Anya's Evocative Mind Palace

A site where the depths of my brain are exposed beyond belief

Living In a Feeling 2.0 

About 2 weeks ago I was stalking all the posts on a very inspirational and lovely blogger’s account entitled 16til26 (which you should definitely check out because it has definitely given me more perspective on a lot of things.) I stumbled across one particular post that I connected with deeply, emotionally and personally- all at the same time. It’s called “Living in a Feeling” and the following post is completely inspired by it. Thank you Izzy Angus 🙂

When I roll out of bed in the morning- hair squashed into something resembling a planetary nebula or a mass production of Ramen noodles, my eyes being incapable of opening enough to even check the time on my phone, and my center of gravity thrown so off balance I’ve likely fallen and face planted at least 3 times since ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem fractured my very entertaining dream; my only wish for the day is to maintain a positive mind space and essentially live in a feeling of happiness. 

As I gaze out the window and zone out to the droning voices and blurry faces- I don’t neccesarily dream for a particular moment, or even a situation- but rather the emotions behind those events. The liquid courage rushing through my veins telling me to just shut up and go as I listen to Drops of Jupiter, or the feeling of being utterly and completely whole as the sun shines down on my skin, making me feel connected with the Earth in moments of absolute clarity. I dread the stomach-dropping fear that arises in my gut when I hear of tragedies yet I long for the flaming passion paired with indignation when I spot injustice. 

Nothing can match the intensity of feeling miniscule and insignificant as you stand on the top floor of the Empire State Building- as you stare past the sky scrapers and realize just how huge the world is; or of strolling through the city streets where inspiration, motivation and creativity is fueled on a regular basis. Where artistic expression is cultivated and individuality is accepted and even expected. 

So as I lug myself out of bed in the morning, as the birds sing melodies outside reminding me that no person should be up at this ungodly hour and that I should just go back to sleep- I tell myself I’m going to live in a feeling. I choose to bask in the energy that pulses through me as I hear Beyoncé hit ALL the vocals in Love on Top and Partition. That gets me out of bed in the morning when nothing else will. In that moment I say- today I will be Beyoncé, and strut out of bed into the bathroom to start my day. What is your feeling? Are you a Beyoncé? What gets you out of bed in the morning? Do you choose to live in a feeling? 

Thank you my lovely readers, sending good vibes-Anya


One Lovely (and delayed) Blog Award

Hi my favorite Readers, it is great to be back and blogging after a long hiatus! Since this blog post is my first in almost a month, I’ve decided to get back into the swing of things by doing something fun, today you have an opportunity to learn about me- the good, the bad and the ugly. Let’s get started. image

Firstly, I must thank a lovely writer- Fab Writings, who has inspired me to write with more thought and creativity. If you’re into awesomeness, you should definitely check his blog out.

Without further adieu- let the reveal of my character begin! Here are 7 facts about me.

1. My name is Anya and I was named after a TV character. You see, before I was born my mom passionately wanted to name me Anyanka (I think that’s how you spell it?), which no offense if that is your name, is not something I would like to be called- after the girl on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Bless my dad’s sanity because he was very quick to reject that idea and together they settled on Anya. Yay.

2. I do a slightly unpopular sport that is insanely hard but very rewarding- and that sport is rowing/crew. Not only do I get to have sick tan lines and am capable of being socially acceptable while wearing spandex; I also get to be priety to MANY and I repeat MANY gorgeous, sweaty, muscular torsos. Yum.

3. I’m really into Harry Potter- like most amazing people are. I’ve watched all the Harry Potter movies straight for (23?) hours and it was totally worth the all-nighter. Harry Potter boxers, shirts, socks, and movies. AND I’m a Hufflepuff- What’s your house?

4. I’m from Florida- Life is all good in the land of tourist attractions and routinely scalding weather. There’s nothing more enjoyable than drowning in your own sweat, am I right?

5. I have a tin roof outside my window that covers my back yard and let me tell you- that sound the rain makes in the middle of the night as it hits metal could put me in an involuntary coma. God, it’s magic.

