simplethoughtssometimes

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and now it's 2023!

I've just logged off from week 5 of an online creative writing course I enrolled in this year. It was a Christmas gift and such a great experience.

My brain has started coming back to the idea of writing and how much I enjoy it and want to improve it. It's started oiling my creative gears again.

I'll use this space to add some of the work I've done. Maybe, it'll even encourage me to build upon the exercises and create even more!

Stay tuned.

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it's 2021 already?

It's not that I forgot about this blog. I mean, yes, I haven't written anything on here in (pause, while I count on my fingers) 3 years. And yes, I hadn't thought to even really log into this account since then. But here I am!

Maybe I miss the idea of writing my thoughts down - of flexing the creative/reflective muscles. I read through some of my older posts here and they gave me such a sense of nostalgia. So much has changed in the world, in my life, in me, over the last few years.

The romantic in me hopes this blog could become a place I look back to for a sense of what life looked like a different points in time. So I'm going to try and pick it up again. Famous last words...

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the american dream is real

The American Dream is real.

The American Dream comes from  long nights spent in cold cars, drawers full of pasta and canned foods.

It’s biking miles up and down from work to home to school to work to school to home to work. It’s the drive-thru at 3AM the community college courses where the distinction between “where” and “when” suddenly becomes clear.

It’s paying taxes and worrying about if moving in together is the right choice. It’s trips to national parks, drives to the beach, it’s falling in love with someone new and with a new home.

Home - would never think to use that word in a place so foreign, unknowable.

New language, new streets, new rules, same humanity. The American Dream is real.

It’s brightened when a new life is brought into it. It’s sleepless nights, long distance phone calls.

It’s working full time, working nine-to-nine’s. It’s missed PTA meetings and after school care programs. Independence, self-reliance, a sense of belonging. 

It’s being caught in between two worlds of which fitting in completely  and not at all are intertwined, like two sides of one coin, a silver dollar.

The American Dream is real.

It persists, through small steps in professional victories, to losing jobs, and dedicating years of work, to risking it all for an idea.

It’s hopeful, not even wondering if college was a question, but only questioning where would college be, and how would it get paid, not if, but how.

It’s knowing responsibility, full course loads, part-time jobs.

It’s arguments, it’s not understanding.

It’s cultures clashing, and yet it’s just one culture.

The American Dream is real. 

It’s voting in elections, and every single ballot measure.

It’s a contribution, not a threat.

It’s a sense of belonging.

It’s a home.

And for me, it even ended up including a white picket fence.

- B.S. / 1.30.18

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currently writing elsewhere (in the world)

I’m currently studying abroad right now... 

So if you want to keep up with my writing, it’s all here for the time that I’m in Madrid. 

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inauguration/women’s march

Today, I am angry and sad and proud and filled with hope. 

Yesterday, I could not bear to watch the news cover the inauguration. I couldn't watch as that man officially became the President of the United States. Of my country. And out of desire to spite, I didn't want to give him the gratification of my added view to his ceremony. It's historical yes, we're lucky to live in a country that values a democratic political system and a peaceful transition of power. But, I do not stand for anything that man brings to that office and I do not wish to support it in any way.

Yesterday, I drew hope from the empty National Mall, from the bare streets of my city, the city I love, not supporting him as it usually does for the presidency. My heart swelled to hear that most of the people attending the ceremony were from out of state. Though I only saw images, I felt content with the fact that he wouldn't get as big of a crowd that he dreamed out, but got the size of crowd he deserved (and even then it was a few thousand people too many in my opinion). But, I also was confused by some emotions. I saw through social media how people I knew, young friends and others were attending the ceremony. I understand. I can see the appreciation for attending a historical event, something so held to high esteem in our nation as the Inauguration. I understand that. But I put myself in their shoes. And I thought, yes, I'd want to witness history, but the moment I thought of who I would witness becoming a part of it, my stomach would turn. I couldn't fathom watching that with my own eyes - much less with the help of the television. Maybe I just can't distance myself enough to absorb the historical value of it, but my moral compass is disgusted and offended by the man who swore to protect the country yesterday. My country.

