Blair Mahya Quiñones 12/31/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 12/31/24

#14 Kiss Me Goodbye

I think about the passage of time and find myself in admiration—especially this year, which has been full of change and adjustment. I’ve been able to move on from old feelings, allowing the sting of rejection, inconsideration, and lack of mutuality to hurt me less and less as the days pass. Being even just a day away from anything brings me so much peace of mind. It doesn’t need to mean anything, but to me, it means that I’ve been able to keep going—to keep living. To have faith in myself enough to let what’s next unfold. To have faith in my goals enough to keep pursuing them. To love myself enough to keep finding reasons to smile.

I’ve reminisced myself into bad days, spiraled into thoughts and moments heavy, so heavy. But I’ve used my surroundings as a tool to keep going. When I go hiking, I run and skip over overgrown roots, reaching for balance. I hold hands with branches and allow floating logs to carry me over every water break. I laugh so hard. Me and the forest, both expansive to the nth degree.

This is where I feel free.

In the shallows of November, I realized I was living every day waiting for the next. All I could think about was my upcoming trip to Japan. Still, there was much to be done. Days passed while I felt held by my sensitive heart, which carried me through what felt like loss—or the aftermath of a really bad week, over and over again. Tired, exhausted, and sleepless by the end of each day. I wrote my dreams down with one eye open and one eye closed. My dream book lies at my bedside, scribbled—though you could read it if you tried with squinted eyes.

On November 2nd, I was on my way to Mid City Mercado’s Dia de Los Muertos Festival to perform 20 minutes of my poetry. I reflected all day on the importance of celebration and how my words and poetry can morph for me into anything I ask them to. While parking, I got into an accident—10 minutes before my set time. It wasn’t my fault (for real), but I had no control over my flooded eyes, and I wished I didn’t have to show my face. Right before the accident, I spoke a long prayer into the belly of my truck, Dallas. I reminded myself that I place so much trust and faith in God, and not to forget that a misstep is not the wrong path at all. And balance takes work—or faith, rather. And it all circles back.

I remembered that my loneliness is where my energy refuels, my feelings decompress, my body rests, and my brain reflects. All the ingredients to get back to feeling inspired—one of the most important things to me in a day. Because, if I’m not inspired by even the mundane, then I’m taking my life for granted. And I’m not moving myself forward. I often perform my poetry in spaces where I’m invited and warmly welcomed but arrive alone, seeing no familiar faces. It doesn’t necessarily feel like a lack of support, just... lonely. Yes, there’s a certain way that “lonely” feels. But as I get older, I realize that being alone is so necessary—and again, I have to remind myself that this is when I grow, like when I hike alone.

Alone is when I feel free.

After draping myself over my steering wheel and letting a thousand teardrops hydrate the skin of my arms, I performed maybe five of the 20 minutes I was allotted—they’re lucky they got anything out of me. But really, I was the lucky one. In the back of the crowd, I saw my dear friend Amina and her sweet partner, Kurush. She felt like a beacon of light! Where I first felt so alone. Thank you, Amina. I thanked the individuals running the space where I performed, and one of them, Karen, a stranger to me, held my hand and kept holding it tight. She felt like home. And when I walked back to my car, I cried even harder for the pure love I was shown—simply because someone wanted to make me feel loved. Someone wanted to make ME feel loved. Someone wanted to make me feel loved.

I remembered the prayer I breathed before the accident: to feel my purpose in every space I find myself. So much is out of my hands—even if I intentionally grab it, I could be holding something so tight, and that fact remains. Holding onto something does not make it mine. Holding onto something does not prevent the thing from changing. Holding onto something only means I’m stuck in the past. Every passing second brings change to everything. And keeping something from changing only keeps us from changing in turn—from evolving. From receiving.

I wish people would understand and accept that love can be given without expectation of anything in return. That it can be completely platonic, too. People show love because they want to. They feel it’s deserved. People show love because their empathy tells them someone or something needs it. People show love because it’s inherent to them, not because they need it back. What a thing it is to want to make someone feel loved. We are so lucky to come across those kinds of people. Again, I’ve said this so many times, but I wish people cared more. People don’t necessarily care about the simple actions of love shown in a day. People exist in their own worlds. And in our individual world, people don’t exist for us, and we don’t exist for them.

I like to think this way because it keeps me responsible for myself—my actions, my feelings, my goals, and my dreams. This is not to say that what we do or don’t do, say or don’t say, doesn’t affect others. But it is important to remain true to ourselves. No people-pleasing. Just genuine care, love, and support. I look at it like living life as if no one is watching you. The way we act and show up for ourselves, with that in mind, says a lot about us. We can all learn ourselves more intimately when we turn that switch on.

Recently, I’ve been in a space where I’m experiencing rejection again. I’ve had to read the empty spaces and quiet moments for exactly what they mean to tell me. “Hmm, yes, okay,” I acknowledged to myself last we spoke, “so that’s it then.” And awkwardly, and uncomfortably tucked myself into my bed to quickly begin a new day. Remember in blog #13, “Fresh Eyes,” when I said I have to make the decision to separate myself when that time feels right? Time has come. And I don’t ignore the signs anymore. I live for me, me, me. Just as people live for them. There’s not a hard feeling about it in my body—irritation, yes. A bit of longing for a different and better outcome, too. But it is what’s fair, and it’s important that I take people’s actions, and lack thereof, as the reality they’d prefer—as the words they don’t say. I found myself in a strange loop, and although it was a loop I couldn't find an end to, there still seemed to be no actual connection in the end, either.

Enough on that.

I went to Japan. JAPAN! Last month, I went to Japaaaann. My first time. My sweet friend Jasmine texted me late in October asking if I wanted to take the trip. I felt really honored that someone, who I wasn’t even very close to at the time, wanted to travel with me. We bought our tickets a few days later. There was nothing to consider for me. I had been yearning for a change of scenery or hoping to forget a few feelings I couldn’t shake, hoping awe and inspiration would take their place. The trip was beyond inspiring—it was fun, relaxing, challenging, and so expressive in many sensory ways. There’s so much more to say about my trip, and I honestly think I’d like to make a separate blog solely dedicated to it. (Let me know if you’d want that!)

People you see the world with become more than just friends in your life. It would be impossible to talk about, write about, or remember this trip, and my life after the trip, without mentioning Jasmine. Since I've been home, Jasmine and I have seen each other almost every day. She’s become my sister, truly. Right before we flew to Japan, we spent two days together in NYC and quickly realized we are almost the same exact person. And definitely the missing piece in each of our personal puzzles.

When Bailey’s long-lasting relationship ended years ago, her life changed so drastically. And as her sister, I watched so much unravel. Yet, she healed over time and found solace, fun, love, and laughter in a friendship with one other person. I remember being in awe of that—the joy and laughter they shared, despite the upheaval and transformation in her life. I admired and longed for a friendship that mirrored what I admired in theirs. They became each other’s reason for a season of time.

And I wondered how my sister did it—made the decision to change her entire life as she knew it. I found it so brave. I told myself often that if Bailey could do it, then so could I. And when it came time to pull my life apart, I hoped I’d find my reasons when I needed them, just the same. And I did. My friends Karen, Alexia, Jessyca, Karla, Johanna, Zari, Idriys, Nicole all held me DOWN (and my sisters, of course). I cried to Karen, who often, very often, held me and made me tea and stayed on the phone with me for hours. We'd go to In-N-Out at midnight and watch movies in the car while we ate and cried and laughed together between bites of our burgers. Idriys spoke with me like a wise brother, grounding me with hard truths and reminding me over and over again to stand up. Jessyca is my big sister forever and supported me in every way she could. Alexia is my cup of hot tea, my long walk in the most beautiful place on earth—she knows what I mean. Johanna kept me going, kept me sane. Danced with me, and healed with me. Karla made space to hear me—much needed. Zari and I laughed and laughed and LAUGHED. And Nicole sent me love and checked on me often. And now, I’m here—healed and healing, folding and unfolding, learning and unlearning. I have all of my reasons. And what a beauty it is when life gives you exactly what you need: more reminders that the reasons are never-ending.

It’s easy to recognize my friendship with Jasmine as one of those reasons with which I’m so lucky to be reminded. The joy I have lived with her in my life has been… overwhelming in the best way. Not only do we laugh really fucking hard almost every moment, but we take care of each other. And we’re real with each other. And whatever void I wish could be filled romantically has taken a backseat more than usual because of it. Joy is simply what I’ve needed for a long time.

