From the Mind of Teresa Cuevas

Just some incites that I’ve learned along the way, quotes to live life by.

-The only person who can grant you permission is yourself.

-Don’t ask for permission to be a strong person.

-You are as small as your biggest insecurity, so let it go and become as big as your wildest fear.

-People fear success and instead bask in failure because success leaves all excuses in the dust.

-Learn as much as you can as often as you can.

-If you don’t like my opinions, get some of your own.

-Natural disasters may wash away everything you own, society may strip away your material possessions, but knowledge can never be taken away from you.

-Ignorance is the root of all misunderstandings.

-When you change your mindset, you change your life.

-We should all be skeptics, question the things you don’t understand and don’t make sense, don’t build your reality based on another’s perceptions.

-Don’t believe the hype, we all wear masks.

-Good people do bad things, everything is circumstantial.

-When all else fails, ice cream has your back.

-Not everyone can be a leader and leaders need followers, everything is dependent upon another to achieve harmony.

-Don’t carry a chip, wear badges.

-Vanity is profane insecurity.

-No one spends more time with you than yourself, do things that feel right for you, not for someone else.

-There is a fine line between sociological cultural norms and innate behaviors, don’t use one to define the other.

-Try to grow up without selling out what you know to be true to yourself.

-Everyone is crazy, the key is to find people in your life that will tolerate your level of crazy and vice versa.

-If you perpetuate the stereotype, don’t get mad when you are stereotyped.

-Everyone has a sob story, don’t use it as your crutch.

-Influence people not through coercion, but through intelligence and compassion.

-Self proclamations are projected insecurities, your character exudes from your actions, not your thoughts about yourself.

-Speak confidently, always believe in what you are saying, even when its complete rubbish.

-Don’t just dream, aspire to achieve.

I’ll Love You Forever

I’ll love you forever

We’ve forged different lives

And what we have become

Is two separate individuals

Barely recognizable to each other

I’ll love you forever

We are different because we have grown

Not due to loss of love

Our lives are no longer compatible

Because our common ground is now foreign soil

Our reach has slowly closed and each others thoughts impenetrable

I’ll love you forever

I will always hold our memories fond

I will always wish you the best

I will always miss you

But for now I have to accept the differences that can not be reconciled

I’ll love you forever

And if our paths should cross once more

I shall love you as I always have, and forever

Silence

Sometimes I feel as if I don’t have a voice, lost in the aftermath of things I could or should have said. I become nostalgic, complacent on looking back and missing things, people, and opportunities that could have worked, but didn’t. I plague my reality with horrors of missed applications and repetitive questions of why this and why that? Why do I constantly feel that I must assume the role of making others feel special, why has it been lost on myself that someone should be making me feel special. I’m often misdirected and therefore circle back in to the familiar routine that let me down in the first place. I struggle to gain perspective on who I am, what I want to become, and what direction I should travel. I feel confined by my indecision, scared to put down roots, and scared to take the risk. I do not have an answer on how to overcome these feelings, I have not had some great epiphany that will silence these fleeting insecurities, but what I do have is today, a new opportunity to be better than the person that I was yesterday; a new opportunity to approach the world with an optimistic view on how today will be the day that I get it right.

You Bred Raptors

With Jurassic Park playing ironically in the background, You Bred Raptors took the stage. I originally discovered this band of three in the Columbus Circle subway station one late night home in New York City. Although, initially intimidated by the costume masks that they wear during performing, I stopped to listen because I was intrigued by their rock sound induced by classical instruments. The band is equipped with an 8-string bass, cello, drums and two glockenspiels, which blend together to create a sound that is reminiscent of a movie score. Although their performance lacks a climatic pop, I do enjoy the texture that their music produces: a little hard, a little soft, melodic, and slightly adventurous.

The Glass Animals Have My Heart

I was blown away by the Glass Animals last week. I had been waiting in anticipation for this show for the past three months. In trying to discover new music and bands I stumbled upon a forum that allowed people to voice their opinions on who should perform at Lollapalooza, needless to say, there was an overwhelming mention of a band named Glass Animals. My love for them was immediate, their dark and melodic tone forces an extrovert to introvert causing them to explore depths of surrealism and question their current reality. What can I say, I love a band that stretches your mind and welcomes sensation overload. I sway, lost in the rhythms of their beats, losing myself in words that have become meaningless as I focus solely on the hypnotic nature of Dave Bayley’s voice. I cannot help, but become fixated on the band’s passion that exudes from the stage. I am consumed by ad lib extensions of the songs and relish in their energy as they rock out on stage, lost in each others presence and vibe. Gooey took on a life of its own as it urged Bayley to climb the balcony and sing overlooking the crowd from a new and intimate vantage point. The pace of the show stemmed from the steady pace of the music and nothing was more fitting than when Bayley crowd surfed and was suspended in the air ever so calmly and poetically, fans surrounding him, not willing to let him move or fall, and it was at that moment I became a believer in their sound and a devoted fan.

Malleable

I wish I was fluid, moved in and out with the current. I don’t, quite the opposite. I am a block, rigid in my frame, solid in my stature, terrified to move. I loathe the itch of someone’s awareness other than mine own, don’t come in, an intruder in this house built of solid walls. Cannot feel, cannot scream, cannot be; I am what I am, fearful and insecure. Everything you want, but I fear myself. I cannot be! I cannot breathe! I walk in shambles because I am no one! No one is everyone and I question who I am. Again; I am no one! I smile in profanity; its easier that way, no one really knows. To know would expose any vulnerability and feeling I have as a person, a feared emotion, and so I write. I write to sleep cause sleep is solace.

