After graduating high school I took a year off to pursue a career in film production, a career that I had already been working at since I was 14. At 18 years-old I was working 14 hour days on set with a 90 minute commute back home to Long Island. When the commute was too much or the trains already stopped running for the night, I would stay at friends or crew members apartments. I would hang out at union square on Thursday and Friday nights where large groups of young people, who were all older than me at the time, would gather to celebrate being young and free. It was a fun, chaotic, experimental, slightly irresponsible, sometimes plain old stupid period in my life to say the least. The undiagnosed bipolar disorder raging in my brain was driving my often erratic behavior. I was manic. I thrived on set and in the editing room. Then I would crash. I would come home and cut myself, the bandages dismissed as just the cost of working a physically laborious job. 

Music was constantly blasting in my headphones to drown out my own self-destructive thoughts. But music was also a trigger. I felt music so deeply and personally, a single song could alter my mood like turning on a light switch. A bass line could make my heart race, a verse could stop me from going off the deep end, and a great bridge could push me off. This playlist is from a very specific time in my life that I can only half remember because depression blacks out memories. But certain songs hold onto those memories for me.

There’s a Fire – OKGo

I went to every OKGo concert in New York City between 2013 and 2016. The only reason I stopped is because they stopped touring. They were and still are one of my favorite bands.

“On the count of three we’re all gonna stomp. One, two, three…” The front man Damian recorded the audience on an iphone stomping, clapping, hissing, and clicking. Then the drummer tapped at the phone using the audience’s sounds to create the beat of their song There’s a Fire. A beautifully simple song about a boy who cried wolf. “I mean it, there’s a problem here / this time it is for real / How can I make myself more clear?” “There’s a fire” And there really was. This song felt like the back and forth in my mind about if I was actually in crisis and how do I tell someone when I’ve pretended to be ok for so long?

Cherry Blossom – Paolo Nutini

It was the most beautiful day, it was summer in the city and I was on an upswing after a bad depression. I was a production assistant on a mission to pick up a fog machine from some prop house in Brooklyn and deliver it to Long Island City. I listened to this song on loop almost the entire hour and a half trip. On the cab ride back we drove under a canopy of cherry blossoms. It was a moment of bliss bathed in pink flowers.

Someone New – Hozier

I’ve fallen in love over 1,000 times. 995 of those times lasted less than two days. Hundreds of those lasted the amount of time the A C E takes to get from Penn Station down to West 4th Street. 

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards – Tame Impala

I had a crush on this sound guy that I was working on a feature film with. I was the 2nd assistant director and I was only 19. Is that a shameless humble brag? Yes. But it also expresses how fucking surreal my life was. I smoked pot for the first time with that sound guy. He showed me this song. I don’t know if it was the melody, the pot, or him but it made me feel like I was falling backwards infinitely through a hypnotic spiral. Having said that… I realize it was definitely the pot.

When Did Your Heart Go Missing – Rooney

Rooney has a real Cali livin’ kind of vibe. They put a California filter over my gloomy New York lens. One of the most unreal things that happened in my film career was when a friend flew me out to L.A. to be the assistant camera person on his senior thesis film. I made a playlist for the trip and 80% of it was Rooney. I always daydreamed about moving to L.A. to be a director and listening to Rooney as I cruise down the pacific coast highway. 

God, Make Up Your Mind – Cold War Kids

Cold war kids have a chaotic sound and energy that can somehow both express depression and mania. As an 18 year-old undiagnosed manic-depressive, couch surfing around New York and running on coffee, cliff bars, and anxiety, Robbers & Cowards was my soundtrack. The ominous build and slow crawling vocals of God, Make Up Your Mind, spoke to this apathetic darkness in me. I distinctly remember walking from the editing office I was working at to the subway. I was walking along 27th street in Astoria and stopped at a crosswalk. I remember closing my eyes and feeling the hostile wind gusts of cars rushing by. I was strangely tranquil.  “Your stomach feels the emptiness of death” moaned into my ear. I thought about suicide; how easy it would be to step into traffic… But the light turned green.

It’s not about whether you’d prefer the red pill or the blue pill, but rather, which memory you’d like to unlock depending on the song. It’s not unusual for us to attach memory to music; it’s one of the best ways to document moments in time that feel like they’re worth remembering, and a way to re-access them at a later time. I use the term “matrix” because these memories are something within, which then take on the form of a song. It just makes sense. I hope you enjoy this glimpse.

