Four Years | Blog Birthday

The blog’s birthday was May 10th, but I’m behind again, staying true to the original nature of this blog. I created this blog four years ago and it followed the ebbs and flow of my life especially through my college years and boy, did a writer emerge! While I didn’t land a job in the writing field straight out of graduation, I’m still getting my hands involved in ground shaking things particularly with education.


Total posts: 77

A World Around Us: 3

Quick Piece: 18

Quick Piece Breakdown: 17

Poetry Breakdown: 19

Unconfined Thoughts: 9

Noble Chats: 4

Followers: 164 lovely people

Based on the statistics, I’m definitely a lot more poetic! I found a stronger gravitation towards writing poetry to express myself and I’ve written some pretty heart-gripping pieces in my opinion. And that becomes pretty evident in my writing style and storytelling style especially with my constant use of vivid imagery paired with simple plot lines. I took a class on writing style this past year and I learned a lot about sentence branching and became even more aware of how my words and flow of things are affected through the shape of my sentences! I just keep learning more things and I never get tired of them.

This year, I did try a new medium with my own podcasts. It quickly dropped when I realized that I didn’t have a lot of material to talk about and it was hard to maintain writing with words and speaking through a microphone. The idea may have to rest for a little, but don’t give up on seeing different kind of media on this blog yet! The writing world is shifting and I must shift with it! I’ve also started doing my own research on current events and reporting on it. I never really wanted to go down the “journalism” route, but it seems to be working out! I’m really enjoying it. Is it because I have free reign?

All in all, I couldn’t have done it without you avidly reading my posts! Thanks for letting me know when my stories are truly great and when they’re lacking that little spark. Thanks for being so consistent with your interest and letting me know that my work is being appreciated!

Here’s to another year – look forward to more posts!



Magnolia | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I’m writing this outside, so whoever sent the sun to me – thanks! 😉


This week, I was pretty lost about what to write because of recent events that happened at my University. I’m planning on writing a post about it! The events rang in my head, but I didn’t want to write a piece that circulated around those blaring issues. I wanted to write a piece about hope rising from a place of trouble. I also bought a new hand lotion that said it smelled like magnolias and it smelled wonderful! I’m basically saying that this piece was born out of many inspirations.

This piece is full of “what if”s, a place of uncertainty. What if the narrator never went out drinking with her so-called friends, how would she felt? What if her best friend was no good and wasn’t able to help the narrator? What if the narrator didn’t get caught up in the mess that it seems like she trapped herself in? The narrator is in all of these “what if” scenarios. Everything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong, but somehow she stops herself from continuing making it worse for herself.

It starts with the narrator reminiscing about a time that was safe, lying with her mom and feeling her mom’s trouble and wondering how she could help. And then, the narrator finds herself in her her place of trouble. I reveal that the narrator has a problem with drinking impulsively after being lured out by her “friends”. There are quotes around “friends” because they aren’t who the narrator would call her friends and that is shown in contrast with her interaction with her best friend.

The narrator is stuck and she’s so ashamed that she couldn’t find herself going out to meet her best friend. She tries to reason with her best friend and put up an entire façade about how she’s feeling, but her best friend sees right through her lies and gets right to work in helping her friend get back together again. And that’s the biggest contrast – between the apparent broken relationship the narrator has with her mother, her “friends” who took her out drinking despite knowing her impulsive behavior and how the narrator treats herself with belittling remarks and expectations that are way too high. Her best friend grounds her and brings her a little glimpse of hope and without even saying “everything is going to be okay”, she shows it.

I didn’t realize it, but magnolia is a flower that is traditionally linked with femininity. Women have an unspoken bond with each other even if there is a slight conflict between them. We have each other’s back. And this rule can definitely apply to the rest of humanity especially with ongoing conflicts just like what had happened at my university. We need the hope, the unspoken hope to reassure us and remind us that not everything is dark and painful and we can regain our steps again.

Thanks for reading my piece & I hope you liked it!


Magnolia | Quick Piece

The scent of magnolias overcame me as I walked along home. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of nights with my mom. I would lie in her arms and she would tell me about the drama that happened at work. “I don’t know why Sharon would always think that I’m stealing from the office storage! What would I do with 50 boxes of paper clips?” my mom laughed and sighed. “I’m getting tired. You should head to bed, it’s a big day tomorrow!” Somewhere in my mind as a nine year old, I wanted to give her advice because when I was lying on her chest, I could feel her ragged breaths and skipping heart. I knew from my science classes that hearts and lungs shouldn’t make that kind of rhythm, but my mom’s did. “It just can’t be helped.” I said to myself. “You just have to keep going.” I said as I continued walking down the street back to my apartment.

