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Gratitude

I feel all sorts of gratitude today, just in my first hour of being awake. I watched the sun rise today above modest suburban Lomita homes and the dark blue backdrop of the San Gabriel mountains. I cherished every bite of the deliciously sweet Honey Nut Cheerios I had chewed. I found peace in the cup of dark Colombian coffee I had just brewed, as it flowed down my throat and filled my body with warmth, signaling the start of a new day. 

I felt a stronger connection to nature as I stepped outside of my apartment. I felt the cozy, crisp sun envelop the contours of my face, and I heard the cawing of black crows perched along the telephone wires adjacent to my apartment complex. 

I am blessed with another day - another opportunity to pursue greatness.  

I took my daily antidepressant, Fluoxetine. It has become a daily routine, and a regular signal for myself that today, I choose happiness. I choose life. I choose to embrace myself, for all my faults and for all my strengths as well.  

I prayed today, not asking as much as I usually do, but recognizing what I'm grateful for having. A home. Food. Slightly stable income. A college degree. Family. Friends. My health. Being able to see and hear the beauty of the world.

Is this what true happiness - true inner peace - feels like? If so, I can get used to this.  

I have felt heavy for years, with depression hovering over me like a relentless specter, obstructing me from my fullest potential. It has caused me to miss so many opportunities, to present a half-assed version of myself.  It has caused me to become a shadow of my former self, causing me to just get by day-by-day rather than to truly thrive, to fully partake in the joys of life.  

I’m tired of just getting by. I’m tired of waking up and feeling like life would feel better if I wasn’t here anymore.  I’m tired of shying away from opportunities to grow because of this impostor syndrome I’ve developed due to the identities I have developed internalized hatred for.  

I feel ready to pursue what I want. I recognize my challenges, but I also recognize what I have to offer to the world.  

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Overwhelmed

I feel overwhelmed. But I need to remind myself to take one step at a time. Think of the smallest thing you can do. And start there. It's better to start somewhere than no where. You go this. You're here today. That's an accomplishment in itself, despite how small it may seem to be. We are all going through our own suffering. And we will get through it. When we have fallen, all we have is to look up. To keep moving up.

You have fallen, and you will rise.

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If pumpkin spice lattes are made with coffee, and coffee is acidic, why does drinking them make white girls more basic?

A pumpkin spice latte is known to be exactly 6.45 in the pH scale which makes it slightly acidic. When we ingest something acidic, that lowers the pH of our body. But our bodies must maintain a pH very close to 7.4 in order for survival. So the it counteracts this acidity with more alkalinity to “even” it out. So for a moment it makes white girls “more basic” to neutralize the acidity, and this also tells us that they “can’t even” because of the constant pH imbalance in their body due to pumpkin spice latte’s.

*takes a sip from pumpkin spice latte*

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About to max out my credit cards to make rent and start eating 1-2 times a day to make ends meet. I just want a job. :/

I would rather take the MCAT multiple times than deal with this nonsense. 

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Sometimes, I want a car just so I can have the freedom to stop and use the restroom, without the added con of adding 20-30 minutes to my travel time.

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Numb

I've become numb. I've developed this fear of investing myself in things, in people. The pain of loss is something too difficult for me to bear, so why bother? There have been too many recent events in my life that prove to demonstrate the fallacies in attaching my happiness to objects, to people, and to experiences. Thus, I've come to detach myself. But now, what is left? I feel that, for all intents and purposes, I've stopped living. I tell myself just to get through each and every day, but what am looking forward to now? I'm stuck in this cycle of being nostalgic and only nostalgic. Contemplating the "good ol' days" while completely lost as to where my life's narrative is going next. I want to stop just getting by. I miss the version of myself that's consistently goal-oriented and focused. I mean, sure, I've been effective at small spurts of productivity and bull-shittery when called to do so, but I need to do better than that now. I can't just do well when it's convenient for me anymore. I need to become a person of consistent moral conviction. I need to learn to take more risks. I aspire to live a life where I can minimize the regret that I feel upon my deathbed. But knowing how to do so, and consistently acting upon it; that's a different story.

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Forgive yourself.

When you wake up late. When you procrastinate. When you fail yourself. When you fail others. When you can’t leave the house. When you’re late paying bills. When you don’t have a job. When you’re failing in school. When you’re not pleasing your parents. When you hurt yourself. When you hurt others. When you lie to yourself. When you lie to others. When you love the wrong person. When you make the same mistake. When you feel defeated. When you lose your temper. When the last time turns into a time again. When you cheat yourself. When you’re not good to yourself. When you don’t have a plan. When you feel hopeless. When you hate yourself. When you’re impatient. When you tell yourself to give up. When you stop believing in yourself. When you lose faith. When you doubt yourself. When you forget to say I love you.

Forgive yourself.

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Don’t be that dirty A word: Activist Like a viral disease It always starts in college took that sociology or ethnic studies class joined that outreach recruitment center for underrepresented youth of color you wanted to hold it down for the struggle at the rally for undocumented student rights and...

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Citizens of Pawnee

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“It’s fun to watch you both grow up,” the doctor said, putting a Band-Aid over the site where my three-year-old daughter had just received the MMR vaccine. At first, I bristled at her condescension, at the idea that I somehow still had growing up to do. But it was true. When I’d first visited her office three years before, I had been a different person. I had been a child.

My fears were a product of a potentially lethal combination of maternal panic and youthful ignorance. I was afraid. I was afraid of autism, of chemicals, of pharmaceutical companies, of pills, of needles. I saw medicine as an impersonal monolith of unpronounceable words and latex gloves, of figures and averages and data. I didn’t trust it with the pearl I guarded inside my womb. I wanted my baby to be safe—and safety, it seemed, could be promised by midwives and crystals, herbs and exercises. I didn’t trust science to provide it…

This article is so well-written and thought-provoking – and certain to rile up the anti-vaxxers just a bit.

Oh well!

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hematopoiesis

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وطن المرء ليس مكان ولادته و لكنه المكان الذي تنتهي فيه كل محاولاته للهروب Home is not where you were born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease

Naguib Mahfouz (1911-2006) -  Egyptian writer & novelist; won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988   (via pigmenting)

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I've reached the point in the commuter life in which I'm now able to recognize which sections of the Wilshire corridor have reliable 4g internet connection.