Moonshadow – Yusuf/Cat Stevens

With the softness of the melody paired with the lightness of Stevens’ voice, this song reminds me of being 6 years old, sleepily sitting in the back of my dads car, driving to our small Pennsylvania vacation home for the weekend to visit my Nana. As my eyelids begin drooping, they catch a snippet of the full moon- staring brightly back at me. I believed it was following our car, also joining us on our trip to PA. I was too young to imagine any other reason as to why it moved so perfectly with our car. Just kids things, I guess. I miss that wide-eyed innocence; this song brings that back to me, just for a few moments to spare. If my inner child could be represented by a song, it would be this one. I could stare at the moon all day–especially the full ones. Perhaps that’s the Cancer ascendent part of me. I remember watching a movie years later in my Spanish class, which told the story of a mother separated from her son, but when she looks to the moon, she finds comfort in knowing that despite the fact that they’re apart, they sleep beneath the same moon. I find comfort within that.

Acoustic #3 – The Goo Goo Dolls

This brings out the angst within me, and reminds me of my parents’ relationship when I was younger. I often wonder if I get in my own way- or other people’s way. As a teenager, this song made me think of my mom, and hit me with a truck of regret. Regret for what? I couldn’t even tell you. I regretted my life, despite the fact I had barely even lived it. I regretted that my Mom found my journal. Now she kept eagle eyes on me. I hope she knows I love her. My inner voice asks me “have you told her you love her recently?” For awhile, the answer was no. I was short and snappy; so she became that way towards me. I guess I deserved it. Despite feeling anger towards her, I still ran to her arms when the world became too much to bear. I felt anger towards the world because I felt like it was laughing at my pain, forcefully making my life hard because it enjoyed preying on the weak. I love my dad, but he’s different now. Everything is different now, including myself. I feared that i was morphing into someone I didn’t want to be around, which was one of the worst feelings ever.

Older – Sasha Sloan

My parents are not the same people they were to me when I was wide-eyed and innocent. I find that hard to grapple with. I’m a teenager now, coming to grips with anxiety and depression diagnosis’. I cry to my mom over my dad. I cry at night, angry with myself over my own presence. I feel like I came in the way of my mom’s dream, when in reality, I didn’t. I know this now, but at 14, I didn’t. I feel small and alone, despite having my mother’s arms to run into. I play hide & seek with my own self, wishing desperately I could hide away forever. Never-ending nightly questions that stemmed from verbal abuse from someone who loved me. My parents are just like me. I understand that now better as an adult. I can’t change the past, though sometimes i really wish i could. Things have changed since childhood. I don’t speak to dad anymore; Mom has shown me her softer side. We healed together. I still have her arms to run to for comfort sometimes, but now, she also has mine.

Landslide – Fleetwood Mac

It fits like a missing puzzle piece. The greatest comfort music could give me. It is both the bandaid and ripping the bandaid off. If the “what if’s” of life had a song, this would be it. However, it does so in a gentle way not with the intention of causing fear, but introspection. Here I wrap myself in Stevie Nicks’ voice and transport myself to another realm. I know my inner child is still in there, perhaps this will encourage her to come out. This song represents my relationship with my own life, reminiscent of the thoughts of “do i want to be here?” My life has been a landslide, yet somehow, I’m still here. That counts for something. I become very introspective when this song comes on, and I acknowledge the seasons of my life that have grown me, watching me transform into the person I am today. I feel release each time I listen to Landslide. Despite it being a very well-known song to which nearly everyone can relate to, within the lyrics lies a story unique to each individual listener, who relate it to a part of their lives where the song just…fits.

Medicine – The 1975

Within the walls of Madison Square Garden back in 2017, at the 1975’s concert with one of my best friends. 2017 had been a challenging year, but this moment was one of the most rewarding. The stadium plunged into brief darkness, before it glowed with an orange hue, accompanied by the lights of thousands of phone lights, swaying to the soft music emitting from the guitar and saxophone. The saxophone holds for a long note that doesn’t hit, but gently touches you right in the heart. My friend is shorter than me, and lays her head on my shoulder peacefully, saying “I’m.. I’m just gonna lay here for awhile. If you don’t mind.” I didn’t answer, but gave a silent cue that it was perfectly fine. Amongst thousands of other fans, we immersed ourselves in the peacefulness that this song brought, knowing we were living within one of our favorite moments ever. When we replay that song now, we are automatically taken back [transported? maybe with no adverb?] to that moment where time stopped, as if it were listening to the band play their tunes, too.

