Laugh, because it’s all going to be
More thank okay.
Listen, it’s important
what the Universe wants to say.
Balance, it’s what you learned.
All in the name of the game.
Love, what you so deeply desire
will come your way.

Patience, in your actions
don’t push too far.
Honesty, in your words
stay true to who you are.
Understanding, we’ve all been here before.
Passion, allow the flames in your heart to soar.

Listen to your soul.

I need time to think. Always, I need time to think.
I’m laughing Universe. I’ve seen the give and take that was done tonight.
I understand a little more than I did before.

I did this, essentially, to another just before now. It was the other way around. And now, it’s my turn. It was always more than being kind, like I thought it was only back then… it’s about being true. Being you. And so much more, but still.

Thankful and grateful.



I compromised myself, changed into being a fake for a split second, to have a few more moments of time with another fake. I stopped being real to get what I want and of course, I didn’t get it. I don’t deserve it when it has to come from lies.

I lied to myself. I lied to my soul. I’ve half assed attempts out of fear and lack of confidence, scared of being hurt and hurting myself. Allowing myself to be used to someone else’s pleasure with nothing in return.

I’m never going to get what I want, acting like this. The Universe isn’t about to let me rest on my laurels and do the bare minimum to get what I want. What I deserve is something amazing, but I must earn it to be true.

I have to be true.


Putting too much strength in the sincerity, or lack thereof, in others. Wishing for more, wanting what others have, forgetting what I already have and earned. Earning more and watching other people get for little to nothing. Being pretty has it’s plus side. Bringing people with me in my mission, letting them tag alone, sharing the glory and taking a back seat myself. Being greedy and vain.

Having trouble with “Thoughts Becoming Things”. Maybe realizing I do have a mild form of depression, in the way that I cannot, nay, have troubles stopping the negative thoughts from flooding. Do people really think good things all the time? Or are we all stuck in our minds, saying bitter things that we dare not let fall from our mouths? I always thought that to be true.

Because of mom. Because I know it is true of her. And because so, it is true of Dad. And so with me. What a cycle.

So, I try. I need to try harder, in everything. I could make a list, as usual, but I already know.

Am I compassionate to myself? Or am I just easy? Do I just make excuses for myself?

Am I compassionate in the way that I truly believe I will find love? In the way that I don’t put myself in a position where I think I may regret later, for not staying true to myself? In the way that I pamper my body with feeling pretty and taking care of myself; feeding my body good food and water; using it properly? In the way that I treat my mind with respect and my soul with good energy, taking time to meditate and become more whole?

Oh, to stop being cynical and doubtful and comparative.
Ode to being true to the words of kindness to all, (yourself included).
Joy, you be who I am meant to be.

When We Arrived presents: Destroy in Order to Rebuild (Ferguson) a poem by Natalie Patterson

Nikki Skies

“A riot is the language of the unheard.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

This is not about a single boy being shot and killed in the street
This is about black boys being shot and killed in
the streets by a white men who took a vows to protect and serve
And how too often for the comfort of other black bodies do the shooters go free

This is not about Michael Brown
Not about Darren Wilson
But I wish it could be 

This is about america and its broken promise for freedom
About children not growing into adulthood
This is about a community continually being asked to have grace in the face of our children being murdered
About life spans being cut short
This is about buried bodies and eulogies

This too is about Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Oscar Grant
About justice being elusive
About rage and war

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Global Week of Action Against the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act

Striking at the Roots

Last year, two Los Angeles-based animal activists—Tyler Lang and Kevin Olliff—were indicted under the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act (AETA) for allegedly releasing 2,000 mink and foxes from fur farms. They previously faced state charges of “possession of burglary tools” after a traffic stop in August 2013 in which police allegedly found wire cutters and other similar items in their vehicle. Tyler and Kevin both pleaded guilty to the state charges and served jail sentences.


Next week, the court will hear arguments on their attorneys’ motion to dismiss the federal charge based on the constitutionality of the AETA. They argue that the AETA is unconstitutional because it makes no distinction between loss caused by criminal acts and loss caused by boycotts and other constitutionally-protected activity, and that, in any event, punishing non-violent activity as “terrorism” is an unconstitutional denial of due process. This will be a landmark court battle for both…

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My Best Friend’s Mental Disorder

Sometimes I forget she’s different. I know of the addictions, and how easy it is to fall. I know that climbing back up is treading on a slipper slope, and that finding another path can seem impossible. I know how it feels when you think you are all alone. I don’t know how it feels when you truly believe that.

Last night, as we drove around in the dark back roads of my neighborhood, she told me what she was feeling and I truly listened to her, maybe for once in our friendship. I don’t think I tried to understand really, but just listened and took in her tears and the sadness that cracked her voice as she opened up to me.