In the same breath…

Truthfully, I miss being in love. In love with someone romantically. I have dreams and aspirations that exceed the depth of which I feel for romantic love. But I do miss it. And I miss missing someone. I miss having someone to kiss. I miss wanting to love someone. The in-betweens of dating are not for me. I find them a waste of my time and don’t necessarily care to deal with the games of ego when my feelings are really so sensitive and genuine.

Truthfully, I only want to care for myself. I’ve watched myself change so much this year. It doesn't feel right to share my time with people who don’t understand how hard I have worked internally this year. It’s not their fault for their lack of knowledge, but it’s my responsibility to put myself first, to keep my feelings safe, and to make my dreams come true. And with all this change and evolution, I have to give myself the time and space to continue it. I’m so grateful for my friendships, which have made my life feel immensely full. And I’m so grateful that a new calendar year is starting, bringing energy, joy, and renewal.

I do still feel sad to let go of the year. Every day, I leave a piece of who I am in the past. To be even just a day away from a new part of me makes me embrace the person I am in the present even harder—with warmth, with love, with so much love. I’ve reminded myself through all things thick, to remain kind, gentle, and patient. And that forgiveness is a superpower that is so intimate and personal. We should forgive silently and move on because nobody deserves the forgiveness more than ourselves. And in silence, with ourselves, we can hear and feel and say and become so much more than anything outside of ourselves. The more I interact with people, the more I realize I like to be alone (with a cat sitting on the love seat behind me, or in any near proximity). I love that silence makes me feel so intensely whatever feelings have begged all day to appear. Feelings teach me lessons, and alone, I learn the best because I feel the most. Still, I asked the year to end sweetly and kiss me goodbye.

I can’t give in to the void—yes, it exists. But it doesn’t need to appear as a missing piece, a space that needs to be filled. I acknowledge that I’d love for there to be someone in my life who I like and enjoy romantically, to spend time with here and there. To sit at a coffee shop and read or write together, or simply get our work done together in the same room in silence. Or to listen to music really loud and jump around together. To lay on our backs next to each other in silence. Those things feel so intimate to me. Those are the things I find myself daydreaming of. BUT, just because I don’t have that does not mean I will go out looking for it. It’s clear that what I need now in my life is to get my work done and stay focused. It’s clear that my mission right now is to harness my strength to get through those feelings of yearning and, step by step, reach all the goals I’ve set out for myself. This is how my brain works: I feel something, it deepens, my brain analyzes the feeling, and I understand how to get through it. I don’t let my feelings overpower anything anymore. Still, in a day, I YEARN. And I want things I know are not for me right now. But they wouldn’t hurt. They would be sweet.

How sweet is it to have someone to share small intimacies with? That’s all I’m saying. And I remind myself, by thinking, saying, and typing all of that, that those small intimacies can be shared with any person I love. Those are all the things I do with my friends. So it becomes clear to me, all over again, and I remember my “reasons.”

Hiking helps me through all of these feelings. One day, the water level was lower than usual, which made the hike feel much different, revealing new paths and rock patterns. I detoured through one of the unfamiliar paths and found myself in the middle of the stream on top of a big rock pattern of three. I laid on my back across the biggest one in the middle. And felt my muscles tighten from the cold, bare stone. And my spine corrected itself over the dips and rough edges. And my lungs filled for a long moment. And my eyelids closed. And I rested.

The next time I hiked, I stopped at the same rocks. This time, I listened to GNX from front to back while standing, jumping, and dancing on top of that rock. At moments, I sat criss-cross and let my fingertips fall into the stream, grazed by the pulses of every water beat.

This is where I like to be alone. This is where I don’t feel alone. This is where I feel my heart race and not skip a beat. And music, water, and rocks hug me, and I hug and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss them back.

And okay, maybe I did cry a little. And I wrote a poem too:

I watched the river run over rocks rippling past rough edges and small creases cracked in the center.

I watched how water makes nature change color—the way we see things.

I went home and under hot water hoped the same could be said for me.

I watched water make music and found it’s simpler than it seems.

I watched water make music and, in my wrinkled reflection, make me cry.

I watched my tears become a song I’ve never heard of in my life.

*song of the month*: (there’s 2 this month)

Let Me Down Easy - The Isley Brothers

My Flame - Bobby Caldwell

Lastly, I wrote and self published a book of poetry in 2023 titled Earth to Infinity. You can buy it in the “Shop” tab along with bookmarks and prints of my poetry, hand written and scanned by myself. If you enjoyed this blog or at least made it to the end, consider supporting me and purchasing an item (or a few). Thank you in advance ❤︎

Love 4ever,

Blair

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

Blair Mahya Quiñones 10/29/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 10/29/24

#13 Fresh Eyes

Fall, Fallen, Falling

Seasons Change

I began writing this blog immediately after my birthday in early September and continued writing throughout October. Many of these feelings have come and gone.

September 15, 2024

Autumn truly beckons change, and I allow, release, and surrender to the transformation. This past birthday was a tough one. I don’t speak about it explicitly since it’s nobody’s business, but my 5-and-some-year relationship ended just over 6 months ago. 7 days out of the week, for so long, were spent grieving that friendship, love, and life we had together. Just 8 days ago, I noticed that I am no longer grieving, and I have felt the peace of that for weeks and weeks now. On September 9th, I turned twenty-seven and celebrated my birthday for the first time in six years without the one person who was there each time. It made me realize, this is a year for a lot of firsts like that. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog, you’ve read that I have been grieving something all year. Once the relationship ended, it seemed that so much more within my life was just waiting to fall apart—and it did. The breakup was just the tip of the iceberg, because, outside of my comfy relationship—that’s where I find real life again.

Not to center my birthday around anyone else, but this birthday reminded me of all of that. It made me feel awkward. People inevitably asked how my birthday was, wished me “the best day ever,” and hoped it was happy and fun. As much as I was absolutely celebrating the blessing of another year alive, my health, my loved ones, etc. I was not happy. I felt the pressure all around me from so many people to be happy on my birthday, but I just wasn’t and that's my business. I was uncomfortable. In the midst of feeling this way, I was able to see that it’s simply the start of a new direction in my life. This focus shift is what is keeping me afloat. It helps life feel exciting.

I need change in my life, but at what cost? I didn’t expect so many things to fall apart. And falling apart doesn’t mean getting worse. It just means—becoming something new. Gravity is a constant on this earth, after all. We will fall! And we will break open what is meant to be. What isn’t meant to be broken will always stand its ground. Yet, life challenges even the most sturdy foundations. How they fall apart isn’t up to us. What is up to us is how we let the falling affect our lives. With full support of these changes and challenges, I’ll let it all fall if that means I’m on my path.

I’ve reflected all year on my various relationships—those that have fallen apart and, in contrast, those that have blossomed. And of course, all the muddled nonsense in between. I’ve thought about the lack of mutuality, the confusion in connection, the struggles and evolution with friendships, and the breakup. I allow it all to just be. I’ll find my balance in all of it because of all of it. What I truly value the most is the lesson within each and every feeling there is to feel. I try to subtract myself from the equation and look at it all as omnisciently as possible in order to gain a broader understanding, to empathize, and to not take things personally. I do that all for my own benefit, as an invitation for peace and understanding in my life while also considering that it will inevitably benefit the people I involve myself with. However, I will say, I am too tolerant of too much.

I was talking with Chuck the other night, and as my big brother, he was telling me about myself. For example, I’m new to dating. I did it a little bit as a 19/20-year-old, but that was ages ago. This time around, I’ve been on one date. I’ll put no pressure on this dating thing as long as I’m here in this space. I have too much to focus on in my life. But as a newly-ish single person, a yearner, and a big romantic, I’d hope for things to feel sweet, at the very least. I have no shame when it comes to letting people know my feelings, putting in effort, double texting (gag), and being the initiator. But I also tolerate things being that way, afraid to allow things to just be without control. It’s not my job to control a connection. One can hope and want and crave. But then what’s the point if it isn't reciprocated naturally?

