I’ve been afraid of changing

I turn 25 in 10 days.

I went to Medea’s cremation service on Saturday.

You know, I was really sad when I first found out. I called a bunch of my friends in California, and no one answered. A few responded, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” and then they didn’t. I know everyone’s busy, and I know everyone has their own lives. But, at the same time, I feel like having a roommate die on you deserves a phone call. 

AT THE SAME TIME, I KNOW that EVERYONE is BUSY. BUT! Wouldn’t YOU call your friend if you just found out their roommate died? And maybe that’s a little narcissistic– I’ll admit, I did NOT know Medea that well when she died.

I learned in the days following her death– from her mother and friends that stopped by the house– that she used to turn music on and dance around the house– and that the Medea that I knew– in the last 2 months of her life, who was bed-ridden– was NOT the Medea who was ALIVE and WELL.

What I gathered from that was that she was BEAUTIFUL and she was AWESOME when she was at her best. And even in her sickest hour, she was pleasant to be around. 

I have to be honest– I am disappointed, even in the friends and people I respect.

But then– then there were the calls that were made a week later, in which I caught up with them– and I felt good, and it felt GREAT to be connecting with them.

I JUST WISH THEY HAD CALLED ME WHEN I NEEDED THEM. Because it makes a difference, you know? It makes a difference when you call someone when they need you verses when you call someone when you have the time.


It’s nice to feel connected to people at home. 

I just–

and this is moving on to a different social aspect of my life–

I look at people that I wasted time worrying about,

and I wonder WHY.

Being here, being away from people I know and love, being away from people I thought I cared about, but in reality, just felt the need to be needed and placed it on people who don’t really matter–


what the fuck?


I was so WASTEFUL with my time and I was even more WASTEFUL with my energy into what I thought would make people care about me. 

I just–

I feel like there’s this bigger picture that MOST of us don’t get, myself included, in what makes you a good person.

And being there should be enough.

But what exactly is “being there?”

And who exactly should you “be there” for?

I think that’s the big question.

Like, who really matters in the long run, verses, who matters to you right now just because you think they do, or that they’ll be there for you next time?

The majority of us are wrong when we answer on the spot. But, in most cases, that’s because we don’t have all our facts straight.

I wish I cared about the right people, at the right times.

And I wish I didn’t care about the wrong people, even when they felt right. 

And I wish the wrong people would stop being the wrong people, so that I could be right for once. 


A Change Gonna Come

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With this week ending, I’ve decided that it is necessary to my well-being that I have an online journal. Mostly because there’s a lot happening, and I live in a different time zone than most of the people that I know and want to talk to, and mostly because there’s a lot happening and my free blog on xanga stopped being free, even though I had been writing on it since I was 15. Well, I’m almost 25 now (holy crap!), and I live in a different state, and I think one of the ways I can still connect with people is through writing, so here it goes:

I’m waiting on this new singing gig to take off. And I’m hoping it’s not too good to be true. I’ve been in touch with this guy who creates cover bands and books them shows all over Austin/West Texas, and the group he hired me for is a girl group, 3 female vocals and male instrumentalists. Which is something I have had experience with, and didn’t create the best experience for myself in, but I have a really good feeling about this. We are still waiting on a third singer, and then.. hopefully things take off. But I went to rehearse with the band on Friday, and they were amazing! These guys sang backup to an En Vogue song, and it was AWESOME.

I’ve also finally started to hang out with some of my roommates. Our 10th roommate moved in 2 weeks ago, and since he’s moved in, most of the “newbies” of the house have become more sociable, including myself. We spent a lot of time over this weekend bonding, going out on 6th street, drinking, going swimming, cooking dinner. It was very “Real World” without the whole getting-pissed-off-in-everyone’s-faces part. (On that note, I’m about to watch the last episode of the Real World San Francisco that was filmed 20 years ago. I get homesick at times, even though I didn’t live there 20 years ago. It’s like this weird time warp thing I’m doing to my brain).

Today, I went downstairs to eat before going to work, and I found out through another roommate that a member of our household passed away last night. She was 39, and she had stomach cancer.

I knew she was really sick. But I didn’t think she would pass this quickly. Granted, I didn’t know her that well, but she was our house mom. She ran the interviews for the tenants at the house, and she answered our questions about hot water and bug infestations and mail. And her mom was visiting last week, which I guess happened when she was really sick. She gave her dog away to someone else on Friday. And one of the weird things is that most of the household was home all day yesterday. I had texted her to join us for dinner if she wanted. Granted, I realize now that this text was sent about half an hour after she passed away. And another guy that used to live in the house stopped by, saying he needed to see her. He didn’t seem sad though, but I assume he had heard through the grapevine that she wasn’t well.

I had JUST talked to her, excitedly about this new music project, and she was so genuinely excited for me. But she was soo sick. My last encounter with her was when I knocked on her door a few days ago, asking if I could borrow the key to check the mail. She was sitting up in her bed, looking really nauseous, and she said, “Now is not a good time.”

It’s never a good time.

I don’t know what to do or how to feel. I know that life is going to keep moving for the rest of us in the house, but her parents and friends are in her room right now, mourning, cleaning. And I don’t know if it’s appropriate to reach out to them. I don’t even know what their names are.

I looked at her facebook page when I got home from work. There are a lot of messages and pictures from when she was healthy being posted. This got me.

She was so beautiful when she was well. I only got to know her when she was bed-ridden and suffering and angry, though she hid her anger well. But I could hear her frustrated voice yelling on the phone, at her parents when they visited at times. I don’t know the details. She wasn’t in our house when she passed…

I’m rambling. Mostly because I don’t know how to feel or how to express my condolences, and I don’t know what happens next.

I want to do SOMETHING for her, to show her family or whoever happens to stop by over the next week or two, that she mattered to me in the short time I knew her, but at the same time it doesn’t feel right to be able to witness those who are mourning her. I just don’t know.

I really, really don’t know.