Yesterday, I was angry that my city got destroyed. Believe me, I understand the frustration and the anger and just the utter disgust and betrayal that comes from the man who is President. But I don't understand how burning a limo, shattering store fronts, and trashing the city gets anyone anywhere. I'm happy that the anger was taken out mainly on objects - yes, people's property, but at least not people. But although violence and expressions of it can be so self-satisfying, it doesn't help anything. It doesn’t change anything. And that bothered me. That's not what I identify with. I want to scream and punch things and find a way to express the betrayal I feel from the country that is my home, but I know that if I want anything to change, there's different avenues I have to seek out to be productive.

Today, I woke up energized and excited. I was a little peeved at being in such a far ahead time zone that things weren't happening when I woke up. But I was so excited to see what would progress throughout the day. And it was beautiful and astounding. The amount of people out and about marching in so many cities gave me hope. Gave me the ability to take a step back and remember that this is not over with his inauguration. That his idiotic cabinet and hopeless Congress were just the battle. We've still got the war ahead of us. And we've got so much potential at the forefront of it. 

I wish I had been there today. 

When I left, I didn't realize how much I would be upset over not being able to participate in the Women's March. I didn't think it would matter that much to me. But as I saw the news coverage of the WORLD, as I saw my friends and family supporting and marching, I felt a sinking feeling inside me. I want so badly to be there. I want so badly to march alongside my friends in my city, to be a part of this amazing show of solidarity with DC and the world. I want so badly to have been able to march in Los Angeles, in the city that raised me, alongside my parents, and so many other immigrants, so many of the diverse beautiful people that make up America, our America.

And I couldn't help but cry as I wrote this, I'm very overwhelmed with emotion that I don’t know how to express to my host family here in Madrid - much less to express in Spanish. I'm hurting for me and for my parents, who don't deserve to be so betrayed by the country that gave them so much. I'm hurting for my family and friends who are discriminated against and shamed for not loving the "right person", for "being wired wrong". I hurt for the man I love, who has had to fight to succeed against a systematically unjust system and who has to deal with the looks when we're out together, simply for being of a different race then me. I hurt for the millions of people who are unjustly labeled as threats to this country, simply because their God goes by a different name. I'm hurting.  

One of my best friends sent me a beautiful message today, and I don't think she'd mind me sharing it. So I'll leave it here as a parting thought:

Hey. I realize we never really talk about this, at least not since high school that I can remember, but if you ever need anything please let me know how I can help. I consider you a huge part of my life and I don't ever want you to feel as if I've let you down or that I've been apart of a system That had let you down. If you ever feel unsafe, or scared, or anything, I want to use my voice to help. I can only imagine what you are feeling as a first gen young woman right now. I love you and value you. I'm always only a message, call, or video chat away.

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life is a mess sometimes

I guess I just can’t stick to something even if I try. So I’m going to force myself to try again, but this time, with a different twist.

I’m not going to follow a theme - screw numbering posts. 

I’m just going to find the time and mindset to write. 

And be happy about it. 

Like right now.... the rapid clicking of my “aggressive typing” is music to my ears and a slightly lighter load on my soul. It’s an escape and it’s fantastic. 

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emptying the thought trashcan #10

It's a great feeling when two of your students come to office hours because they wanted to drop by and tell you that they got happy that you commented on one of their photos together and that they think you're the best PA and that they love you.

Makes rough days like today a little better.

Makes this job so worth it.

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emptying the thought trashcan #9

I need to start actually listening to my craving and need to write and actually sit down on here and post more. 

Let me share something with you: 

So in my journal, I wrote out a two page list on possible prompts I could write about on this blog and vividly remember thinking of all these great ideas as I was writing the prompt out and when I look back at it now, I just stare at it. What was I thinking? None of these things would produce anything good or pleasant for anyone to read. 

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I bought a book of 300 Writing Prompts (as one does) at Barnes and Noble and thought “Oh my God, this will be a great way to always have something to write about!” and yes, I do write every day without fail. It’s actually been really great, but none of the prompts have inspired me to write something that I’d like to post on here. 

Maybe I’m being to picky or maybe I really just don’t think anyone will be interested in reading about what my ideal lazy day consists of or what a journal entry dated 10 years from now could possibly look like. But hey, the prompts really are a great mental exercise! 

So you see, this is my dilemma. I want to write. I need to write. I just don’t know what about. I guess that’s why I get really excited when I do post something... because it feels like a serious accomplishment for me and I really do want people to read it. 

