“You’ve gone far away to a place with no horses and very little grass, and you’re studying how to write a story with a happy ending. If you can write that ending for yourself, maybe you can come back.” ― Jennifer Echols

Here is a picture of  where I’m From, Yall!

This is Lake Cumberland, Kentucky.
This is a picture of the Jamestown Marina.

I love my hometown because everybody knows everybody. Because the people are Simple, Hard working Americans who love and give and care with all their whole hearts.

Here is a picture of where I live now. The concrete jungle of Chicago!

I love Chicago because the people are tough. There are so many different personalities and cultures and passions all mixed together in one city, which is  full of possibilities.

There is so much history in Chicago and always something interesting to explore and to do.
Here’s a picture of one of my favorite relaxin’ spots  in Downtown.


Being Nice and Random Thoughts

Mr. Johnson's Blog

People generally like to be nice.  The only problem is the niceness only comes out if a person feels that they are not losing or gaining much. The nicest people are the ones who are satisfied with where they are and what they have in life.  You might be thinking that you aren’t close to satisfaction with your life but you are a nice person.  Perhaps you would be an even nicer person if you were more satisfied.  Or maybe you’re not actually nice.  So I think in order for more people to be nicer they have to have what they want or want less.

I have the day off, it’s 1:52 PM,  sky is blue, sun is shining, and I will likely be hitting the red wine soon.  When it’s unseasonably warm in mid-January, you’re supposed to feel bad for not capitalizing on it.  I did feel bad and then…

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It doesn’t matter if the glass is half empty or half full- just be thankful you have a glass.

Dear new year’s resolutions,

I know a lot of people are on your case- whether it’s the gym goers complaining about the unavoidable rush of new people that will be invading their space only to “give up half way through February” or if it’s the Facebook vigilante calling bullshit on everyone’s new year new me post, And I totally get that. I’m sure it’s terribly frustrating to have to share a dumbbell, or witness people setting goals…

Imagine the nerve these people must have.

See, the real issue here is that we all set these ridiculous goals. You can’t lose 100 pounds in a month by watching house hunters and eating ice-cream all day. You have to set a realistic and obtainable goal. You will struggle, and you’re allowed to slip up. Just don’t give up.  And what’s even worse is instead of helping and encouraging one another we take to social media-or whatever other medium- to bash them for desiring change.

Hey, gym rats- instead of laughing at the new comers, why don’t you offer to help them out?
Hey Facebook vigilantes’- do you have any room to talk? Get the hell off Facebook and stop being so pessimistic…

With that being said, ive been on both sides of the fence. I’ve been the sky high goal setter and I’ve been the Debby downer. I’ve even been No goal at all Nancy.

But this year I chose to take the elephant in the room by the trunk.

This year, I have decided that I will to take a moment in my day to think of three things that have made me happy or that I am blessed to have. Studies show that if you start each day with 3 positive thoughts you can’t actually wire your mind in 21 days to think more positively. Accuracy of the experiment aside- I choose to believe this. In order to make this experiment capable for myself, I will allow myself a full day to think of my blessings, and considering my brain is a little frayed I’m choosing to attempt this for 365 days instead of just 21. By the end of 2015 I should be quadrupole happy.  Maybe I’ll do it with each meal-which probably isn’t the best idea since I rarely eat 3 full meals (college life). Maybe I’ll do it before I get out of bed, or in the shower- maybe I’ll even do it with each cigarette I smoke because anyone who knows me knows this is probably the most realistic plan of action-who knows. Resolutions require trial and error.
My new year’s resolution isn’t to change the world, just how I view it.

For the past year and a half I have struggled with my depression. It’s a lot like being addicted to a drug- every day is a real struggle. You don’t just drop the feeling in a day, even a year. It takes determination and you have to want to overcome it. It tests you every night and every day- every empty space in your life is filled with the throbbing pings of negativity.  I have this horrible tendency to tear myself down if I slip up in even the slightest retrospect. It’s an everyday fight and I know many of you can easily relate. I’d like to be able to control that and I truly believe thinking of blessings, accomplishments- or even just plain stupid jokes or facts is one step towards combatting those negative feelings toward me.
It may seem like a small step- but you don’t exactly just leap over Mount Everest.

If I forget one day- that’s okay. It isn’t the end of the world.  Maybe the next day I’ll be extra thankful for the strength to not tear myself down for forgetting.

