday coming into fruition. Until then, dreaming will take me where no current planning will and at least for the time being I can be content with that.

Pushing Fantasies

***FICTION***

It was a life that he created on a lonely day, long ago. His partner, Paul, had just gone to rehab and there he was, left behind raw and emotional. It was like a tornado whisked through, devouring his life and then spitting it all out, leaving him to pick up the pieces.

He sat at his computer feeling alone and all he craved more than anything was attention. His mind began to wander, his thoughts like an eel gliding across the deep dark waters of his mind. His thoughts turning dark and adventurous, borderline sinister. He decided to Google for things he had never thought of googling and before he knew it, he had created a profile on a site where people went hunting for dark things.

Instantly he began to receive messages. Small windows popping up all over his screen and all from men who were also wanting and seeking relief in their cravings. He chatted with many of them finding pleasure and amusement, and into the night he played with his new found friends.

Just like with anything else that starts off new, he had become instantly obsessed. The following day, although exhausted from staying up all night, his mind never drifted far from the new world he had discovered. He daydreamed of the stories told to him by his newly found lovers hidden behind his computer screen. He dreamed of playing out the scenarios that had been typed out before him, fantasies his mind had never before fathomed of. He was hooked and could not wait to get to his house to sit back on his couch and cruise the scene just one more time. He knew himself.  He could get into way too much trouble if he kept this up, but one more night of fun couldn’t hurt.

*

He got home, relieved that his partner Paul was still away detoxing. He wouldn’t be back for another two days and that gave him comfort. In his mind, he was much too ready to leave the relationship but wasn’t wanting to rush to the breaking up part. He hated breakups. Whether it was him that was doing the breaking up or the other person, the ending of a relationship always sucked for all parties involved. Knowing that Paul would arrive back home with sensitive emotions from going through detox, he knew it would not be easy.  Rob grabbed his laptop and quickly decided that instead of thinking about his real life situation, he would instead get lost in a world of fantasy.

Though he chatted with many men, there was one that stood out from the rest. He was a silver fox of a man. His pictures reminded him of a silver haired Hercules. With his broad and muscular chest and shoulders, and each of his arms the size of both of Rob’s thighs put together, he could only dream of what a man like that could do behind closed doors. How long had it been since the last time Rob had been intimate with someone? It was a shame that Tomas lived states away. Rob knew that sex with Tomas would be fun. He imagined Tomas pushing his limits and testing his boundaries. The thought immediately made him hard and he hurried in logging onto the site and searching for Tomas’ page.

                                                                *

Tomas wasn’t really Tomas. His name was Dwayne and he was an overweight middle aged man and married. Together they shared 4 daughters. One thing was for sure, he hated his life. Everything about his life brought agony to his soul. He felt that his entire life was a complete lie, one that he had been living for over 45 years.

Dwayne was born both male and female and although they decided to make him into a man and call him “Dwayne”,  he always felt like a Diana instead. His parents had chosen for him and he always knew that they had chosen wrong, but with a misogynistic father, and a subservient mother, there was no way he’d be getting out of this one. Even long after they passed he still help up his end of the forced upon bargain. He was married after all and at that time he was on his second daughter with his lovely wife Madeline. There was no way he would break his wife’s heart. His secret was tucked away held by locks and chains, but no matter how deep inside he buried it, the true version of Dwayne was dying to be let out.

He held even deeper secrets. His love of men was undeniable. Although he had never been with a man, the fire burned within. Sure, his wife was beautiful and kind. In his most honest opinion, he didn’t deserve her. He married her for his parents. He did everything for his parents and though he was grateful to have her in his life, she still didn’t quench the desire he had for others. 

One night as his wife and daughters were out have having a girl’s day, he decided to go online and search for a distraction from his mundane and unfulfilling life. What he ended up finding was a whole new life, a new identity. He hadn’t chosen to be a woman but instead created Tomas. A handsome man chiseled out of marble but infused with the same lust Dwayne carried. It wasn’t long after his profile was approved that he met Rob, and with that came an addiction he never thought possible. 

                                                                   *

“5 DEAD IN LOVER’S TRIANGLE ENDING IN MURDER SUICIDE” 

Detective Juarez slammed his phone on the desk rage cruising through his veins. How had they gotten word so quickly? The department hadn’t even contacted all of the victim’s family yet and headlines were already circulating. Not even 24 hours had passed since he had initially arrived on scene, a scene that was forever seared into his memory. A quick flash back took him to the moment he had arrived on the farm. He walked up the dirt driveway only to be stopped by his first piece of evidence. He crouched down and extracted a pen from inside his navy blue blazer and used it to pick up the shoe to take a look. A size 8, closed toe shoe with fresh dark red droplets now decorating it, most likely coming from the body that lay just a few feet from where he was. He could make out the bubble gum pink polish on their now blue colored toes, and thought to himself that if it weren’t for where the body was located he would have just assumed that they were peacefully sleeping. 