But maybe that’s just me wanting attention and readership. Who knows? 

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nocturnal musings

Well for starters, I’ve been really into using the word “musings” a lot recently. There’s something so whimsical-sounding about it that I really love. 

Something else that I’ve been really into (this one not by choice) is staying up late. Or rather, not being able to fall asleep and as a result I’m wide awake at 2AM. 

I’ve always considered myself a night owl and genuinely have enjoyed being able to stay up into the late hours of the night (morning?), but recently, it’s the last thing I want to do. Maybe it’s that I’m getting old (HA!) or maybe it’s my stubborn subconscious that gets pissed off at the fact that I just can’t fall asleep.

My first thought was too much caffeine... but the last coffee I drank was after dinner at about 7PM... that was well over 6 hours ago (yes, I did just count that on my fingers thank you very much) and knowing my body, I should be fine by now. 

Then is it stress? Examining the few things that could be deemed “stressful” that are on my mind right now, none of them are bad enough to keep me up like this. And the reason this is such a big deal for me right now is because it’s been going on for at least three days now. 

I’ll often have a rough night every once in a while where I know I have to get up early the next day and I just can’t fall asleep. But that happens months apart. Never in my life have I experienced days on end where I just can’t sleep.

I’ve tried reading before bed, and this usually does the trick, but that failed. So has trying to stay off technology or using it to get sleepy. Nothing’s working for me. I’ve gone as far as wandering into the sleep aide section in Target to try to find a natural supplement that could possibly help. Nothing came out of that search, but that was a wake-up call to me. I’m actually a little concerned.

I go back to school in 3 days. I’m going to start working 9-9 days when I’m there. I need to get back on a regular sleep schedule. So, I guess we’ll see.

In retrospect, this no-sleep thing is kinda nice because I finally got my ass back on here writing. Hope it sticks!

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writings

He is such an incredible person. I just don’t understand it. I don’t know how I deserve him, why I’m the one that gets to be lucky and have him be such a big part of my life. To be able to be a big part of his life.

He takes care of me.

He puts up with me.

He’s everything I could have ever wanted and then some. He’s what I couldn’t have ever imagined.

He’s who I’m madly in love with.

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emptying the thought trashcan # 8

I just love telling stories. I love writing stories. Granted, finding an inspiration for one is hard. It’s frustrating. And, a lot of the time, defeats my urge to actually go through and write something. But, when you find something to write about, when you have the inspiration and the memories to draw from, it becomes a steady flow of the sound of clicking keys. 

And it’s a great feeling. 

It turns to you constantly thinking about what you can write next. How you can phrase it. Include dialogue? Maybe. Lots of description and background? Sure. Or maybe just get straight to the point? Okay. 

All of these thoughts flow through my head and I guess make up what people call “the creative process”. It’s a process, sure. But it’s not a formula. And it surely isn’t foolproof.

Writer’s block is a thing. And I haven’t decided when I hate it more. It’s horrible when you’re in the middle of writing an essay, or trying to start it, or the worst, trying to finish one. You know there’s a deadline. You know you want to finish and you just lose sight of the ideas you had. Or the bullshit you could add. (I’m a good student, I swear!) And yeah, that’s horrible. When you’re sitting in the library at 2am exhausted over the topic you’ve been working on for at least a week now and can see no end in sight. But sometimes, it’s worse when it’s not an assignment. It’s more frustrating when you’re trying to write creatively and you just have nothing. Because I take it personally then. It is my mind, and only it, that is preventing me from creating a story. Or continuing one. 

That’s why when you do find an idea. Or even just a mere wisp of one, take advantage of it and just write what comes to mind. Because those beautiful moments outside the block are what create the most ingenious pieces of writing. 

And look at that, got over mine and posted on here again! 

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emptying the thought trashcan #7

The question that keeps running through my head right now is:

What is your biggest fear?

So, maybe I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe I fear a lot of things. I’m terrified of heights, and spiders, and bugs, and the dark. But something I pieced together not so long ago (like half an hour ago while I was walking my dog, so like really not that long ago), is that one of my biggest fears, one that scares me down to my bones, is the fear of disappointing someone important to me. 

