The Sound Of College.


Riding the train rekindles a smog of emotions that perplex me.

On one spectrum, I love it, it’s romantic in its own way. The train was my only way of transportation up till my twenties. The distance between here and there gave me enough time to reflect on the things that I hid at the back of my brain. A train ride can calm the mind and body with a book in hand.

But there is the other spectrum, the part of train rides that I hate. Waking up at five in the morning is not the best way to start the day when half of it is spent jumping on moving trains. However, there is more to this spectrum other than waking up early. Like I said I spent a good chunk of my life using trains, and with life come the good and the bad… but sometimes the good memories turn into bad ones. You know the kind, like when you used to love chicken strips, but then you watched a documentary about animal abuse then made a vowel to never eat meat again. It’s something like that.


“What have you done so far on campus?”

After class I sat outside and watched everyone pass by. People on foot, people on bikes, people on skateboards, they all gave the campus life. The grass seemed greener. The sky bluer. The sun was bright just enough to where the heat wasn’t a bother. I guess I’m still trying to adjust to the reality of being here.

I could just leave and go home and embrace the softness of my bed, but I’m afraid I’ll miss something.

I wondered around for a bit when I heard the music blaring out in the distance. My feet followed the path stepping with the beat. At the source of the rhythm was a group of people dancing. My friend says it is a fraternity and they are probability recruiting. I don’t think I could ever join one, I thought. I was designed to go against a system like that. Regardless, I watched them dance under the sun.


Some time passed, I contemplated on what to do next (with both time and life), and how to overcome my shyness to talk to someone and make new friends, when I heard it again… music. I let my feet do all the work again. They led me to a band that had a jazz and soul feel to it. Rei Altru gave her voice to this sound, and she spoke only in poetry.

I’ve always had a soft for local bands and artist. I want to sit with them and talk about their art for hours.



A College Drop Out Back In Class


Retuning to school after a year long hiatus has a certain feel to it.

Last year, I told myself I would be dropping out of college. I dropped all my classes and left without even blinking. I even wrote a post about my reason behind this decision. That was then, I was attending community college, and this is now, I’m currently attending my first day at a university.

Being here feels a bit foreign and comforting, like returning home after a year long trip, I missed it. I missed the students roaming the grounds with their ripe minds waiting for the next hit of knowledge, and the teachers dealing out the drug.

The fact that I’m at a university in a different town changes everything. I don’t know anyone here or any place to go to. I’m alone but I don’t feel alone. I don’t belong here, but yet I fit so perfectly in.


“How’s your first day?”

So far my classes seem chill, but I’m only speaking from one day… all that can change in a week I hear. The first week is the easiest, it’s the usual syllabus week procedure which involves nothing from us (the students), but the energy to sit still.


My schedule consist of three journalism courses and one… dreadful… math class. My days are a bit janky, on Mondays and Wednesday I’m at school from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. On Tuesday and Thursday I only have one class, and Fridays… well the fact that I have to come to school on Friday is murder in on it self.

But the day has been relaxing. The time I have to myself between classes have been productive and meditative. I read a book, and I’m now writing this to you.

I like it. I like it a lot. It’s only been a day and I can call this place a home. My mind was meant for the classroom.


This whole ‘growing up’ thing sucks. It’s filled with everything I hate like signing contracts, shaking hands with people in suits, and the root of all evil, money. I don’t think you fully grasp adulthood. I think you just get by with what you got and call it a life. Unless, of course, you were born into a rich family that pays for everything you ever wanted; to that I say fuck you.

I finally found an apartment (I think). It’s currently out of my price range, so now I have a new thing to keep me up at night. I have a new roommate. I never met her before, but she seems nice. We’ve been texting here and there to make the moving-in process less awkward, but I’m awkward by design. She won’t hate me, but she’ll probably think I’m fucking weird by the end of the semester.

Move-in date is June 29.

Hmm… Now that I think about it, if I nearly get enough money for rent, how am I going to eat?



