To my friends against the recent anti-Trump protests…

To my friends against the recent anti-trump protests…
Let me first express how I think healthy discussion and debate is a right we should all be utilizing right now. It is important to discuss the many issues, fears and future plans of the country now more than ever. Now, to my letter:
I have heard many people express their annoyance and even disgust over the anti-trump protests that have popped up over the U.S. within the past week and a half…
As an NYC resident, I have firsthand experienced the implicit inclusivity in NYC and how it exists in our city more than in rural areas. In NYC, we have no choice but to be on top of each other and see what melting pot we live in. Problems like poverty and police violence or gun laws, or immigration directly affect all of us in NYC way more than those in smaller towns with less access to diversity. Because we are so diverse, we are the loud and opinionated minority of individuals who decided it was worth the effort to show the rest of the world we don’t like what our new president has planned for the country, which so far has led to protesting for the past week and a half.
An interesting summary from M. Huemer’s book, The Problem of Political Authority: An Examination of the Right to Coerce and the Duty to Obey:
There are four types of implicit consent which citizens can give their governments: passive consent, acceptance of benefits, consent through presence, and consent through participation. In this case, we have a large majority of people who voted for trump who are not racist or xenophobic, not misogynistic or islamaphobic, but instead are accepting the outcome of the U.S. government by way 1. of CONSENT through PRESENCE 2. as well as exhibiting PASSIVE CONSENT. Consent through presence is actually something we as citizens of the U.S. do not have control over…Ie being a U.S. citizen means paying your taxes, having a passport, keeping track of your identity within the state and so on. Because we must pay taxes and have other legal duties to the state, most of us must perform our consent through presence or else be legally persecuted/become a refugee. However, passive consent is a different story. PASSIVE CONSENT implies that citizens agree with their government because they do not oppose their government. This passivity hinges on the majority thinking their opinion will not matter in the long run. When a citizen gives passive consent to the government, this implies that the changes within the government would not affect the citizen in a detrimental way that will decrease their level of satisfaction and/or their personal life.


All that really means there is just a choice: you either stand for the community of the oppressed or you don’t. Protesting is just the CRUX of the embodiment of this American RIGHT, and I will say this again, if we don’t stand up and find our community of accepting and passionate individuals now, when the time comes to fight against the new laws Trump plans to put in place, we will lack the structure or maturity as a group to get the job done. So keep up the fight for racial/women’s/LGBTQIA equality, immigrant rights, the fight against global warming, for tighter regulation on banks, better gun control laws, and so on.
I’m honestly embarrassed to not have spoken up sooner, but it must be better to get active now than to stay silent.
TLDR; Active discussion/progression and an advocate for morality//over passive consent. I would love to discuss what we all can do as a next step (protesting can only get us so far!), so we can all come to a greater understanding of what it should mean to be a U.S. citizen.

When in NOLA, gain a drinking problem and become louder than you should be

Why go to NOLA this time?
Is it for clarity? Don’t think so…
This trip spawned out of a long-standing desire to tell a girl I’ve had a crush on for years now about my feeling for her (she happens to live in NOLA). I’m ready to say it, either to get it off my back or start something new. I am horny and confused and shameful and everything in between.
Turns out she is moving to NYC at the beginning of August. This obsession will either grow or finally release me. I have someone, a special someone as of a week ago. And I think I could really like her. The 180 feeling of finding someone I like who is a girl is that I feel incredibly dirty, less than. I cannot tell what this relationship will become, but my darkness is heavy and ashamed of itself again. My internalized homophobia makes me feel tainted with the word “waste” heavy on my tongue.

“Feeling filth in my skin cake and crust within like the dingy in the middle of an open ocean” I’m quoting myself I don’t know why I’m quoting myself in real time like it’s some song I’ve written or heard or something.

**Things synonymous with my anxiety and internalized homophobia: heavy, darkness, less than, road-side haunting, forgotten, wasteful


I got a nose ring and I think I look great with it. Let’s see if my job cares at all, hopefully not.


imagePlease someone shake me awake before it’s too late
All this insignificance builds up in my throat like it’s supposed to mean something
My arms shudder with waves of cold from my blood
Back in the hole again
Like Aristotle looking in
My mind will eat itself and make my body wish it were dead
Where is the meaning in it
My eyes are numb, I’ve snipped the chord connecting my eyes to my heart
But we still are here
And again
And again

Fucking fuck, though

Angry, voiceless thing, why do you try to holler? You have no voice, and no friend in your corner. Do you refer to the darkness, your long lost friend, and cash the rest of your effort in paying off dues you thought made sense in the womb when you signed up for life? Yes, voiceless thing, keep going, you owe the world your hide. Despite your comfort in death, you still have much to grieve for.