While a situation involves another human being, things will never be as straightforward as one would hope. People are complex, dealing with their own lives, relationships, families, heartaches, hardships, and mental health. I understand—more than you know. Lately, my prayer every day is for God to hold my people. I pray for those who need holding to be and feel held. I remember writing in blog #10, “High Hopes,” that I expect nothing of anyone. Easier said than done. But I have absolutely been practicing that exercise, and it’s left me sore here and there. Still, I think I’ve been doing a good job—consciously reminding myself when I get caught up in the ever waxing, seldom waning, feeling of disappointment. And lately, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why people say things that they never follow through with! I mean, aren’t I left to expect that you’ll keep your word and mean what you say? It seems there’s a part of trust that is left to the ethers. Because you never truly know what a person’s intentions are unless communicated, and even then—still can’t trust that. And what is peace without trust? And what is trust without expectation? Do trust and faith hold the same weight? Clearly, it would be wrong to expect anything from faith…right? Hmm. I just wish I could learn to detach sooner than I do. Even still, I remain patient and forgiving—hopeful, even. While sage-ing away the leftover energy of giving a fuck too much. And in silent solo car rides, 40 minutes away from everywhere I safely land, or when I find myself quiet and roaming my thoughts among any crowd, I let all of it spin my head in circles and, sadly, briefly wash away my peace.

I want peace, money, personal success, and romance with myself. It’s already in my atmosphere. And if I date, I want sweetness, some romance, and no confusion. Is there a world where that even exists? In my world, I lay topless on my bed in my biggest sweats and think long and hard about the past. Karla and I walked through downtown last night after eating tacos and drinking the sweetest sandía. We talked about how confusing people are—i.e., men—and all the different kinds of relationships to them, while life at this moment for us is already confusing.

We spend so much time thinking about the past in general. What could’ve been done or said—all the coulda’s and woulda’s. Reminiscing out of admiration and longing. Reminiscing out of confusion. But what if we dedicated more brain space to our future? When we think about our future, we have to consider the present. It begs to be considered! So that’s where I begin: right now. What can I do right now in favor of my future self? What can I do right now to feel good, effectively benefiting my future? What can I do right now to make room for and create peace and pleasure? (Funny enough, I wrote this weeks ago and just booked a trip to Tokyo for 10 days in November using all of my savings and had no second thoughts. I’m usually not that spontaneous. Meant to be, clearly!)

Chuck and I concluded that where my ego lies is in thinking that people should care about my feelings just because I have them or share them. That’s where the expectations come from. It’s hard for me to move on from a person, place, thing, or feeling. But I also understand all of this about people and myself: People come; people go. People do what they want. People feel more than they let on, or the complete opposite. People don’t care. People don’t know what they want. People are confusing.

Ultimately, I’m just really tired. I need a reset. I need to look at life with fresh eyes. I need to appreciate what’s in front of me. I need new inspiration. I need to end this really confusing, messy, unbalanced chapter of my life and start the next. I think that’s what it is: the end of this chapter. And of course, I’m tired. Of course, I’m uninspired. I need to let this season be what it is and start a new and fresh one. There is no need to fix, contour, or adjust anything here today. But tomorrow, whenever tomorrow makes sense, after deep rest and with fresh eyes, I will start where I left off and begin again. And of course, the first thing I think of is escaping Los Angeles. I have to get out of here for some time. I’ve thought about NYC, I’ve craved Mexico City, and I’ve dreamed of moving to the Bahamas and living a meaningful, intentional, and simple life. I don’t quite know what is next for me, but it’s not in my comfort zone, that’s for sure.

I finished the blog…and then I wrote more.

I love writing a blog about myself, my feelings, and my life. And it’s not because I get to talk about myself; it’s because this is a space I’ve created to reflect on the real things in my life that trip me up. Here, I can express gratitude and release my thoughts and feelings in real time. Still, I am a very private person, so it’s been a challenge to be the creator of this space where I encourage my own personal vulnerability while still maintaining my privacy. I think it’s important to remain this way, just for my peace and sanity.

I share these inner parts of me to encourage others to embrace vulnerability and reflection. I get to be incredibly honest with myself and my readers. Throughout the month that I write each blog, I learn about myself immensely. Beginning each blog like a very intimate journal entry, I flesh it out, and subtract the super detailed parts. Every now and then, I come back to add a thought or mention something I felt that day, piling it on and on. I come to realize things that have been eating at my brain, feelings, and heart. I actively teach myself—and learn from the people who make up these different dynamics in my life.

For example, I talk about how I’m confused by certain people in my life. But because I reflect on them in my writing, I guide myself to new understandings about why I’m confused. What is truly confusing? How can I make things less confusing for myself? Am I doing all that I can to relax through time and space and allow things to just exist? Is this something I should guide the flow of or release to the flow? Or is it time to subtract myself from the equation as a whole?

I understand myself and people more and more—so thoroughly—simply because I take the time to reflect. And it's because I care so much. I wish people cared more! I’m really grateful for my emotional maturity. I haven’t always been this level-headed. It just makes life easier for myself.

Through all this time, I’ve been learning to let go. What a cool life exercise! I created this opportunity for myself. Letting go of people is so hard, but I’ve done it many times this year. I’ve let go of friendships, a tumultuous past with my father—something I struggle with daily—and a partner I once loved so deeply. I’m even letting go of myself, the old me. Letting go in this way once felt impossible and so, so scary. Now, letting go feels really beautiful to me because it’s the only way to evolve. I bought a one-way ticket to my greatest potential. Here I fucking come.

Lately, it feels good to be alone. It feels good to crave sweetness because, to me, it’s decadent. It’s a treat when it comes. And it's natural, in the current space I’m in, to see it go. That feels good to me right now—to be able to see that clearly. Such is life! I’m here to live and feel it all, not just to dream and dream and dream.

Life challenges even the most sturdy foundations. How they fall apart isn’t up to us. What is up to us is how we let the falling affect our lives. With full support of these changes and challenges, I’ll let it all fall if that means I’m where I’m meant to be.

*song of the month*: XTC - urika’s bedroom

Love 4ever,

Blair

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

Blair Mahya Quiñones 9/9/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 9/9/24

#12 9/9

August 18th, 2024

Last night, August 17th, I cried to not one, not two, but three people at a party simply because I couldn’t hold it in when they asked me how I was doing. (Not a full cry but definitely tears—which I imagine turned my eyes hazel and pouted my cheeks with a lively, rosy flush.) The full moon's energy is strong, and I am not feeling very strong. I feel too much weight in my spirit today; in my energy and in my heart. I honestly feel like this is the most aware I have ever been of the complexities within the situations that are weighing me down. None of it is the most important issue ever. There have been more significant stresses. But I am at an age where I am emotionally mature enough to understand them as thoroughly as I can manage, and that makes these situations break my heart differently.

All that to say, I am not doing okay in many ways. However, it’s important for me to acknowledge that my family loves me, they are alive and healthy, and I am alive and physically healthy. People definitely process their lives differently. It’s all our own world, and we grant access to those whom we love, trust, and care for. Do we allow room for people to make mistakes? Do we allow room for people to come back into our lives? Do we allow room to be considerate of others in our world? That’s for each individual person to decide. And everyone will decide uniquely. And no decision is a wrong one, if anything, just a lesson learned. I understand it all. Remember—I see you, I see through you too. At the core for me is love. I’ll never say it’s more than others, nor less. I just know what I allow and how I allow it. I know how I feel and how I internalize that. One big, huge EMPATH. Goodness gracious, does it hurt a lot of the time. I don’t know everything. I learn so much in a day. I learn so much from my friendships. I am learning more about myself now than I have in years. I’m learning about the people around me every day. Isn’t that fair? Isn’t that part of the work we are alive for? I allow the lessons and I allow teaching and being taught. It’s what I am alive and present for, it’s what I love for.

I curled up on the couch with my mom tonight. Donna. Both of us in our loungewear, or lack thereof, while we bore the heat with no central air. I felt the skin of her legs on mine, and her arms enveloped me while I cried to her about all of this, and how it’s too much. Towards the calm end of the conversation, my mom remarked that life is so short. She has said it out loud before, yet the other day she noticed herself truly thinking about how fast life has gone by. I heard the weight in her words that I know she carries, and it made me want to hold her tightly, even though she said those words to comfort me. It’s been so long since I’ve cried to my mom in this way. And truthfully, I think I’ve been avoiding any real conversation with her for the past couple of weeks because of the weight I’ve been carrying. Avoiding being truthful with myself. Avoiding the words sounding so real and not just a daily vent to a friend (which is so valuable and important to me). Avoiding the healing work. My mom held me with so many words I needed to hear—stories, reassurance, and advice. My mom held me with her face pressed against my hair and her legs intertwined with mine. Amidst all of my worries, I remembered again where else I can learn so much about myself and my love and my life—in the embrace of my mom.

