A Personal Blog.
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A while back, I ran a poll on my Instagram page suggesting some new and fresh ideas to bring to the blog; one of them being tag-related posts. Now, I typically don’t like doing tag related posts on here because I feel like every question on these posts is the same, but I managed to find an interesting one on Pinterest!
Without further ado, here’s The Tattletale Tag!
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Can you believe there have been 200 posts on the blog? That’s honestly a number way too insane to imagine. I can’t even think of 200 things to talk about, let alone write them! Honestly, thank you guys who come on here and read these posts. Despite having a blast writing on here every day for the last 25 days, I’m honored to see you guys countlessly come back on the blog’s scheduled days and see what’s new on the blog. Without TNTH, there would be no Self-Appreciation Saturdays, no Voiceless Rants, no travel diaries, and definitely no special series. This year alone, we had three different series go on in TNTH, which honestly was an amazing experience and will be coming back very soon!
If you’ll like to see some of my favorite posts when we hit 100 posts on TNTH, you can click the link to check it out!
For now, here are some of my favorite posts, part 2!
Again, thank you everyone who’s supported TNTH these last 200 posts. Here’s the next 100 and the next 100 and the next 100…
Here’s to forever.
-Liz. (:
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Since it’s Friday, I figured it would be nice to post something on the less serious side, so I decided to let you guys in on what I’ve been brewing inside my mind regarding some potential stories.
If you’ll like to read the first installment of this, here’s part one of Stories I’ve Been Working On! Edit: Looking back at this post, I realize I wrote the first post on this exact day a year ago; how weird!
Without further ado, here are some stories I’ve been working on:
In a nutshell, I really play around with this one family a lot because to some extent, it reflects on the life I live and it’s just the group of people that very much have in-depth characteristics. This story follows the two characters that were in my first part of this series; in summary, these two people have reunited again after heartbreak and loss and decide to give their friendship once last chance of redemption. As the year passed, they’ve gotten to know each other in a different light even if they’ve been best friends ever since they were four years old all the way back in 1996. Life happens, people grow up, and they both very much had to get to know each other again after a year and a half of not speaking. One night in October, they had admitted to each other that it’s always been them, despite the many people whose walked in and out of their lives. So, just like that, they tried this whole dating thing. Although on the surface this relationship seemed perfect in everyone else’s eyes, the female character still had to deal with some of her inner demons. She felt guilty that she jumped back into a relationship only 5 months after her fiance passed away due to a chronic illness, and she had felt that those around her were judging her for her decision. Every now and then she would be alright, and then there were some nights when she wasn’t.
And then the unthinkable happened. She had found out she was pregnant. Not being completely ready for yet a new chapter in her life, her partner (the male character) reassured her that everything was going to be alright. Personally, I love this male character, like he has his own battles he deals with and he grew up being a single teen parent, but he always knew he was supposed to be with this girl and now that they got together and got to this point in their lives, he was willing to do whatever it was to protect her, even if it meant protecting her from herself sometimes. So, the months pass by, it’s now the end of July, and she is now roughly 30 weeks. She goes into labor. She has the baby, and of course, he is born prematurely. Dealing with the trauma of her labor and potentially losing her baby, she’s now at a state of mind where she feels like she has to be on full survival mode with her child all the time, which her partner starts to realize she’s beginning to tune him out, as well as being crazy protective over their son. One thing spirals after the other, accusations are made, things are truly going too fast, and, well, something major happens that honestly, I didn’t see coming from this character.
You might be thinking, “well goddamn Liz, these people can’t be happy in your world!” That’s not true. I’ve played around with these characters for the last decade, and life is nothing short of a breeze for these two. The beauty of it all, though, is that these two always make it out alright, just like everyone else in the real world. Of course, there are consequences, there is reasoning due to characteristics these characters have, and I think that’s why I love these two together. They literally would go to the moon and back for one another.
When stories in the present day really interest me, I always like to jump ahead into the future and start planning out storylines for characters who might be too young in my mind, or that solely don’t exist yet in the universe. In this case, I’ve been looking forward into the future of Micah, the son of the first two people in the previous story. I guess you can say he turns out fine because, in this universe, he’s already 17 years old. Micah follows the footsteps of his father and his older brother; they’re all musically inclined. Micah takes it to a whole new level; while his older brother was more of a “percussion and acapella” type of guy, he’s definitely more into the “I play lead guitar in a grungy-rock garage band” type of guy whenever he’s not playing the piano to suit his father’s needs.