I think a lot of people felt like they were stuck in a hole at some point in their life. That they were clawing at the walls with bloody fingernails and couldn’t understand why they weren’t getting anywhere. That sometimes, someone would reach down with their hand to offer you help, but that someone wasn’t strong enough to pull you up with one, and wouldn’t reach out with other because it would distract from their task at hand, so they just gave up and let you drop down into that pit again. I think we’ve all had the realization that you can’t count on everyone, all of the time. That you can’t count on some people any of the time, but you can count on other people most of the time, and everything in between.

What if you were born in this dark place, and only ever experienced the light when someone else would pull you out for what little time they wanted you, only to throw you back in when they were done? What if everything everyone ever told you to try to get yourself out of that hole, never worked? “Silver’s Perfect Plan” or “Tatiana’s Playbook” or “Chris knows what you’re feeling Guide to Getting Out” was made just for them, and how are you supposed to write your own plan out if you’ve got nothing but your worn out hands and a brick wall? How are you ever supposed to gather the strength from all of these downfalls and drag yourself out of where the world put you? It’s okay to feel helpless.

It’s okay to feel helpless. Everyone has. Thing is, when the average person feels helpless, this invisible rule seeps into the mind of this person whose opened themselves up in hopes of help, but the possibility of harm too. This invisible rule tells us to tell ourselves that we need to figure it out alone; that it is solely your own responsibility to make yourself strong again. Has that ever really worked for anyone?

I think to the last struggle I had personally, and how I moved on from it. With the help of my sister, or before, with the help of my father. Family plays such an important role. In the years that I’ve known her, I can’t say with confidence that her family has been there the way a little girl needs.

She was born into that dark hole that everyone has inside of them. It has taken over her through the years and enveloped her in darkness. It is the spirit and soul that dwells in the deepest parts of her being that drives her on. She was born with strength like a burning fire and a sadness that feels like too much sad, and this battle rages on inside her mind. She is a victim of her own burning desire for love and companionship, as she is the same with her torrents of depression, dragging her into the deepest part of the ocean of sadness that chokes her of her will to go on.

“If only one of my parents had been there for me.” I haven’t seen her father in her life until this year, and we’ve been best friends for 6 to 7 years now. Her mother is the opposite of what she is: there is no fire and there is no ocean tide. She is as flat as the desert floor and just as barren. Who is a girl to turn to when her own mother won’t hug her tightly to take the pain away or wipe the tears from her eyes?

My friend, she seeks this family that she never got. Born a decade after her two sisters, an accident of the unprepared, a blacksheep in her own blood, she turns to love to pull her out of this despair. There is very little to say about love, only that it is never logical and in no way permanent. And that it bring her out of this hole, for however long he wants to have her heart, but when he let’s go of the love, he let’s go of her. That pit did not just go away when she was in the light. It stayed right where it was, and each time she’s dropped back in to land on the cold hard ground like a ragdoll, disposable, she goes a little deeper.

She wants someone to be her partner, her companion in life. She cannot do it alone, and it is the right of no one to tell her otherwise. It takes so much strength that people don’t realize or appreciate, to truly know what you need. Even more so to ask for it and to ask for help getting it. She has no walls and she lets love in, hoping it will save her from the depths of her sadness. If only people could be relied upon.

It goes without saying that a lot of her strife can be avoided and that to those with the ability to ease the mind and feel the love, all of this might seem solvable or avoidable. This is not the case when someone has a mental disorder. This is something that someone cannot just get over, and that those who do not have that extra internal hurdle to jump cannot understand.


It was hard, to be there for her, to listen to her, and to not say anything. To not tell her that so many people are truly there for her, just not in the exact way she needs. That sometimes you have to compromise with people or live with constant disappointment. But compromising with others to settle on second best is a disappointment too. There is a choice to be made then, and you will never truly know if you made the right one. It was hard not to be able to tell her that the world is fluid and people change and perfection is an illusion that will ultimately fail you when you’re taking your final breath. That she will not always get what she wants but there will always be people who love her. How can you tell someone that no one knows anything, not her nor I, and that you just have to make it day by day?

It’s hard to be there for someone who doesn’t think you are, no matter what you do. She truly believes that no one is. It’s hard not to say anything when so much needs to be said. It’s hard being the best friend of someone with a mental disorder. In the end: I love her, no matter what.

Love the Unloved

The cursor bar blinked. It was always blinking at her, waiting for some sort of amazing combination of words that would explain any of the thoughts in her mind. They never came until after-wise. Whatever came to her mind at the time was just babblement and she couldn’t risk loosing face.

