So.

aaarrrggghhhhh.....a loyal blog reader of mine said i'm too depressing. if i don't start saying something happy, then they'll stop reading my blog. fuck you. fucker.


SO! i'm happy! ok?? can't you tell? i didn't even have a nervous breakdown at kroger today! AND it was a new one, and i didn't know where shit was! but i was patient and found my shit! ok?? and there was only 1 checkout line with a human on it! ok?? and i didn't even complain or break a sweat! so FUCK YOU and your happiness. ok??

what if i'm ADD? or have a chemical imbalance in my depressing brain that i can't control? what if i'm fighting clinical depression and don't know it?? are you racist against people that aren't looking HAPPY? you fucking racist. happy bitch. i'll show you happy. let me put on my happy glove.

well, i'm tired and need to get some sleep to get up in the morning for a job that has nothing to do with what i want to really do. unless i can make a porno there. hey! seniors in porn! and seniors can get a senior discount on the videos! i'll open up shop with an early bird special! i'll patent something that turns your dentures into a sex toy! i'll turn polydent into a lubricant! i bet there's a market for that.
gunnite!

CHICKEN SHIT.

so, can somebody tell me why i'm so fucking scared to be myself? ok- that sounds a little lame. but really. i walk around so fucking terrified to do what i want to do. too scared to be where i want to be. jesus, i found myself on the couch just needing to breathe deeply because my back was caving in. i thought about how every day for me here is the same. how i haven't been able to find anything as calming to me as the ocean. how when i think about how beautiful life is i think about california. i sometimes look around my house and think about selling it all. getting an over-priced apartment that won't kill my dog. i think about having a shitty day at work and coming home to sit here and vent and do it all again tomorrow. then i think about having a shitty day at work and coming home to put my flip flops on and head to the beach to unwind. wow. feet in the sand. hands in the sand. the sun. where's the fucking sun?

holy shit. this can't be it. i need to make some decisions here. i asked god for help. really. i haven't felt that compelled to pray in a long time. i gotta be desperate. sad, isn't it? am i the only one who feels like every decision is wrong?? this job i'm in is like working in a trash compactor. i feel like my 4 walls are closing in on me and death is right around the corner. before i know it, i'll be living in a nursing home with a view of a broken down swimming pool. i gotta make a move. right? whatever. i'm going to sleep. SO glad tomorrow's sunday.

IN HONOR OF MONA

christ. here i am at 4:30 in the morning. yep. watched 4 hours of my favorite show, six feet under. drank one beer. lit some incense. some candles. sat on the floor and pet my dog- (who may be dead.) put in a yoga video after that. tired. it looked like a bad porn. a bleached blonde named lisa with big tits and a guy who appeared to be michael bolten in a leotard. i just did the poses my body easily allowed me to. stretched the back a bit. now i'm talking to you. or me. or the computer. anyway, so i'm sitting there watching my show and i swear to you, there's something up with that show. there's no way that many people, as in the ones who create and produce this show, can be that damn brilliant. there's just no way. maybe scattered around the earth, but not all together to write and direct this one show. seriously- you need to watch it. trust me. just pure brilliance. i'm in awe of it. i mean, i don't watch tv or tv sitcoms or even the news. i especially wouldn't buy the complete set of all 5 seasons and watch it AGAIN. but i did. when i was rich and had HBO, i started watching it and it sucked me in. i even cried during the last episode. call me crazy. i felt like my best friend just died. i had no one to come home to anymore. now i can sleep with a dvd under my pillow and have sweet dreams of waking up to yet another episode. oh, if only you little people understood.

For the Most Part,

people are assholes. i have a few friends that are generally kind hearted and would probably never utter a cross word to my face, but for the most part, people are assholes. why, after all these years, am i still slightly surprised when someone i call my friend suddenly turns against me, turning into a complete schizophrenic freak? weird. i'll never know. but the ones that have these freaky episodes are also very lonely people. probably because they can't contain the asshole within. i think that old tv show "the hulk" was like that. it was about some weird white guy, who most people perceived as normal, until someone set him off. but instead of just freaking out and being a dick, he morphed into this huge, green monster-guy, with big muscles and destroyed shit. wonder why they chose green. i mean, they could have chosen black. or pink. i wonder what the critics would've said if the hulk was pink. maybe i should create a gay spin-off of the hulk, only make him pink and call him "the hunk." every time he got a bad blow job, he'd get pissed off and destroy shit- i'd keep that the same. but my show would have higher ratings because all the gays would watch it. and to be successful, you need their support.