I decided to include the live version below of their performance in London. It looked very similar to how it did that night in MSG.

Art Class – beabadoobee

This class changed my life, but not because of the artwork we created. Here, I met my partner. Classmates became fast friends, and i found myself looking forward to art more everyday. Being someone who was uninterested in romantic relationships, realizing I developed a crush on him during the last week of high school ever (we both were seniors) was such great timing (sarcasm). But.. we never lost contact. I moved two months later for college–permanently. I was afraid of losing contact with him, and for a few months, we did. But then the following spring sprung something new. As we began talking more frequently, we began a long distance relationship at the end of that summer. We’re still together now. I think about that art class with gratitude for bringing me joy in creating artistic pieces, and for introducing me to my partner. I can still picture it so clearly: him sitting across from me as we paint our pieces, cracking up at a joke. What we did the most was laugh; we still do that a lot now. It’s such a joyful sound to hear his life, just like it’s a joyful sight to see him smile. This song feels childlike, like something in me knew that there was something about him.

Endless Road – Angel Olsen

I am brought back to my time spent away from New York City, during my first 2 years of college. I’m undergoing a transformative period in my life, grappling with a life beyond what I was used to in a place that did not feel like home. Even though we tried to hard to make it home, it just wasn’t. In our trials in trying to move back, the world was plunged into a pandemic. Late night thoughts of worry and anguish–would we get home? How will we accomplish this? But we did. This song makes me think about the recent years, the roads my life has taken me on. When I was living within those years, I was filled with regret, anger and sadness that swallowed me whole. But now, I look back with a clear mind, seeing it for what it really was, not what I thought it was. It was an experience that challenged me, which therefore allowed me to become comfortable with stepping beyond my comfort zone–something I hadn’t expected to happen so soon. I removed the box around me that I had built for myself, feeling less afraid of venturing out into a world beyond it. However, there is nothing like the feeling of returning home. I feel home when I am engulfed in my mother’s arms; home when I’m holding my boyfriend’s hand, or surrounded by a group of friends, or my best friend. Everything leads me back to home.

This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) – Talking Heads

I have found myself in recent years muttering to myself “this must be what it feels like..” about a moment or feeling that I’ve captured in memory-right in the moment. This song is representative of that type of feeling for me. It’s a joyful song, one that brings me straight into the dancing mood. It, too, is reminiscent of home. This is what it feels like to return home after a long time. This is what it feels like to fall in love for the first time. This is what it feels like to truly love who you are. I play this to bring me into high spirits. My inner child is still here, I know this for sure. This song feels like eating your favorite food after not having it in so long, or seeing your favorite person/people after being separated for so long. I have danced to this song with friends in the past when we’ve come together. It is a song that brings an immediate smile to my face. It feels like an amusement park, filled with rides awaiting you to go on. And your excitement and happiness is bubbling at the surface.

ROADMAP FOR THE SOUL

Call me a masochist, but I relish my times of distress and despair. I’ve grown an appreciation for the natural pains of life, recognizing that they, perhaps even more than joyful moments, give life meaning. Below, I list songs I find effective at drawing out my innermost fears and/or hangups. With the recognition that my worldview is harebrained and not reflective of the prevailing mindset, I advise you to listen to these songs and wallow at your own risk.

Bring it on Home to Me – Sam Cooke

Pairs well with moods and humors of all stripes.

                          Sam Cooke Bring It Home To Me           

I’m an avowed fan of songs that put me in a romantic mood. This song and the one that follows it on this list are two prime examples of what Frank Zappa liked to call “greasy” songs, or songs that ooze sentimentality to the point of disgust. He might have felt that way, but for me, sometimes it hits the spot in spite of not being musically challenging, in the same way that a bag of chips can curb hunger in spite of its unimpressive nutritional profile.

Lady Stardust – David Bowie

Remove wrapping and unravel into a fine paste.