———(If you know me, you know my mom is my everything, and I feel so proud of that. Because, if you know me, then you know that my mom is incredible.) While I understand so much and accept the way things ought to go, it still hurts me. I am resilient, I think, because while I mourn and cry and lose inspiration and suppress and distract myself through it, I don’t let it change the core of me. Do you remember? Love. The embrace of my mom is my home. This realization made me realize I need to let myself be where I feel at home. Whether that is literally in my home space, on a walk, or sitting in a park, I need to embrace what home is for me again. The closest thing to an embrace from my mom is in solidarity—loving and embracing myself. The love within me is unwavering. Where it comes from, I don’t really know. It’s not a faith thing (not that I wouldn’t be proud of that), but it’s something different. Still, something I am so deeply proud of, so deeply grateful for. Life is so short. My heart just hurts. Still, being in a familiar place of hurt or sadness is never the same place I’ve been before. It’s always new, it’s always different. The place I am in emotionally, wherever that is, will always teach me a new lesson. It’s not for nothing.

September 3rd, 2024

My birthday is coming up—September 9th. September always feels good to me. It welcomes a new season, new energy. It beckons organization and clarity. I was born in September. September loves me. September allows for deep reflection, appreciation, and gratitude. For me, August ended in a place of confusion. I’d love to delete the entire month of August, from the first day to the very last. Just press CTRL + A and delete the entire thing. I’m being dramatic, of course. There were many wonderful days in August. And as a whole, the days in August have led me here: learning how to allow space, reflecting on my own actions, intentions, cause and effect, and being reminded of how small I am in the world. I’m finally surrendering to solidarity and rest. What is going on around me is much more than I can bear most days. So, September is when I reset. It’s time for me to fall back and spend my time alone. I almost forgot how much I love my space—sitting at my desk and being in my room. It’s time for me to focus on my craft now more than ever. It’s time for rest, writing, and rejuvenation. I’m exhausted, as I sit here writing this, from the energy I’ve allowed into my space while being so trusting, patient, and accepting. Ugh. I’m tired of avoiding my priorities for the sake of distracting myself from my thoughts. Sometimes, only in self-reflection and deep sleep will you find the answers you’re looking for. Sometimes, only in solitude will you find the clarity you need. So, I look forward to my birthday out of gratitude for my functioning and able body, my health, my family, and waking up to a new day.

September 9th, 2024

Today, the day is not going as planned! Like, in a ridiculous way. I wanted to laugh and now I just want to cry. Ce la vie! There’s so much to say about turning 27—I have a lot to say about my 26th year too. Here is not the end. I just had to get this off my chest. Beyond grateful.

A year ago today I launched my website, my blog, my online store—and my book. The poetry book that I worked on for four years. The process was long, as I worked on it while in college and took a long break from the process during covid. A compilation of poetry about heartbreak, physical abuse, my healing process, my rocky relationship with my father, my love for my sisters, an ode to my mother, falling in love again, seeking peace and balance. Earth to Infinity is the most special thing I’ve ever breathed life into. Today is her birthday, too!

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to my book, Earth to Infinity.

Happy birthday to my mommy, my home, my reason–today is the day she gave birth to me.

*Song of the month: Pilot by Ravyn Lenae — I have cried so many times to this song.

Blair Mahya Quiñones 8/19/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 8/19/24

#11 One Last Touch

One Last Touch

It’s really sad,

to be here doing this with you again. I drove 47 minutes on a narrow road hoping to melt into your couch with your hand on my knee. And my socks—peeled off onto the floor beside us. “Today won’t last” is the morbid hope with which I assure myself. Nothing moves me more than a hug when I don’t say I need it but, it’s clear I do. Nothing fractures me like this repetitive dance we begin like such fools. I don’t learn the lesson love begs to teach me, what can be said for you?

Well, I am tired from holding a tense posture along the fast lane of the road to your place. Aromas of the dinner you began preparing in anticipation of my arrival yearn to soothe me, to calm me, to remind me you do care. One thing I always know, one thing I always need to be reminded of–while hoping it’s not too much to ask. I rest on the chase lounge with my belly flat and feet propped on the arm, and my head as squished as can be into the cushion. My arm floats down to reach the carpet with fluttering fingers that yearn to caress anything at this moment, and to be caressed without words.

It’s really sad,

to be here wishing I could dance that foolish dance with you again, at least once more. I drove 47 minutes on a narrow road, and let your freeway exit become smaller in my rear view mirror, while the time increased towards a different destination. I thought about turning around and following the familiar route for old time’s sake, for my feeling’s sake. For the sake of my memory. Because, you see, I forget so easily. Still, while I’ve watched so much through my rear view mirror, I am able to remember it all. I know I won’t always be this lucky. Which is sadder:

the remembering,

or the forgetting?

The above text is an unfinished short prose piece. I wrote the first two paragraphs on January 23, 2024, and I wrote the last paragraph on July 17, 2024. So much has changed between this time. I plan to flesh it out and turn it into a longer piece. For now, it says what I mean.

*song of the month*: I Want by Mk.gee

Love 4ever,

Blair

Blair Mahya Quiñones 7/31/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 7/31/24

#10 High Hopes

I no longer rely on anyone’s word. I’ve trudged through the grief of expectation—I expect nothing anymore. I hold no one to anything. I release all expectations. I am tired of getting my hopes up.

I accept more now. I accept the unspoken as truth as well. More often than not, the silence is what is loudest and most important. This perspective is absolutely coming from a place of disappointment. I’ve been given the runaround my whole life by the men in my life. It’s disappointing as a young woman, and it was disappointing as a child. I’m tired of getting my hopes up. Still, the love within me persists. While I feel the disappointment, I also understand that it’s the love teaching me this lesson as much as the disappointment. And I will always give grace.

More mental strength comes from resisting the formation of expectations. I’ve learned this through the changes I've faced this year. It’s been hard, yet what a great life lesson I’m learning. The lessons here are not lost on me. I just cannot live my life the same way, knowing that expecting anything is the hard way through, and we trouble ourselves with the struggle it brings. I’m tired of getting my hopes up. I feel freer releasing myself from the hold of expectation. Please, in turn, expect nothing of me. Allow who I am to be presented to you in the capacity that I can handle, not in the way you insist. Nobody deserves any extra pressure in most circumstances, if we can help it.

So much affects the way a person acts, reacts, thinks, speaks, etc. Who are we, if not human, to form expectations from the things around us? And who are we, if not human, to fail to live up to another’s expectations? Do you see where there is a disconnect? And where there is a hint of control? Through thorough conversation with my dear and wise friend Idriys, I see that the thing that sets me back in my growth is placing expectations on anything. He opened my eyes to why I was feeling so disappointed—it was self-inflicted! And I am soooo tired of getting my hopes up. I feel strongly about this this month because I have just now realized it, after so much time. Silence is as much of an answer as words are.

More on this eventually. I think this is all I have to say for now.

*song of the month*: Lo Que SIente la Mujer - Madonna

Love 4ever,

Infinity

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

~ start to feel something ~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 6/30/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 6/30/24

#9 People Change

If you needed to read something to make you feel good about yourself, this might be it. And not a “wow that was inspiring I’m ready to get up and be inspired” good about yourself. I mean, you won’t feel alone. And often, that’s exactly what we need to simply keep going in life, to get out of bed, to feel grateful for the day. I always say this but, it’s inevitable to feel too much, it’s nice to feel at all. So here I am, accepting these feelings, reminding myself that I’m not the only one—that we share the art of feeling. And what a masterpiece we get to create every day!

Lately……..

I could scream at myself. Ugh! Why do I get in the way of myself? Right when I thought things were good, right when things were getting better, right when I was happy.