The next morning, I woke up with a bottle in my hand. I don’t even remember going out to drink because I swore to myself that I wouldn’t have anymore alcohol in my house after what happened last time. I groaned and rolled over to my side. “Where is my damn phone? Please don’t tell me I lost it.” I muttered as I dug through a pile of my clothes. I managed to find my phone in the pocket of a pair of jeans I like to call, butt enhancers. I only wear those jeans when I go out. “Fuck. I went out last night. What did I do this time?” I said as I scrolled through my text messages. It seemed like my “friends” texted me right as I got home saying if anyone wanted to go out for a couple drinks and I was already regretfully too deep in my reminiscing to even realize that I was going to do more damage than intended. I laughed out loud and shouted to no one in particular. “According to this fucking group text, I hooked up with my ex-last night! Good thing I had the right mentality to tell him that I didn’t want to sleep with him! Goodness gracious!” Without realizing it, tears started flowing down my face. “The day hasn’t even fully started yet and I’m already crying! Wonderful!” I bawled and cursed as I struggled to get out of bed and make myself a little more presentable. In my frantic state, I somehow managed to drink 2 cups of water, call up my best friend from high school and get out the door to meet her at our favorite donut spot.

I arrived at the store and I couldn’t get out of my car. I pulled down the sun visor and stared at myself. I was still wearing last night’s eyeliner and my hair was so greasy that I could make fries from them. Usually I don’t care about what I looked like, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about my mom. If she saw my like this, she would tell me to get myself together and move on. “Mothers! They just know exactly what to say, don’t they!” I screamed as tears started flowing down my face again. “I hate this. I hate this pain I feel. Why does it have to be me?” I rested my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes, comforted by the silence that surrounded me. A sharp rapping at the window startled me. My best friend was frantically knocking at my window and screaming my name. “I’m okay!” I called out and opening the door. “I was just so tired. I think I just fell asleep. Sorry about that!” My best friend rolled her eyes and said, “Cut the bullshit.” she reached over and wiped my eyeliner from my cheek. She pulled a hat from her purse and said, “Donuts are on me and let’s talk in the car, okay?”

Plagiarism | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I’m waiting on that warm sunny day. If you have some, please send it over my way! 🙂


“You are incredible. Did you know that?”
the voice floated over to me and I looked up hoping to see
you, but it was just empty space.
It’s really annoying how I have to hold myself high
with an upright back and in-tuned ear.
Voices appear too ridged and bright,
like sugar was unwillingly pumped through their veins
just like the bags of gummy worms I eat to maintain my composure.

“Honey, honey, honey – what do you want to do for your life?”
I almost wanted to belt out and say,
“I want to stay alive, but there are too many things bringing me down.”
I know you’ll say that I shouldn’t let these things bring me down
and I’m stronger
and I’m better
and I can rise above.
But words are just words.
And words won’t be action
until you move your mind.

I am told in order to go with the flow,
you have to be someone you’re not,
copy what everyone else does
and you’ll flow faster.
They also tell you to just be yourself.
And I want to scream.
They tell you to know what you want resides in your heart.
And I want to cry.
They tell you to just do it and it will follow through.
And I want to destroy everything.

If plagiarism is the “wrongful appropriation” of something true,
does that mean I’m cheating plagiarism
for the sake of acceptance?

This poem took way too long to write! I remember waking up in the middle of the night with a poetic line running through my head, combined it with my angst and wrote a little draft. I would revisit my baby poem to nourish it and it kind of turned into an awkward teenager, but my words weren’t really mashing with what I felt, so I gave the poem a little break. I know you’re not supposed to leave a kid unoccupied, but you know, I needed it to get past the awkward teenage years and mature! The birth of a poem!

Essentially this is a rant to myself and to everyone who just fails to see me as who I am. There are literally so many contradictions to being a human and no one really reassures you and says that having contradictions is the exact thing of being human. You’re constantly being told to “be yourself” when people don’t accept you if you’re going to make a sassy remark. They’ll laugh politely and we’ll move on to conforming to societal standards. There are all these “requirements” and “timelines” that we have to make and it’s irritating because I can do things at my own pace.