All in all the crime scene looked to be the scene from a horror movie. The buzzing of flies was deafening and with the minuets ticking on, the smell was beginning to make it unbearable to breath. A total of 5 bodies ages ranging from teenagers to middle aged, one of them being the person to have inflicted such savagery  to the victims and then to themselves. He immediately thought to himself that this looked to be a crime of passion.

Looking back at that moment, he knew that this was an open and shut case. Juarez knew who had committed the crime and how.  Now he just needed to know the details, the why behind it all. How had it all began? In order to move on from such a travesty he had to try to piece together the days leading up to what had transpired the evening before, but before he could go on with his investigation, he must go  and speak to the families. 

Hopefully he would get to them before the news headlines did. 

Sweet Home NJ

Perspective is a funny thing.

I had a friend of mine reach out to me recently curious as to why I moved back to NJ. It’s a question I get asked pretty frequently. This friend of mine says, “I always wanted to move away from here. I hate this place. I’m shocked because you were one of the few to actually get away.”

I once hated this place too. When I left I told myself that I would never move back but yet here I am. I had gotten away and yet I still came back. Its been 11 months since I moved back and although the beginning was a bit rough, nothing went as planned, I can’t say I regret it. It’s been a great support being around my family and close friends throughout this pandemic. Honestly, in that aspect, I feel as though my timing in moving back couldn’t have been any better.

Removing the pandemic from from this equation, I have always enjoyed certain hobbies here in NJ with more frequency than let’s say I ever did in Florida. Things like going for walks, camping, or even going to the beach I’ve done more here. I hadn’t realized how much the heat and humidity stifled much of my wanting to do things outdoors. I spent a total of 12 years in various parts of Florida and although the scenery was much prettier than what you may find in South Jersey, the constant heat with only a couple weeks of a break once a year really killed all motivation to ever want to do anything outdoors.

Since moving back I’ve gotten to enjoy winter, spring, and summer seasons again. Next up is my favorite, Autumn. These are all moments in time that I had once taken for granted. As a child, I always wanted it to be summer. I manifested it, and let me say, I wasn’t careful with what I wished for because I truly didn’t enjoy year-round summer living.

Those last 12 years of my life away from home I did a lot of working on myself. Some willingly, some of it came by surprise. All of it has molded me and focused my mind and sight on what truly matters in life and this is why I can be back home and not feel hate for being here. The person who packed her car and left is not the same person who is here today. I love that. Will I be here forever? Most likely not, but who knows? Maybe I’ll make this my hub while I take to the world and do some traveling. All I know is that I’m currently enjoying the ride here at good ol’ New Jersey. Living on this little island, still living my beach life, I’m choosing to look at my time here as the glass being more than halfway full. Although many have been yearning to get away, I am blessed to be back.

The Final Act

Panic attacks. I used to get them periodically and what always triggered them, it was never anything else, were thoughts of death. I guess that’s what happens when at a young age you begin to lose people.

The attacks would always start with a small thought, something innocent like seeing roadkill, or hearing a piece of news on the radio about some celebrity’s passing. I would start to think about how they’re no longer able to soak up the day’s sunrays, or ever appreciate what it feels like when a spring’s breeze kisses your face. I’d begin to think about how their loved ones somewhere out there in the world would be heartbroken for what it would feel like a lifetime to come. The thoughts would then trickle into my personal life. What if I lose my mother?… or my sister? What if right now someone crashes into me, T-boned, and POOF! Lights out?

THAT’S when the panic would slowly slither in.

It would start with a slight flicker of the pulse in my neck. It felt like a double click; trigger being pulled. My throat would feel constricted by only a little at first, making it an actual thought to swallow instead of the instinct that it is. My hands would begin to get clammy and would ball up in anticipation of what was to come, and a cold sweat would soon then follow. Thoughts all the while tumbling around my mind, detailing the sudden death, a death that hasn’t happened yet.

This went on for a number of years at times being almost debilitating, but with the help of things like meditation and such, I slowly was able to control these attacks. Instead of having such a fear of what is death, I in turn decided to change my mindset and learned to adapt a healthy respect for it. Regardless of the respect, there are times in which I simply do get caught off guard by what is the final act in this play called Life. Especially when someone so amazing suddenly goes.

It makes no difference the way in which a loved one passes, it’s never easy. I do find it excruciatingly difficult to grasp when someone who is young and full of life dies without one ever seeing it coming. I’ve lost many people in my life this way, more than half of them being when I was still too young to fully understand the permanence of what was happening. Recently however, the ones in my life that passed have really taken me back, almost to those moments of panic because now I do understand the permanence of it, as well as the randomness. I see and logically comprehend that amazingly good hearted people, wise souls that shine a light onto this sometimes dark and violent world, aren’t immune to being taken early. Emotionally I cannot understand it. My heart doesn’t compute why the good ones go so young and as I get older, I don’t think it ever will.