The bottom line is that often, your biggest enemy is yourself. So Believe in yourself! For that belief will open the doors and allow positivity to invade every space of your life. If you believe in yourself, the possibilities are endless! Positive thoughts breed a positive life, after all.  My hopes are to invite happiness to be a permanent resident in my mind- But my GOAL is to take the first steps towards allowing myself happiness.  And who knows- maybe I’ll even be able to share that happiness with others.
If violence breeds violence- shouldn’t happiness breed happiness? I certainly hope so.

-Sincerely, Allyssa.

The dazziling and the darkening

He stayed lifted. Rising just as the sun, every morning he would take himself to the clouds. And in the most brilliant of ways that is where he would shine. He would flourish and thrive there. He would laugh and rejoice and he absorbed life. Everyone who crossed his path was instantly illuminated, and everyone that knew him adored him. He was cultured, probably because He was able to see the world from such heights. He understood that the issues present down below didn’t concern him, and he was never brought down by the occurrences choosing always to rise above, brushing off the chains of negativity as gently as a breeze would carry a feather. Blinded by himself, He would glow with narcissism and what’s more he pulled it off charismatically. To the world It seemed there was never a drop of responsibility present in his horizon, never a cloud of darkness to dampen his day. He had the sun and the sky within him, especially in her eyes.

She stayed anchored, not because of responsibility or anything like that, and that’s not to say she didn’t possess such qualities. She was able to handle responsibility and maturity. What anchored her was something darker. Every day she would rise and shine like he would, with the sun. Every day the chains that dragged her would slowly wrap themselves up in her, lacing themselves in her smile and through her eye sockets, darting out of each and every rib, until the world was upside down and until she was left with nothing but her insecurities. Always there was an elixir begging her to take a sip, promising to make it better. Always this woman, so much like the moon, dying every day so that the sun may shine and loved only by the creatures of the underworld, would believe in her sweet elixir and hope and dance and love until it would take her through the wormhole that spit her out into the dark and blue corners of hell that only her mind could take her to.

She was the only thing he ever concerned himself with, and no one ever knew. She always felt like she was the dark cloud casting despair upon him. When she would reach the darkest corner so absorbed in her own madness, there he would find her and like a ventriloquist yank her strings and lift her with his positivity and even though she was only supported by him she was still rising. This only happened in her time, the night. But he never failed her and slowly he allowed more slack in her string. He understood she didn’t want to feel pitied and that she wanted to do it on her own. She never asked for help even when she should and her stubbornness seemed to be the root of her insecurities. He understood this about her and would build her strength with laughter and honesty and because of these small things she would be able to stand by herself next to the sun, if only for a few hours, until he laid her down and her nightmares swept away her serenity.

My name is allyssa, and I am a anticommitmentoholic.

The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem.
So here it goes.
I have a horrible issue with commitment.
I fall a little short with that following through thing.
For instance, last week I wanted to be an astronaut doctor. But I’m not coordinated enough and lets be honest, I refer to my tibular process as my carrot bone. I cant even cook popcorn without burning it, or steer my vehicle. Could you imagine just how delightful surgery would be? Cheers to my medical career.

As usual, many things in Allyssaland have changed.

1) Im in a very, and I mean VERY committed relationship with someone Ive known for +13 years. Hold the applause please. Her name is sweetie and she’s my rat terrior. We’re very happy together. 



2) I totally went young adult wild and got a tattoo. Which is pretty awesome.


3) I also started collecting dead animals so that’s neat and all.


I bet you are all jealous of my snakeskin hanging from my rearview, its real classy.

4) I now wrassle water snakes and soak my body in gasoline for $8.00 and hour (oh the joys of a summer job)


But in my spare time I take selfies so it evens out.

Even the smallest, least signifigant of actions you take can be enough of a force to completely shift your life in a completely different direction. Many people of my generation push life along, skipping over the lessons and experiences that come with the freedoms of being able to buy lottery tickets and tobacco sticks, and so many fail to realize that these are the years of our lives that will mold us into the people we desire to retire into. When im double the age I am now, i want wisdom. Wisdom comes from experience, and i must say within the past few months i have learned a great deal about life, love, trust, and all the small things that make life shine brighter than the sun. As always, for these tiny gusts of wind that re-adjust my arrows in life, I am thankful.

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Why Limp Biz-cut influenced my nipple piercing. (Just kidding)

There’s nothing better than music when you’re having a bad day. Music that absolutely compels your whole soul to absolutely simmer with anger. Some of my favorites are probably Bad day by fuel, and Break Stuff by limp bizcut, which is pretty odd when you consider my regular music choices are those classics that make you feel as though you just stepped onto a Broadway stage. (Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, the list goes on really)

Needless to say, Today was defiantly a Limp Bizcut kind of day.