Allowing space for things to unfold naturally means that doors inevitably close, and in turn, new doors open. Whether the result feels good or feels bad, we can say that we’re evolving naturally by allowing a natural flow. When it’s natural, it's meant to be. Although, when I allow what I feel to affect my environment, I think that’s when it becomes confusing because then it’s out of my control. There’s not a lot in life that I–we, control. But, I can control the way I react, the way I view, the way I receive. What I can’t control is the way my feelings and my actions are going to affect another individual. And that—my feelings and/or actions—seem to be what determines whether a door opens or closes.

This year, there has been a lot of closing, making space for the opening. There has been a lot of closing for the sake of an end, period. I have been forced to accept that so much around me is changing. I’m changing. People change. I have had to accept that doors close. I have had to accept that I do have the power to open new doors and that naturally, for the better, doors I can’t even see in front of me will continue to open and close. There is an endless flow of love on its way to me at all times. The way these doors function are all in my favor in one way or another. They open out of love, they close out of love. That proved true earlier last week after reuniting with a friend for whom the love grew more fond and more ripe with years of distance, even through the pain of separation. I love, love. And the evolution of love. I love that it grows. I love that it learns. I love that it teaches. And I hope the love I have in my heart speaks volumes going forward to whomever needs it. It’s all intentional for me and I love with my whole heart, even those who had to close doors or are standing with one foot in the door. It’s not easy to make those decisions either and as I age and learn, I can appreciate and respect that.

This year, I've made decisions that I have to allow to change me–whether I like it or not. This year, I have been reflecting on why and how people have decided to close the door we share; on how easy the decision feels for them to make, on how and why I have decided to close certain doors myself. This year, I have been grieving since the start. This year is changing me and this year I will allow it. The pain of adjusting to change is the hardest, weirdest, void-like feeling. Especially when it involves people you love. People change. People change. And I’m changing too.

People are supposed to change. I’m reminded of a time when I was my most malleable, when someone I once loved scolded me, spit at me, abused me, judged my evolution, faulted my change. I’m reminded of the song “Yes I’m Changing” by Tame Impala that helped me through that shift in my life. And I think, in my season of change and transition, I will continue to write about it as specifically as I can bare. (And I know I’m being incredibly unspecific in this blog, but I’m warming up.) There is so much to say. Here I am again, in another major shift in my life. I’m sure it’s simple from the outside! When I talk about it, only a few people have anything truly meaningful to say. So I don’t talk about it. When I talk about it, it becomes so real. So I don’t talk about it. People change, people change. And it’s easier said than experienced.

Words are precious to me. Below is a poem I share, reluctantly, for the sake of accepting change. For the sake of allowing my decisions to change me and accepting the decisions I’ve made. I hold on to people really tightly, so when I lose someone, I know it’s because they wanted to lose me. And I accept that! Sometimes I let myself sit in that grief, and out comes poetry that looks like this.

I see now,

I am easy to lose.

for a day

or a week,

for a month

or a few.

in a year I’ll be here,

or I might have traveled far.

still, in a year all these feelings

will have stayed where they are.

I will change.

I will grow.

I will learn.

I will dream.

and these feelings will live on

—a sore, sweet imprint in me.

it’s not easy to yearn

when I’m easy to lose,

but I love how I love

and I bruise how I bruise.

*song of the month*: 6am by Moonchild — I can’t stop crying to this song.

Love 4ever,

Infinity

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

~ start to feel something ~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 5/27/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 5/27/24

#8 Big Kiss

What feels good anymore? My life feels like I’m just waiting and waiting for something to change, for something to happen. For an apology, for a surprise, for a deep breath, for a kiss, for peace, for rest, for purpose. I feel like I’m in a time constraint – my own doing. And I don't know how to separate myself from noticing the passage of time without wanting to disappear from the weight of it.

I am always able to remind myself, however, that if I take care of myself every single day, especially when it’s hard, I will feel changed. I love challenges; I love growth. Especially when I feel stagnant. But wow, it's hard!!! To uproot and forgive and change. But the ultimate gift to ourselves is allowing change and flowing with it.We cannot change our space without evolving within, at least simultaneously, if not first. What habits are no longer serving you? What beneficial habits can you replace those with? The answer to these questions will be the stepping stones towards feeling how you'd like to feel and creating your desired reality.

I noticed the other day that I am regressing in a healthy way. In a breakup poem that I wrote in 2017 titled “Center Of The Universe” (I can't stand that title), I wrote: “Feelings rearrange like they were never real / I’m forced back to my roots like I never grew / but the feeling boils in me like there’s still a flame / so I journey for my light inside these many wounds”. Without expanding on that at all, I just wanted to point out that it is important to go back to your roots when you feel imbalanced, in limbo, or incomplete. It is important to journey inward. What once brought you joy, pleasure and peace can often be the missing piece in the present. What makes you feel childlike and weightless? Again, take a moment to answer that question.

I have started going to dance classes again. The last time I was consistently in class was in 2019, and it didn’t last very long. In high school I tried out for the dance team simply because I missed the soccer team tryouts. The dance team gave my high school years a purpose. As intense and serious as it was, I admired the challenge, but, what I admired most was that we were one huge beautiful family. The discipline, structure, routine, and endurance was a lifelong lesson for me. Those years sculpted my love and passion for dance. Because I have always seemed to lead my life by considering my passions, dance is what I decided to major in in college. My mom was also a beautiful dancer for years and years, and her support and enthusiasm were unwavering. Quickly, I realized that was not the right decision for me at the time. Now, I wish I would have owned the challenge but I was afraid dance would become so heavily tied with the stress of school. After leaving to community college to figure out what else I was passionate about, very slowly, dance faded out of my life, and I discovered my passion for creative writing.

A quick word on fear: Fear is extremely debilitating. Having a fear of anything is a setback! It closes your energy off from growth and expansion and experience. Fear to change my life, fear to make a hard decision, fear of being perceived, fear of “failing” are fears I’ve felt recently. But, I’ve learned from my past like it’s my mf job. Once I notice a fear, I take the time to acknowledge it and turn it into a challenge. Facing a challenge is easier than facing a fear–in my brain. And time and time again I prove to myself that the challenge is where the sweetness lives. The rich satisfaction of learning and growing and proving to myself that I can survive through it all – with gratitude!

…—On the long car rides every other week from home to school, or vice versa, my dad would talk to us about history, movies, music, or things he wanted us to remember about life. Through his experience there is so much to learn. My favorite lesson was always that “you're an adult a lot longer than you’re a kid, so enjoy being a kid.” I think back to this one when I need a reminder to focus on the present moment. But the one that applies to fear is that we can’t take shortcuts, we have to face it and go through it. In a children’s book that my dad would read to us religiously called “We’re Going On A Bear Hunt”, a father, his three babies, and their mom, go on a bear hunt and are loudly “not scared”. They have to trek through tall grass, thick mud, and flowing water to escape. The story’s refrain is “We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. Oh no! We’ve got to go through it!” (my dad still references this refrain and I need the reminder every time. If you read Blog #4 When I’m Not With Him, you’ll understand the significance I attribute to the nostalgia my father expresses.) A challenge does not have to be scary; by simply taking action, we can gauge what energy and effort and work needs to be applied in order to make it through. The scary part is the initial step. It’s always possible to get to the other side, but we won’t know if we don’t try. And, we will always be better for trying.

I have feared myself out of so much growth. As I sit here now, my mental, physical, situational, spiritual, growth is all I care to share my focus with. This means making sacrifices and challenging myself and being alone more than I’m comfortable with. But the joy and community of dance is beyond pleasure, it's part of the alignment and it doesn’t happen alone. Both dance and writing force me to center into a creative place that calms my thoughts and anxiety; my stress and heartache. In high school, I looked forward to team practice because it’s where I left my shell and became more myself. You know, all the high school drama and annoyances and stress and crushes that don’t like you back and the weight of surviving with divorced parents and the list goes on. I felt free and understood among my dancing peers, among a community. There was nothing else on my mind because dance is simply a world of its own, where nothing can touch you, nothing can imbalance your feelings.

Now, I’m 26 and I am not worried about a crush nor high school nonsense, nor graduating from college (during the pandemic). More pressing complications arise as we age. I understand the world around me as little as I did back then, as life is diluted by the urgency of living to survive. And the only thing that makes sense is filling space with love and passion. The only way to avoid living to survive is by living for and through what you are passionate about. Once you learn that, you will always have that thing, whatever it is, to lean on when you feel unbalanced.