In this universe, he meets a girl named Kalia. At first, they couldn’t stand each other due to their unofficial competition of who is the better musician in their class, but Micah begins to fall for this girl’s spunk, sassy, yet passionate and humble personality. She’s not afraid to be seen with the other “band geeks” that play in the band as the very much competitive vocal program in their school takes most of their spotlight. (No tea, no shade!) She’s really the only girl who’s decided she didn’t want to sing in the “all-girl angelic plastic choir”. But he’s starting to notice something strange in Kalia’s behavior. She won’t invite him over to hang out at her place, she sometimes take unexpected days off (even on important exam dates where teachers don’t discipline her) and she’s never wanting to be seen in public. What’s her deal, and will Micah ever find out?
Although I already have the idea set in mind, it’s also this very convoluted and I definitely will have to revisit this idea in another post to break down the entire story!
Let me know if you’ll like to possibly see some scenes within these two stories written out on TNTH in the near future! Possibly next week? 😉 You gotta come back and see!
-Liz. (:
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If you knew me waaaaay back in 2016, you would remember that I used to carry around this hardcover pink journal everywhere I went. I carried it to school, my partner’s place, my grandparent’s house in Pennsylvania, my aunt’s house in Jersey; pretty much everywhere that I went. I didn’t get to keep one in 2017, but I started it back up this year. Of course, nothing beats the original, and this daily journal is honestly one of the reasons why 2016 was such a great year for me. If you’ll like to read about some of my reasoning on why journaling is a great thing to do, you can read my post about the Pros of Journaling here!
With that being said, I figured we do something fun for this week’s #TBT! How about we go through three of my journal entries right here, right now?
Continue reading “Day 23: A Look Through My 2016 Daily Journal!”
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In the first day installment of the Blogust Series, I touched a bit on the fact that I am a firm believer of spiritual energy. Of course, when I bring that up in conversation, many people believe that I’m referring to a higher power of some sorts in some religion. While I do have my own personal beliefs about religion, I was never a religious person. I wasn’t raised with a religious background, so I never knew much about God and The Bible; pretty much anything related to religion.
When I say spiritual energy, I mean just that: energy. I believe those cliches that people seem to overuse in life: everything happens for a reason. I’m not saying that you have to analyze everything that happens in your life to figure out that reason; for the most part, I do take things that happen at certain times in my life and wonder why something would happen during such a time.
Confused? Let me explain.
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This has felt like the longest month of my life, and we still have 10 days left of it. Of course, that is not me reflecting on the Blogust series whatsoever; I very much enjoyed doing this series for the month because it kept me busy and it kept my mind focused on everything but what was happening in my personal life.
I’m writing this post literally the night before it publishes because I normally save these posts to make them as accurate as possible. It wouldn’t feel right if I scheduled this post at the beginning of the month- shoot – even within the last week. And, of course, that post being:
These posts are my absolute favorite to write, and yes, I do mention this thought almost on every post.
Anyway, this month has been the month of like, realizing stuff, as Kylie Jenner once said. I started to notice parts of me that I was pretty much tired of being, and I’ve noticed just how much I was in denial about a lot of them.
Let me set the scene for you guys:
It’s a Tuesday afternoon, and I’m dreading going to see my therapist for the week. For once, I felt like it was unworthy of me to go, I didn’t have much to talk about, and I was just in a really sour mood for most of the morning. I sucked it up, got dressed, and headed on over to my session.
The session I had with my therapist was one that felt like I’ve lifted 30 pounds off my already tired body. I started out the conversation saying that I was doing good when really I’ve been having such a shitty day. Something in me told me to cut the shit. Something told me that not only am I wasting my time being here by lying, but I was also wasting her time as well. Most importantly, I was delaying my growth by not being honest. The next breath I took was me saying, “I feel like I’m not being honest about myself, nor to myself, and I feel tired of being too afraid to open up and talk about things that make me feel deep things.”
I could hear my mother’s muffled voice calling out my name in my sleep. It felt like those days when I would dread to wake up so early for school and an extra 5 minutes felt like an hour more. I know this couldn’t be one of those times I asked for an extra 5 minutes. My aunt was coming from Jersey to pick us up at 7:15, so I knew how limited my time was.
The weather was gloomy and humid; two things I wished it wasn’t on this already dreadful day. Something felt weird in the air. It felt like Sunday for some strange reason, and I couldn’t get over the fact that something, just something was wrong today. I didn’t wake up refreshed like I normally do. I didn’t feel calm whatsoever. I felt the racing thoughts pumping through my mind. Then, it hit me after a week of nonchalantly speaking about it: today I am opening wounds that can possibly still bleed out.
My grandfather didn’t want a funeral. The weekend before he died, his wishes were that he get cremated and that some of his ashes would be spread around the treehouse he built over a decade ago and that my grandmother would keep them. He also wanted a mass, which took me several google searches to find out what was even the difference between the two. The week he passed away, almost everything was beginning to get arranged for this mass, and the date was set: August 18th, 2018.
