Bella Dani Vacca

Writing has always been my favorite strategy for coping throughout my life, and now I find it might be my only way to cope with death. I have wanted to write a blog to honor the life of someone who influenced and changed the way I view and live my own life. I lost a friend to a drunk driver on November 26, 2010. Danielle Vacca’s life was taken early and unexpectedly from all of us. Whether you knew Danielle as Dani, daughter, sister, step-daughter, girlfriend, Barbra, roommate, friend, co-worker, or unicorn; Dani was the type of person that made even her acquaintances feel like her best friend. I met Dani about a year and a half ago while she was living with my friends in a cute renovated house in Salt Lake City, Utah. This house was full of excitement, parties, dancing, laughter and amazing conversation.

I was in love with Dani the first time I met her. She was one of those people that could make anyone feel special and accepted; she did just that for me every time I saw her big beautiful smile. We quickly became friends and soon I was visiting my friends with hope that Dani’s truck would be parked crooked on the side of the house. My greetings were never hi or hey, but I always entered the house on 9th saying, “IS DANI HERE!?”

Dani had the funniest personality and THE most entertaining friendship with my friend Ashley Brown who lived with her in the house on 9th. It was really so fun watching two people who were so different end up being absolutely perfect friends. I met Dani through Ashley, and will forever love Ashley for this introduction. None of us will forget their fights and conversations in their horrible New Jersey accents. Over time Dani and I quickly found out our similarities and we would always end up leaving the crowd to sit on the old porch or by the fire so we could talk of politics, art, make-up, fashion, traveling, music, literature, philosophy, equal rights, religion and of course gossip! Education was both our passions and we never stopped trying to find the meaning of life by comparing and compromising our ideas with one another. Dani was born on May 3^rd and I was born on May 4^th and we had an ongoing joke that because we were both Italian Taurus’ we were the elite breed. God, I loved our friendship so much; it will always be a very special connection, and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to have had it.

I met Dani at a very crucial point of my life. I was struggling with loving and accepting myself for who I am. My struggles and concerns were never really voiced, but I think Dani had a way of reading and understanding people better than they could every truly understand themselves. She was such a support and knew just what to say to make me love myself. The way Dani lived her life was such an example to me, and I am sure, to many of you who knew her as well. Watching her and talking to her was a breaking point for the direction my life would go in. She taught me how to accept and love unconditionally. I watched my attitude towards life change throughout the time of knowing Dani. I want to publically thank her for the parts of her that she left behind in me, and for helping me to look myself in the eyes and love what I saw staring back at me. Thank you for being you and never thinking twice to alter yourself for acceptance or to please others. No one lived so much life in such little time as Dani Vacca.

Thank you to the Vacca family for raising such a beautiful and accepting daughter. I hope that you can find peace in knowing your daughter was so important and loving to so many people. She influenced and altered the thinking and hearts of so many of us during her short life. I know that Dani finally knows the “real” meaning of life, and I cannot wait to finish our conversation about it. Dani will continue living in my life and heart; she will affect my ideas, perspective and life forever. If there is one thing I have learned from losing my beautiful friend Dani, it is that there is no time to wait; live your life fully. I love you Dani and I hope you know how much you mean to all of us you have left behind.

Bout time...

I have known for a while I needed to start writing again because writing my ideas down seems to give me some stability, but the problem is I have no idea what inspires me lately. I know that without inspiration my writing seems to be stagnant and pointless. I can't just write to write, I need to feel passionate about my writing and my craft. I am missing my muse tonight, I have for a while now. I should have told my muse to stay, to be comfortable, to be mine... but when am I ever honest enough to be vulnerable? Never. I wish it was something my heart and mind could agree on, but I can't seem to allow myself to be honest with my heart. If that makes enough sense in words. Confusion and cowardliness drives me to write tonight.