That thing for me has been dancing! Dancing feels like I’m giving myself a big kiss. I love the routine of attending classes twice a week. I love knowing that my skill is improving. I love knowing that I’m tending to my mental, spiritual and physical health by dancing, not only because of the physical movement and the release it allows, but also because of the consistency that I’m proving to myself that I can achieve again. And most importantly, because I’m going back to my roots to find out what feels good again, to pick up where I left off. It’s been a hard year on my feelings and my heart. I’m remembering what I deserve! I’m remembering what feels good.

***—Big, humongous kiss to mi preciosa amiga, Johanna! She is the reason I felt comfy enough to get back in dance class earlier this year. We go to every dance class together and smile so big. She is such a positive light and a beautiful friend. (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

*song of the month*: Flim by Aphex Twin (My theme song)

Love 4ever,

Infinity

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

~ start to feel something ~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 3/31/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 3/31/24

#7 Salt Water

Salt Water

maybe it will just be

warm, still water on the

skin of my face

washing away month-old kisses

and crossing paths without noticing

your step is where I stepped

43 seconds ago.

maybe it will just be

two steps in a

straight line, fractured

in the middle by a high tide

while I kneel

with a rosary between fingers.

10 beads of sweat

fly off my skin

when I pirouette under

the large arch in the hallway

of the church I grew up in.

maybe it is just that

I am nothing without sin,

without the hope: I’m on your mind.

now, it disappears

like water spinning down a drain.

maybe it will just be

my vision blurred by

damp eyes

and one deep salt water swim.

I can crash anywhere,

I can sleep anywhere

when all the noise begins to thin.

I have salt in my hair.

“Salt Water” touches on multiple experiences. I feel like I’ve been separating or forced to separate from so much all year, this isn’t about one single thing. This poem came to me a couple of months ago and originally told a different story, more of a sweater yearn. After editing it in its entirety, a new meaning formed, and I’ll leave it at that. Poetry is really good for that, I never like to explain too much.

Salt water is healing! It brings balance to our bodies. Its anti-inflammatory qualities discourage bacterial growth and rehydrate us by increasing electrolyte symmetry. Having salt in my hair after lying on a bed of sand or from simply being kissed by the ocean air is so precious to me. Something about it. And I haven’t danced in years but I still can do a perfect pirouette :’)

I wrote a few long paragraphs for this blog and finished a solid draft before scrapping the entire thing two nights ago. I was in the mood to write a poem more than a drawn out explanation of all the things I’ve been feeling and seeing and doing. This poem remains a draft and needs more editing before its final form, but it’s the only thing that feels true to me this month.

(I’m writing this while picturing the beach scene in Sweeney Todd, love. And the entire vibe of Chocolat, pure romantic bliss. AND the cute butterflies I used to get from Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging which I watched last week—same feelings as Aquamarine.)

I loveee romance and sweetness. The smallest interaction will make me smile at the thought for days and hold me and kiss me through time and space. That’s all I want. This poem is not about that.

*song of the month*: Solange - Beltway

Love 4ever,

Infinity

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

~ start to feel something ~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 2/26/24 Blair Mahya Quiñones 2/26/24

#6 Only Human

I have a feeling we’re not feeling enough. Not letting ourselves express these feelings. Not letting others feel comfortable to express their feelings with us. I’m feeling a bit of writer’s block. Possibly. Maybe, just a complete block in life. I’ve been avoiding feelings, of making sense of thoughts. Week 3 of 2024, I drank a cup of tea and screamed at the top of my lungs while driving to work on the 110N. Both were much needed. It felt jolting to hear my voice so loudly in such a confined space. I guzzled the rest of my tea swiftly, in hopes of soothing the brief stress in my throat, and drove the rest of the way with ringing ears in my silent truck.

Apart from what I was dealing with in week 3, my time feels challenged by my combative internal stream of consciousness. Anyone else have a lot of voices up there? It used to be a bit out of control. I know how to break up intrusive and negative thought patterns now. And sometimes I simply have to shush the tiny voice up there counting to the number 8 over and over again. So much information has to make its way through the bullshit. I imagine this is why I quietly observe more than I speak—why I love to write.

I hope nobody thinks this kind of thing is easy—unfurling thoughts and feelings online. It’s always easy to think, never easy to articulate. And especially not easy to share. Knowing that people often overlook honest stories and vulnerability because of their lackluster allows me to detach from the care of being judged from the start. My world, my rules ;)

And, on the topic of being overlooked! I know what I like, I do things according to what I like. I like writing about what bounces around my brain without thinking about who is going to take the time to read it; to get to know me through my words…without thinking about if I'm doing it right or who is going to care. This is my world!!! The world changes so much while we sleep, while we drive, while we sing, while we’re afraid, while we spend money, while we mourn and grieve, while we celebrate, while we think and overthink. I am used to the inconsistency of feelings. So, with really wonderful and loving and honest intentions, why would I change how I feel like understanding my world? Why would I change my art? Questions I ask myself when I doubt myself.

If I talk about feelings again, will you stay to read the rest? I just can’t help but share these fractions of my thoughts, of my life. And often, I just can’t help but to think about if anyone even cares – I mean really, truly, deeply. Just another intrusive thought I have to hush away.

Lately, I've been more observant of what the future means to me. And, while I won’t get into the meaning I’m still looking for, I will say that my insecurity of it is prevalent. In this case, I’m talking about my own future: what I'm looking forward to, the topic of a career, where I want to live next, where and in what capacity do I see my passions thriving? I recently expressed this to a loved one and they talked some sense into me without knowing. But the obvious is what I needed to hear: 1. I'm young and it's only the beginning for me, 2. “The beginning” can happen over and over again at any time in my life, 3. I need to celebrate the things I’ve accomplished thus far, and 4. that I have people cheering me on even when I am distracted by the loud silence. While I find looking toward the future to be vital, I can only achieve rational and healthy expectations so long I remain present and firmly grounded…quite the balancing act.

I have said this time and time again: I share my feelings as a form of self expression, enjoyment, healing, and with the hope to inspire others to feel something as a result. I don't expect anyone to care, I think it goes without saying that I don’t care about that, nor do I expect that all people will appreciate what I have to say. But! Love it or hate it and anything in between—you’re feeling! You’re human. And that’s a great place to start. I thought I was going to write about celebrating the love I'm lucky to experience and its ethereal gravity in honor of celebrating love this month. But, I feel weighed down and worn out. It was hard enough not to write and share last month, let alone act as if I'm not currently on the same steep incline. I started this blog early February, and since then, so much feels so different.

2/22 I screamed in my truck again. Maybe it’s something about the 110 freeway going north that sends me into a rage and not the thoughts doing cartwheels in my brain all day—a distraction I allow for the sake of solace.

This helped me today. I do hope this helps others in some way.

So, here are some things I'm keeping close this year:

Ins:

Screaming in your car when you're alone
Encouraging others to scream in their cars when they’re alone
Writing about the writer’s block to get out of the funk, as cringy as it might feel
Being honest with yourself
Keeping things simple
Starting over
Reminding your loved ones you’re cheering them on
Laying outside on your back in the sun
Replacing every negative feeling with a loving thought (this will feel repetitive if ur anything like any other human being, and it works)
Simply telling your brain to be quiet for a moment when it gets weird up there
Making daily lists (I do this every night before bed and prop my notebook up beside it so that it’s the first thing I see when I wake up. I have fun writing it out the night before and I feel good when I check things off. Even simple and obvious things like “wake up” and “brush teeth”)
Picking up a hobby for fun and joy
Resting when you feel overwhelmed
Making handmade cards to celebrate loved ones
Drinking lots and lots of hot tea
Quite and fully disconnected alone time
Getting tea/coffee with your last bit of cash until your next paycheck (I’ve been doing it for months) (st*rbucks is a no)
Acknowledging where you need help and support in life
Asking for help and support! (I don't naturally do this but will try it out more this year)
More arts and crafts!
Platonic relationships with other genders (I personally think this is very healthy if you find it, even if it doesn't last long. It’s been valuable and nourishing to me in my life even while being in a healthy romantic relationship. Maybe I’m just lucky :) it’s nothing to feel guilty about)
Shamelessly plugging your work and skills when appropriate
Daily journaling
Taking deep, intentional breaths
Supporting a ceasefire in Palestine