I woke up that morning thinking I grieved enough to pass the point of sadness. I thought I was going to be able to celebrate my grandfather’s life through memories and pictures and laughs. My grandfather would want us to remember him for the many things he was, instead of being sad that he was gone. I thought my family was ready for today as well. We all got dressed and pretty much said the same thing over and over again: “I can’t wait to get this over with.”
I could tell my mother was extremely anxious. In the time span from the time we got to my aunt’s house to the actual service, my mother had taken three smoke breaks outside my aunt’s deck. My grandmother was anxious because she was just tired of crying and being torn apart by her loss. Even going through the weird vibes and anxiety flowing through everyone under my aunt’s roof, I stayed optimistic. I remained positive, again trying to convince myself that I was over the grieving process.
Then, we left.
I had some anxiety going to the Church because I thought we were going to be late. My aunt drove the ladies to the Church while my uncle drove the boys. My aunt took a couple of wrong turns and time was passing. I feel like we were one of the last people to arrive, yet we were the most crucial part of the service because my grandmother had my grandfather’s ashes with her.
Walking into the church full of people felt as agonizing as walking down the aisle for a wedding. I mean, I’ve only been to one wedding in my life, and that was 20 years ago. I was only four. It just felt like the front of the church felt like it ran for a mile. But we entered the Church with my sister holding onto my grandmother’s arm. We were instantly greeted by my grandfather’s sisters and family who were very close to my grandmother. In the height of it all, my grandmother started crying. My sister started to tear. I started to tear. 10 minutes into the Church and I was already feeling the knot form in my throat. Easy there, Liz. You’re going to be fine. By the time we got to the middle of the aisles, my grandmother spotted her eldest sister sitting down and greeted her with a tearful hug. I had to look away until the encounter was done.
We had all found a row of seats at the front of the Church, presumably reserved for my grandmother and her side of the family like my mother, aunt, and grandchildren. A couple of relatives from my uncle’s side of the family also came to pay their respects, and to support my grandmother; especially my uncle’s mother who had just lost her husband due to illness just a couple of months before. The greetings and the hugs felt weird to me, not because they’re weird or anything, but I felt a major disconnect from my own body and what was going on around me.
I felt myself cave in. I felt myself slipping from reality more and more as we sat and waited for the mass to start. I saw the pictures on the screen of my grandfather; smiling, happy. I saw pictures of both my grandparents together, smiling. Happy. Familiar. It was a version of my grandmother I was used to seeing: happy, adding onto stories that my grandfather used to tell us, always the center of attention whenever my grandfather would joke on her constantly out of love, and present. I looked at those photos feeling as if I lost both my grandparents. I had to look away before I got too emotional. I was still fighting back the tears.
Looking around me, I had seen my sister look at the photos too. All I could see was my sister hold her eyes with tissues as she wept in sadness. I kindly had to rub her back for support, knowing that she needed at least someone to let her know that everything was going to be fine, no matter how desperately I needed someone rubbing my back telling me the same thing.
Starting the service felt like an eternity. The pictures kept circulating and the entire row of my family was just silent. I didn’t know what to do with myself; I wanted anything else than to focus my attention on the photos on the screen. I turned to my left and saw my 16-year-old cousin just crying and crying. I haven’t seen this boy cry in what feels like decades. I don’t even remember him crying that much as a baby, and even though there’s an eight-year difference, he was my first cousin, and when I was little, we were really close. Of course, with distance and age changed that, and it wasn’t recently on our trip to Pennsylvania when I got to have a decent conversation with him without feeling weird or nervous or whatever. Seeing him weeping caught me off-guard. In a sense, it brought my body back to reality: we’re at a mass for a loved one that many of us are forced to think about during this service, and people are going to grieve and cry.
I rubbed my cousin’s back the same way I did for my sister. I don’t know when my body thought it was its job to be the peacemaker of everything, but it was. Again, while also needing someone to do that for me.
Shortly after that, the photos stopped, and the service started.
For most of the service, I felt disconnected. I felt like the religious perspective during the service was something I couldn’t focus on. Yeah, it’s because I wasn’t raised with a religious background, and quite frankly I don’t understand points and certain aspects of it, but in a way, I was glad that I couldn’t. Again, I couldn’t allow myself to completely be vulnerable, especially with all of my family around. I teared up when I felt the most touched about the words said about my grandfather, but I honestly couldn’t hear anything else because I was tuning out for my own good, I was trying to protect myself from the pain.
It wasn’t until my grandfather’s grandson on his side of the family came up to speak a couple of words about him. Some moments were funny, and some were extremely spot on about how my grandfather’s personality was, and he closed it off reflecting on a memory that he holds dear to his heart and now interprets it into a whole new meaning.
