Freshman On Fire

I was a freshman like you were
a freshman like you are
full of hopes and dreams specifically and eagerly deceived.
And then I was on fire skin peeling burning for release.

I was a freshman like you were alone with my flames
that even though it tried sometimes it could not melt my soul.
And there will be times when you walk through campus blazing flames
begging to be seen or heard and no one will give a hot turd.

But other times you will find others on fire –friends
and you all shall blaze joyfully content to have chosen UC to be.
Blazing blue you shall laugh…. Smoke? Drink? Party?
Maybe run naked through hallways…. And in between it all pick up some knowledge.

I was a freshman like you are.
And it was beautiful-
blue flames that licked away at what you now think is an eternity of endless nights
endless ice endless tree endless credits endless life.

Well a few years down the line you may look back and realize
the exact moment your blue flame began to die
your blue blood began to thin and reality came stealthily creeping
hard and bold splashing water cold on your hopeful soul.

-Poem for the Uconn Free Press “Disorientation” issue October 2012


February Lovers the Essay

“February Lovers”
For shame
they say that lovers
are blind, but we
only choose to see each other.
The warmth of your ___ is what smothers
me and causes the
cold heat of February lovers.
If only we were 
still ignorant as
when we were
babes just months ago with our rebirth.
As you were born
and I were born
on this grand day
known as the -anniversary.
It is not my fault
that I am so selfish
you have given me your
and I have never had to share
so why should I start now
I would cry as you would cry
lack of normality and my soul leaks it’s blood
through my eyes
I bleed for you. (February 2008)

We trudge along the cold streets of Brooklyn, NY hands intertwined. We have dated for a little over a year and are now high school freshmen. Separate schools cannot keep us apart. Tuesdays and Thursdays we leave our homes early and meet at the train station near my school. It is February in New York and it is probably twenty or below. My fingernails are purple but he is here and I am warm.

We clasp hands and I shove them into his pocket. His hands were and still are double the size of mine. They are rough and could probably palm my head but in my hands they are pliable; soft, warm; they are protective; they are supportive. We troop through the Jewish neighborhood, past their kosher stores and beautiful two story homes and well-manicured lawns, but their beauty is easily ignored for we are deep in conversation. We converse about life, where we want to be, who we have been, philosophy, morals, jokes, videos. We share almost every thought and ask almost every question. We are peeling off each other’s soul skins and digging our teeth into the rich fruit beneath. We are devouring each other’s very essence.

We have talked for what seemed like an eternity if an eternity was twenty minutes. My school looms in the distance and we are quickly approaching it. Footsteps get weary and my chest tightens. I will not see him for another day. We reach the bus stop, thankfully it is right in front of my school doors. We wait, still in animated chatter accessorized with pokes and sometimes squeezes of the hand.  The bus is across the street and now our conversation is rushed trying to wrap the latest topic of discussion up. “Goodbyes”, “I love you’s” and “have a good days” roll off our tongues without a second thought, with ease. Another squeeze of the hand, a hug and he is gone I must face another day alone.

If you had asked me in February of 2005 if I would ever walk for blocks in the blistering cold just for some witty conversation with him I would have looked at you as if you were on cocaine. It is amazing to see the difference a year makes. The weeks go by but our ritual does not change. Snow disappears, as do the blistering winds. The gray streets of New York come to life. We are no longer lonely lovers stealing secret moment. Trees begin to flower, the morning joggers creep out from their winter caves and we have witnessed the change. The heat starts to creep in and some mornings he bring me breakfast from home, eggs, pancakes, bagels with cheese. He nourishes me body and soul through the winter and the cold.

It is our first college Christmas vacation and I am strewn over his couch head on his chest and he is breathing.  It is the single most relaxing sound I have ever heard. Like a lullaby it soothes my soul. My usually tense muscles relax and my defensive layers melt away. I have always told him that he smells like home and that has not changed. He draws circles in my palms and I listen to him breath. The television is on but the time together is more valuable than all the gold in the world. Soon our responsibilities to our families and ourselves will rip us apart but for now we are perfectly content ignoring the world. The tv is mute I am too busy listening to his heartbeat strum to pay attention to the words. His body sings a song to me and mine dances to it. The strumming of his heart has harmonized with his breathing to hypnotize me completely. I have no other option. He is mine and I am his.