…and some things I’m not:

Outs:

Avoiding feelings
Worrying about what others think
Caring about popularity
Making people feel weird for being honest
Not acknowledging the present moment for what it is (at the very least, you’re alive & breathing no matter what. Take a deep breath & remember someone who loves you is cheering you on.)
Taking things personally (me asf)
Telling yourself you're lazy (when you might just need to rest)
Not listening to your intuition!
Not thinking before reacting
Reacting instead of understanding
Not supporting your friends!
Holding onto grudges (very taxing on the body and spirit)
Going to sleep late for no reason (I’m pointing at myself while I write this dizzy-headed and 1:36 am)
Not keeping promises with yourself
Messy living space
Not wearing all the clothes in your closet
Not having platonic relationships with the opposite or other genders simply because people think there is a hidden agenda! Be fr…
Having a hidden agenda
Not supporting a ceasefire in Palestine

This year finally feels like it’s starting. After two full months, after heavy rainfall and now seeing growth in places once rootless, after being quiet for long periods of time, after breaking the quiet by singing little ditties, after breaking the quiet by crying loudly, after becoming a homebody again, after being cuddled while I fall asleep and only dreaming of it now, after worrying about how to begin, after feeling forced to mourn the end [of the year], I feel rested and ready to actually begin year 2024. (this is my world.)

*song of the month* (& forever, really): Wait It Out by Imogen Heap

Love 4ever,

Infinity + ℬlair

…One in the same

Write me with any thoughts or comments on this month’s blog. Click the “write me” tab and write away.

WE’RE ONLY HUMAN — THIS IS JUST THE SURFACE

~ start to feel something ~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 12/21/23 Blair Mahya Quiñones 12/21/23

#5 Bitter + Sweet

Where We Are Now

I thought I’d want to write everything I ever felt, but the leaf falls and the time is lost for the right words to complete the thought, the feeling, the memory; to honor any of it. I keep my lips sealed and my fingers moving on to the next moment or I’ll never keep up. And my mind will do me the favor of replaying all the rest in every quiet moment.

Do I think about the process when I’m in the middle of it ? Do I reflect on the ways I felt and the ways I grew, the ways those feelings changed and made me? The Process—during, is the sweet part, right in the middle. And I always forget that until the very end.

What can I say about the end? What can I say about the beginning?

I am happy with things as they are. And then the beginning comes again and I lose my step. It’s not easy to make sense of either, the end and the beginning. Both can be bitter, both can be sweet. Things come to have different meanings and importance when you’ve understood more, when you take time to analyze. When things are new to you, the slate is clear. And by the end, things have more meaning, but, where you don’t have patience to understand, to feel and to anatomize (to a degree) is where you will only feel confused. Through a well rounded understanding, and the acceptance of change, we can become balanced. Just like when reading and writing poetry.

..*—————————

It’s extremely hard to say goodbye to things, I wish my hands could hold them, you, all of it all at once. And become stained a million layers deep from the feeling.

With my eyes shut, I give this year one big, HUGE, sweet kiss and a thousand long, warm waves goodbye.

— Love 4ever, Infinity

Where We Are Now

*・•✧..~ ~..✧∙・*

Can I read my book in the quiet

while you drink the last sip of pomegranate

juice out of a clear, thick glass?

My hands are stained burgundy.

Each page painted with fingerprints

faint and fading

and fading

and with bare hands, I polish away

damp rings in forever symbols

all over my wooden table

stained a million layers deep.

My head felt clear

and my vision felt new

as I watched the seeds decompose—

in an earthy pile, fleshy, sweet

and rotten.

They reclaim the ground,

on which we struggle to balance,

—outside my bedroom window.

Under the yellowest light.

You were in my dream last night.

— start to feel something —

Blair Mahya Quiñones 11/19/23 Blair Mahya Quiñones 11/19/23

#4 When I’m Not With Him

An Ode To My Father

November 14, 2023

I cried like a baby last night at 8:43pm. My dad texted me a song on saturday that I hadn't opened and listened to yet because the days have been long, and I find too many distractions. “For you” he said, with a lullaby to follow. I layed on my belly, with my face smooshed into a pillow, and pressed play. I knew I’d get to feeling. This day was no different than the rest, long, quiet, hard. Nothing that met my ears this day was worth the attention I paid. No, I never know when it’s too much, until it is. That’s why I sit in silence with joy. I listen to my thoughts and spread them out in my mind and pick which ones I should flesh out, which ones I should leave behind. This is how I remain honest with myself.

November 9th, just earlier this week, my truck was broken into. This was the second time and somehow, I let this really hurt me. With my understanding and honesty, I'd think I would’ve talked myself down. Instead, I let myself fall and fall and not like how it feels to fall in your dreams –I wake up laughing. This fall hurt. And honestly, wasted my time. I love feeling and feeling and feeling so much, to then come out of it, like a trance. I love coming out of the trance. I love not wasting my time.

I felt like a baby, curled on the couch, awaiting comfort and coos from the guitar of James Taylor. My dad sometimes sends me songs when he’s thinking of me, this alone always makes me cry—before even pressing play I will burst into tears. But still, the song begins and the tears stay. Always about longing and love. I know he feels the same way I do when he hears songs like that. He feels so much, listens to every word, every note, every chord and beat. My dad used to poke right at my heart whenever I was sad to leave him and tell me that’s where he is. With me all the time. He’s there, I’m here, and I imagine he’s sitting next to me, tapping his fingers on my knee and one foot against the floor to the chords he knows by heart. He sings along with his eyes closed. And I cry when the tapping stops and the song ends. I miss him when I’m not with him, when I fall, and when my days are long, and quiet, and hard.

I love you 4ever,

Blair Mahya Quiñones

Daddy’s Baby - James Taylor

Daddy's baby, what's got you thinking?

What's got you sinking so low?

Is there something I should know

Something new to you?

Daddy's baby, fussing and fretting

Keeping on getting it wrong

She can only last so long

She's going for a song

So sing her a lullaby-by

Baby, don't like to cry

So sing her a lullaby-by

Swaddle and swing her

Sing her a lullaby

She makes her feelings known to me

Her every side is shown to me

And in our time alone

My love has surely grown of its own

Solid as a stepping stone

As silently as the dawn was breaking

Soft and clear

And my tears were dry

And my fears had flown

So I called my love, my home

~start to feel something~

Blair Mahya Quiñones 10/18/23 Blair Mahya Quiñones 10/18/23

#3 Under My Ceiling Fan

I’m rearranging my room again and keeping all of my stuffed animals. For my birthday, I asked for sonny angels and I got 5 of them. I keep buying furniture for when I get to live alone and it's all in storage. I can’t let go of the color pink and fun fact, all of my bedding is a dusty rose color. I still sit with anxiety for a long time and wonder if it’s because I keep procrastinating on that one task I can’t get out of my mind, or if I'm just tired. I wish the answer was always that easy. My truck’s check-engine light has been on since the beginning of this year. She’s okay, so strong…I tell myself. I drive in silence because I like to sit with my thoughts, talk to myself out loud, make up songs. Usually, I just try to let the sounds I'm forced to hear all day escape my eardrums. That ringing can be so loud in a quiet space. I own too many things and still don’t feel complete. And that line will always be true, because I’d like to think I'm meant to be a “compulsive minimalist” (I read that on twitter the other day and cringed) instead of the compulsive trinket collector that I am and always have been. Not to mention, I think I’m realizing I’m addicted to buying clothes. I don’t want to believe it but I’m really good at being honest with myself.

I’m rearranging my room again and the last time I did was in 2021. Much needed. I repainted the walls, bought a new dresser set, sanded it down, repainted that too. I moved everything around over and over again. And again, everything needs to change. I have to shed every couple years. Every year I detach myself from more and more and more. In hopes of needing less. “This year is different'' will always remain the same sentiment. But back then I had more time. It happened with ease, I had the time to feel the way I wanted to feel in a day because I had time to do the internal work it takes. And, I welcomed change as it made its way inevitably. My days are different now.

I’m rearranging my room again and every time I’ve done it I’ve always taken feng shui into consideration…by googling for a few minutes and ultimately doing whatever I want anyway. This time I crave peace of mind and space. I won’t look at my phone in the morning and I’ll abide by my long lists of daily tasks.