I will admit that starting school back up has gotten my mind tangled up and confused, but at least it is being challenged again. There is so much of this life that is confusing and backward, I sometimes find it hard to stay positive when informed of its reality. It really doesn't become known until you are informed of its existence and pressure. Whether it be a social construct you didn't realize until someone presents to you or it might even be a relationship that is neglectful and one sided. These are all realizations that need to be brought to our attention because the routine of everyday life camouflages their existence. It isn't until we are comfortable and then broken that we can find the feeling of being uncomfortable. Who ever wants to be uncomfortable though? This might not make sense, but the past couple of weeks have thrown me for a whirl. I have seen people and things that I put a lot of confidence in fall apart to be left destroyed and defeated. It leaves me hopeless and heartbroken to realize these conclusions. How do I find hope? I write. My muse has been love, perfect blue eyes, heartbreak, beauty, strength, friendship and success, but I find that my muse these days is hopelessness.

Now, the question is: can negative inspire as much as positive? I think it can and does. Maybe hopelessness makes me sound emotional and depressed, but this hopelessness has made me motivated and want to show gratitude to the abused and defeated in my life. I wish that I was stronger and more honest with the ones that I have loved and because of my dishonesty I have in turn lost, but I always seem finish last because of this fault and end up mending my heart with hopes that others can be loved back and fulfilled with the emotion I am scared voice and practice. It just seems to be such a fragile game, love that is, and it isn't until I see someone I love get destroyed by love that I am reconfirmed that I am petrified to get broken again. Even though the people I see heartbroken are the strongest people in my life, I can see that even the strongest can fall as hard as my weakest flaw, that is, loving what I know I can lose. I want to apologize for my fault and let my walls down. I loved you, I should have said it. Forgive me. Rejection is far better than regret. Be honest and live with your consequences. Regret is the worst emotion and doesn't seem to leave, only periodically. Forgive me, because I can't seem to forgive myself.

Routine

It comforts most-

I am left unsatisfied,

but yet I am immobile.

I sit in your illusion.

comfort; you promise.

I feel despite.

Wanting more-

you can't give it.

obsessed with your rhythm.

I've been captured-

prisoner or follower?

I am not myself regardless of your power.

I'm finished-not devoured.

Hot Wife... Old Man?

(So much relevance)

There is an obvious pattern and trend that I am starting to notice when I hang out or mingle with what we as "Americans" call the upper-class. Why is it that when I go snowboarding on the weekends or spend my time in Park City surrounded by rich tourists, all I see seem to notice is the unit of hot wife, old man? I am starting to realize that investing in education, real estate, stocks or even pyramid scams (you know who you are friend('s)... and you have a lot of juice to shit your life away with now, don't ya? LOL) is not effective. The most effective way to reach fortune and fame is to hitch-up with a old man... Not just any old man of course, but an old rich man.

Hot wife seems happy as a clam with her half a million dollar ring blinding me in the eye. These hot mom's usually have one or two kids hanging all over their rumpelstiltskin looking daddy. I have come to realize with my recent observations that old man river did not realize that hot wife comes with the desire to still be a mother. Home

boy daddy is well past the age of rough housing or wrestling on the ground with kids, hell in some cases even bouncing a child on a knee is way out of their physical league. THESE MEN ARE OLD.

Now that you as the reader have created a mental picture, a picture that might include imagery of your grandpa with Angelina Jolie, I want to inform you that I am now taking applications for my rumplestiltskin... If you know any old dudes that are ready to hit the box sooner than later and are willing to leave me their fortune, let me know. I am experimenting with morals right now and want to find a positive relevance in possessing/lacking morals in my life. Thank you.

My Daily.

I have recently become obsessed with my daily horoscope. Yes, I know that there are a lot of people who indulge on this daily habit of checking your horoscope and trying to find its relevance in throughout the rest of your day, but I have suddenly let my horoscope it dictate my days. 