                          Lady Stardust (2012 Remaster)           

Sometimes when you’re really down and out, you’re not looking for anything gussied up. You just want a sappy, mawkish crooner to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, and who better than Mr. Plastic Soul himself. It’s nothing too cagey or introspective – just desperate, panting love. If ever you find yourself in the throes of heartbreak, as I have on many an occasion, you may find that Lady Stardust suffices in place of, Idunno, a Coldplay song.

Runaway – Kanye West

Blend with a cool autumn night and get lost. Serves one.

                          Runaway            

The song many consider to be the crown jewel of Dark Fantasy teeters between self-loathing and self-pity. While I didn’t exactly consider myself a “jerk-off” last semester, and certainly didn’t feel worthy of a “toast for the douchebags,” Kanye helped me navigate what was then a complex tangle of emotions. In spite of the title, the song made me want not to run away from my problems but rather sit in them and find my humanity in my struggles.

Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues – Bob Dylan

Mixes well with one foot squarely on the gas pedal.

                          Bob Dylan – Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues (Audio)           

When read on a page, the song is a desultory account of a trip to Mexico gone awry, but ingested aurally, it’s a boisterous anthem of triumph, the perfect blend of youth and maturity. Mike Bloomfield’s guitar tone is rivaled only by that of Jimi Hendrix among contemporaries in its hugeness.  I can’t help but think of everyone who’s counted me out for the last 5 years as I roar (safely!) down the highway and blast this sonic middle finger right out the open driver-side window, letting it catch in the wind for all to hear.

Hey Hey, What Can I Do – Led Zeppelin

Leave her where the guitars play. Doctor’s orders.

                          Hey, Hey, What Can I Do (Remaster)           

Another song in which the lyrical content and the music are at odds with each other. The conflict doesn’t seem forced or intentional, inasmuch as it is even felt at all. Robert Plant sings of an age-old lover-left-me quandary over a progression of mostly (if not entirely) major modality. Rather than lingering on the angst of loneliness, high school Johnny instead basked in the feelings of liberation that solitude can provide.

Madame George – Van Morrison

Distill until the very crystals of beauty are obtained. Store away from any worldly corruptors.

                          Madame George (1999 Remaster)            

It’s mind-blowing how far a simple I-IV-V progression can be taken in the right hands. It can be hard to tell that this song follows so conventional a formula, so remote and enigmatic is its sound. Writers the likes of Lester Bangs have spoken glowingly of its singular ability to capture human suffering, and I have spent many a night lying on my couch, not upset about any one thing, probing Van Morrison’s transcendent vocal for the mysteries of life.

She Said She Said – The Beatles

Let age. Ready to consume when the walls have crumbled.

                          She Said She Said (Remastered 2009)           

I can actually justify this song’s inclusion with a particular incident in my life in which it appeared. I had a huge blowout fight with someone I used to know, and I blasted this song while driving (safely!) home. Before that, it was just a cool song off of my favorite Beatles album. Now, hearing the tin-tone guitars try and fail to fit into a swirling mixed-meter rhythm fills me with dread. Not the redemptive kind, either. I’m sorry to say that Revolver has mostly stayed in the jewel case since that day. Maybe one day I’ll be able to clear the cobwebs and play it again. Until then, it’ll be a piece of plastic with a cool enough looking picture sitting in a case in my car.

So it’s true, even for me, that sometimes pain unequivocally sucks. Nothing is learned, or gained, or forgiven. There’s no maturation, no fulfillment. I can’t prescribe music for these situations, which, now that I think about it, probably says something about the way I think of music. As long as there is a sliver of hope in whatever befalls, I know I can turn to music, not as a distraction or a salve, but as a signpost to find the new version of myself, or as Bob Dylan says, “a roadmap for the soul.”

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rST6T3bMhMiUgmDDxBgZQyvukz0z8P_qBkoftKT20z4/edit?usp=sharing

This is the link to my personal essay, thank you.

Pandemia

I’ve always been into sci-fi and dystopian media – but who actually thought I’d be living it? The COVID pandemic is one of the most challenging experiences I have ever witness and endured in my life. I can’t recall ever wearing a face mask prior to 2020. Hand sanitizers were a thing I carried in my purse as a luxury – not a necessity. Some people say the death of Kobe Bryant was in an indicator of the times. Others think it was when Meghan Markle and Prince Harry had their “BREXIT”. But who can really say?
“The Pandemia” was what my mother-in-law called it. Others called it “The ‘Rona”. Especially young new Yorkers – you know we are quick to coin a phrase for everything. Regardless of the name, it affected you in some way, somehow.