6. I’ve started learning a ton of instruments; guitar, ukulele, and flute- but I’m way too lazy to actually stick with anything. Plus, I’m insanely tone deaf and sound like a dying cat when I sing. However, the shower’s acoustics really improve my terrible voice- at least I think so. Beyoncé in the making right here!

7. I have extremely voluptuous (haha I just wanted to use that word) black curly hair. It’s really large and has a ton of volume- however it’s a love hate relationship. Let’s just say being able to keep various objects stuck in your hair at one time is as annoying as it is fun.

Alrighty! I hope you guys learned a little about me- as unhelpful as those tips were. To anyone who reads this post- consider yourself nominated. I hope all of you lovely readers have a wonderful day.

Sending Good Vibes- Anya

I Choose to Live

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been stuck in a perpetual state of longing. Being possessed by a fiery passion to launch myself into a different situation, varying scenarios that just HAD to be better than the moments I was in. I’ve always just wanted more. More adventure, more discussion, more happiness, more depth, more humor. It’s a cycle of unhappiness and disappointment- the reality of situations will never compare to fantasies in my head, due to the simple fact that they are dreams. Fallacies I’ve created that are inevitably holding me back. Well, frankly I am over this cycle. Am I gaining anything positive from my thinking? No. Therefore an evolution is needed, and I am completely willing to change. I suppose what is needed is a different approach at existence: instead of being alive, I simply am choosing to live.

Everyone reading this post is alive (or so I assume.) We have blood pumping through our veins, a heart that is beating in our chests, and a brain that is functioning. We are breathing in Oxygen and releasing Carbon Dioxide. By the definition of the word- we are alive. However, upon further speculation, I have come to the completely biased opinion that we may not all be living. To live is to appreciate. To be thankful for what we have, to look at things in different perspectives, varying lights. To bask in the feeling that arises when the sun gently kisses your skin and you feel connected to not only the beings around you but to the world as a whole. Living is loving. The flutter in your heart and the butterflies zooming around in your stomach when your eyes “accidentally” make contact with that one beautiful, handsome, soul-awakening, fire-starting person across the room. Living is traveling- exploring new places, understanding other cultures, taking every opportunity to walk in another’s shoes.   Living is passion that cannot be contained, fear with the power to petrify, jet lag that makes you stay awake until the sun rises and sleep until dusk sets in. To live is to cry until you no longer can and to smile so much your cheeks hurt.

I suppose above all the process of being alive and living can be distinguished between fairly easily. To be alive is to be contained-to be simplified and plain. Being alive is the first level of a video game or the preliminary course you take before you move on to the much, MUCH, more interesting content. In contrast, to live is to be free. To live is to take a path of your own choice, to feel EVERYTHING and ANYTHING with no limits except those you set for yourself. I have made my choice in full confidence- I choose to experience, to love fully and to laugh with all of my being. I choose to not only be alive, but to live. What do you choose?

I cannot fathom the lack of humanity existent in some people in the world today. The attack on Nice, France has burdened the hearts of not only the French, but also the rest of the world. My heart can no longer bear this. How can a person get to a point where they are willing to kill a mass amount of people for little to gain? The truck driver who drove his semi filled to the brim with guns and grenades into a crowd of multiple people must not have possessed a heart that beat with the rythm of compassion. No person who loves deeply can take the life of those around them. Not when those corpses are children- little people too young to experience all that life has to offer, so new to the world they have not even dipped a toe into their potential- these kids are lying dead in a street. It is atrocious. It is disheartening. It is an event that makes me, even the least emotional person, weep for the families who lost their loved ones, sob for the possibilities they will never get to tap into, cry for the orphans and the fear coursing through people’s veins as they stroll through the streets which used to feel safe and routine, and beg for the world to value love more than hate. 

To Nice, France:  I am so sorry for all of your losses. May comfort and strength be found even in the darkest of times.