Crazy? Yes, but only because it is proving my theory that when we read something or someone tells us something we are inclined to focus on that language we have taken in and make decisions that will make that statement become our reality or truth. For example, the whole positive self talk theory that every insecure teenage girl has heard a million times in attempt to help them through their adolescent identity crisis. You know what I am talking about, that stuff you thought was bull shit!?! Remember being taught that if you tell yourself something positive in the mirror or in your head everyday, you will then start to believe it and it will eventually come true. That is because we focus on these words we have read, spoken, heard or written and our decisions are dictated by them, making us make them our reality. 

My horoscopes are becoming my reality.... Coincidence? Or am I just that powerful?

I Love Public.

Everyone can most likely agree that public bathrooms are one of the most awkward concepts in society. Whoever thought the idea of creating a gathering area for people to do one of their most private acts in public had to have one sick sense of humor and they probably have never had a serious case of diarrhea either. I understand stuffing six stalls in one room saves money and space, but it is just wrong. I am pro having one toilet alloted to one room as a social/comfort code and feel that it needs to be put in writing and voted in the next legislative session, ASAP. No more potty orgies, just saying.

Also, I understand that sometimes we are away from our own personal porcelain thrones and need a rent-a-pot, which gives public restrooms a legit purpose, but isn't it the worst knowing that you not only have to go number 1 or even the dreaded 2 in public, but that you might actually make eye contact in a public bathroom with other people who are doing the exact same thing as you. AWKWARD!!! You would think this would put you on a equal playing field with your other potty goers, but no, for some reason everyone still tries to act innocent within those bathroom walls. YOU'RE NOT! Stop judging, ass.

Eye Contact, why are we all so scared of it? In almost all situations eye contact is so intimidating, for example: in relationships, work, school, parents and of course to prove my point, public bathrooms. It is almost like we believe that if someone looks into our eyes they can read our soul and we are exposed completely. Trust me, people don't care that much, stare at them, you're safe. Knowing that we will all still avoid eye contact out of habit, I will continue with my rant. 

Now, you might be able to relate to this scenario... you accidentally glance at someone leaving the stall you are heading for... ugh eye contact is made... you feel awkward knowing that you both just shared a bathroom moment with a complete stranger. Not a good moment, by any means, but an intimate and embarrassing moment none-the-less. All you can think is something along the lines of: are they thinking what I'm thinking? Do they know I pee & poop too? Are they judging?  So you both judge the other because of your own guilt and assumptions. These are just typical human coping strategies, but it doesn't change the fact that you both pee and poop. Darn it. 

 Then there is always the awkward hand wash with the overweight lady you heard struggling in the stall next to you, as you were balancing over the "can" making sure you don't touch anything that you didn't bring into the bathroom with you, in the meanwhile you are struggling to multitask and finish your routine bladder disposal. While washing your hands next to this monument of a woman, you might find yourself thinking to yourself, act like you didn't hear her or even notice her, don't make eye contact and God help her fight the urge for small talk!... You dry your hands quickly and bust through the door back into the hall, the comfortably safe hall. 

YEESSSSSSS!!!!!! You're safe! You've just made it through another awkward public bathroom experience. You continue down the hall, only to notice everyone is avoiding eye contact with you, it is so obvious that something is not right, something is very wrong with you. The hall is no longer comfortable, it is now a long stretch of social anxiety. You find yourself resorting to what people naturally do when they feel like an outcast or abnormal, you glance down to hide your eyes. Walking with no visual aid or direction, you notice the catalyst for your social doom... a tail of toilet paper dragging down the hall, mating with your shoe. FML.

Who's Turn?

Your turn-

You waited so long to speak-

you doubt, and so your voice sounds meek.

Should have listened and noticed its existence-

Now I'm baffled by its presence.

Withholding words cause of hesitation-

leaves me despising your lips indecison.

In turn-

My words seem to trip over my lip-

you seem uninterested in my tongues struggled slip.

I've become scared of my most loyal lover:

Attention.

While you hide in bed with yours:

Imagination. 

My turn-

I can only imagine in words-poetry-verbs. 

Knowing poetry isn't your preference-

only because it is too welcomed by what you have protected. 

I want to wake your imagination-

instead I'm left thinking you're far too complicated.

Now - - I want attention.