Kicking The Sugar Habit

Ever since I can recall I have been a fat kid fo’ lyfe! I love treats! My friend once joked that I should write a cookbook on how to make fat things fatter. I am the queen of suggesting you dip buttered theater popcorn in nacho cheese or that you melt butter with peanut butter, yes you read correctly, I am that disgusting, and spoon feed it to yourself or that you hollow out the center of pre-made cookie dough, place a caramel square in the center, bake, and then top the cookie with ice cream. I grew up eating dessert for breakfast and then snacking on donuts in between meals. In fact, I spend most of my days dreaming of hot fudge sundaes and often send my self into a pie coma right before bed. Desserts and sweets were off limit to sharing and if I for some reason felt generous that day, the portion was always two for me, one for you. I feel disgusted by the amounts of sugar I consume and have been feeling lately like somethings gotta give, and it can no longer be the buttons on my jeans. I wonder how I don’t have diabetes and fear that I am well on my way to acquire them or a host of other diseases related to eating atrociously. With that said, I have decided to try to kick the sugar habit to the curb. It is going to be hard and I don’t even know how long I will be able to forgo without relapsing, but I have consciously made up my mind to make a valiant effort. It is not going to be easy and I make no promises, but I do know that I want to feel better physically and mentally, and this is the first step. Stay tuned for details of my struggles and successes.

Go Down the Rabbit Hole: A Writer’s Manifesto

Clarity sometimes comes in the form of simple things. As a writer I have struggled with many of these and appreciate the challenge to push myself to places I may not have previously gone.

Writing for Digital Media

1. You are the work. The work is you: both an articulation of the self and a possibility for self-reflection. Be honest in creation: allow yourself to bleed into the work, but also allow it to work on you. Your work can show you things: illuminate and clarify your own thoughts, motivations, actions. If you do it right, you will find the work changing you, too.

2. Thinking is process. Laying on the floor. Sitting on park benches. Getting lost on purpose. These are all working. Learn the difference between mindless distraction and mindful wandering.

3. Go down the rabbit hole. Sometimes the work isn’t about what you think it is. Allow yourself to get lost down alleyways, to follow a train of thought around a corner. Don’t feel you need to reign yourself in. Too much focus squeezes all the possibility for revelation out of the work.

4. Fear…

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I Have A Dark Side Filled With Goth Dreams

Don’t let the designer labels of my closet fool you, I have a deep seated love for Metal music. Growing up, it was the rage and expression that I related to, the fact that it set me apart from all my boring friends who loved pop, the action of live shows; I loved the high I got from the music and to this day still have a huge affinity towards it. Two weeks ago I went to my second Marilyn Manson concert. The opening act felt like a metal drill on my temples, an endless drone of sounds that were meant to be hypnotic, but felt more like a conglomeration of vexed, indecipherable moans. Needless to say, the opening act was forgotten before I could even find out their name.

I don’t know if it is my love for theatrics, but I was really hoping for a goth glam showdown, maybe even a little blood and controversy. I yearned for an old school Manson approach, one that shouted fuck you to the conformists, gave the cheek (yes, the ass cheek) to those sociological fabricated lies we face, and raged so hard that it shook your last beliefs that a God still exists.  Unfortunately, that is not what I was confronted with, but rather was left subdued and passive. The concert lacked the spark to ignite a fire and in its place a void that should have been filled with raucous. Manson’s voice certainly did not expand to hit the dark corners of your mind like it used too, those screams that jarred you forward were non-existent, and his costume was less than striking; nothing but a long black overcoat, a corset, and black pants.

I acknowledge the effects that age and drugs can have on performances such as His, where the previous bar set was nothing less than scandal and therefore I must allow omissions to my expectations. I strive to paint a reality of the show, not my disappointment, because in fact, I had a wonderful time. The mundane chords that have come to characterize his last two albums, did not stop me from getting lost in the crowd, jumping around, pushing people into the mosh pit, and sweating my lady balls off. It was while I was rescuing my poor friend from The Mosh that I realized, not one single person had crowd surfed; I immediately took it upon myself to rise to the challenge. A few seconds later, I found suitable Metal Heads to toss me up and off I went. Adrenaline took over as I tumbled over unsuspecting voyeurs, blood rushed to areas that were being grappled in order to move me forward, and my gift: to be pulled from the chaos of the crowd and into safety by Manson himself. I was delighted and in awe that this is how my night would end, I still reel from the experience and admit I look forward to my next.

The Unnamed

Heat. Passion. The eradication of my inhibitions. With one scent the coil of my libido unravels. The image repeats. Heavy breathing. A sweat lined lip. A light graze that stimulates every pore of my flesh, commanding lumbering desires to stand at attention. Deep melodic moans provide the soundtrack; dim lighting the backdrop. Lips peruse my every curve, slicking sun deprived crevices with wet intentions. Complete submission. Pulsating rhythms meet repetitious thrusting. Quivers ripple down my tensed body, eyes dilate and meet for a brief second to acknowledge euphoric release. Lips tingle. Exaltation simultaneous to the point of vindication. A faint whisper soothes the rapid beating of my heart. I sigh a giddy giggle, ready to repeat.