How Love is Rick and Morty, Candy, and Awkward Limbs All in One

Love is like a terminal paradise. When you're in it, the sweet oasis embraces your heart and gives it a shaded spot to rest. Except, it really never lasts does it. And you just pretend that someday it won't leave you trying to find a bus out of the tainted dream you're drowning in. But what would life be without it? Well absolutely boring I'll tell you that. So we get addicted anyways, and just hope for the best. Assuming that you don't become a misanthropic love-hater, or a cynic of the cheesy-romantic fantasies you once held on to. Because reality is a difficult thing to be a part of, especially the break up kind. Though, we all know that when the time comes around again we'll jump swooning head first, back into the depths of love. It's quite the dichotomy. And totally self imposed to….the worst kind of hurt. Yet we do it over, and over, and sometimes even over….again. Knowing that it will always end in some kind of strange feeling soup, that is over-boiled and tastes awful. That also was a terrible soup to break up comparison, but hopefully you know what I mean. 

Now I don't mean to add any sadness in this messy world, just writing of my thoughts lately. Because I love love. I love the way it moves through this world, blind to any agenda but to pick people out of their ordinary life, and make them feel something. Love to me looks many different ways, and we all feel it differently. Remember when love was drinking sprite and watching rick and morty together? Like HOLY SHIT I think he's gonna hold my hand! What if he kisses me? I've only practiced with my….pillow! And then it changes. Maybe you really fell in love for the first time (or what it can be when you're 17). And it becomes a whole new world of bodies and words, of getting drunk on beers and thinking someone is by far the hottest person in the world. And then it changes again, maybe for the first time in there you learn what heartbreak is like too. Because of course, they come hand in hand. As you grow older in this chaotic place, so does the love you look for, and the love you receive. Maybe you discover that your love is a lot bigger than the cabinet you stuffed it in. Discovering that you love people of different genders, exploring facets of sexuality. Getting yourself into some strange (but god damn sexy) moments, as you let your heart tell you what you want. And that's the power of love, of the story that will be forever unfolding within and around you. Learning that this thing that binds, and blinds you is constantly taking new shapes, telling a story that you may have not even been aware of. Or perhaps you were, as my silly diaries leave out no small detail. 

But what about maybe the biggest love story that happens in our lives?  The part where you fall deeply in love with yourself? Trust me, I'm no captain of this ocean, as this is the part where I often fall short to keep up with. You see, I tend to give my love out like the Mexican candies from a pinata ( you know the mango tajin lollies I'm talking about), but it is difficult for me to pour it back in. And to tell you a little secret, I think we all maybe unknowingly are students of self- love, on the perpetual journey of learning to be okay with being alone. Because fuck, it is so much more fun to have a person that reminds you always of your beauty and power. For myself, no matter how much I fill myself up during the day, when my head is laying on my pillow at night I yearn for a body to hold. And it doesn't matter how many times I repeat the mantra: being alone does not mean I'm lonely, I still get really lonely. Because we are little animals on a spinning rock, bound to survival through each other's beating hearts and restless minds. We need people to sit and enjoy a glass of wine with, and tell about the stupid parking ticket we got that day. We need a pair of dancing feet to accompany us on that night's endeavors. We need a sleepy head that finds its home nestled into your arms. We need love. We need to give love. But I suppose that it really cannot be shared if not within. So we spend chapters of our lives alone, and figuring out how to simply be, and not constantly being something for someone. And it's kinda cool that we'll be going through this our whole lives, learning about ourselves, and still doing so when the next person comes around. And you know, it's really not such a lonely game because there are such things as friends, and the people in your life that you call family. 

That's the other thing about this enigma love, it flows through many different relationships than just those of romantic interest! Pouring out energy into people who show up for you in different ways in this game of life, and the best part is they don't even want to kiss you ( well I mean kiss the homies but you know what I mean here). For some, maybe this is your parents, the actual people that created you, awkward limbs and wirey brain and all. But it doesn't have to be your nuclear family, as those who we trust and support willingly are also a part of our systems of love. And having a circle, big or small, is perhaps the most important thing to create throughout our lives, of course changing as you do. Energy exchanging with people without a romantic backbone is a beautifully challenging thing, but truly a rewarding one. I love when you see a group of old ladies, sitting drinking tea and still sharing about their lives. It reminds you of the power of having sisters, brothers, of cultivating long-lasting friendships with each other. The kind where you can call them up and say “I accidentally convinced someone I'm a frog breeder today” and they say “omg tell me more”. That kind. 

So we really went on quite the ride today. We began this journey talking about how no matter how much love hurts, we unequivocally continue to fall into it. Then ventured down how relationships change in the course of our stories, taking all kinds of forms. Next we explored that thing called self-love, the teacher we are all students to, and will forever be. We ended by delving into the idea of family, self constructed lovers that we keep on our paths. I hope you found something in this roller coaster of words, and maybe it made you think a little more about what your love looks like. Or maybe not, in which now you can unbuckle your seatbelt and dismount from this metaphorical world we shared today. I hope whatever is next in store for you today is good, and maybe a little bit fuller. 

I will see you next time. Love to you all , Q.

Everyone can be an Author                   

Hello there, I am happy you’re here. Really I'm ecstatic. I'm curious if you read my writing in a sarcastic tone? Because seriously, I'm serious. We should tell people more that we’re happy to be with them, so in a totally un-sarcastic way, thank you for being here. (in this weird meta-written world ).  This blog is about a blog- well more broadly it's about putting out your shit works to the world, to be read or viewed by any person who just so happens to stumble upon it. It's about how scary it is to put out something you've entirely made, and of course how rewarding it can be. Whether you're an artist, a DJ, or simply make some kick-ass breakfast for yourself in the morning, we’re all creators of some facet. So let's talk about it- about creating shit, and setting it on fire! I'm kidding, that last part just sounded cool. 