Reflecting back on my grandfather, he was ballsy, tough, courageous, and wasn’t afraid of nothing. He spoke his mind pretty much about everything, and that character reflects on the stories he would tell about the times he was younger. When it was his time to go, he wasn’t afraid. He took it still being brave, courageous, tough, and yes, even funny. He would always tell his grandkids to never fear anything, and I personally think that’s always going to be his life-long message to us as we go through this tough time.
Never be afraid of something that is smaller than you.
As I write this, I think back to today and although I’m glad that the service is finally over and done with for the sake of having to reopen wounds that are not healed yet, I am glad that my grandfather can now finally rest and live in nature.
I will always remember my grandmother telling me the story of the first time I was introduced to my grandfather. I was too young to remember my biological grandfather, so when my grandmother introduced my grandfather to us, I apparently ran over to him and gave him a huge hug. I don’t remember this day for myself, but I know I will always keep that story close to my heart.
Rest in peace, grandpa. ❤
-Liz. (:
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With college coming around the corner (or already came) and public school starting in just a couple of weeks, many of those people who fall into the routine of going back to college at the end of the month already know what’s to come: another school year, another year of papers, finals, classes, grades; all that jazz. Some of you guys might be ready to go back and just become more productive once again, and some of you may already be dreading the thought of being busy with school. Whatever the emotion is that you’re feeling, you still are returning to a place of familiarity, comfortability, and acknowledgment. As a former college/grad student, getting back into the swing of things took some time, and yes, I did experience a form of anxiety returning back to that routine, but it wasn’t anything that left me wondering what was going to happen. In other words, it didn’t leave me uncertain about my future for the upcoming year.
Like you guys know, I graduated grad school this past May without the intention of continuing my education further. No PhD’s for me, honey. What that meant for me was that I’d go through the summer celebrating and getting the well-needed break I deserved knowing that when it all ended, I wouldn’t be returning to my college as a student. I am not forced to adapt to a lifestyle I never experienced before: working a full-time job, making money, paying bills, pretty much being an actual functioning adult. As I sit here and write this post knowing that next week I will not be starting my first day of classes like I’ve done for the last 6 years of my life, I realized the uncertainty and anxiety was more than just normal worries.
I’m currently dealing with a real-as-fuck “culture shock.”
Continue reading “Day 19: How I’m Dealing with “Culture Shock”.”
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As the months pass on by, trends are created and become viral much more quickly than (sadly) an actual cause that can help save or cause a change in society. I say this with disgust over a certain “trend” that I came across social media one day, and that trend is the “skinny legend” trend.
According to Urban Dictionary, the term “skinny legend” originated on social media, used to describe a fandom’s “fave”, or person that is worshipped in a certain group of “stans”.
A phrase used by a social media sub-group called “stans”. It is commonly used to refer to celebrities such as Mariah Carey who are glamorous and talented, no matter their weight. It is also used ironically to refer to cute animals, people, objects etc. Twitter trolls use it often in their memes.
It’s meant to be something ridiculous and stupid, yes, and the community who came up with the trend didn’t intend any harm by creating it, but no matter how you look at it, those who see it for the first time are going to think the obvious definition of it: someone who is skinny and iconic. And that’s when a harmless trend then becomes harmful.
A lot like the “triggered” trend that was circulating on the internet in the last two years, “skinny legend” holds that same discriminative aura. Those who will use the term “skinny legend” will use it in every conversation, talking about good-looking people who are society’s definition of “legends” and “iconic”. I mean, what fat person is going to write #SkinnyLegend on their caption knowing half of the social media community will look at them sideways? It’s a trend that makes it so being pretty and good-looking an exclusive club for skinny people, which yet again is going everything against those who aren’t “blessed” with being skinny.
Am I reaching? Maybe. Do I feel salty? Maybe. But I could care less about feeling included in a trend such as “skinny legend”. While its original concept was okay and passable of being a decent good meme or whatever, it still leaves way too much room for people to misuse the term. They will be people using the word for its literal meaning: BEING A SKINNY LEGEND.
So please, don’t just use it because you hear everyone else saying it (which I bet 9 out of the 10 times it’s being misused in society) and it’s the new black. Don’t call out your skinny friends and say “damn girl you’re a skinny legend”. Don’t even idolize your “favs” by calling them that either because, again, the made-up meaning of that trend doesn’t make sense in the first place and celebs are human beings too. The fact that the word “skinny” had to be added to that trend already insinuates that skinny equals perfection and beauty.
It’s 2018, cut the crap.
-Liz. (:
Letters From Liz. 