Cursor blinking, more frequently than what she would allow her eyes to blink. She was watching, and couldn’t miss a thing. Watching him unleash, unload. Just thinking about it that way made it sound like she was watching someone’s personal porn. It kind of was to her, watching this person say all of the things that other people were thinking, breaking boundaries and pushing people to their limits. He obviously got off on it; it’s what he is known for. Then she got off on him, overwhelmed by his sense of confidence and unruly ability with words.

He got too much attention and she would watch it all. Picking at people’s flaws, reiterating their past mistakes, flaunting people’s pain as a badge of honor. He was a cycopede, a hotbed of knowledge, and all of it used to scavenge for human misery. Too smart for his own good, and he didn’t give a shit. The world wasn’t ready for the words he’s spoke.

Guy, this person who had caught her attention. It wasn’t rare for her to be a victim of someone’s illaqueation, but this was different. He was different. Unlike anyone she’d ever fallen for before. Thinking of him made her queasy, but she couldn’t stop herself from embracing her curiosity of him. He gave her so much to latch on to, so much to relish inside her mind. She trapped herself in longiquity to be with him the only way she knew she could. He wasn’t hers and probably never would be, but it didn’t matter much to her at this point. She was in, deep, and she adored the feeling.

Sitting there, watching words unfold on screen between Guy and someone else, she kept fantasizing their destiny together. Picturing a time and place, with the two of them, where she wouldn’t be overcome by her maffled words, and he would be fiercely gentle. It would be at night, in a parking lot in town or at the beach during a bonfire. He would notice her first and purposely put himself in her view, and then she would have control. Or maybe she would take control from the beginning, for once. Then what would happen?

The cursor bar still blinking. Notifications of new messages appearing on the screen at rapid rate. Her eyes moving back and forth across the screen, her arms folded, her jaw set. Everything around her was still and at ease, accept for the screen in front of her and the mind inside of her. She was dreaming, imagining what could be…

Oh, life.. you change so..

Mom got an interview over in the desert, where the second house is. If she gets the job and likes it, she’s moving over there ASAP. If that happens, Dad will quickly follow her. And then there’s me.

Do I stay here, try to make things work like an independent adult with roommates and 2 jobs, working my ass off to survive paycheck to paycheck; or do I move over to the desert with the parents live the life of luxury still, just without anyone I love near me.

While I was fantasizing about the potential adventures I could have by moving – taking my deposit money from the house and traveling for a while with WWOOF; stacking cash at a mediocre job and saving up for my future business/non-profit; etc. – I have been making new friendships and creating a potential new relationship with someone… after a long time of being alone.

He’s a really handsome guy with a good sense of humor and the ambition to try new things that could end up being an amazing life decision… like me? Hah.

When all of this came up, a few days over a week ago, I freaked out and had a break down. I don’t want to leave, truly. I want to stay here and continue to create the life I started for myself here. I’m not ready to uproot myself.

But if I did, I would start a whole new path in life and it might be just what I need. What I need to get my life really started, my goals and dreams slowly becoming reality. The timing just doesn’t seem right though….

I am stuck between a rock and a hard place in my mind, but in reality, I just need to keep moving forward, day by day. Do what makes me happy now and not worry so much about the future. I am preparing myself as best as I can for the time being, and as more information comes, I will make decisions.

Never Knowing

Being busy does not mean being productive, necessarily. I guess being productive depends on your perspective of what needs to get done. If your mission is to enjoy a day off and be lazy, going to the movies with an old friend and kicking back on the beach is a productive day. If your goal of the day is to get caught up on school work, house work and other errands, the previous hypothetical situation would be a really terrible way to spend your time.

I’ve had a certain phrase stuck with me for the last few weeks, since I read the random article it came from. Something about the ’20 things people in their 20’s need to know’ (it wasn’t very insightful for the most part). There was one bullet point that made me confused and curious: You should always be busy.

Why should I always be busy? Why can’t I relax? Their reasoning was because some dude who did something awesome spent 7 years straight to do that awesome thing and everyone should do the same in hopes of creating something awesome too. Which is a good thing if it inspires people to reach out and touch their own specific dream and make it a reality. But such a broad and semi-vague point to make….. always be busy, doing something.

Busy work isn’t always the best thing. Keeping yourself distracted from what’s inside of you; inside you’re head, inside your heart; it isn’t healthy. Spending all of your time trying to be something might leave you unsatisfied in the end… What if what you end up with isn’t what you wanted at all, and you spent so much time DOING and no time REFLECTING, you can’t even remember where things might have gotten mixed up?

In my opinion… the 1 thing every person of any age should know is.. balance. Balance is the key. There is a fine line of being too busy and not busy enough, and being busy for the right reasons or the wrong. Living a life of absolutes can be dangerous, while living a life of balanced options can be an eye-opening experience to the uncountable shades of beauty our existence creates. Then again, you can say that vice versa and it is true as well. So I guess all you can say is, find a balance between those two, right? 😉