Love will prevail💕

The Inevitablility of My Cracked Phones 

Hi my name is Evocative Mind Palace and I suffer from Phone-Shattering Syndrome. No matter what I do- I can buy a protective case and get a screen protector- yet my phone inevitably cracks. *gestures wildly and accidentally knocks phone off of table* *drops to knees and looks to the skies while wailing, “COME ON MAN!” Hereis one of the times I’ve indirectly caused my electronic’s screens to ungracefully split into itty bitty shards.

  1. The Ricochet Incident: Picture this- an unsuspecting teenager walking down the brick hallway of her school, having an admittedly hilarious conversation with her mother. On both sides of the corridor there are 2 benches- all of which people routinely run into, resulting in painful cries echoing through the school as their thighs bruise. I, as innocent as ever, am a very animated person in regards to my gestures during conversations. I talk with my hands- I always have. That was my first mistake. My phone- new and shiny- is clutched in my right hand. I turn to tell an extremely funny and dramatic story to my mom. And as my hand flies up at full speed, the phone flies. It flies like it was born with wings or rocket fuel attached to its bottom. In fact, I apparently throw it with so much strength that the phone not only hits the bench on one side of the hall- it flies ACROSS THE CORRIDOR TO THE OTHER BENCH AND RICOCHETS OFF OF THAT! Finally the trauma is done- or so I think. I pick my phone up off of the cobblestone ground. Please don’t be cracked, please don’t be cracked, please don’t be cra-it’s not cracked- It’s shattered. Go me! 

More of these earth shattering stories of my life told in completely over dramatic ways to be heard later. 

This post was inspired my the Daily Post Prompt: Glass

      Escaping Expectation

      We all have expectations. Expectations for ourselves, expectations for others. Subconscious ideas of what we SHOULD be doing versus what we ARE doing. It’s an endless circle and I for one am caught up in it. 

      When I glance into my slightly-dirtier-than-expected-mirror I see a girl who at 5 foot 2 and 3/4 inches is quite a few inches too short and just a few pounds too heavy. I ignore the fact that I am healthy, muscular, intelligent, deep, comical and a free soul- I push those facts away and replace them with my doubts. I succumb to mine and society’s expectations of who I should be. The idea that the my muscular thighs are too thick or my unavoidable stretch marks are disgusting. 
      But in the back of my mind I know that my stretch marks are not hideous. They are natural. I know that I am the one judging myself harshly- no one else cares nearly as much as I do. That they may notice how short I am- but they don’t think of it as a terribly sealed fate like I do. 

      I suppose we all have expectations. Judgements hidden in the depths of our minds, nagging at us as we try to live our lives. My goal is to block out these expectations- of my self specifically. Replace them with positive thoughts- knowledge of my intelligence, my positive vibes, my easy going nature. I am beautiful. I am funny. I can’t afford to be clouded with expectations. In fact, I will not be clouded by them. I will escape- slowly, steadily, from the depths of my mind palace and allow the world to see me as all that I am. Plainly. Simply. Lovely. 


      If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 14 years of life it is this- nothing is as simple as it first seems. In fact, nothing is simple at all. I used to look at people I met- on the road, at parties, in restaurants- and believe that my first impressions of them HAD to be right. There was absolutely no way their personality was more complex than I believed. No one had substance. No one had depth. Everyone was simple. Obviously I was wrong. Upon further consideration- and many years of growth (both physically and mentally)- I have come to the long awaited realization that complicated personalities and story lines are an inevitable part of life.

      About 2 months ago I wrote a 3 page research paper on the forgotten victims of the Holocaust. I highlighted the fact that although a large percentage of those persecuted were Jewish, a large population were not. There were political dissenters, communists, twins, homosexuals, the mentally challenged, Roma/Sinti Gypsies and dozens of other groups whom Hitler deemed unworthy of existing in his society. I’m not trying to say that these other groups received no mention in the after effects of the Holocaust or that they were blatantly cut out from the fabric of history- they were not. However, it is fair to state that they receive much less recognition than the Jewish population. I believe this is due to the eternal battle of over simplification. We want to make people, events, entire time periods easy to understand, effortless to digest. We are a society that takes tragic events that can’t possibly be encapsulated into a singular time line and do just that. And in turn we forget other important things- like how they sodomized homosexuals in prison and how the Roma and Sinti gypsies were shunned and forced to relocate. In our attempt to see things as simple we shave away the layers- the vital layers that cannot afford to be ignored.

