19.10.2018
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"The Simple Life"
 I left behind “the simple life” in order to live by its definition.
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I departed for LA today.



Was supposed to officially move there a month ago, but missed my flight when I couldn’t step out of the apartment while having a panic attack. Im glad it happened that way, I’m glad I had to stay in Providence for a few extra days, and I’m glad I came running to the Dominican Republic to be comforted by my ma. Since graduating I’ve dealt with things I didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with, and dealt with things I’ve been dealing with on and off since deciding to pursue the arts. Of all my mistakes, of all the rocks I trip over, the thing that disables me the most is lack of consistent motivation. When motivated I burn all the weight of the experiences I wish I could erase.

I stopped in the Dominican Republic to refill my vessel of motivation. I tried gathering it from the warm Caribbean waters, and the ice cold rivers - from squeezing the fruit hanging off of tropical trees and from soaking in the sun. Yet my vessel remained empty until it hit me like a tsunami, rushing in with waters I was already acquainted to, carrying in the waste of people I never met.

 


I thanked my mother today.
 


One of the first nights back in the DR, my mother and I were fighting like we often do, when this fight ended in triggering another one of her epileptic attacks I remembered why I want motivation in the first place, why I needed to learn patience, why I’m not supposed to come running to her for comfort since I need to be the strong one, the one she should be able to depend on.

I wasn’t magically able to get into the groove of things from this moment to the next, it happened over the following weeks. I had enough time to not only remember the problems within my family but also the problems that plague my motherland. The pest that lack of environmental education is. The pest of racism and sexism.

 


I return to an oasis today.
 


An oasis of orange skies and toxic air, but with the privilege of powering my cintique 24/7. An oasis with a plastic bag ban, where the next generation of team marine from my alma-mater runs to the beach and diligently rids it of the plastic that despite “the hard work” of voting democratic, still makes it there.

I left the Dominican Republic three hours ago, and return to LA in 6 with my motherland still on my mind. I’ll do what I need to do to stabilize myself in hopes of being strong enough to help progress the island I was born in. This has been a drive of mine for a while but when every pillar holding me up starts crumbling, the consciousness which motivates me falls too. And this goes for everyone. How often has a white ally said something questionable in moments where they feel like they can’t afford thinking of someone other than themselves? Moments in which they are so stressed out basic human principles are nothing but dessert you can spoil yourself with if you manage to strategize where your main course is coming from.

 


I started posting again last week.
 


Still having fear that maybe what I do isn’t good enough to share, but not letting that stop me. The less skilled I was, the more I enjoyed people viewing my work. The less refined my appearance was the easier it was to not compare myself to others. I have to remember that I’m nowhere close to being as perfect as I wish I could become, and that it’s okay to share the process, and the experiences that motivate me.