When I was a freshman in college I had to take a prerequisite English class, the kind that feels oddly like high school to be paying thousands of dollars for, but nonetheless I liked the class. Because I love to write, and I have since I was a kid. I actually once wrote a whole diary from the perspective of a girl in the civil war- because that was my jam, and in retrospect it’s weird as fuck. But anyway, on the first day of class we had to go buy a book, titled Everyone can be an Author. And I remember holding this thick paged book, and scanning over the pages detailing perfect syntax and punctual grammar. It went over how to perfectly write anything, how to be an author! That book still sits on my shelves collecting dust three years later, and I bet if I used it to critique my writing style, it would most likely give me a F-. Yet, when I write a blog or free write, I feel like an author. Because as the book contradicts itself, anyone can be whatever they want to be, and the limitations put on creative expression are fluid barriers meant to be broken. 

Many people I know are creators. I feel surrounded by skilled painters, by talented musicians, and wisely spoken activists. I'm constantly amazed by the things my friends are capable of, and the spoken and played gifts they so graciously give us. Yet it can be daunting when you can't play the guitar for shit, and your drawings actually would be considered mediocre in a third grade classroom. You feel inadequate at times, like you're late to learn an instrument by 15 years, and so you're left being like hey guys I have this really funny joke, who wants to hear? But then of course when you step back from it all, everyone has a talent, some just have more clear and distinct ones. Maybe you're really good at cooking, but your friends don't really know because you don't cook for them often. Or maybe you can roll a joint good and fast every time- hey that's a little talent! Look, the point is that we all have these quirks that bring us joy, that we like doing, and that's a skill, to get happiness from something and to do it often. And just like a pair of sunglasses, it looks different on everyone. But now let's talk about putting our creations out there to be chewed up and spit out, and of course swallowed too. 

The idea of publishing a blog actually first came to me during a dark and lonely COVID stay at home order- in which I like you was losing my marbles.  I just began writing in my mind, at first they were short, and eventually they became longer, about literally anything. In retrospect I was inwardly drowning and searching for an outlet to connect to people, because social interactions were so limited. I was having some pretty serious conversations with whoever’s running this show like:

“Yo, whoever’s up there listen, I’m 20 years old, actually bursting with curiosity and you’re kind of cramping my style!”

And the god damn world looked back at me with not a single fuck given.

I’m sure many of you know what I mean. Because all of the sudden we needed new ways to talk about life. So I started this blog. Though, the difficult part about wanting to put your writing out there digitally, is that a blog is really the only way. And when I said I'm starting a blog the reactions were totally not what I was expecting. I think there is this misinterpretation that a blog is some bogus about what new fad diet and Victoria's Secret sale I’m into at the moment, not a place for real and authentic writings. Despite the fears I started this blog, and though entirely frightening to put out my thoughts, I have found liberation and a connection through it all. And it has opened my little eyes to how fucking empowering it is to listen to yourself, and believe in what you’re creating, because as the book says- anyone can do it, but it takes some courage to put it out there.    

It's really amazing to think that kids across the world have read this blog, and that we find community over a little digital website. But that is the power of it all- to create a space to exist, and that is what all creators probably get the most joy from. Here is what some of you had to say about why you create, and what is it like to share your creations with the world: 

“I create because it's the only way I can release and express my emotions, a part of me I can't think of sometimes. When I share my music it feels good because even if no one really likes it, it's just for me and I put it together. I did it all on my own.”   

“I think a lots of it has to do with ego, but not necessarily bad ego”

“ A creation is an extension of my self, a portrait of my inner emotions and thoughts.” (Put like a god damn genius)

okay 

So listen, maybe you read this and you're all inspired and shit to put your works out there, or maybe you're like this girl has no fucking clue what she's talking about. And you know what I hope you feel a bit of both, because you're right I don't know about a lot, but hey…anyone can be an author. And everyone has the power to put out their creations to the world, even if it's seriously just poop thoughts. Anyway, I'll send you on your way now. Thank you for checking into this corner of the desert. It was good to have you here.

“To practice any art, no matter how well or how badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. So do it.” – Kurt Vonnegut

                                I'll see you soon friends, 

                                        -Q.

Swimming in Pools of Unknown, and Trying to Stay Afloat. 

Welcome back, pour yourself a glass of something good, and sit back. We’re going down the road of an abstract idea today : Growth. Thats right, growth, I know I’m a fucking genius, you wont have to tell me again. No but really, that's my idea for this blog post, because lately I’m going through some growing pains, not the pubescent kinds. The kind of growing that makes you uncomfortable when you're lying in bed staring at the blank meaningless ceiling and all that you feel is your body trying to bust out of itself. Sound recognizable? Maybe not, I know I'm a bit of a weird one. 

Today I was overcome with the realization that I’m growing up, I know once again im a fucking genius! But do you remember when you were 16 and walking down the street with your best friend in the summer heat slurping up your blue raspberry slushie. And the conversation is going something like this: 

“I can't wait until one day when I can drink, and I'll be all in college.”

“Omg yeah, i'm going to have such a hot boyfriend” 

“Me too”

“And a cute dog.”

“Yeah his name will be like Creavus or something.”

“Yeah”

“Yeah”.

Well maybe you never talked about naming a dog Creavus ( I hope not ), but either way I can visualize these conversations I used to have so well, and if I think about it hard enough it seems like they were just yesterday. But they weren't, because time...passes? And then you’re waking up in your own bed in a house far from your families , and all the sudden you realize that now you're living that life you once thought about. Growing up, as I suppose it is said. But sometimes life feels like you’ve been handed a huge IKEA bed frame and the instructions are all in Swedish, and there's no manual for this huge project at hand. And that's cool, I mean figuring it out is a part of it, but damn is it so hard sometimes. I assume you've felt what im talking about, because from my perspective life is a continuous cycle of figuring things out to it all falling apart, and then back again. Sometimes though you start just wanting it to flatline... or is that when things get boring? 