      So in retrospect I was one of the MANY people who suffer from over simplification syndrome (yes I made that up, however I totally dig the name.) But now I have improved my perception and I know that things are invariably complicated. And unfortunately I will hereby be forced to dig through the layers in search of the hidden truths in everything we do routinely. {insert a slow groan at the amount of effort that will take.}

      This prompt was given by the daily post. gracias


      Lacking Productivity and Dissapointing Realities 

      I’ve been looking forward to this summer for practically this entire school year. I’d fantasize about heading to the beach once it’s summer, finally hanging out with my friends once it’s summer and doing a ton of fun things once it’s summer. But now that it’s summer I can’t wait for it to be over. I don’t know what to do. I’m spending way too much time by myself- to the point that I’ve actually started to loathe being alone because I inevitably begin having conversations with myself and pretending I’m in situations I’m not just to make my life seem more… Lively. It’s sad. And slightly pathetic. I’ve watched way too many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy to even be considered sane anymore. By the way- if you watch Grey’s: Do you think Meredith and McDreamy will finally last this time? I mean they’ve broken up a crap ton and continue to lust after each other, only for one of them to mess the situation up each time and reset the cycle. Come on guys. Just get together all ready and stop stealing the show from the rest of the characters. Jesus. Anyway, I digress- this is what my life has come to. First World Problems, am I right? We always want what we can’t have. It sucks. But I have a total of about 11 weeks left of summer and I plan to make the most of it. Whether it’s finally finishing all 12 seasons of Greys (I both love and hate that idea because it would totally reveal my lack of social life), becoming comfortable with alone time in which I finish Greys or do some other unproductive activity, or maybe- just maybe- actually doing something with my life. Hm. We’ll see. –Anya

      Why I Walk With a Heavy Heart

      Since Sunday, June 12th, 2016, I have strolled the streets of my hometown feeling weighed down. I have walked with a heavy heart. I live about 2 hours from Orlando, Florida. My father routinely goes to Orlando for business. Just 3 weeks ago I laughed and danced around Universal with my school group. To think that a place I reside so close to, a place that I frequently visit and explore, is under distress is something that just doesn’t seem to register in my mind. You see things on TV- a massacre here, a breakout in gun violence there, oh and just a couple flaming riots in that town across the country- but you never expect something to happen to you. To your people. Media allows us to separate ourselves from events and immediately place the blame on someone else. But that has not been the case recently. On Sunday there was a  mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, that resulted in the deaths of more than 50 people. 50 people who had lives, who had families, who had people who loved them more than life itself. It baffles me that a human would actually murder another human being- let alone a group of human beings. Where was the compassion your parents raised you with? Am I naive for assuming your parents raised you with any qualities at all? Do I have false expectations of society or has society just sunk to a new low in this case?  In my mind Love is Love, no matter who is involved in it. Love is a state of being that can’t be policed by human notions of right and wrong. You can’t help who you fall in love with- point blank- and you shouldn’t have to. So to commit a mass murder in the name of something as trivial as homophobia is ridiculous. It was a cowardly act that resulted in the deaths of innocent people who deserved nothing less than safety, confidence and compassion. So I walk around knowing that I could have known people in that nightclub and that under different circumstances I could have been inside of it. That there is always a possibility that someone- anyone- could snap at any moment- costing a person or even people, their lives. I walk with understanding- for I finally see the world as it is. I walk with anxiety, I walk with despair. But I do not walk in fear. I stroll these streets of my hometown slowly, for my heart is scraping the concrete, eternally weighing me down.

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