How to Waste an Hour (in honor of Brigette)

1. open my laptop.

2. wait for damn thing to come on.

3. enter password.

4. wait for damn yahoo web page to appear.

5. check my facebook with shame.

6. think about responding to people.

7. switch to my blog to remember latest story or see if brigette read the latest one.

8. sit in front of computer for the remaining 40 minutes,talking myself into pulling up my checking account to see what's left.

yep, that's about my hour every day.

Dillusion.

you seduced me
used me
squeezed me and juiced me
we stood up and fought
called it a truce
we-

you. looked into my eyes

you. taught to deceive
gifted your tears
and made me believe
we

could do this
could chew this
but
too often said screw this

can't do this

i'm dying and you-

There's nothing you have that I need.

Breathe.

There's nothing you have that I need.


we.
lied to ourselves
warped the paths paved
now truth has arrived
these destinies saved


we denied us joy
we denied us life
we denied us freedom
i saw me in you

and you.

on the day that i die
my heart's resurrection
this longing. the longing
poses a question- we.

It's not do I believe in love

It's does love believe in me.

There's nothing you have that I need.

Breathe.

There's nothing you have that I need.

BLESSING IN DISGUISE.

it was a blessing in disguise because I was fooling myself into believing it may last. it was a blessing in disguise because I needed to do some things for myself. it was a blessing in disguise because it was hurting my family. it was a blessing in disguise because i needed to write. it was a blessing in disguise because i needed to read. it was a blessing in disguise because i needed to be more responsible. it was a blessing in disguise because i needed to be respected. it was a blessing in disguise because deep down i was unhappy. it was a blessing in disguise because i wasn't treated right. it was a blessing in disguise because i was ashamed. it was a blessing in disguise because it was holding me back. it was a blessing in disguise because it made me not like who i was. it was a blessing in disguise because i couldn't be myself. but with it i sometimes laughed. with it i sometimes cried and it felt good. with it i'd sometimes think about life and appreciate it a little more. with it i got to share my thoughts and views. and with it i sometimes felt happier. and with it i wasn't alone. but it was still, without a doubt, a blessing in disguise. i needed to let it go. i needed to change.

Resistance.

"I can't do it. I just can't do it," I said. "Yes, you can", said Nate. "I think my parents have beat me down just enough to keep me here," I said. "I mean, I try to tell myself to be motivated. I try to tell myself I can do it. I try to better myself, eat better, work out more, write more- and I just don't. I can't. I don't like myself. I don't like who I've become. I hate looking at myself. I can't seem to shake it." "But you're not that person. And you can do those things," said Nate. "I know you can."
"I grew up with a mom who only told me what I can't do. 'You can't do this. You can't do that.' My parents never cared what I did. I never had anyone to back me up as a child. Back me up in school. They weren't around. I mean, they didn't protect me when I was little. A little girl. I was one of five. By the time I came around, they just didn't give a shit anymore. What kinda shit is that? I just don't get it." Nate looked at me with those eyes. He didn't say anything. He has the most amazing eyes. I like to cup his face in my hands and rub my thumbs along his high cheek bones. Just staring into his eyes. He's a good listener. He always has been. I like that about him.

short stories

patience. it doesn't exist in my world. if you're in front of me, get the fuck out of my way. i can't seem to get a grip on it. control it. the driver's seat of my car is a haven for anxiety. MOVE! christ.
the grocery store. can't do it. i can't walk up and down the isles slowly dodging other people and their kids and their carts. the indecisiveness of it all. the SLOWNESS of it all. standing in the checkout line. forget it.


what did she think of me? i just said "hello". she gave me a look. a look of disgust. as if she were scared of me even from a distance. before i even spoke. is it my clothes? can people see through me? do they know where i've been? what i've done? is my face posted somewhere? fuck. gimme a fuckin' break. i hate this shit. i hate people. that stupid bitch. i was treated better in lock up. respected. i'm not respected out here. people don't give a fuck.
i don't wanna be here. i don't wanna be here.