 It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, and birds were chirping…

 Alarm clocks un-ringing…

I rose from my pillow soft nest, took a glance at my phone, and sweeter than Peggy lee I sang out a verse so melodic, angels may have wept.


I had slept through my first class. Lovely, really. Teach’ already hated me enough. Chalk it up to foolish pride (We’ve gone round and round during quite a few classroom discussions) and faulty alarm clocks of course

I hopped out of bed and tried to begin my day. I walked over to my closet and began weeding through outfit possibilities for the day-Which is stressful enough to mentally scar any normal woman on any normal day.

Once i had made my selection, I turned to walk to the sink.
At least, that was my plan.

Instead, my suitcase GRABBED my ankle, causing my face (And breasts, i was shirtless) to skid
across the tile.
That’s right. No typo’s here. It grabbed me.

“I hate this place!!” I bellowed.

I stomped back over to my bed to check the time, and upon coming in contact with my phone, dropped it off the bed causing it to shatter into 4 million pieces.

So what did i do?

I slammed it onto my shelf.

This shook a picture frame down.
Which happened to land exactly on my index finger, cracking the nail.

Cute. Blood had been drawn. Things were escalating quickly.

At this point i literally climbed back into bed.
I wasn’t up for it today. No sir, I was not about that life.

Sooner or later i knew i was going to have to finish starting my day.

 Honestly i just laid there, terrified.
I mean, my room had physically attacked me.

I decided a shower should mend some of the hard feelings. Maybe some time apart would do my room and i some good.

I felt like a solider on D-Day, Just waiting to get to the shoreline.
Or maybe like Rocky before his first big fight.

I mean, i was petrified to leave the safe surroundings of the shower stall. 

I wrapped my towel around myself and hesitatingly approached my door. Right as i was reaching for the knob, i felt a horrible stabbing pain in my left nipple

Horrified, and confused, i looked down to see a huge sewing needle protruding from my nipple.

I growled and yanked it out.

This was the same towel i had just forcefully rubbed all over my face.

Like, really room?
Really picture frame and phone?!
And a nipple piercing by a sewing needle to top it all off?

“Break stuff” was speaking to my soul this morning. Fuel knew all about me and my bad days (even though mine were a lot less classy than fuels lipstick and coffee spilling)

Bad days are unfortunately, inevitable. We all have them. Even the richest of the rich trip over their shoelaces or get into a fender bender.
What defines us as individuals is how we choose to handle our bad days.
One bad day, week, or even year does not mean you are destined to have a bad life. We, as humans, are prone to making mistakes and clumsiness. Even being sad, upset-anything. Does not make us weak. It shows that we are humans, imperfect in the most wonderful of ways.
More often than not, i find that our generation is un-apologetically ungrateful and unwilling to fight for happiness. Happiness isn’t just handed out like so many things are these days. Happiness is eternal, earned, privileged.
My new piercing will heal, along with my nail. These are small things compared to what could have happened. At least i had a bed to oversleep in, a bathroom to shower in. Once again, I find myself ending a post by speaking on the little things in life. These small things, small wonders and gifts often unacknowledged are the substance to our lives. The very base of happiness walks hand in hand with humbleness, and gratitude. . Having this knowledge- this wisdom; only ignites my hopes for our prude generation, and will forever humble me into realizing the abundance of the blessings I have. The earth, even when it’s raining, supplies itself with nutrients to grow and prosper, to break through the dirt and bloom.  For these small, sometimes dark things, i am thankful.

                                                                                 -Sincerely, Allyssa.

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Irrational Imperfections and Infuriations from an idyllic infatuation

I’ve been “dating” (As in we like to include the whole awkward three weeks of  “I like you but were going to pretend like I don’t and be harder to read then Bella in Twilight stage) this guy for about 2 months. And I have to say, things are pretty great. Were totally in that sickening new couple stage-
 *Cue eye rolls*
Where we just can’t seem to fathom how awesome the other one is. The good thing is that we both are mature enough to realize that we are in this stage. We both know that there will come a time, sooner or later, where we will periodically contemplate ways to commit homicide and other horrible forms of torture felony free. As for right now, though-were pretty happy go lucky.
That’s not to say that I haven’t gotten frustrated with him. There have been many times where I would’ve loved to add a pinch of arsenic in his morning coffee, etc. (Like the time he told me I looked like a homosexual snake when I am Frustrated) But I have to say I distinctly remember 1  occasion where anger literally oozed from every cell in my being.

