COMBAT SPORTS | RUNNING | YOGA | MEDITATION | WRITING
It's all right. No, it's not. What the hell? Move your feet! I feel every dimple and ridge. Softened canvas yields as I shuffle. The lights flicker bile yellow and slush grey, with a few shards of off-white (star-bursting) raining down if my head snaps back too quickly. There is only chaos until I settle in… Continue reading IN THE ZONE (A LESSON IN GOING WITH THE FLOW)
I worked at Champs Sports during high school, when being 'too much' or 'not enough' was a thing. When we, as young people, tested learned ideas on each other. We gleefully recycled socialized fallacies about men and women. Notions that were outdated, ignorant, and cutting. Volleyball was my religion at the time. I also ran track and… Continue reading TOO MUCH/NOT ENOUGH
Aside from the dick-pic debacle, I took on boxing to compliment my running game and yoga practice. But another reason involved a riotous 2016 where I fractured into a thousand little pieces. After a year of existing as a glistening storm of jagged and brittle fragments, I longed to put myself back together. I am made… Continue reading WE ARE NOT MADE OF GLASS
**Trigger warning: narrative contains mentions of assault and harassment. I don't think about being pretty when I enter the gym. Too busy applying a peppermint oil underneath my nostrils, I'm more concerned with blocking out overlapping smells of wet towels, damp canvas, and still-moist gloves that might have three strains of fungus growing inside of… Continue reading ABOUT BEING PRETTY
When I was young, my father relied on a few staples whenever we fell sick. He claimed these makeshift meds could cure almost anything. They were the ultimate elixirs and potions under the category of 'do-it-yourself' remedies. His primary go-to was bitters, Angostura to be exact. The caramel liquid from the motherland had all kinds of… Continue reading HONEY WHITE (FOR THE LOVE OF EPSOM SALT)
NOT MADE OF GLASS 