It takes time for me to feel happy. It’s a build up with a refreshing reward. A lot like my writing, I patiently and precisely eloquent each letter and word to have a sentence sound exactly the way I want it. Even if at the end of the day all I have to show for it is a few sentences, I know the end product will be satisfying. That’s how my happiness works, I have to work on it until I’m happy. It all takes time minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. But it only takes a second to demolish it.

I told Alice I would go deliver both our application tomorrow with the money. I would meet up with Glenn back at the house at 2 p.m. and head back home. My phone rings, I try to cancel out the sound in my head to stay in my dream, but the rings are ear-piercing and urgent. My phone never sounded that loud until that day. In the background of the phone tone is the sound heavy rain hitting my window and the roar of an ominous thunder close by.

I answered the phone, the moment Alice heard my voice she laid everything on me. Glenn had called and told her that he rented out one of the vacant rooms to another girl, and the other room was free for the taking if she wanted it. She denied him, and said that if I wasn’t moving-in with her that she didn’t want the place. What the fuck were the only words I could utter at 8 a.m. Jesse, go online and find a place even if it’s a one bedroom, even if there is only room for one person to move-in. I’ll do the same and keep an eye open for a two bedroom, but no promises, she said. I laid in bed for two hours, mindlessly staring at the rain hit the window. Once it let up I sat at my desk and called a list of places.

The sun didn’t come out today.


Uncertainty. I would rather place a bet where the odds are stack against me than to flip a coin where my chances are 50/50. I can plan ahead knowing I would lose. I would know what to do next. I would know where to go after. That is just the type of person I am.

I arrived at Denton about noon to make it to our 1:30 appointment for a potential house with my potential roommates. The appointment the mysterious girl made for us. Sadly to say, she never showed up. She never texted us. We lost contact with her completely. We were never given an address of our potential house, so we were in the dark, Alice and I.

We had to bounce back. That is all we can do for now. I felt time pushing me like a wave in an ocean, pushing me closer and closer to the crude shore where the kids go to overdose, and the point of used needles stick to your feet like splinters everywhere you go. Alice called a few places. Not available. Not available. Too much. Too far. Denton is a small place our options are very limited.

There was one place that gave us an answer we wanted to hear. The owner, Glenn, was at the house and told us to meet him there, so he can give us a tour and hand us applications to fill out. He told us that there was already someone living there and that they had two rooms available. When we arrived we were greeted by a girl in sky blue pajamas. She had a pixie haircut and her blonde bang contrasted her dark hair color. She introduced herself as Rachel. Her ambience was careless and cool, as if she didn’t care what you thought about her, but at the same time she was shy. But why would you be shy with PJs like that?

Glenn walked out the bathroom and Rachel lazily returned to her room. We proceed with the formal greeting with handshakes and names. His hand felt dry which concerned me considering he exited the bathroom a second ago. He gave the tour. The house wasn’t big it was fairly small, but cozy, large enough to house three college students. For a small house it had a large backyard, large enough to envision parties or even a second house of the same size. Behind our large backyard was a path that lead to a creek, and I envisioned a peaceful quite moment where I was happily wasting time; for in that moment, time would be my friend again. We had no neighbors around us, the only other building next to us was a shabby house that was for rent. We had space. We were free to do what we wanted when we wanted. But what about the price, how much is the rent? $400. It’s too good to be true, I thought. I already knew I wanted it, and I could tell Alice wanted it too. We took the applications, and promised him to return the next day with them filled out.

We went to look at a few other places, but we were already hooked on what we wanted. Nothing can match what we saw, not in price or look. We wanted that house. Before Alice and I left Denton, we called Glenn and told him that we wanted that place bad and said we will give him everything he needed on the spot tomorrow the application and deposit fee. He said okay. I went home relieved. I finally found a place to call home.


I called a few places, today. Apartment hunting is simultaneously a long and quick process. The time it takes to find the perfect place that meets your requirements is interminable. The time it takes to get denied is too short-lived that the work for finding that “perfect place” is senseless. Knowing you can’t afford the place stings more than knowing there are no more rooms available. I’m desperate at this point. I would even consider living in a home filled with live wasp nest if it means having a place to stay.