Within the last week we’ve made the decision to rent a small apartment in his hometown for the summer.
*Cue spirit fingers*
(This is not such a big step, considering the fact that we met because we both lived in the same dormitory, so were used to living closely.)

Troy is great. He’s very understanding, very reliable, and very mature. We’re like yin and yang to be honest. But bless his heart, No matter how hard he may try, Troy may never understand the vast oddities of my mind, Nor the extremities of my anger.
The truth is there is a deep and powerful force residing inside of me. Maybe it’s because I’m a Leo, who knows. Maybe it’s left-over from childhood. The possibilities are endless. Either way, it’s there, lurking in the dark, waiting for its next chance to rise and attack…
Come to find out, My anger wouldn’t have to wait too long to showcase itself in my new relationship.


We had found the Babylon of college-kid apartments, small, rinky-dink, in a great location, and cheap.
He was thrilled. Ecstatic. His eyes were reminisce of kaleidoscopes, all lit up with hope and wonder and what not. Like a kid on Christmas, really.
 And I’ll even admit that I was too, for a second.

Until I saw the Lamps. The god-awful, Italian-mob granny, stained glass, dead flower looking lamp. It was horrid. Hanging in the corner, magnificently shining in a butterscotch hue as if it had just been whipped up by Betty Crocker herself, but instead giving off an air of regurgitated bourbon. It tugged on my nerves, and the longer I watched his happiness- the longer he laid there in ignorance of the hideous swinging bourbon ball, the more infuriated I became.


I couldn’t tell you why, realistically. After all, it was just a lamp.


Even so, When Troy turned to me with eagerness for my approval, I couldn’t help but to rob him of his euphoria.

Upon seeing my expression, his child-like joy dropped quicker than a thun-thun-a.


“I Cant.” was the first thing I said.


Which was followed by a ten minute analysis of all the wonderful positive things this apartment had to offer our budding romance.


I begged, I pleaded for him to forget about the apartment. Excuse after excuse poured from my lips as I frantically searched for a better reason as to why I couldn’t live there. He just didn’t understand.

The wrath of Satan leaped from my lips as I cut him off.


I screamed.


“The lamp? Honey, that can be taken down, see? It unplugs. We can take it down and get new ones.”

Rationally, this is an acceptable answer. But I never claimed to be rational.


I absolutely refused.


I wanted to scream. I wanted to smack him and scream that this irate creature was the real me. I simplified the question of what nasty corner of my mind this anger had come from by rationalizing that it was his fault for not understanding. He needed to accept the fact that these lamps brought that out in me. I was truly deeply upset by these lamps, and by the fact that Troy refused to accept my reasoning.

After about five minutes of Troy showcasing the apartment, I furiously rolled over, Cold shouldering him. Betrayal struck me like a switch on the rear of a red-headed step child.

He had made his decision. He had succumbed to the persuasions of the dark and evil lamp, forcing me to swallow my pride and accept that I was alone in my battles.
Lamp-1; Allyssa-0.

This probably lasted a solid 30 seconds before he put the tablet up, hugged my icy, stone-like form, and asked me to take a walk and cool off. He was generally concerned at the amount of stress the hanging balls of doom had inflicted upon me.
Angrily, I threw on a jacket as he opened my door for me. Grabbing me by my shoulders, Troy forced my forehead to come into contact with his lips.  He smiled down at my furrowed brow.
Just like that, my anger melted away, and I began to laugh at how ridiculously angry I had gotten, all over a silly little lamp. I apologized, as I grabbed his hand to begin our late night walk.  All was right in the world of Troy and Allyssa again.
Lamp-0; Allyssa-1.


I appreciate our relationship because I honestly feel like he is the first person who has truly challenged me to appreciate the tiniest details in life. Even if he had bought me an apartment chalk full hideous lamps, He would try every day to make it a home for me. No matter how irrational I acted, Troy maintained a positive attitude. Optimism is often, in my opinion, the best tool in a successful relationship.
I realize that these frustrations are small speed bumps compared to the arguments that we will undoubtedly face.  But I have such an enormous amount of hope in our ability to realize just how meniscal certain aspects are, in the grand scheme of things. What matters is that we care for each other very much. We are very blessed to have the opportunities we have, and I’m eternally grateful to have a friend like troy. For these small; Yet ridiculously great things, I am thankful.