Christmas songs are on the radio again. But I hardly even noticed.  I live in a world of constant noise. I always have. I mean, “Come on! It’s L.A.!” ( I Love LA).  It's how things work here. Get a grip.  As a society, we pass by things so fast; time is always taken for granted. We only reach to grasp for something when it is gone. Distracted by the noise of the media, there is no real way to keep track of time. Like, what happened to Brat Summer? Ballerina flats? I seem to f

Collections and trinkets insulate my room, filling the mind with a comforting sort of white noise. This background hum helps drown out the doubt. It acts as an anchor: I am tightly held within a patchwork of myself, unable to float away. If my space were drained of its cluttered character, would I be whole anymore? I’m not sure. Nearly every person holds a subconscious, or in my case, conscious preoccupation with the material. We all wish to see ourselves through a certain le