Yesterday – The Beatles / “Yesterday (Cover) by Billie Eilish and Finneas, performed at the 2020 Oscars

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fP-epyqh-M

Who could forget the haunting dreamy whispers of Billie Eilish singing “Yesterday” at the Oscars? “Yesterday – All my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe, in yesterday”, she recites as Kobe Bryant’s face flashes across the screen. I cried watching this performance, not only because it was the “In Memoriam” portion of the show but in disbelief that Kobe Bryant had died two weeks before with his daughter in a helicopter crash. During this time, COVID seemed like a boogeyman – something discussed in the news but nothing that anyone had actually witnessed just yet. The parallels to the lyrics are uncanny because during this time, COVID was a trouble that seemed far away outside of the United States. Who knew that weeks later, New York would become the epicenter of the virus, shutting down schools, businesses and so much more. “Suddenly, I’m not the half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly.”

War – Pop Smoke, Lil TJay

It was the beginning of the semester at Queens College and this was the song I’d bump heading to school. The whole act of starting Queens College felt like going to war. I’d get myself geared up every morning (for what felt like “War”) — Air pods in, Doc Martens on, running in an oversized purple puffer coat two sizes too big because I was four months pregnant and couldn’t fit into anything else. I had no idea how to navigate the campus and received no formal orientation – so it was just me and my iPhone each day, learning how to navigate the campus with GPS. I downloaded the app for the bus schedule, which worked only when it wanted to. The trip to QC was stressful but hearing, “I don’t get mad, I get money. What you looking at, little dummy? I start buckin’ teeth like I’m Bunny and I back the Wraith out for nothin”, cracked me up every time. Three weeks into the semester, Pop would get shot to death on February 19^th.  It seemed surreal as the world watched in disbelief with videos of him being carried on a stretcher went viral on the internet. Less than 24 hours after accidentally posting his location online, people would break into his home, shoot him and leave him for dead. Who would’ve thought that one of New York’s most promising artists would’ve gotten killed at 19? Crazy. Perhaps this should’ve been a sign of the times back then, too, because exactly 1 month later, New York would go on lockdown.

You’re Somebody Else – flora cash

News of the pandemic became more frequent on the news. I watched as some of the strongest people I knew felt terrified of what was coming. My husband and mother in law would come home discussing what they were seeing at the hospitals. I’d hear from my mom the stories about her co-workers getting sick and being forced to quarantine in their homes. School transitioned to online learning and everyone was unsure of what was to come. “You look like yourself, But you’re somebody else, Only it ain’t on the surface” rang true as I watched the people and places I loved change around me. It was eerie going to the grocery stores and seeing the empty shelves. Or sitting with my husband and mother in law, trying to figure out what we should buy in case it went out of stock. Strategizing the best days and times to try going to Costco or Target to buy toilet paper and baby wipes, because they were completely sold out everywhere.

Every Single Thing – HOMESHAKE

It was April 1^st when my husband found out he had COVID. I remember feeling nervous when the results came into his phone via email from his job. I was in our bedroom while he was in the living room, where he had been for the past nine hours waiting for the results. He Facetimed me from the living room to let me know that the results were positive.

Positive for COVID-19.

My mind was racing – trying to re-trace our interactions over the past few days. This is what they now call “contact tracing”. I didn’t know if I had caught it myself. Or if Micah, our 1 year old, had it. Or what to expect if we did get sick. Or what would happen to Morris – would he make it or was this the end? I called my mom to tell her the news and she didn’t hesitate before telling me to come over. My mother in law agreed – that it wouldn’t be safe for us to stay there. Not for Micah. Or myself. Or our unborn baby. I packed everything as quickly as I could before leaving the apartment for what would be Two months. Yes – Two. Months.

“Feeling so out of touch, Staying inside too much. Introducing all these hands but I’m out of luck.”

Come Thru (with Usher) – Summer Walker ft Usher

I’d call Morris throughout the day but sometimes he wouldn’t answer. He was feeling too tired. Or too sick. I didn’t know if I was calling too much. Or if I wasn’t calling enough. I was seeing so many homeopathic remedies being suggested online – respiratory steams to help him breathe better. My mother sent over a garlic/honey mixture as well as a new asthma pump in hopes that it would help. But he wouldn’t bother. He said, “You should be careful giving out all of this advice, you’re not a doctor.”