Something that I've started encountering in my 20’s is this feeling that I'm standing on the edge of a large pool, my toes curled around the wall staring down into the watery blue. And the question in my head; is it time to jump? Or do I need more time on the edge getting ready for the cold plunge. What awaits in that pool I'm contemplating? Perhaps independence, adult-hood, commitments… essentially all the big experiences that come with entering a new phase of your life. And what's difficult about this whole situation is that I really would like to go swimming in that pool, but it's unknown and might potentially swallow me whole. And I know that that's what growth is; embracing those enigmas and difficulties, and figuring it out. But that still seems like a fuck ton of scary to me, and honeslty pee-your-pants worthy. So I'm left here on the edge trying to figure out how to dive in, and leave the wall of comfort behind. 

Yet, it's also seriously fantastic to get to figure your life out, to start thinking about what you envision your life to look like. It's like you've been reading a book all your life that was pre-written for you, but now you're at the choose your own adventure part. While intimidating, it’s super cool to know that life has opened doors to you, and you get to walk through whichever one you choose. And though you may not know what this pool will bring, you want to at least try to swim in it. For all one knows, maybe it's better to have an abundance of choice about your future than rather when you've settled down with your present. Maybe not better, but at least appealing.

Here's what some of you had to say about moments in life when it was time to make a choice, to dive into the pool, or stay on the wall. 

“There are times when you are really like okay i'm going to make this decision, and you don't know if it's right...but you know you'll make it all work out. Cuz that's just what you've been doing your whole life.” 

“Sometimes you're stuck in a place where you don't want to be, but you're scared that if you move forward it will make you go back a few steps. But even if it feels that way, you're still moving forward.. You know?” (yes, I do know).

“Shit, man sometimes you just gotta go for it.” 

When you really think about it, we all know how to swim in these made-up pools of life, because you've been doing it your whole life. Even waking up in the morning and getting out of bed is jumping into a pool of potential, of unknown, and knowing you’ll figure out a way to stay afloat no matter what. And through all of that, we were never alone in that lagoon, because all of us are going through life's trials and tribulations. Every single one of us are trying to figure out what adventure we’ll embark on next, all contemplating what we want. Even if it is just what you’ll get on top of your pizza. So we close this post here, thank you for reading, and hopefully it made you think about grabbing your metaphorical goggles, and diving in. It sure has for me. 

                                Good luck and stuff, 

                                        Q.

   A One Sided Conversation-About nothing Really. 

I haven't written a blog post in quite a long time. But today while I am watching the two year olds I help teach at preschool in a deep slumber around me, I feel it's finally time to pick back up my imaginary quil and dip it in the ink. I feel like a bad friend that hasn't texted you back in a while, and then out of nowhere is like “hey, what's up?” And you don’t reply. But hey, what's up? And sorry I have been a bit of a second-rate friend, but as we all can probably relate to, creativity and motivation are both things that ebb and flow. Just like friendships. 

There's really no rhyme or reason to this blog post, mostly just wanted to write out a little about what my brains been mulling over lately, and of course to share some hopeful laughs along the way. But before that I should probably explain a little about what corner of this universe i've been dwelling in. ( it may surprise you.)

This summer I went on a tangent adventure with a special human, which I need not say much more of. For much of my life, I have been a creature of comfort, content dreaming about all life could hold instead of reaching out and actually doing it. Which is not to say it is at all a negative thing, we’re creatures of it after all , and in my position I just didn't have the right reason to choose differently. But then sometimes we have an experience or maybe you meet a person that kinda shakes you out of a deep slumber, and screams “LET'S GO!”. And of course you're hesitant but intrigued and the thought of actually not going scares you more than the thought of staying. Maybe you've never experienced this, or maybe you're shaking your head like yup, i know that one. Either way, this sensation happened to me this summer, and I won't go into much detail as to where it led me . But it led to me living in a van, meeting and staying with eccentric strangers, attempting to hitchhike, and also but most crazily falling in love. (sorry to sap it up for you). Alright, I think you get the point, and that’s for the first time I felt undeniably free, and living in a reality that both challenged and opened me up. 

Now I don't mean to rub it in your face that I spent the summer swimming in the ocean, because I have now been paying my dues for my carefree actions. You see, it can be hard to dip your toes into the life of no responsibility, when only to be yanked out and confronted with relaitles such as I am completely broke. And then to be expected to go to college in the fall? My body was yanked right out of the pacific and thrown onto the hard cold earth once the summer ended.

So now maybe you're thinking well golly Sequoia, you really didn't see that one coming did you? And you know what, it crossed my mind many times, but when you're in those moments sometimes it's just easy to toss those notions out the van window. But to be fair, I never said I was perfect, or I probably wouldn't have this blog. Yet with all considered, I don't have an ounce of regret in me, and I can't criticize myself too much because it was truly the happiest I've ever been. 

Long story short I essentially unintentionally screwed myself over, and by August was left sitting in a pile of some serious existential crisis. During which I decided I would try my hand at working in a preschool, and let me tell you, there's truly not the right words to explain that. But imagine the most rewarding and simultaneously hardest shit (actual poop) ever. Though there are much worse things you can find yourself doing all day and I would be lying if I said that it hasn't been the most fulfilling job I've worked thus far. Just me shaping the young minds of our future ( a slightly scary thought). It's good to push yourself though i've been told, and it's true as i'm navigating the world of connecting to kids mid tantrum and also crazy dance parties. 

Maybe you can relate, as I'm sure you've all started a job or something along the lines and been a true beginner, which is scary and also so amazing. Anyway, in doing all this I have also had to make a few other big and scary adjustments to my life, which has been taxing on my existence a great deal. So what does all this have to do with you? Well, if I could let you talk now I would, and we would go on about sharing stories from our lives. And maybe after a few more hours we’d get really deep over a joint or a cup of tea and we'd resonate in the confusions and beauties of our crazy lives. But at last we’ll end my side of this experience here. 

I share this personal stuff with you, because as always I'm sending out a little flare into the night. Just trying to remind you that if you've also been stuck at a crossroads, or maybe are just really trying to figure out where you belong, me too. And I'm sure that a lot of us can find comfort with that lost feeling, but maybe I argue that's when we're more found than ever. Of course though, that's entirely up to your interpretation. I'm sitting here imagining these babies reading this blog post some day and I'm laughing at the sight. I guess I'll never really know, and that's okay. I’ll leave you with this quote "If the ride is more fly, then you must buy."- Snoop Dogg.