Time for Change, part 3

i'll get back to you....

untitled

i don't think i will live a long life. i believe god has marked me as one who does not appreciate what i have, therefore he will one day soon strike me down or create an incurable disease inside of me. the sad thing is that i wouldn't have a difficult time accepting it. i cannot seem to get a grip on my reality, whatever that may be. it seems as though i will never be happy, especially living with the circumstances i have created for myself. i too often look at my daughter with resentment and regret and thoughts of what could have been won't leave my mind. i'm living this robotic existence and cannot seem to find love or anyone who i could share the rest of my life with. today is a bad day for contentment. it's just not happening. i want to go away for awhile. somewhere hot and sunny and full of water. no mailbox. no car. no noise. the only thing priceless is silence.

peace and panic.

guday, mates. so in my quest to find peace, i've been sifting through some books given to me over the holidays- "the power of now" and "you can heal your life". gee, i wonder what the common theme in these books is. thank God for dr. phil and his endorsements. with the anxiety of everyday life, and my inability to acquire xanax, i have been attempting to focus on my breath and the very moment- not the moment 2 seconds ago, or the 2 seconds into the future. just what's happening at the moment of each breath, and giving notice to the breath, as if each one a gift. the effects of this practice have proven interesting, you see, because what has happened is that i'm going through frequent "hills" of peace and panic. one moment i'm at peace with the present, then the next i'm having a slight panic attack and want to swerve my car across a highway median, and straight to the airport. my breath has now become breathe in peace, breathe out panic.

can i find solace after 6 months in a fat camp? or a yoga retreat at yogaville?
swami asalamalaykem, please hear my cry.

i'm tired. i have homework. i have work in the morning. i should go to sleep. i don't want to do any of it.

God, i need to thank you tonight for the stars and the moon, and the music that gets me through the day. there are no words to describe their beauty.

in the words of my late uncle steve, be well.

My rap.

in the words of our ol' school rapper, Ice Cube- Today was a good day. And I didn't even shoot my AK.

Goodnight, Mr. Cube- wherever you are...

believe in your fortune cookie- if you know what's good for you.

i hate stopping for gas. i put it off until my gas light comes on, then i curse over and over again until i must be driving on the last drop, my eyes shifting from road to little orange light, road to orange light...then eventually, there i am, in all my gas pumping glory, standing in the cold and wind, angrily watching the digital numbers on the pump fly to the heights of the universe, dollars flying out of my bank account. god forbid i must pay first, needing to use CASH, of which the last 20 numbers on the pump drip by, like a barely leaking faucet, my impatience literally killing me. i must sell the car.

and oprah. on the cover of a magazine, standing next to HERSELF, about 50 pounds lighter and 12 years ago, in a cover-story before-and-after photo. after 40 years of her public yo-yo diets, who gives a shit about her fat ass now?? YOU HAVE A PERSONAL CHEF FOR GOD'S SAKE! tell him not to make the fried twinkies for dessert again!! doesn't he cook healthy?? wouldn't you make him?? JESUS!! go pump your own gas for a change! can you squeeze a trigger??

i'm fine. i'm listening to a new cd- "healing waters" by dean evenson. the massage therapist i can't afford anymore played it once and i loved it. it has the sounds of the ocean, and you know how i love me some ocean. finally, someone who values the water as much as i do. which brings me to fortune cookies.

i've tried over and over again to figure out this quest for peace. i fight through each day trying to be at peace with my situation(s), my environment, my job...and call me stubborn, but i'm just not happy here- well, most of the time. i know how i am blessed, and am grateful for those things. but my true happiness lies within freedom from all things which bind us, and exists near the water. i need my ocean, i need my people, i need the sun. it's just not here. simple. i keep going back to the two best fortune cookies i ever got. when someone tells me "if you're not happy where you're at..." or while i'm punching a 40 hour clock and missing rare times with my family, i think of these:

ONLY YOU KNOW WHAT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU

NO MAN IS FREE WHO IS NOT MASTER OF HIMSELF

and i think about the beach
and the people
and my smiles
and my love for life
and my passions
and look over at my tropical island calendar hanging on the wall
next to this computer
and i put myself there
someday

and try to go to sleep because i must get up early for my job because my job pays the bills...
so goodnight, all. maybe you'll appear in my dreams. where i'm not bitching. i swear.

outer space

wow. i'm in a deep zone with radiohead right now. i don't even know what to say to you people. brigette- how's that poetry comin' along? mike- why the fuck are you suddenly unlisted? dave- how can you be so good looking and so damn nice at the same time? cheri- i miss tai chi in the park.

i spoke to my friend brigette tonight. she said she put some poetry on her blog. it got me thinking about my old poetry tonight. then i laid back in my computer chair and daydreamed with my music.

i gotta go to sleep.

i think 2 hours just went by while i was going through some old shit. i found some old journals and stuff i'd been subconsciously trying to forget. i read some of the entries, some ranting, some poems. damn, i was really depressing. but i loved san diego. i loved the ocean, the bums, the bus, the inspiration. so much inspiration it was the sweat from your pores. here, my skin is bone-dry.

i didn't realize how often i used to write. i wrote all the time. i read poetry and followed it around. i was passionate about it. hmmmm...inspired and passionate. an unusual combination.

i was going to leave you with a poem i wrote in california, but i couldn't find the one i wanted. damn- it was a funny, one too. but here are a few good lines from 4 different poems out of a poetry magazine i found called "The Drumming Between Us"- a creation from Peter J. Harris, a poet among other things, then living in L.A. i met him while taking a poetry class in san diego. he's a bad-ass dude. wonder where he is now.

anyway, some pieces from a few poems, Harris' magazine, written by various poets:

in fact, its even unscientific
not to evolve
not to love, not to
grow & give back
the only humans who actually evolve
are lovers
all others
just simply fuck and reproduce


why is it that leaflets
handed out on blustery march mornings
never discuss the injustice
of loneliness?


being with you is like being high and floating into my own groove
its like living free and doin what i want without having to watch every move
touching you is like touching satin, my hands glide to a rhythm all their own
its like that feeling one gets in a small dimly lit jazz club listening to a musician play the saxophone
kissing you is like having a dream so good you wished it was real


we sat there drinking miso soup
and tea
and eating sushi
in the darkness
of an empty theater
i looked over at her
she was smiling at the film
she is lovely
even in the dark
and i realized
even if she became a toothless old gypsy
or something
i would always love her
i held her hand
and it was good
i hugged her
and it was good
She's gone now
I'm going through withdrawal
I cried for her
and it was good



this magazine consists mostly of love poems, and in the back of it there is a passage that tells of a writer's workshop in L.A.'s Leimert Park Village. they read love poetry. i think that's pretty cool. it's dated 1997. i hope they're still there.

well, thank you Peter J. Harris, for the inspiration tonight, even if i get no sleep. and although you wouldn't remember me if we met again, i think you're the shit. it was an honor.

songs.

so, songs. i couldn't sleep, so what else was there to do besides utilize all of the extra shit that comes with my fancy cell phone? like browsing through artists and songs and listening to snipets of the good ol' days? i must have been playing with that thing for an hour, trying not to succum to ordering some gay ring tone that would eventually cause my phone to stop ringing. i did, however, find some old songs that flooded my mind with memories of yesteryear, and the depression began to seap out of my brain like piss in a full diaper. huh? anyway, suddenly i was back on ocean beach, camped in my favorite spot, just me and my headphones, the sun and the ocean. i was there almost every day- i'd take the bus, which was an adventure in itself, and get off in ocean beach, walk to a snack stand on the corner of a gas station, grab a hot dog and a fruit punch, and head to my spot. in miami, it was a blueberry muffin with the fruit punch- they taste so good on the beach for some reason! but i'd lay there with my headphones and my favorite cd, the one that cleared my head, and there was no better place on earth.

i came across another song that brought me back to the room i rented from a married couple in hillcrest. it was a lonely bedroom, and i had little privacy, being they were home all the time so i seldom had guests. but on the nights i stayed in, which were few, i dreamt of my military lover away at sea, and beckoned the gods to bring him home. everyone has a song or cd that got them through a really bad time, and i had mine, and it came to me tonight. the memories of those nights, with or without him, provoked some very dusty tears out of the attic of my mind. i just really missed those days, and haven't felt the happiness of the ocean or the longing for a lover in so, so long.