My lists always start like this:

Wake up
Say thank you
Quick stretch
Go outside
Drink tea

And then I’ll add whatever random things I absolutely have to get done that day in a step by step fashion that will guarantee zero distractions:

Brush teeth
Wash face
Drink water
Eat breakfast
Shower
Get dressed
Take plants outside to water
Fold laundry
Put laundry away
Put give away clothes in a bag
Drop off at goodwill
Drive home
Send invoices
Reply to 5 texts while drinking one cup of tea
Lunch by 1pm
Drink water
Write for 20 mins

And so on.

I’m rearranging my room again and it will take months because I try to do too many things on my days off. I tend to forget about my daily lists faster than it takes to write it all out. I called my dad today and we laughed and made jokes that only we would find funny. My phone broke and I worried about all the poetry I've written in it, that have never met paper, nor an ear. I saw someone I used to know, and cut the greeting short, and didn't let myself imagine how the rest would go. Today, I challenged myself in ways that tomorrow I’ll be thankful for. The mess in my room has continued growing since Monday. I can't wait to finish rearranging, and eliminating. Now, I’m sick in bed and hoping I’ll recover before the weekend to do the things I said I’d do. I’d rather sleep for now and wake up in a better mood.

–Under My Ceiling Fan–

A pile of clothes I no longer want

kneels at my feet

caresses my ankles and kisses my toes.

I just got rid of two more exactly like it.

Shedding cloth like reptile skin

or after a long day of work.

It lays limp, helpless, and I crave

nothing more than to lay across my bed,

bare flesh,

feeling goosebumps come and go

under my ceiling fan.

I crave the jazz music I heard while walking by

the flower shop at breakfast.

I've had the wrong notes stuck in my head ever since.

I crave a kiss on every round edge of my body,

where I bruised myself

last night while dancing in the kitchen

and where I remember the bruises from 2018.

Every candle in my home flickers

and 3 of them billow aromas of buttery rose,

clean and fresh and rose.

What makes me want,

does not stay for long.

I’m aware of the dreams I breathe life into

and the ones I remember through tight teeth.

I hate to hold on —I forgive myself for it.

What was worn is now gone,

what once was in no longer

in this room. There's no room

in this room.

—Love 4ever, Infinity

—start to feel something—

Blair Mahya Quiñones 9/18/23 Blair Mahya Quiñones 9/18/23

#2 Twenty-Six

Well, the website is up, the book and bookmarks and prints are up. And on the same day that I turned 26 — 9/9.

26 feels so impressive to me. It feels feminine, truly. To age another year, on the same day that I made my poetry book available and accessible to the world, feels like the mightiest weight has been lifted from my back. Like my eyes can flutter closed and open instead of feeling forced. Like my past is a stone from my collection I've allowed myself to give away. And I did, I got rid of my favorite rocks from when I was young. They were heavy and took a different shape in my space over time than intended. Sharing is a part of this healing process after all. I gave away enough to change. And, if you ever knew me, no you didn’t.

I turn 26 this year feeling more mature than ever. I’ve always felt like a baby. Not for any lack of responsibility, but because my youthful spirit leads me through most days. Until the end of my 25th year I felt like I was still 22. And until the end of my 24th year, I felt like I was still 18. There was a limbo year at 23 where I was able to finally settle into being a college graduate, being in a long term romantic relationship, living at home and finally having a free schedule. Totally off the clock. For a long time I never felt my age, and I think that’s a beautiful luxury. I think older people would probably agree that it's easy to not know what being 22 should feel like, except for young. —To them it's far away and is usually tied to a feeling of longing. It once was there and now its 30 years later, way too fast. That luxury remains as I love feeling the sense of responsibility that has come with all of my growth from the last 3 years. It’s quite a relief, to be honest, to finally feel this mature emotionally. I’ve noticed I’m more decisive, level-headed, and balanced. After all, the entire journey that writing my poetry book took me on was in search of balance. Friendships feel rewarding because love feels mutual, even while we’re distant. And please, know that my scattered brain on a good day will always think of you while simultaneously not even considering that a phone exists. The love remains and I’m grateful that my loved ones know this.

I recently found photos from my 11th birthday party. I invited my best friends over for a Hello Kitty themed birthday celebration in the dining room of my mom’s house. Hello Kitty cake, plates and cups, hello kitty party hats. And a big ol jumper in the backyard. I was wearing a red spaghetti strap tank top from Forever 21, and a very short pair of faded black denim shorts with silver studs on the pockets from Hot Topic. The shorts were my favorite. That was 15 years ago. None of this had ever won a position in my recurring memories until I saw the photos again.

This year to celebrate, I wanted to keep things relaxed and chill. I took 3 days off work and decided on the 7th that I would have a picnic on the 8th. I wanted to have my friends come together in a way that wasn't at a dinner table and wasn’t at a bar. Interactive but still wholesome and relaxing. It’s so easy to take birthdays too seriously, and while anything can stress me out, a picnic takes the pressure off a bit. Kevin suggested a jumper because he knows how much I love them ;’) 10 online searches and 5 phone calls in, we found a place that could service us the following day. And viola, we had Hello Kitty’s house at the picnic party. A girly picnic with way too many snacks and drinks. Laying in the grass under the sun. Gentle conversation, gentle background music. I felt like a little girl, wearing a big and long red and white gingham print dress, with an outfit change into short shorts and a tank top to jump around the jumper in. I reminisce on my childhood too much, but this was my way of bringing that feeling back. A reminder that I can always feel that same carefree youth, in any moment I desire, when I do what makes me the happiest and lean away from the unnecessary pressure.

I spent the day of my birthday at a tea house for breakfast, publishing my website, and jumping in my sister’s pool over and over again. Which was exactly what I was craving: relaxation and family time.

— Love 4ever, Infinity

Photos by Johanna Recinos <3

Blair Mahya Quiñones 6/10/19 Blair Mahya Quiñones 6/10/19

#1 Only After Feeling First

Laying in bed at home with the sun shining through my windows behind me, cuddled in my soft violet blanket. It’s 1:40 pm.

I know this for certain most days—well, most days I know something is for certain, and that thing usually changes, not its certainty. For example, I know that I’ve lived days I love more than days I do not. That is a fact in my brain. That fact mends me, most days. And on a day like today I know that I am okay with lying in bed writing this and doing nothing more. Some days that would only upset me and I’d think Why am I not doing something more interesting with my day? or Shouldn’t I be cleaning something?— I know today I feel content with the trajectory of my day so far. I’ve shared my morning with loved ones, eaten a meal, layed on my back in the sun, I’ve been hugged, I’ve heated up and cooled off, I’ve indulged in a mystery—in a book and on the television—I’ve held my cat’s paw, and I am warm and comfortable. What a privilege it is to feel comfortable. What a privilege it is to feel. I have the pleasure of feeling and feeling and feeling so much, and letting that empower me. Letting that make me feel human and grounded and small. Small in relation to the size of the planet, that is. Because I feel so many complex emotions, and I work them out in my brain, and it gets sticky and messy. And while I’m looking down and looking in, distracted by the mess, I interrupt myself by remembering there is so much life going on around me. I’m not the only person feeling this exact “complex” feeling, thinking this intrusive thought, being hard on myself. Not so complex after all. I find it’s much easier to let go. To let it go. To surrender. Only after feeling first. And this is my superpower. In feeling small, I remember how to feel big and to grow and grow and keep growing. While I lay on my bed and write everything I’m thinking, seconds pass and I’m happy to say I’m happy right here, with the course of my day, the comfort it’s brought. It’s only 1:43pm. Wow, that’s my angel number. I just happened to look at the time in the moment that I needed to fill in the blank and there it was staring me in the face. I found those numbers staring me in the face for the first time in 2018 and I never looked for them, but still they appear and I let them speak to me because who wants to feel just human all the time? I love run-on sentences, they express my excitement or confusion. I like short, staccato sentences mostly. And I love the way a brain’s thoughts train away further and further from the point just to get back to it. Sometimes it does not. I notice often that my thoughts have their main points and then disappear into crevices of thoughts that reveal the opening end for the final thought to express itself. It happens so fast. I might just be running the fastest train in a brain ever known to earthlings. That is an exaggeration but a fun fantasy, because I can picture it. Can’t you?