In the first paragraph, the “you” can be someone who you can confide in without any filters and still feel good about yourself or that “you” can even be yourself. As you can see by the first sentence, that “you” isn’t there, leaving the narrator a little vulnerable and it ends up being all terribly sweet and fake. It’s always an ethical battle – be fake and have everyone accept you because you’re more “relatable” and “well-rounded” or do you be yourself and risk having a hard time finding a bond? At least I always find myself asking that question.

I hope you enjoyed my poem! Thanks for reading!


Good-Night | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone,

I hope you’re having a good week so far!


Did you notice that 2 out of the 3 quick pieces I’ve written this month are sleep based? Maybe it’s because I’ve written these stories when I’m about to go to bed or because I’ve realigned my sleep schedule and it feels great! But have you ever realized how much time you spend on your bed? We spend about a third of our lives sleeping and you definitely do other things in bed like watch movies and read books, so it makes sense that most of my stories revolve around sleep. 😉

This story is basically about a woman who wakes up from a nightmare and went out to look for the “murderer”, but her boyfriend noticed and reassured her before going back to bed. It’s a simple, sweet story and I like to think that love doesn’t always have to be sloppy kisses, sobbing tears and sex. It can be simple acts of understanding and cherishing your significant other’s time. It’s actually simpler than you think!

Thanks for reading my short piece! I hope you enjoyed it!


Good-Night | Quick Piece

I woke up with a start. Someone was getting murdered and I could’ve prevented it. The sight, the memory was so vivid that I was almost convinced that it had happened, yet no matter what I did to tell myself that it was just a dream, my mind wouldn’t rest. My eyes darted around the pitch black room, scanning the warped shadows as I tried to distinguish the shadows between reality and mind tricks. As I started to sit up to scan the room again, a soft snore startled me. I smiled as I saw my boyfriend sleeping peacefully, curled on the side. I crept out of bed without disturbing him and looked around in every corner. I made sure to check under the desk, but no one was there. “Honey? What are you doing under there?” a groggy voice called out in the dark. I crawled out from under the desk and saw my confused and tired boyfriend awkwardly standing in the shadows. “I had a nightmare and dreamt that there was a murderer, so I got really paranoid and wanted to look–“ my boyfriend wrapped me in a tight hug and kissed me on the forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. Let’s go back to sleep.” he said as he led me back to bed. He tucked me in and crawled in after me. Within minutes, we were fast asleep. The next morning, I woke up to the morning sun and my boyfriend’s bright eyes. “What did you dream of?” he whispered. “Eating endless chocolate cake with you.” I said with a smile. He closed his eyes and laughed. “Good, no more murderers.”


I turned 22 in January.

This is my journey through my 20s – the most influential period of your life. Last year was the year I solidified my “contract” of being an adult and I asked many of my friends who were above 21 to give me advice. I can say for sure that I tried to embrace myself as a whole and as a result, I’ve become more sassy, more confident and a little more unafraid.

What have I learned while I was 21?

  • Moved from being a junior to a senior and am now preparing for graduation and whatever happens next
  • Loved myself 30% more
  • Dared to walk a little further literally and figuratively
  • Alcohol doesn’t like my body and I don’t like it either ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
  • Waking up at 6:30am is a lot better than waking up at 10am

This year, I want to be gently destructive. Sounds a bit counterintuitive.

How can you be gentle and destructive at the same time? Would destructiveness just take over and adding “gentle” is just to compromise? Is Alice trying to be the ultra cool hip and trendy dude?

I like smooshing words together that feel like they don’t belong. It’s the angsty poet in me that’s always screaming for attention. But, I’ve noticed that as I’ve started to develop my identity more, my brash confidence can hurt other people and I would brush it off as “if they don’t need me, then whatever”. Learning about this skill is both dangerous and wonderful after coming from a place of insecurity and low self-esteem. It’s too tiring to be afraid all the time, so it’s a big step to take myself back again. I can’t keep up with this trend and bring everyone who says a word to me down because then I’ll be back where I started, alone. That’s why being 22 is about honing in my newly found confidence and gently merging it with my big heart – gently destructive. I guess I’m destroying my cowering self and making my true self shine.

I’ve also started realizing how much of an impact I have on the world. I can either go with the ebbs and flows of the world or I can cause a spark that will ignite change. Maybe it’s because during my senior year at school, I’ve been more exposed to very real issues like sustainability and injustices surrounding education and corporate action and knowing that I’ll soon be released into the world. I can do something besides furiously taking notes because I won’t be a student anymore! And I have a couple ideas where and how to start. 🙂 Watch out!

Cheers to 22!