I found myself feeling frustrated. And sad. And exhausted. And alone. Very much alone.

I spent the first two weeks in my mother’s house with a mask on. We wouldn’t talk much when she was home unless I was standing outside of her bedroom. Or through text messages.

There were so many narratives swirling about the virus. No one knew what to believe. From doctors coming out, stating that the virus was “Fake” to the viral “Plandemic” videos to disputes over how the virus was actually spread. Bottles of Lysol wipes and latex gloves, scrubbing down everything bought in the stores. My mind was in a daze. From baby kicks to sleepless nights — All I wanted was to be home. And after May came, I was.

I Like Him – Princess Nokia

July 20^th, the morning of my anniversary, Liam was ready to come into the world. Morris was the only one allowed to come. No other family members. Or friends.
Just my partner.

And me.

The hospital a different experience this time around, with me wearing a mask the entire time. He was a beautiful little bean, 7 pounds exactly. With Micah, they carried him away to clean him before giving him back to me. But with Liam, I held him right away.
When I brought him home, I made an Instagram story with this song, zooming in on his face while he was sleeping. my He was precious and absolutely perfect – a silver lining in the midst of the chaos. The calm after a storm.

Just Like Heaven – The Cure

And just like that – things have shifted again. My father in law passes away from COVID in El Salvador. The airports and borders are closed. No one can travel to attend the funeral service.

It was a difficult time. It still is.

Avenue Beat – F2020

We had a socially distanced Thanksgiving. And Christmas. Spent New Year’s at home watching the ball drop and exchanging text messages sending well wishes for the new year. Yet, there’s an eerie undertone to it all. To see Times Square on TV completely empty and desolate. To hear of all of the businesses shuttered throughout the city from the virus.

To know that there is still so much work to be done – to heal the world and ourselves after what we have witnessed in the past twelve months. There’s a sense of comfort that 2020 is over but also a lingering question of what truly lies ahead.

Voortman, Sebastian. Body of Water during Golden Hour. Pexels.

There have been moments when I’ve felt the most alive and not through the ways you might think. Not from a huge success like getting the job you wanted or the first college you chose. Not from the exhilaration of riding a roller coaster or making out with someone you just met at a party. I’m talking about the magic when the air is quiet and still. When your mind pauses and the moment is a standstill. It’s something on a whole other level that is owed to nothing particularly spectacular. But when I feel this it’s like l’m submerged deep down into my subconscious mind in the actual waking moment. How I get there is a willing relinquishing of control, surrendering to my environment, an embrace with intimacy and curiosity. My world becomes inverted—I’ve stepped into the marvelous twilight.

~Digging My Feet Into the Sand~

Mike. Green Leafed Trees Near Body of Water. Pexels.

“Like a Bell to a Southerly Wind,” Chequerboard

I’m crouched by the warm pond, searching for skinny, racing geckos with my cousin’s Hailie and Kylie. My sister and I were visiting our family in Albany, in a magical place the adults called The Land. Okay, The Land wasn’t really hot shit. It was just my aunts current ex-boyfriends property in rural New York, with a pond, and hilly plains perfect for swimming and lighting s’mores. I recently started middle school and hated it. Everyone acted like a 45 year old low life that thrived on cigarettes and sex with strangers. Hardened by life, carrying a forced demeanor of draining any sensitivity, apparently called “coolness”. I was never cool. I was just a kid and the connections I made with nature and family on The Land saved me from the drowning dynamics of people’s power play and self-preserving performances. I felt free, holding my dad’s waist as we jetted over the dry grass on the four-wheeler. My cousins and I stared satisfying at jars containing a fuzzy caterpillar, a gecko, and beetle—a hard day’s work of exploring and harvesting wild life. We all surrounded a roaring flame and smiled at the orange and yellow wisps dancing into the wide, dark sky. I was more than happy— I was content. Rooted into the present from the love of play and surrender to a trusting community.

~Sea Salt~

Petersson, Maria. Wooden spoon with salt on table. Pexels.