We trudge along the bitter streets of Manhattan souls intertwined. We have dated for a little over five years and are now college freshmen. Separate schools cannot separate us. We have walked for what seems like a lifetime. The Megabus looms in the distance an omen predicting the lonely weeks that are to come. He waits in line with me patiently, patiently pretending in pleasant denial that we will board the same bus to the same destination. We play pretend as we bathe in each other’s essence. We kiss, tainting each other’s souls enough to last ‘til next we meet. I sit and exhale and watch him go through the window and reluctantly realize I must face the next few months alone.

If you had asked me in February of 2011 if I’d ever imagine standing in the blistering cold waiting for a bus to leave him I would have laughed in disbelief. It is appalling to see the difference a year makes. The weeks go by but our ritual does not change; he is the first person to text me when I wake up; the last person to text me before I go to sleep. Snow disappears, and the blistering winds of Connecticut ease slightly. We are lonely lovers now more than ever, imprisoned by distance but nourished by hope. Trees begin to blossom and so does the knowledge that I will soon know the blessing of his warmth daily. We both can sense the change as hope creeps in with the heat, painting everyday as a day less to wait. He fortifies me when I am close to breaking. He nourishes me mind and soul through the winter and the blistering cold.

It is February 2012 and he is miles away. College has placed him away in Philadelphia- no more morning walks in the cold. No more fingers intertwined despite the blistering winds. But I still love him and he is mine. We talk through android phones minds intertwined. Morning walks have been replaced with morning calls.  Text messages and video chats allow our rituals to survive.  Deep conversations and declarations of love have not faded with the years as with many other couples. “You are young,” they all said “you won’t make it through high school.” Didn’t we prove them wrong? “You are young,” they still say “You won’t make it through 
college,” don’t we intent to prove them wrong?


The Edge- Off to College; Beginnings and Endings

(suggestion listen to The Edge of Glory-Lady GaGa while reading)  
Today I was up at 6 a.m. Today was the day that I helped my boyfriend and high school buddy move into their new dorms. It was time to ship them off and on their own. I honestly had tried my best not to think about it but as I got dressed to hop into the car I couldn’t deny it any longer.
There are many things that I am good at. As a matter of fact I excel in a various number of things; however, exposing  emotions is not one of them. I dislike displaying emotions. The drive down was okay I tried my best to keep the mood light and escape any possibility of spiraling into depression or breaking out into tears; but what are you suppose to do when Bruno Mars’ “Just the way you are” is playing and your significant other for almost five years looks you in the eyes and says “I’ll miss you.”
    I know sounds cheesy but I assure you there was nothing cheesy about it in the moment. We reached the school about 9ish and begin the process of unpacking, packing, and organizing/ turning a dorm into a temporary home. There were no tears shed here just efficient movements and a steady rhythm at work. There were jokes and smiles and laughter. I even went downstairs to help my buddy unpack; more jokes and smiles.

                           The rest of the day went pretty smoothly went to Five Guys, walked around campus, went to a seminar, and yes we even slept :); but maybe the positive and the jovial air is what made the impending good bye all the more sinister and heart wrenching. It was 6 a.m however and we had to get going; it was time to clip the umbilical cord. So after being heckled by the new security guard for an i.d (I finally managed to get) we held hands and ascended in the elevator. 22nd floor; doors open; tears spilled; words of reassurance; hugs; kisses; and “keep strongs” door almost closed; one more good bye; door closed- it’s over. Or not but it sure does feel like it. It seems when you’re taking another step up in life something must end for it to begin. I know that it’s the beginning of a new appreciation for each other and for the time we have and have had.

                One more goodbye was left and I swore I wouldn’t cry and I didn’t. I’ll miss her she was like my guardian angel taking every step I took and going through just as much pain as I did. It was good while it lasted and I hope and will try my best to keep in touch. It was a hug; a behave ;), and a see you later; then a group hug.
  And with that we were off. In three more weeks it’ll be my turn.

The Brains are Coming!!

So I’m gettting a tour of Cornell University and we walk through the psychology department. Coach is ecstatic to show me something “cool”. What is it?? Brains!

The Brains!

I am beside myself with fascination. My mind reels because it is shocked. Brains in glass jars float inside; remnants/ sacrifices of people to the art of psychology! What would inspire someone to sacrifice their brain?Supposedly one female wanted hers donated in order for a great specimen of female brain to be available for research. Still, why? Is it the feel that after death your brain is not needed? But though I can not possibly fathom what experiences in life urged these individuals to donate and even sacrifice their brains it has served a greater good, and for that I am thankful. Without these sacrifices where would modern medicine or even psychology be?

Those things which are precious are saved only by sacrifice.”- David Kenyon
-Or in this case allowed to be elaborated and understood better because of sacrifice. What sacrifices have you made to better yourself and others?

Use your brain!