from yesterday to today


Lately, I have been reading and re-reading all of the old writing I have stored on my beloved MacBook Pro. It’s been a bit shocking to see what consumed my thoughts a mere 12 months ago. I struggled with how to define the relationships I was in and I grappled with lack of depth in my actions. 

When I first began scrolling through what feel to be ancient writings I was almost angered with how I thought about relationships, sex and my role within them. The reoccurring theme that resonated throughout all of the samplings revolved around love being nothing more than physically active acts being strung together and classified as something more. 

Although I couldn’t help but feel mortified with my past notions of what a relationship consists of. Maybe I needed to think that way in order to cultivate the ability to move beyond that. My attitude on love has moved from rash and apathetic to sentimental and a lush sense of understanding with another. 

Would it even be possible for me to feel the way I do today without having had the experiences I have had? Could I feel so grounded in my relationships today had I not questioned relationships in the past? 

Maybe our yesterday’s do dictate our tomorrow’s. 


((Below is on of the pieces I wrote in February 2012. Wow have times changed))


Not so “Casual” 

I got to thinking that maybe there is no such thing as “casual” dating or “casual” sex. Can something as intimate as making love really be considered “casual?” When I think casual I think of a ripped pair of denim shorts, or a lunch date with an old friend. The steamy moments spent between the sheets or in the shower don’t seem to be synonymous with “casual.”

 Sure, a girl can kick of her black leather boots, strip out of her ripped tights and slither out of her little black dress, jump into bed with an attractive European and convince herself the next day that it was a simple act of “casual” circumstance.

 She will reminisce of the whiskey and waters that were poured, the toasts that were made to good friends and the very moment he grabbed her waist pulling her on top of him. She will stand in the mirror the next day examining her neck, spotting the evidence of last nights rendezvous. And, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror she may even begin to convince herself that these “casual” acts could amount to something not so “casual.”

 But, while a lady may find that kind of penetrative aggression a sign of lust … or even love, it’s always the gents that are still a step behind looking for another notch in their belt, or another dent in their bedpost.

 Long gone are the days of handwritten love letters when a man goes out to war. So long are the nights spent pining for the unattainable. Now, it’s all an endless stream of one-night stands and “casual” nothings.

Love has turned into an indefinable “causal” outing.


a day at the orchard



This past Sunday I spent the day at an apple orchard accompanied by the best of friends. The quality of these photographs describes the day in itself: picturesque. 

The day began with a quick stop at a coffee shop to retrieve an autumnal cup of comfort, also known as a Pumpkin Spice Latte. In a car full of laughter I couldn’t help but smile as I sipped on the frothy goodness that created warmth between my hands. I knew the day was going to be a good day. 

Once we arrived at the orchard we were all consumed with a bit of confusion as we careened through the zoo of orchard-goers trying to find a way to the “Pick Your Own Apples” location. A few conversations with strangers and five dollars later we were contently making our way toward the maze of apple bearing trees. 

Although the fruits of the trees labor were extremely picked over, we still managed to make the most of the apples scattered on the ground, or stack ourselves vertically to reach the top branches. 



It was the kind of day that I needed. A day surrounded by good friends and nothing but happiness. Some days I feel as lost and forlorn as one of those abandoned apples on the ground. But, then someone comes along, picks you up and finds the beauty that you still posses, even if a little bruised.

Perfection is overrated. 

But, for the record. I’ve never been so satisfied with my life. It may not be perfect, but even biting into a less than perfect apple procures satisfaction. 


a moment of bliss

This morning as my eyes fluttered open, my nose was tickled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee I had brought home from the coffee shop the night before, and to the delicate touch of someone else. As I rolled over to have my eyes meet his, my nose wrinkled in pure delight as my grin spread from ear to ear. I have often dreamed of having a morning just as this. I am blessed with this morning. It didn’t matter that I missed my first lecture for the day. All that mattered was that I was being embraced in pure ecstasy. We laughed. We fantasized. We kissed. And kissed again.