P.S, go head over to the current adventures tab under the home section and you can find a gallery of images that give you a visual into my life as of late.

As always, thank you for reading,

  Qoi-Fish. 

Caught in The Middle of Memories, Dreams, and Astral Planes...Surrounded by Pugs. 

I keep having this strange recurring vision in my head. I am very young, with tiny fingers and the air around my small body is a thick damp heavy green air. I'm in some kind of boulder field, with large rocks and shimmering watery holes, jumping and climbing after other people. My father is there, and people I can't name...in this mossy garden with shining pebbles, and we’re climbing off into the foggy humid Indiana abyss. For some damn reason my mind keeps tracing back to this strange incandescent cavern in my mind. And I can't help but to wonder, is this a memory, or just simply a dream? 

This memory/dream gives me a sense of nostalgia, a sense of simplicity. Though the strange  part is that I have no idea if this ever even happened, and why my brain keeps picking it out of all the shit it stores and decides to play it like a damn Wes Anderson film. Lately I've been thinking a lot about memories, the sensations and moments we choose to hold onto (or don't choose). I don't want to sound like I know about our brains, as I'm your classic Psychology 101 class and never again kind of gal, but I know things up in our hippocampi are all kinds of complicated. What I want to know is why. Why do we remember what we do, is it a choice, and why do we sit through them like a movie we forgot to buy the ticket for? 

They say dreams show us things we are meant to see. Which as a very vivid dreamer I can say is not true, or I would be in Guantanamo Bay surrounded by pugs in soldier hats holding sniper rifles who can only be persuaded to freedom with a lifetime supply of big dildos (an actual dream of mine the other night). Though sure maybe the unconscious mind was trying to unpack something there, but I'm a little cynical of that accusation. I can't begin to understand why we dream the things we do, and why for some reason sometimes that transcends into our memories. When you really think about it you can begin to realize how human you are, so vulnerable that sleeping and being awake can begin to relinquish themselves in the realities we base them in. What gets me fucked up is when the boundaries get crossed, and the dream becomes a memory, or the memory a fleeting dream.

Funny that I can't remember the first time I danced until my feet hurt, or felt that butterfly feeling in my stomach from a boy, but I can tell you the exact socks I wore the first day of 6th grade, and the way my grandma's nose wrinkles when she laughs. It seems like the things you should remember you just…don't. I guess that's just how we go through lives, picking up on the bread crumbs more than the meal at hand, remembering a little detail or feeling, rather than the big picture. This is probably because you're actually living those really real moments like first impressions and last laughs, which is how it should be. Instead your brain is like oh yeah that little thing you said to Sheila the Wal-Mart worker...you're not ever forgetting that. 

Often in this blog I aim to show light to the things you have control over in this shit show of a life, but this is probably something we should all agree that we naively can't decide, memories that is. Which is kind of a beautiful thing, makes you realize that it's important to soak it all in (not to get cheesy on you cheeseballs). Nor in what we dream up in our moments of sleep, which also is kind of cool, sometimes you're climbing tall trees and falling out of them, others you're back at your ex's house making muffins, only to wish you had a say in any of it. Purpose or not, it's not up to us to create the meaning of any of it, and to drink a glass of trying to make something out of the madness we are given. So why do those random memories or dreams come back and linger in our minds? 

Sometimes if I really want to get weird I think about the astral plane, which is essentially the theory that there are several planes of existence humans function in, transcending these dimensions from time to time (mostly during death but also with much consciousness to push past the physical plane). Is this vision I have in my head a moment of existing in a dream in another time, or have I lived that once and am continuously reliving it? Am I getting too deep? Possibly, so i'll pull back here, but you get the point (or read up more on this theory). What i'm saying is that maybe there's a part of us that lives in those dreams or memories, and pulls it up when we need a reminder of all that we've lived and have to live through. Maybe i'm homesick, not for a physical home, but that feeling of safety that only comes from being in some mossy forest with bare feet and people. I assume it's a little of both, and honestly i'll never know...right? 

Here's what some of you had to say about memories, dreams, and the damn astral plane: 

“But what about the dreams that feel so real, it's like they are memories..I have those a lot.” (same dude, same)

“Sometimes i have dreams of things that happen in real life, almost like i'm peering into the future of events.” 

“You cant make sense of it all, better to just say fuck it and let yourself be.” (thanks)

“I feel free in my dreams, like it's the one place that things can happen and no consequences will come from it, like making out with random people, it's what makes waking up so hard.”

“Strange how sometimes you feel like you're living in a dream, so i'm not sure what you call that.” 

“Often times I have dreams of people...and it’s a reminder that I need to reach out to them for some reason..”

I don't write about these things to get answers. Part of the beauty is that none of us know why we dream up the nonsense we do, or remember the random parts of life. And that's okay, because there's peace in the unknown, but it's damn sure fun to question it all, and I hope it encourages you to think a little bit more about your jumbled brain, to sort through the movies it's running on auto-play. So whatever astral plane we’re on, it’s pretty cool we have the power to ask these questions, and run freely through the memories and dreams we see (even the ones with pugs and dildos).

“Memories and dreams are intermixed in this mad universe” - Jack Kerouac. 

                            Stimulate those hippocampi for me, 

                                    Sequoia Gilliam.

Wordless emotions and Why language  Fails us (Sometimes). 

Hello, and welcome back to the blog my mom can't read without a glass of wine. The blog that hopefully makes you sit back, throw your arms and say “what the fuck did i just read!!!!”. The support i have received from all you weirdos is incredible, and far more than i ever anticipated, i cannot express how grateful i am. 

Which actually leads me into this blog posts theme: not my mom drinking wine...but the times in our complicated and strange existence that just doesn't seem to have the words to explain. I'm not talking speechless moments, I'm talking indescribable experiences that I believe we all feel to some extent. (we'll get into this more later). 