i miss being passionate about something, or someone. i miss the anticipation of a new day, like i had years ago. i miss the lack of responsibilty in my life, and the freedom. i miss being missed.

this isn't life. my life. being up to your ears in bills and being owned by your job and planning for months to spend time with your own damn family. it's all fucked up. it's not right. this sucks. i wanna sell my car and house, rent jet skis in miami, run a bed & breakfast in mexico, or cook burgers in costa rica. i could do that. let me know if you find my balls. i seem to have lost them somewhere in this town.

goodnight, my bloggers.

MAD. FAT. MAD AND FAT.

this town is no good for me. i can't walk anywhere. and if i do, i'll get hit by a minivan. when i lived in california, florida, montana in ten feet of fucking snow...i WALKED! jesus, god forbid they start building sidewalks in this place. people might actually WALK to the mcdonalds instead of drive. maybe it's because the death rate would RISE from fat people walking into other people leaving a mcdonalds.

i see pictures of myself and want to sit on someone. or sit on myself. whatever. i'm unrecognisable. i cut myself out of them because i can't bear to see what i've become! isn't that pathetic?? now i need to add DIET pills to my list! how big is santa's bag? can my pills fit amongst all of the nintendo games and polly pockets? surely, they can!

the fact is, exercise is not a lifestyle here. it's a chore. it's not incorporated into the daily routine- we have to make TIME for it. and who the hell has THAT? (and if you do, then go jam a yoga mat up your skinny ass.) send me to a fat camp. leave me alone. i don't want to see anyone for 6 months. as for my continual pessimism, go fuck yourself. it's my party and i'll bitch if i want to.

god- i'm sorry- how was your day?

Plop, plop. Fizz, fizz.

oh, what a relief it is. bullshit. there IS no relief. at least not tonight. i can't sleep, so i may as well write to all of you people. all 2 of you. the rest are weirdos with a sick, guilty pleasure to read my blog. tonight, i can't seem to get it together. i keep getting out of bed to read, or to take more miscellaneous pills, of which the supply is dwindling down to nothing, and none of them seem to have much effect on me anymore anyway. i need a refresher, my own shit, now that i have a necessary evil we call health insurance, which we use primarily for drugs and birth control. for christmas this year, i asked santa for lunesta and xanax.

i'm not a religious person, but tonight i prayed. totally against my will, gritting my teeth, clenching my fists, struggling with the words- prayed. there are just some things i feel i need in my life now, like peace and joy. and goodwill towards men. whatever. i prayed for peace, joy, the ocean, a house on the water so i could hear the waves crash over and over again, every day and night. i picture myself in this house, with a large, wrap around porch, where i wear my long, warm robe and hold a hot cup of coffee in my hands, looking out into the endless sea, and reflecting upon my successful life, hopefully before my parents die. and right now i'm in the middle of community college and a job that owns me. no equity in my house due to the shitty economy. no light at the end of the tunnel- yet. it took a while for those pictures of obama to kick in, the ones that say "hope." i get it now. we all need some fucking hope, and really, he is, at this point, our only hope at getting our shit straight. our only hope, like that guy in star wars. who was that guy? jaba the hut? no- he wasn't the hope. he was the giant glob of phlegm that wanted to molest princess leah. right? anyway, you know what i mean. got hope? does anyone know where yoda is now? wwyd? or dwwy?

look. what i wouldn't give to get on a damn plane right now and fly to some tropical destination. no plans. no return ticket. just a nice hotel with massages and room service. lobster. a sip of champagne. and soft slippers. ocean view. warm, humid breezes. mmmmmm...... i ask for an island calendar every christmas so i can look at each month's picture and dream about being there. the best one was a hammock over the white sand, shaded in between two palm trees, right next to the water. i'm lying on that hammock and smiling, in peace, and happy. my daughter is bringing me margueritas and gutting the fish that she caught in the ocean with a spear. how talented she is! like tarzan. without all the monkeys. and that blonde whore. yes, a hammock and the ocean. too much to ask? i know! i'll write the tom cruise fan club and ask how he did it in that movie "cocktail." what was the name of that bar? i don't know, but it was pretty gay. oh, "cocktails and dreams". all the dicks in "cheers" had cocktails and dreams- look where it got them. fat with more cocktails. i bet tom cruise never got fat- jumping up and down off of oprah's couch all the time. so maybe it worked for him.

well, i'm glad i had a chance to lift your spirits tonight, or today. check back in for another good dose of optimism. you'll need it to start the day, for christ's sake! i love you guys...