I got my IUD inserted at a Planned Parenthood in California, and this is what happened

I have had such anxiety about birth control.. I am the girl who tried the Nuvaring for A DAY and had adverse reactions that still have been plaguing me: the day I put the Nuvaring in, I became an emotional and anxious wreck. I must have been on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire day, until I finally called my mom sobbing. “I have to take it out, mom, I’m going crazy and I don’t feel like myself.”


“So just take it out,” she said. “It isn’t worth it to lose your personal happiness over this.” She was right. It wasn’t worth it. But I felt weak. I was the one who signed up for triathlons after my father’s passing, the one who always chose the fight instead of flight, and now because of a low-dosage of hormones, my once strong persona was falling apart.


I had been planning on going to California for a while. This trip was my escape since October, I had known I’d pick up a bag and take a hike out of NYC. However, the past few days have been anything but relaxing. Over the past two days I’ve been here, I got confirmation of a new job I would be starting on the 17th, I have been signing up for classes for the new semester at college (still haven’t been able to sign up because of a hold that is on my account, so I’m still technically on hold and may not get into classes because of one person who will NOT pick up the phone to confirm I am indeed a student with a real identity and social security card). I have been subsequently speaking with Cali friends and making plans to meet up, I’ve been trying to see Cali and get a good glimpse of the area to see if in fact I could end up living here, and in total I’ve been spending way too much money here just to park and eat and breathe in this gold-studded LA experience. So far, this place is a shit skid mark that has made me more anxious than I could have imagined.


I am currently sitting in Planned Parenthood Hollywood as I write this. The wait time is 3 hours and I kid you not, I am at the point where I am willing to wait that long just to get this IUD inserted. I have a boyfriend now, and a new job, and am in the position where I can get the IUD and not have to move around too much for the next 5 days. This is the ideal time to get the IUD inserted, as I start my job when I get back to NYC. I will relax and recover in the comfort of LA, San Francisco, or wherever the fuck I can. I just need to drive. I need to breathe. LA is making me anxious. Or maybe it’s me. It’s probably me. And the flaming margaritas I had last night.


But to increase my anxiety around the Planned Parenthood experience, I have learned about a MAJOR fallacy in the insurance system. Planned Parenthood, the single major female care provider, known for taking anyone who needs help and working with them to pay for care, has told me they cannot work with my insurance for the IUD insertion procedure. In total, it would cost over $1000, and yes, my insurance has a deductible and I will have to pay for it out of pocket. Therefore, even though my insurance is PPO, which means it wouldn’t matter what state I’m in when receiving care from a doctor, I am forced to pay in full.


Planned Parenthood, making it hard for women to be women. I don’t fully blame them. Look I get it, insurance in general could be better. But isn’t it just so hilarious how hard being a female is? How hard it is just to NOT get pregnant? All I am is in a different state, and this is what happens. Yes, I get that this is how insurance works, yes, I can wait a bit longer to get the IUD, and there are bigger problems to deal with in the world with mine right now. I get it. This is a blip on the radar in the long run. But this shit really has got me angry. How hard is it to insert an IUD, and aren’t you supposed to be a female doctor’s office for ALL women, regardless of their insurance provider? How does this add up, and why is it that I have to pay $1000 for an IUD when it should be free for everyone?


When It Rains

This past week, I have broken contact with a long-distance lust, terminated my 2-weeks notice as a bartender, gotten a job interview for a preschool job, started a new relationship, and laid my fathers ashes to rest in the family moselium. I’m tired.

I invite the challenge of ease into my life. I invite the challenge of ease into my life. I breathe the challenge of ease into my life. I am ready for new things. Bring it on.


Turn Around to See Me See You Go

I feel degenerate, foggy, groggy, make no mistake these words are my own but barely.

I haven’t thought like myself in days, especially since you left.

The skies cleared for an instant, and love, no, like, no, love, became apparent

and maybe I am foolish for thinking

My hard shell wouldn’t tear in two when you swiftly flew

Bye for now, just for now, we said and my heart shattered in a few chunky pieces

I knew I couldn’t go back, I didn’t want to

Better to feel the full thing and know what it is to live

than to wear armor and consider numbness a “winning” habit

Better to know you’re out there feeling the same way too,

and maybe one day I’ll find my mermaid on concrete soil

If you say it so, we should be happier then

I’ll find what I need, and I know it now

It is you, but here,

With me.