The fact that we can even communicate our physical and metaphysical realities to each other is not only a necessity to human life, but one could argue is what has progressed humanity. One can't deny that language rocks, like simply-put words are dope, and the fact that we all have this reliance on each other's mouths is cool. (yeah tell that to your girlfriend, be like hey baby i literally rely on that mouth). So sexy. Anyway, language unifies us in this flow of understanding (and misunderstanding) and leaves us all stringing together sounds to convey, well everything. But not everything, and that's the point of this blog, where language just seems to come up short. And then it's left up to our rancid little brains grasping the vast ocean of words in our heads to just try and make sense of it all. You see humans are a lot like rocks; a little dull, sometimes pretty, and just stuck on a spinning rock in outer space... only difference is we just think we got it all figured out, which if you havent noticed is the point of all my writing (that your shittin’ rocks if you think you do). 

    I was recently having a conversation with someone and i began to feel this emotion bubbling up inside me, this feeling of missing the one next to me, yet they weren't going anywhere. Have any of you ever experienced this? I'm going to bet so, in some capacity. I had and have no words to truly explain the way my heart hurt, but only out of the happiness and care I felt for the person next to me (this slightly sounds like a psychopath...fuck). No but seriously, it was a moment that i could and still can't, find the right words for. So this got me thinking two things: 

1. Am I a psychopath?

2. When are those times in our life that words just can't seem to explain?

3. Completely out of context, but I just ate an incredible breakfast burrito and dipped it in mustard, does that fit into the listed above 1,2, or both? 

Turns out there are 171,146 english words in use currently in our language. Yet there is only one word to explain love. The chinese language has 5 different words, so perhaps english needs a revision? Which made me think about whether we don't have the words for certain emotions, or simply aren't at the processing level to understand the emotions enough to put them into words. Are you following me? Like when you wake up in the middle of the night and you get this eerie feeling, yet calm at the same time. In this translucent state between sleep and wake, where you're free of thought yet full of overloading senses, like a 300 year old man reincarnated into a newborn baby. Is there just no english word for that sensation, or have i done too many psychedelics and can't fully grasp the emotion? 

If you can conceptualize what I’m saying, then maybe you can think about times lately when words just seemed to fall short. Like that initial bite of a good meal, when you wake up to find snow on the ground, or when you see nature in a perfect synchronicity and you feel like the thing out of place amongst the trees and birds. But (because there's always a but), perhaps where language has limitations this also sets us free. If we had a word for every sensation, we would probably be so busy talking we would never have to sit with the feelings inside us. We get secrets, things that no one ever has to know because simply we can't even begin to know them ourselves. And those moments are probably the most human, because we’re utterly alone in them (and yet also unknowingly feeling them with everyone else too.) 

It's a bit contradictory to ask people to explain a time when they have felt a sensation that has no words, and how they feel on this weird topic, yet as the nosy person i am, here's what some had to say: 

“The first time seeing mulholland drive was pretty difficult to articulate...i think its a language limitation issue more than limit of the mind”.

“Tripping balls and looking at your hand.” (goddamn it, so true.)

“I haven't had the words to explain depression and what it's like to not be able to get out of bed...it's a sensation when it physically hurts to do simple tasks, it's a limitation of our minds not being able to comprehend due to the lack of chemicals.” (this really hits hard, that literally our minds sometimes inhibit us from understanding our emotions). 

“Laying on the bottom of a pool, watching the chaos of summer above”

“That warm feeling after you've hugged someone you really love, like they've left painted handprints of warmth on your back.” (i love this one.) 

“The hardest thing to explain is when you meet a person and you just click, like a past life kinda thing... like you've known them forever.” 

“I had a fucked up acid experience once, i felt my body and conscience disassociate, still haven't figured out  a way to describe it” (i don't know what you mean, but i know what you mean.)

“Losing someone, our minds cannot comprehend it.” 

“Since 70% of language is non-verbal, I just rely upon my exceptional non-verbal skills to fill in the void”

You all had some incredible words on this idea. I came to some realizations after thinking a little too hard, on something so conceptual. I thought back to when we are children, so fresh in this world, and every little thing is a new experience. The only words we have to use in those moments are those we have heard, been taught, and collected from around us. The same goes for now, which means that love, loss, extreme sadness...are all common emotions that we all endure at some point in this existence. And those moments that you feel a little something more, where the words seem to fall short is a moment your brain is processing something bigger than your brain knows, what we all know. But those moments are freeing from this existence, and can make us lucky AND fucking confused. Words are powerful, but human emotion...well that's what drives us in the first place. I may have said you all were rocks, but after some consideration i would say we’re more like water, fluid in many forms, thoughts rippling over one another, and most of all an enigma. As Alan Watts said: ““The menu is not the meal.”

                                    Sequoia Gilliam 

    P.S. The only thing I know is that I know nothing

The Disillusion of Control, And Why we Can't but Should be Naked all the Time 

Lately I've been consumed with the idea of realities, especially how we each seem to create our own worlds in which we live. Have you ever had a time in your life when you pause and you're thinking about these millionaires we see on social media, and all you can think is HOLY SHIT, we are not in the same worlds? They're eating smoothie bowls in the Maldives and I'm living off cheap-ass piss beer, canned beans and sleeping in the same unwashed sheets for 5 straight months? Does it ever cross your mind that maybe really, we really are all living different realities, just simultaneously on the same planet? But how much control do we get over the reality we find ourselves in…or is it all an illusion either way? 

I think often about dadaism, which was essentially where artists, post world war 2, were so disillusioned by that gnarly time, that they created completely absurd, abstract art. These people were so revolted by the realities they had found themselves in they literally said, “YO SOCIETY SUCK OUR ARTSY ASSES ''. And then created some seriously famous and beautiful art. So what am i saying here? I'm saying to be aware of the world you live in right now, of what you are constantly being fed in this society. And maybe make some abstract art along the way, just saying. 

It's funny how we can live such starkly different lives from those around us, and of course how we can't help but to compare to all of them. I struggle with this often, of feeling like I'm not living life enough, or how the girl on instagram has got it more figured out than me. Because what? Her parents get to afford her the chance to live on a boat and not give a flying F about anything but how good her tan is? No. Her reality is different from mine. Not better. Not worse. But it is sure hard to wrap our feeble minds around that. It seems almost like we're illusioned into this belief, that our lives aren't good enough, enough for who? WHOEVER’S SEEMS BETTER? Well that just doesn't seem right. Which is funny because last time i checked, you didn't get a say in the womb you grew in, and this hectic world you were born into. So what do we get a say in?