No matter how hard I try to put words to how I feel about my friend’s recent passing I simply cannot. When I tell you that this world lost an amazing person, I cannot describe to you how much I seriously I mean it. An intelligent, compassionate soul who truly did make a positive impact on this world, because anyone who came across him would forever be changed in their most positive of ways. To extinguish that torch was to make this place just a little darker, but if you believe in heaven, it just got a heck of a lot brighter.

However sad and painful, I still try to find the silver lining. I guess it goes to say that I haven’t really lost them, but if anything I now have quite a crew waiting for me to get back. I am in no rush, but I do find comfort in that. Until then, all can really do is clichély live my life in tribute to them and seize the chances and opportunities, living for those who could not.

Inevitable Crossings

South Jersey, a small little beach town cannot hide what you’re not trying to see. It’s been 10 months and I avoided running into the past that I have worked so hard to forget. Still, it is like a shadow that inevitably reveals itself, reminding you of what once was. It is crazy for me to see how much others have not been able to move on with their lives even years later when memories are now fuzzy with dust.

When I moved away the second time it was due to two heartbreaks, the passing of my closest cousin and the infidelity of my best friend. For years I delt with both losses. One still wears on my heart like an itchy wool sweater because he is no longer able to enjoy and share in the journey of this world. The other I learned to forgive as well as forget. I knew that once coming back to my hometown, the later would resurface but I would be damned if I would make it easy for a chance encounter. I almost made it an entire year.

Like mentioned before, this area is small, where everyone knows everyone and if they don’t know you, there will still be various mutual acquaintances to keep you tethered. That’s how we ended up crashing into each other again. I remember it being innocent and refreshing. I felt as though full closure was finally had, and to know that we could each move on with our lives without the weight of a tragic and heartbreaking past weighing us down was a great feeling. In my mind there was no longer a full need to dodge, for both parties were in accordance, a synchronized dance. Yet, it was two days later that I heard through the grapevine that things were not well; drama was to ensue.

Honestly, what the actual fuck did I think was going to happen? Not everyone is going to be like me. Not everyone can forgive or forget, even if it was them that were the snake in Eden’s garden. I decided to ignore the gossip, although juicy. I also couldn’t help feel the slight ego boost that infiltrated my soul. A moment in which it all came full circle, knowing that ultimately they did not succeed in their malicious plan to thwart something so natural. Never the less, it was none of my business and I wanted no part of being caught up in the spectacle. She, however, could not help it.

Weeks later I run into him again, even though at this point there was no mistaking, it wasn’t coincidental. I knew he was finding ways to bring himself around and on this specific night I decided to let him know that this, what he was doing was not only brazen, but dissapointing. I now understood that there had not been much change that had taken place in the time of my absence. Even though I wanted to believe that with age there had been much growing amongst all involved, that had simply not been the case.

“We need to talk,” he begged as I turned away from him. “Just give me a minute.” Without wanting to be rude or cold, I allowed him the minute, but he only got about 10 seconds in before I stopped him. He began by asking me why it was that I had contacted his wife in order to tell her that we had seen each other. I laughed. I was shocked at the lie she had configured and even more so at the fact that he believed her. The serpent had slithered her way into trying to gain information and he fell for her trickery. I give her props, but then immediately took it back. I don’t like to be used as a manipulation tactic.

“I have absolutley no need to contact your wife. I haven’t spoken to her in over 5 years. I also have no time for childish games. Please, both of you need to forget about me just as I have moved on from all of you. You’re no more than a grain of sand in my sandbox.” And with that I relocated to another area of the bar.

He ended up following right behind but his boys, my angels, decided to send him packing, but not before he could rob himself a hug and a drunken smooch on my cheek. A smooch that cost him a hard and boney elbow to his chest. “Get off of me! Don’t you EVER do that again!” With that, he was wisked away into an uber.

Apologies and messages of shock radiated from his friends. I wasn’t too surprised at his actions so I told his friends there truly was no need of an apology from them. This was exactly the kind of thing I was used to years ago, when all of this was my life. Now however, I would not tolerate the disrespect be it towards me or his serpent. I left this life long ago and there was no way in hell I wanted any part of it back. A friendship, at most, would have been the only thing I was open for when it came to these circus clowns but now seeing as though conflict is all they still swam in, I was not at all interested.

As sure as I am that I will see them around for the world is too small, I am equally as sure that I won’t even take a glance in their direction. All I will say is that it’s sad to see people in your life staying trapped in a time that truly has no present purpose other than to keep you chained to unease and unhappiness. When you notice that their days are filled with empty monotony and lack of passion. They mesure their success with titles and tangibles and never seem to notice that they never evolved into their full potential simply because they got caught up with trying to manipulate life. Life isn’t a game. It is a beautiful journey of inner growth and spiritual learning. Many may not understand this, but I do. So I will continue on my path without taking much of a glance back, because what’s important to me is making a consious effort in maintaing my inner peace, while showing others that it is ok to evolve in to a more happier and peaceful version of what once was.