Sticks and Stones (an original poem)

Supposed you’d show up yesterday, but didn’t see you there

Fooled me once, and once again

I’m starting not to care

Took me all my strength to tell you how your words can scare

Please, show me that you understand

I’m starting not to care

Just when I found my light to shine, who made me dance on air

You told me it was spoiled wine

I’m starting not to care

I’m starting not to care, I’m starting not to care

Your inaction makes me hate myself

I’m starting not to care

And when old blood is buried we’ll all gladly say a prayer

to lessons learned and bridges burned

I’m starting not to care

I’m starting not to care, I’m starting not to care

Your silence makes me hate myself

I’m starting not to care

Last Will and Testament


And I still haven’t gotten to the Bronx Zoo. I have been planning on going there for weeks. If it weren’t for a school project, I would have no excuse to go to the Bronx at all, aside from the chance to walk down a new street. It has been cold the past few days, and biking has become less and less appealing. I could use my bike to go to the zoo, if only my motivation, or the caffeine pill, kicked in. Instead, I’m sitting on my lounging on my mattress writing my will and testament, and feeling the urge to get a tattoo. Anything to feel alive, I guess. What a mess.

What would I give away? There’s my ukulele, which would be given to Rebecca H. I don’t know why. I just think she would like it. And maybe it would support her out of her depressive rut, having a wooden musical friend like that.

I would give each of my cousins $5,000 to be put into their 501k retirement plan (because I want to see you get old and do something nice for yourself!).

Jocelyn, Carla, Laurel, Jolie, Celeste, Mat, Mike, Kathleen, Kim, Emily B, Marley, Marika, Nissa, Jasmina, Aliyah, Riley F, Sage M, Kaela T, Alison I, Tyley R, will all get $500 each to be used for pleasure purposes because life is too short, ya pussies.

My brother will get all the figurines I’ve been holding in my room to be sent to him, except for two. One figurine would be sent to him on his wedding day, with a note attached. The other would be sent to him when mom dies, saying “Keep going, I love you.”

My father died in November almost two years ago. A lot has changed since then. I came out to my family, I started and stopped cutting myself, I’ve started towards my Masters in Psych, I’ve picked up the ukulele, I stopped doing theatre and recently started dancing again, I’ve fought through the depths of depression and have been closer to myself than ever before. I am Lindsay, very new but I am closer to new Lindsay than I was with old Lindsay, and I like the way new Lindsay thinks because she has a mind of her own and doesn’t care about what people think as much as old Lindsay did. She has strong values, and she’s curious about mostly everything.

If I allow myself, I’d lay in bed all day. But I also have these intense urges to do insane things, like train 6 months straight for an Olympic triathlon or jump out of an airplane. I’m weird in that way. I’ve always fought between opposites.

I am a dark person, not angry, just melancholic, existential, heavy-hearted. Every day I choose to get out of bed, and still every day is hard. It is so fucking hard getting out of bed and out of the house, unless it’s for someone else. How have I kept this pain inside for so long? I hide it because I don’t want anyone to see how torn I am, because my energy feeds off of good company, and I get less fuel from my company when they are upset. Eventually my pain will pass, right? Eventually, these feelings will go away, and I will continue to foster the company of friends and family while I purge myself of the demons in my stomach, under my skin, in my shadow. They will never need to know what you’re going through, and that is why I keep two secret blogs. I don’t want to be seen as unstable. I wait for the day someone calls me unstable and I will punch him right in the gut.

It is noon now, and I still haven’t gotten out of the house. Am I not out of the house because I’m writing this blog entry, or am I writing just because I can’t leave the house? Who can say, this whole depression thing hits when you least expect it, and it fucking sucks that I don’t feel safe talking to most people about it. Because I don’t, and I have a lot of anger and resentment toward people because of that, by the way. I learned the hard way that people have a hard time listening to my problems. So I don’t open up anymore. I’m just constantly pushing against my depression until my mood lifts and I’m out of the rut for another day again.

I’m missing pieces of myself, I’m missing pieces of myself.


*For those who are reading this, this post is half-literal and half-journal. It is literal in the sense that I’d like it to be referenced as an actual document to be used as a will and testament until further updated with my lawyers, and a journal in the sense that it is very personal.