Sure you can't say damn this whole wearing clothes thing, that's definitely society illusioning me into control, and then walking out into your street naked. Though we all deserve to let our sexy parts sway in the breeze, there are parts of our world that we cannot change. But scrolling through social media, sitting in college classes, or even reading this blog...I encourage you to examine it all from a different lens. Now listen, I don't want the FBI coming after me, but between you and me...there's a lot of false realities around us. (I'm talking about Kim K’s daughter painting like these dadaism artists out here).

But it's important to note that we should also be extremely grateful for the fact that in some ways, we have a lot of freedom to create a new reality for ourselves. (although I don't have to say that twice for all those business majors out there). I know that all you readers have different limitations, that you come from your own corners of existence with your own backgrounds. And I'm not going to get started on how I believe there are systems in place that inhibit our possibilities. But we’ve gotta focus on how there are indeed things you can work on, be aware of, and attempt to mold in your own hands. No one else is going to do it for you, unless you let them. 

I'm not saying we all live in a disillusioned state of living, (especially if/when) we are conscious and thoughtful humans, granted some frat boys I have met may disqualify from that statement. But for the most part we have autonomy over many aspects of life, like what kind of frozen waffles you buy at the store, and what funky hat you're wearing today, or who you let into your life. Here's what some of you said you feel like you have control over (or don't) in life: 

“Mathematically , there is no such thing as complete autonomy. Because time is a binary tree, in which everything that happens is affected by what happened before.” (dude you are seriously in  deep).

“You have control over everything and kind of nothing, sort of as much as you want to.” 

“The only thing I have control over are the ways I react and respond to things, people, and the environment around me”

“I don't think we have any control of our lives, we’re all just living out a timeline.”

“The only thing we can control is how we react to these things...i think it's a very human-based conundrum.” 

“When you stop worrying about the things you cannot control, you free up time to change the things you can control. And that, my friends, changes everything!”

Perhaps the thing that makes life so freeing, is realizing, on a true conscious level, that really none of us have the control we think we do, that things just seem to happen the way they were meant too. That does not mean however that we're not a bunch of hypnotized lizards blindly staggering around, you have much choice in your everyday life. Maybe it’s as simple as being intentional...being awake, or “woke” as they say.  

Thank you for choosing to read this blog, as it has been one of the greatest choices I have made, and sets me free in many ways. 

​​​​​​​​Stay woke,

​​​​​​​Sequoia Gilliam

   
Secrets and Lying, the Human Paradox.

From a young age I have been encapsulated with the secrets people hold. It first began with this man that lived in my neighborhood, picture a quaint little house, and a big jolly man, his job and loved hobby? Cake baking. Now, this in itself isn't all that crazy, anyone can bake right? But here's the catch, he grew lengthy and overly grown bushes in front of his house.. Keeping him and his house a mystery shrewd with green. No one could see inside…and this for some reason, this struck me with one pondering question: what was this suspicious cake baker up to? What were his secrets? My theory: he ran a secret train cult...yes you heard me correctly. The chief of a group of train supremacists, who believe trains are the ultimate form of transportation. Okay, well maybe not. But what was he hiding? Which then eventually got me thinking, what do we hide from the world? From each other? Today on this blog we dive into the topic of secrets, why they surround us, and how we can live in a life of illusion. 

    I'm not a sugar coater (unlike the cake baker) so i'm gonna lay it out straight to you. No matter how well you think you know someone, you never really do. Now that's not to say that your boyfriend has some giant secret he's hiding, but let's just all agree that there's no way you can know everything about Kevins intricate life (no matter how simple minded he is). From the moment we come into this life we understand that to thrive, and often to get what we want, you can't run around in your undies screaming about the place you just stuck your boogers. And then we begin to grow up and maybe it goes from privacy to secrecy, to beginning to wake up with really bad “stomach aches'' and you convince your dad that school is a no-go.This is when things shift from concerning you, to a little more complicated...now our lies have some power behind them (not to mention another person's feelings). Which kinda sucks, when you realize that man, when I lie to my friends mom that I love her meatloaf...she’ll be crushed when I can't even put that frothing dog food near my mouth. And when you hit that classic moment in high school of: 

Parents: “Where were you last night?” 

You: “I told you I was sleeping over at Olivia's house.” 

Parents: “So then why is there grass all over you?”

In your head: HAHA, These fools have no idea I was blacked out in a field off a handle!!!

Parents in their head: This dumb child, does she really not think we know?

(p.s dear mom and dad, I’m sorry for all the times I said my friends were smoking weed and *blowing* it on me…)

All I'm saying is as we grow up and move on in life, the lies we tell start carrying some baggage to them, and it can really mess up the whole game you were playing in life. But it's an important lesson to learn, especially as we begin to venture into the world of relationships, friendships, and general adulthood, where sadly what we do and don’t say… can all have consequences.

 Now, as a previously very passive person, I can speak on behalf of you readers who would rather never say anything at all, then have to tell a difficult truth to someone, and it took me a long time to begin realizing when and where it's time to be honest. But that takes us into the next theme that often haunts my mind: is there some moments when it's okay to lie? And damn, why is everyone so sensitive? (kidding).

    I don't want to over personalize this blog, but I want to get real with you guys real quick. Some of my blog readers know my whole life story, while others just sit back and read these little desert tales. So I'm gonna leave it at this; when I was growing up, I was enveloped in a really big lie that though not mine, deeply affected my life. It was then that I had this wake up that these things called ‘secrets’ can really flip your little world upside down, which you’ve probably experienced in some capacity too. 