“Bless Those Tired Eyes,” Clem Leek

There are days that feel like salt in the wound. My mother is a home health aid with raging clients that need her yet undervalue her. It is soul crushing work. Yet she opens the door each night with dark marks under her eyes and a large smile, emitting a soft glow. I race to finish the lentil soup on time to comfort her, even if it’s just a warm broth after a long day. She closes her eyes, sinks deeper into the couch, and relishes in the simplicity of a home cooked meal. She is patient. She is gentle and gracious. She is an exhausted hand extending out from the darkness, still giving to others.

You can read my poem on this subject published in Utopia Parkway Journal: 

https://utopiaparkwayjournal.wordpress.com/spring-2021-issue/para-tu-alma/

~Crashing Waves~

Tuesday Temptation. Purple and Blue Light Digital Wallpaper. Pexels.

“Labyrinth,” Toro y Moi

Coming home from that Halloween party with CJay, sent chills through every part of me. The taxi ride was timeless. We had been dating for over a year. That point in a relationship when the infatuation simmers down and a deeper kind of love begins to emerge. It was around 3am and we were transported onto a beach shore when we crashed onto the bed and connected. It was one of our most enchanting nights. Vulnerable and real. Stars lined the floor and the room was a calming indigo blue. He was an ocean wave as he dropped me down and kissed my face. Sharp orange from the street lights danced through thin cracks between the blinds. Police sirens snuck in too but I heard nothing. How? When his eyes were orbs of midnight.

~The Meandering River~

Pok Rie. Brown river flowing through sandy coast in tropical resort. Pexels.

“Heaven or Las Vegas,” Cocteau Twins

I was elated as I walked home—I made a first real friend. Mehnaz was reserved in high school and didn’t open up as easily as I did. We met on the first day of school on a greasy cafeteria table. Her deep brown eyes drew me in—they looked kind and soft. Like me, she went to middle school in another neighborhood and knew no one. She was calm yet awkward, humble and sweet. Turned out we went to the same middle school but never met. Turned out we had almost every class on our new schedule together. We walked to the bus stop everyday after school and one day, she opened her heart to me. We looked at each other and the windows over both of our eyes were wide open. The river changed course, our friendship took a deep turn of intimacy from there. She’s been my best friend for almost a decade.

~The Other Side of the Pacific~

Renard, Christine. Window View of Airplane. Pexels.

“Waves,” Daniel Daniel

My soul sister is planning to cross the Pacific to start her new adventure in Japan. Melissa has gone scuba diving, wilderness skills training, skiing and snow boarding, you name it. And now she’ll be leaving the country for the first time. If Mel doesn’t get this job, she’ll apply for something else and get to where she wants to go somehow. That’s just who she is and I love that about her. She’s a major badass. But she’s also my good friend—and it may be selfish for me to say but she’s my home and I always want her near. I will miss her. She’s been a grounding rock through her tremendous ability to be vulnerable and emotionally sensitive in relationships. Mel has been through heart wrenching experiences yet loves herself so much that nothing has stopped her from reaching her personal success and joy. She is a living example of someone who’s been engulfed and pushed down by tidal waves yet gets up and goes back swimming. I am proud of her. Like Daniel Daniel, I’m afraid I’ll be “drowning without you.” But I already know I’m equipped with the tools to swim over harsh waves too—and a big reason for that is her. 

~Rooted By You~

Baskin Creative Studios. Time Lapse Photography of Lake. Pexels.

“Night After Sidewalk,” Kaki King

Sometimes my dad will pump old rock and funk songs when he drives me Upstate. And sometimes the car is silent. I lean toward the window and am immersed in the chill and stillness of Albany. I’m exposed, being next to all those tall trees who were here before me and who will live longer than me. I feel small in the most comforting way. This universe is large and complicated and I’m just a speck in it. I don’t have to be any specific way. But they never make me feel lonely either. Their height is tremendous and their roots are strong. I feel like they will take care of me and I have nothing to worry about. My dad’s love comes in the same way. He see’s the world in me yet doesn’t take me all that seriously either. He just takes me as I am. It feels like there’s no destination when driving with my dad. The destination is the car—but only when it’s just me and him.

NOTE: I haven’t delved into music descriptions in my mixtape yet. I followed the style of Haroon Moghul’s “How to Be a Muslim,” with a focus on narrative. I plan on adding music description to each section when I edit for my final portfolio.