Living in the NOW, for christs' sake!

should i have capitalized "christ?" jesus. i have found that i can't enjoy my weekends because of my inability to sit back, relax, and enjoy the moment. i spend all weekend dreading the dawn of monday, the beginning of a new work-week, and that 5 day daily grind of waking up at the crack of 6:45, throwing the kid on the bus, then angriliy moping to the shower to get ready for work. and work. i admit it. i just don't wanna friggin work. and if i do, it's gotta be on MY terms. not someone else's. how the hell do i do that? the smart ones planned this way in advance, and work for themselves. i need to sleep late to survive. period.

so, hence the title "living in the now." i could spend 14 hours in a barnes and noble looking for the answer to my question. or i could ask a friend. or better yet, a friend who does YOGA! yeah! those guys know all the answers. there's a reason why yoga instructors are so damn calm and laid back. i'm in the wrong field. my new plan is to practice touching my toes without bending my knees, then raising my arms straight in the air without bending my elbows, then sitting on the floor and pulling my legs behind my head, over my shoulders, and placing them on the floor behind me, all the while keeping my fat ass firmly planted on the ground. then the answer may come to me. it must be hidden way down in the tissue of my tight ass muscles.

so you can't change the past and you can't change the future. you can only act upon the present. and freaking out, losing your breath, and stressing over tomorrow is pointless. right?? easier said than done. is there a pill out there that stops future thoughts? or present ones?

allah, budda, britney- i need your help. help me to stop obsessing over my crappy job and mondays. help me to enjoy today, or at least my two days off per week. and help me to be jobless, live on the beach, and sleep in.

until next weekend,

4am

so. it's 4 am and i had just lied down to go to bed, when i thought, "i owe you and myself a blog entry." I have forgotten about my blog, with the busyness of life along with my mild depression, or laziness, or lack of motivation- who knows. i don't know what my problem is. i think it's my job. someone said to me tonight that you should have a few part-time jobs- that a full-time job owns you. and in my case, it does. it has taken over my life, and there is nothing left for me. my neck and shoulders were aching so bad, i sat in front of my t.v. and did yoga at 4 in the morning. if you know me, i won't be doing yoga, and not at 4 in the morning. but i needed to do something to relax my muscles before i ripped them out of my body. if i were oprah winfrey, i would not only be crying on everyone's shoulder, but i would have a live-in massage therapist- one that rubbed me ALL the time, and made me very healthy meals, and forced me to work out, like a personal trainer. then i'd look like jessica alba, and the world would be a better place. oh, wait- i had one of those- it didn't work out.

so- the moral of this post is that i need to reclaim my life back. and i'm not sure if that's possible as long as i work like i do. i need to work for myself- be my own boss. the best fortune cookie i ever got read, "no man is free who is not master of himself." i still have it and it reminds me of what i need to do- get into porn. no, it reminds me to use the experiences i go through now to eventually get to that place. make my own schedule. make the rules. make enough money. take care of myself first.

i'm trying not to drink, and it's been almost 2 months now. it's strange what a big deal it is- not drinking and keeping the same circle of friends. alcohol is the driving force behind many of my relationships. it's been really hard, and i've given in to the drink a few times since. i've landed myself into a state of confusion, and i've begun lying to my friends and to myself. i'm turning into a sober fraud, and i need to do a bit more soul searching. i need to figure my shit out, get my shit together, and give up the shit that keeps me down. my neck feels alot better now, thanks to my corny yoga dvd and all the stretching. the yoga video was for beginners, but i think i need one for beginning beginners. it was pretty sad. but, i need to keep working at it instead of avoiding it. i need jerry springer to inspire me with a final thought.

i don't know. but i'll keep you informed.

yours forever, (and good night)