It comes from how I was raised and how I see the world. Growing up as an only child to two very loving parents is something that I’d never trade for the world. They are so important to the person I have become and the values I hold, but at the same time, they are a big reason of why I’m scared to be any less of what is expected of me. I grew up around compliments of how great I am, how good of a kid I was, how smart, etc. All those things that a lot of parents tell their kids as they’re growing up. And it’s all great and all, for a while. But, there comes a point when the compliments turn into expectations. 

Of course I’m capable and smart enough to get straight A’s, because getting B’s would just be unacceptable... 

Of course I’m going to do great in college, because not succeeding in life is just unthinkable... 

And yeah, I’m grateful to have people who support me and love me and only want the best for me. I know that I’m absolutely lucky to have that. And that’s why it scares the hell out of me when I think about possibly letting those people down. 

And that fear, after thinking about it, comes from another fear. The fear of hurting them. Of doing something that causes someone, who cares about me, pain. The fact that as human beings we hold that power over people we form any type of relationship with, is frankly terrifying. And a huge responsibility. 

Because most people don’t want to intentionally hurt anyone. I do have enough faith in humanity to believe that. But what most people don’t take into account, and I am no exception to this, is how easily it is to hurt someone unintentionally. And that might be the scariest thing of all, because it’s something you don’t really grasp until after it happens. 

And somehow, I think those two fears are ultimately related, I just don’t really know how to tie them all together.

What I do know, is that they terrify me.

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prompted #6

This is something that I’ve actually been thinking about a lot recently, so finding this prompt was like a sign from the universe telling me that I should actually write about it.

What grand adventure do you wish you could go on?

I have always loved traveling. It’s something I’ve grown up doing, something that always seems to excite me, and something I plan on doing a lot more of before I die. There’s so much to be learned from going to a different place, even if it is just one town over, or if you have the opportunity to go one hemisphere over. Being in a new place is such a terrifying and amazing experience that I honestly can’t get enough of. And to be completely honest, I don’t even mind long flights that much... So, getting back to the point, it’s appropriate that one of my biggest life goals revolves around traveling.

I want to road trip across the United States.

I have such wanderlust, for the world and everything new to me. But as much as I do want to travel internationally and see who and what makes up this world, I find there to be a great importance in learning about the place you come from. The US is a pretty big country that encompasses so many different cultures, people, and landscapes that are arguably as magnificent (and important to see) as the rest of the world. And they’re definitely something I want to see. 

It’s amazing how much there is to see in one single country. How the geography varies greatly from state to state, or even just within a single state (California’s got everything! - beaches, mountains, deserts, forests, etc.). How, and let me be cliché for a second, we are a “nation of immigrants”, so you have the ability to experience so much of the world in one country, but it is still a slightly different experience than actually visiting those native countries. Different, in the sense that what you’d experience in the US is unique to it. And frankly, it would be really dumb if you didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to explore this. 

And you can bet that I am going to take advantage of it, I just haven’t figured out when...or how... but those are just little details that I can figure out later, right?

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writings

I wish I knew how I wish I could show you just how much I miss you.

The warmth of looking into your eyes beautiful, bright, and blue a little hazy sometimes gray like the fog that settles over the Cape I’ve yet to see or sometimes as green as emeralds like those from my mother’s land.

The perfection of our fingers intertwined held together tight like the hold you have on my heart.

The comfort of feeling protected by your arms how right it feels to be held by you and how I wish I hadn’t had to let go.

The lips whose touch sends shivers through my body that come to rest in my heart the same ones that simultaneously release a thousand butterflies inside me, while managing to set  desire aflame. 

The way you’ve left me wanting dreaming of night spent in your arms in your bed awake and asleep discovering and sharing being mine and being yours.

And two months feels like an eternity patient, I’ve always considered myself to be and you’re making me doubt myself but there’s nothing much to do except lay here hold back tears and let the laughter of memories come pouring out instead.

And wait.

And miss you.

Briggitte Suastegui 5.20.14

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things that have changed: freshman year

I figured this would kind of be cool to do at the end of every year in college. Who knows if by next year I’ll remember to do this again, but I mean why not try, right?