So you may be thinking, jeez Sequoia, you must be the holy grace of honesty, which let me tell you is absolute bullshit. I have lied and lied again, and continue to catch myself on the threshold of hurting someone else often, for the fear of what the truth can hold. But what I try to understand in those moments, is: why can't I be honest? And often come back to this question: is this a secret, or is this a lie? See, I believe we can distinguish between having secrets and telling lies, but what a damn hard line that is to draw. And as with everything we all have different interpretations. We go from sitting on the lap of Santa pouring out our little 5 year old wishes, to most likely not telling a single soul many of the integral and deep things that make us up. So what? Can we really know someone without knowing all their secrets? Or do you accept what sliver of their cake they let you eat? I turned to some of you for input: (though who knows maybe you're all lying) 

“You can have secrets, but someone won't get to know you from all angles, when you give someone your secrets...you can trust them more.”

“Secrets don’t make friends. You have to be careful what secrets you keep from friends, because it can really come back to bite you in the ass.” 

“It’s funny because sometimes you tell a lie, and then later you’re like why did i even do that, like there was no point.” 

“Once you start thinking about if people have lied to you…you realize this whole world is just one fat lie” (this makes me extremely confused) 

“I once blamed a fart on my friend, and made them cry because it was a really big one. And I never forgot how terrible it felt to lie about that.” 

Here's my advice ( take it or leave it, as always). Forgiveness is far more powerful than any lie, and you get to choose who you forgive, as I have seen and feel it does wonders in my life. Second, we're all going to lie, and we're all going to have secrets, as privacy is our choice, so what can you do in a life that promises nothing but illusion? You try to be honest, but even more you ask for what you believe you need from those around you. Expect honesty from your family, friends, and partners, with the self recognition that you deserve the truth. But of course, understand that we are messy little kids running around in undies hiding boogers in every corner of our lives. We’re all afraid of losing love and respect, and it can drive us to say crazy things (like telling everyone your name is Dorothy). I hope you go back to the world a little more aware of the people around you, and maybe have some crazy theories about your neighbors too. And remember, “Truth is the ultimate power. When the truth comes around, all the lies have to run and hide” –  Ice Cube.

            Are trains the most superior form of transportation? I think bikes are.

Sequoia Gilliam

Why the Illuminati Runs the Radio, and how Music Sets us Free.

I wonder often what It was like to hear music for the first time as a kid. Maybe your dad was playing some Billy Joel or Nirvana over the Sudans radio, driving you home from the hospital where you were just thrown into this wild world. And BOOM, that’s IT, your little ears have just been exposed to one of the greatest gifts we have, music. 

Yet it only starts there, as music ebbs and flows, that rhythmical pattern of coming and going in our lives as we do; growing, changing, creating the melodic soundtrack to your life at that time. There are moments in life where your friend throws on some Ke$ha and your 10 year old brain is like: damn this is some hot shit…and now you wear gloves and dye your hair pink. That’s cool. Or you dropped acid in in the woods and Jeff, the music controller, plays Pink Floyd and all the sudden you're floating high and dry above the trees. Music is always there, it always has been. 

Even when you have the aux cord and your brain goes “Ohhhh god, do I play my edm? No no, they won’t like that…hmmm maybe rap? Oh no all I have downloaded is kendrick…shit!” 

But how cool that we each as individuals get a choice! Yes, that is right, full control over what music you listen to. It’s like a kid in a candy store, except the difference is you can sample before you buy..how cool is that? .Have you ever been asked if you “like” music?  That’s like being asked, “Do you know the meaning of life?” Seriously. Sure there are limitations and access to technology that impairs this, but what I mean to say is that unlike many things in life, music has no rules. No boundaries, except what we place on it ourselves. Whether you produce, play, or simply listen to it… we can all find common ground in the freedom of true expression. 

Except for the radio, which let me just say, seems negotiably like the illuminati is using it to push pop music on our feeble, yet capable little minds. You cannot deny that when the radio host goes 

“IT'S a beautiful Monday morning here, and we’re gonna start you off with the top 10 Ariana Grande songs…” and then transitions to a commercial on “erectile dysfunction?”  it just makes you just wanna pull your tit out and flail it into the open air and say “suck this illuminati”.  Or not. Maybe you just punch the power button to “off” and go about your merry day.

Tell me that you're not imagining the illuminati sitting back and going “yep, now we got them all starting their days off the same way…we’ve done it bob, next is the white house.” Not to shame pop music, as you're free to love and listen to whatever you so desire, but you gotta admit…the radio’s a weird concept. Either way, music is like your creepy uncle at birthday parties, always lingering right next to you hoping you’ll acknowledge his measly existence. No shade Uncle Rob. 

Music could arguably be the most fluid constant in our lives, always there, yet with the persistent possibility to change entirely. For those wondering, yes, you’re granted the freedom to go from listening to soft jazz to $uicideBoy$, even before you’ve finished your morning coffee. It’s versatile just like you, and is the perfect addition to many situations ( or not when he puts on frank ocean to get in the mood, and you're like great…I will never be able to listen to this again.)

All I'm saying is when we feel like this earth is caving in on itself and you can’t breathe in this chaos, and the good Lord knows that is going to happen, the right song can help make you feel like there is order again, no matter how brief. It can lift you, it can ground you, it can, well you get the picture. 

Here's what some of you had to say about those profound music moments:

“ I always think back to U2’s Joshua tree, I would lay on the floor and listen to it over and over again..the entire thing blew me away.” 

“There’s this song that got me though a time when I needed to be reminded that it isn’t wrong to be gay, there’s social expectations that make it hard for people to accept me.”

“Music started my emo phase.” 

“I discovered Jimi Hendrix in the 7th or 8th grade and I just loved that psychedelic sound...even before I knew about drugs….it took me to places my mind had never been before.” 

“Music allows dancing, and dancing allows me to feel free for a little.” 

“You never forget the moment you dance with the hottest babe in school...well maybe you just don't forget how good it feels to get the girl.”

So what do you take from this silly blog post you just read about music? Well what I’m trying to learn myself is that even when life seems like the shit stuck to the bottom of your boot, there’s always good things in this world. (did that just sound like some stupid country lyric)? Remember we’re all trying to get through it together, even that annoying radio host. 