I’m moving to Denton to start my first semester at UNT. I’m surprised I’ve made it this far transferring to a university. I usually tend to stop and give up when I feel change coming. Stepping into the unknown with uncertainty of the outcome never floats with me, but here I am looking at a list of unavailable apartments. I have less than a month to find a place. Time isn’t my friend at the moment, and it doesn’t help that this year is swiftly passing by.

Thursday should hold some promise. I’m heading to Denton tomorrow to met up with my potential roommates to check out a few places and hopefully find a home. Speaking about roommates, perhaps I should introduce them. For the sake of their privacy I will change their names, after all, what I write here is consider fiction in my own head.

I’ve known Alice since I was in high school. She’s best friends with my best friend so in a way that makes us friends, if we were to follow the branches of this friend tree. The few times I’ve been around her, she always produced an aura that of a child full of energy, wonder, and curiosity. Her atmosphere is strong enough to bring a hermit like me out of his shell.

The other roommate, I know nothing about her. She is a nameless soul with a faceless body. I was told the name but it slipped my mind. I was shown a picture but the quality was bad I thought I was looking at a closeup of an 8-bit character. A wild card. Alice met her on a website where people go to look for strangers to be their roommates. Alice told me she seemed cool, but how does she know for certain. She is from Austin and is also desperately looking for a place to live, so we have that in common. .

The mysterious girl booked an appointment for a house tomorrow, so Alice and I will finally get to meet her for the first time. I’m glad one of us is making progress. Fingers crossed that our personalities connect to one and other. Finger crossed that we find a place to live. Fingers crossed that fingers crossed works.

Leave of Absence.

It’s been 2 months since I’ve posted anything. April and May have not been kind to this idle dreamer. Work left me drained. My imagination and passion were lost in the long hours of labor. Every second tick was a stab towards my fantasy filled brain, and I felt the color and wonder slowly leak. I wanted to patch the holes, and store the ooze of my leaking world in a jar by writing it all down before it disappeared, but my body was too tired to move. Everything was lost and my brain has flat lined.

Now I’m here salvaging the remains of a lost world.

Part 1: Lost and Found

A lot has happen, and a lot of nothing happen as well. Where to start…

On April 7, I blacked out for the first time. It was National Beer Day, so naturally my friends and I went out to drink. One thing leads to another on nights like that, nights where alcohol is involved and a large group of friends you haven’t seen since high school gather, things just happen and there is not explanation. With alcohol rationale is throw out the window and you are whoever you want to be that night.

So I can’t quite explain how or why I decide to take a Xanax bar. To be honest, I don’t remember being offered or even taking it. That detail does no exist in my memory bank, but I was told that it was something that happen. That is all I can tell you. I closed my eyes at the bar and ended up in my room when I reopened them. Somewhere between that process was a car crash.

I spent the next few weeks recovering both my mind and body, and piecing together the the events of that night. I didn’t read. I didn’t write. I didn’t think about writing. April never existed, I spent those few weeks in a walking comma.


May came around and I started evaluating my life. Where I was going. What I was doing. What I wanted to do.

I did that for maybe two days and escaped the issue by sitting down, watching anime, and playing video games. It became a routine; I would get home, go to my room, and watch anime or play something for countless hours. It was a habit that I hadn’t done in a long time.

I was a hikikomori in my own way.

I wasn’t working towards anything. I didn’t want to do anything but stay home. The pen and paper slowly collected dust and I was accepting the idea of a… bland life.

I’m not sure what it was (it might have been while watching Tokyo Ghoul, and seeing one of the characters trying to apply for college), but I got the guts to apply at a University. Despite saying I was done with college.

I felt my chances to get in were slim, but I wanted to try anyway. I wanted to work towards something and look forward for something, so I applied for the journalism program at University of North Texas.

The wait has been harrowing. I wanted to know the results immediately to know what I would be doing for the next coming year.

I waited…

and waited…

…and waited

for what felt like months.

The result finally came in.

Congratulations, Jesse! You’re in!