List of things that changed: Freshman Year

Drinking black coffee now

Finding 60 degrees Fahrenheit no longer cold

Riding the metro isn’t a problem

Driving places is

Running became a thing

Asking permission to do things and go places is definitely not a thing

Scheduling everything into my calendar

Learning how to get hurt and come back from it

Figuring out my alcohol tolerance level

Finishing math forever

Making friends and watching some get left behind

Falling asleep in class is bad...and yet unavoidable

Learning that it takes 4 shots of expresso to keep me up at night

Finding that Ambassadors is my new AVPA and my new home

Having no time to watch TV or read anymore

Having someone you like, like you back, is the most amazing feeling in the world

Referring to school as “home”

Starting this blog

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emptying the thought trashcan #6

I am happy.

I am happy with everything right now. I’m happy because for once everything in my life is going right. With finals over and all my stuff packed away in storage, I have these last three days to enjoy myself in this city I love (well, when I’m not working that is). And I haven’t felt this relaxed and worry-free in so long. There’s always something to think about, worry about, but right now, everything I think about makes me smile and the only thing I worry about is simply the fact that I’m going home for the summer. Nothing huge or horrendous anymore.

And I’m sitting here, with a mug full of oatmeal, listening to music and chilling in my pajamas and I’m thinking I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been able to do this. To take it easy in the morning and enjoy myself. It feels so damn nice.

Everything just feels nice right now really, and I can definitely pin-point one of the reasons for that. And that’s a change, and it’s a great one. I like knowing why I’m happy. It’s definitely a change to what I’m used to, but it’s one that I’ve enjoyed. It’s a great feeling knowing that seeing someone will immediately make your day 10x better. It’s lovely when hearing from them throughout the day puts a smile on your face. And it’s amazing when you can feel them caring about you. When they do things that show you so and you’re left speechless and breathless because you’ve never had anyone do things like that before and  you don’t know what to do with yourself.

And that’s where I’m at.

And I hope I stay here for a while.

[simplethoughtssometimes]

this is important, this is moving on

So, for the longest time, my life and emotions and feelings and all that stuff were perfectly encompassed by this photo. 

This isn’t the time or place to go into my personal relationships with people because that’s something I’d like to keep to myself for the time being, but something that I feel is worth talking about is finally reaching a point where I feel like I can move on with my life.

When you give so much of yourself to someone, not in a committed relationship type of way (because that was definitely not what was going on), but in an emotional and dedicated type of way, it is hard to move away from that so quickly. At least, for me it is.

Earlier this week, I was thinking of writing about my confusion over how differently two people can get over the same situation. How a person can walk away seeming unhurt and with all the ease in the world, while the other struggles to look them in the eyes without spilling a few tears. Sure, that’s a little exaggerated, but to be completely honest, that’s what it feels like. It’s strange to fathom how someone can go from being your world, the person you talk to daily without fail, who always makes you laugh, who gives you the warmest hugs and who you’ve... well actually let’s not get too graphic here, but you get the picture. How that same person can just stop talking to you, still being polite of course, but essentially, not caring anymore. 

And yeah, that hurt. Feeling like you no longer had any importance whatsoever was bad, yes, but you want to know what was worse? Seeing your importance, the way that they looked at you and talked with you, being directed towards someone else. That one stung because you couldn’t un-see it. And that’s where I was. For the longest time, that limbo was what enveloped me. And then, something changed.

I can’t tell you what it was. I most definitely didn’t have a sudden epiphany or an intervention or anything like that, but for some reason, I just stopped caring. I stopped caring and I stopped hurting and my attention shifted to something better. 

Whether it was the fact that I’ve found distractions or better things to think about, or that my mind and my heart finally clicked and got on the same page about what would be good for me, I have now been having the best, most empowering days in a really long time.

And my friend asked me the other day if I had “relapsed” because I had spent some time with the person I’m writing this about, and my answer was clear. No. Absolutely not. I felt better knowing I could work around the damn feelings that controlled me for so long and that said person could slowly start being irrelevant. That I wanted that person to start being irrelevant. For the time being anyways, because its just not worth it right now. Not until they figure their shit out and get their priorities straight.

And I hope he knows that. Because that would be a personal selfish triumph. 

Am I bitter? A bit.

Am I sad? Oh yes.

Do I care as much? Nope.

So yeah, maybe I won’t ever get over it because he was a super important part of my life and that just can’t be erased, but life does go on and there are other things (and maybe even people) that will fill that void. I’m just not worried about it anymore. And that... that’s liberating.