​​​​​thanks for tuning in, remember to tune out sometimes.

​​​​​Sequoia Gilliam.

The Time You Were Conceived to DJ Beep-Boop …And that Thing Called Love. 

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​Here’s a tip. You know when you see someone extremely attractive and you're like omg I’m gonna do something BAD, they are HOT? And you get the weird nervous sweats and you start forcing a yawn to make sure you’re not dreaming? Well here’s your solution:

Picture them at 6 months screaming, crying, hot tears pouring down their face,(breast milk curdled in their neck) shitting their pants. 

​And poof, problem solved. It’s a real skill to be able to take hot Sarah in the corner of the party and turn her into the most vulnerable thing she’s ever been: a poopy baby. But I promise you, give it a try. (caveat—if you do find that stuff attractive then this blog is probably not for you)

​Attraction is strange. And it only seems to get weirder as we figure out our own selves more. Maybe you went from liking the swaggiest homeboy on the block with Nikes to the slime skate boy that could possibly be living in a box. Our brains are constantly switching between what we think we want, and what our bodies seem to like. It’s a persistent struggle that deems back to the ancient days of animals fighting to create an offspring. Yet now it's not a survival instinct to simply procreate…it’s about getting to CHOOSE between chad and brad. While we’re lucky to have the liberty of choice, when you're 20 and trying not to love everyone you meet, it can seem more like a curse. 

​How many times have you asked your parents how they met? And you’re really hoping for some dramatic hot story, like they met at burning man and you were conceived in an interactive art museum while DJ Beep-Boop plays. And then your dad says some dumb shit like:

“She was drunk at a party and she was dating Kevin..honestly didn’t even really like her at first.” 

​Like wait. WAIT! You mean I’m not the love child of the sexiest love story to exist? 

But then you take a step back and realize that because this world runs on the simple idea that you have no choice in what happens, and you don’t decide when or where you’ll meet that special person…it’s never how we expect. That’s not to say the creepy woman that checks you out at whole foods, is the woman you’re meant to be with, nor does it mean that the person you had a perfect romance with is either. 

Because the world sees you as a crying shit covered infant too! It doesn’t care. 

But maybe it does, because humans get this unruliness gift called emotions, and the capability to get to connect with another weirdo is pretty damn cool.

So what about when you walk up to your cute lab TA and all you wanna say is “Picturing you naked is the most productive thing I’ve done all day” or “Hey there, just letting you know I have sex a lot with you in my head”, and maybe you just wanna get laid? Or maybe you’re actually deeply, profoundly in love with him…well, I asked a few people; some friends, some randoms.

“My friends didn’t want him, so I knew I did,” (they were probably picturing him a poo baby). 

“When it’s just physical it’s like that part in the movie when you go see your friends after having sex with them, and when they ask you say mehhhhh, it wasn’t the best. But when its feelings you leave and all you think is YES MORE!” 

“Sex is a part of nature, I go along with nature” Marilyn Monroe

“Sure, sex is fun but have you ever woken up next to someone, smelt their morning farts and said….yup, I love them.” ( this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard)

“You don’t know whether its love or attraction, you just hope its enough of both.” 

So maybe you don’t really love her, but damn was she fun, and maybe you really don’t know because….Nobody has it figured out. The paradoxical part is that maybe you’re sitting down reading this next to the love of your life, or maybe you’re alone eating Ben n Jerrys. That’s okay, because the thing we should be the most in love with is the FREEDOM…to do both in life.

As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Where there is Love, there is Life”…take it or leave it

​​​​Thanks for reading all you shitty babies,

​​​​​​Sequoia Gilliam.

​​ Everything a Blog Shouldn’t be, Tales from this Side of the Desert.

When I was younger I was told often told how special I was.

“You're a good little swimmer, you’ll be special.”

“Sequoia? What a special name” 

“Your special-you're not like other girls” (that ones from all them horny teenage boys)

I truly lived much of my life believing this sentiment, that I was in fact special. Until I came to the conclusion that IM JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING PERSON. It was in fact a beautiful and calming realization, and finally quenched my fears of being a squirrel in human skin…still haunts me. While we are each unique, of course, we also all find ourselves in this capsizing ship that is the human existence. A place that no matter how many times we are  reminded of our special little lights, remains a fiery ball of complete disorder. 

I do not wish to write about my struggles, hopes, and raunchy life of a 20 year old with the presumption that I have an outlook that must be shared. That seems shallow, and you can go read any sorority girl’s instagram bio for that, instead I want to write about what you, me, and your grandpa Joe smoking a stogie, all in some weird way experience during our time here on earth. 

Prefaced with the fact that I’m a strangely honest person, and believe in saying what I want, if you feel already that I may offend you (god forbid) then this probably isn’t the right blog for you! May I encourage you to read something like Michelle obamas book if your look for real, factual information on how to live a better life? As I can only promise absolute bullshit. But it’ll be real, and hopefully in some ways new.

Some things that were said to me by people before starting this blog:

“You should write all this weird stuff down sequoia….please”-mom. 

“Well you definitely have stuff to write about.”-my roommate.

“Sure"-all the friends that I asked looking for real solid advice as to whether I should be putting this out there. (but thanks guys).

This isn’t a blog about ME. This is a blog by me, about you. I hope to share conversations, experiences, from all those around me on here. Following topics like : when I drink I’m gay, shitting at friends houses, falling in love (but falling out too), getting a little TOO high, and many other random yet hopefully relatable experiences we all face… or maybe not in which I suggest you live life a little. In addition I hope to share things I find, like frog facts, a good jingle to dance too, or the next IPA that doesn’t entirely taste like piss.

Life these days can seem isolating. Yet our brains and hearts are nothing but isolated, instead they yearn to learn, love, and connect to those around us. And while I’m nothing special * I see lights in all those I know, stories beckoning to be told. So it is in this time that I welcome you to 

Everything a Blog Shouldn’t be, Tales from this Side of the Desert. I hope you find a smile, or maybe a shudder of memories you’ve left behind in whatever this is. 

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​​​if you actually read this, your special,

​​​​​Sequoia Gilliam

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