As a human entity in a world full of unknown integers, the ability to explore is a magnificent concept. Exploration to me is a process of not only discovery, but rather fulfillment. The need to explore has come from a peculiar gap, one that I have been trying to fill. A slit in my soul. But, let me be clear. Exploration and the act of exploring should not be understood definitively, rather openly and subjectively. Whether I am exploring the world or new feelings, this complete process of exploration is necessary in order to seal…
The world was quiet. An unnatural, eerie quiet where every footstep echoed off the empty trees, the washed-out paw prints of animals who left their burrows and did not return. I stepped through the forests, the deserts, the oceans. I walked and I watched, and all was quiet. The air was still, the sun unmoving in an eternal moment of not-quite-dusk. No crickets chirped, no squirrels chattered, there was nothing left. I was the only one, in an empty shell of a world where nothing grew, nothing healed, nothing changed. What could I live for,…
Many seem to think that letting go means forgetting.
Life is one long orgasm
I can’t remember the last time I was so desperate for home.
I woke up in London.
Heather had referred him. She knew his older sister who was “the sweetest girl ever,” and if my oldest sister suggested it, it was nearly gospel. So when John Truman called, I said yes and he came to pick me up the following evening. It was my first date. Heather lent me a brown polyester skirt. I kept reapplying my deodorant every hour throughout the day. When we heard tires squeal in front of our house, Heather patted my bum and told me to behave. I responded with a scowl, and made my way out to the rusty growling pick-up.
Nostalgia isn’t a feeling, a marketing scheme, or a certain aesthetic style.
The first piece I ever wrote for Blueprint was about being the daughter of Peruvian parents and my rich exposure to South American culture. In an attempt to come full circle, I want to write about my parents one more time. My mother and father danced to disco and ate pancakes as they got to know each other, igniting a solid friendship that would later blossom into a forever-love. Prior to their meeting, their lives had taken very different paths. My mother had an instinctual passion for travel and tourism, and my father was a Chemistry major with a knack for numbers, metals, and experimental medleys...
I wanted to write something truly unique about what it means to feel nostalgic.