AUGUST: the new wave

Change of Address

2010-07-02T12:49:00.001-07:00

You've been good to me this past year, Blogger.

It's just time to move on.

Seaport Village, 10-0611

2010-06-11T21:34:00.001-07:00

T2M #7-11

2010-06-09T23:50:00.001-07:00

#7
0420 – 0624
Every time I stop to think about what I'm doing, a lump in my throat forms and my heart beats faster than it should.

Guess I just gotta keep my eyes facing forward and march on.

- - -

#8
Undated
I can hear the echoes of my future calling out to me.

It's only now that I am realizing what I'm giving up, but there is so much more that I stand to gain.

- - -

#9
0509 – 2122
If no man is an island, why do I feel like the world's loneliest soul?

Am I destined to feel this alone my entire life?

I know what I want, and though what I've got is good enough for some, my desire is still left unfulfilled.

I am haunted by the emptiness of solitude all the time.

My pride restrains me from reaching out.

The sea that divides me from the rest of the world is deeper than it looks, but I still wait for someone to tread those treacherous waters to seek the treasures I posses.

Hope is what nourishes me to keep me going, but is it leading me in the right direction?

- - -

#10
0522 – 1059
If I am such a forgiving person, why is the person hardest to forgive is myself?

Why is it that I don't take it easy on myself when I know the person who needs the most breaks is myself?

Why do I push myself to the extreme when everyone says to take it slow, to start off with baby steps?

I know I am an impatient person. I expect results as soon as I apply the techniques.

And damn, do I aim high in my expectations.

I guess the biggest thing I need to learn is patience.

Slow and steady wins the race, but true to form, I am already expecting myself to know this so I can move on already.

- - -

#11
0602 – 0541
I can only think, Now what?

I'm dejected, morose.

I feel as if something has been taken away from me, something that meant more to me than I thought it would now that it's gone.

I keep thinking Keep your head up, old friend., but it does nothing to mask the disappointment and shame in my eyes.

- - -

I can only ask, Why?

Why did you take this away from me?

I don't know what to do now- I'm feeling at such a loss, I don't even remember which direction is up anymore.

I can't blame this for the poor decisions I've been making lately, but it feels as if I no longer have control of my life.

What the fuck do I do now??

L.I.F.E.: 10-0513

2010-05-14T01:24:00.001-07:00

OVER BLACK.

L. (V.O.)
Today is the first day of
the rest of your life.
(beat)
Don't fuck it up.

CUT TO:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM – DAY (PRESENT)

L. (22) stands in front of the mirror in a towel, dripping wet from a fresh shower.

HE IS STARING INTENTLY BACK AT HIS REFLECTION, the gaze from his tired, wizened eyes unwavering.

FLASHBACK TO:

THAT MORNING -
L. in a tee and shorts, doing jumping jacks at the foot of his bed with a blank, distant stare.

BACK TO:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME

His hair, NOW CROPPED EXTREMELY SHORT, glistens from the sunlight streaming from a nearby mirror.

FLASHBACK TO:

L. struggles through a series of push-ups on his bedroom floor, BREATHING HEAVY and obviously having difficulty.

BACK TO:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME

Fresh from a shave, he has A FEW TINY SQUARES OF TOILET PAPER on his face to tend to his hastily-delivered razor nicks.

FLASHBACK TO:

Sweat starts to trickle down his face as L. performs a round of sit-ups, GRUNTING IN AGONY.

BACK TO:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME

He's put on a few noticeable pounds since the last time we saw him, looking a little more solid, albeit still on the thin side.

FLASHBACK TO:

L. runs around his block, visibly in pain, GASPING FOR AIR, and soaked in sweat. He wipes a trickle from his eyes and pushes himself further.

BACK TO:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME

L. TAKES A DEEP BREATH, the reflection of his eyes never leaving his intense stare.

AFTER A MOMENT he nods back at himself in the mirror, having made up his mind out of sheer determination.

CUT TO:

INT. L.'S BEDROOM – CONTINUING

A SERIES OF QUICK FLASHCUTS as L. moves about his bedroom, consisting of L.:

a.) performing his moisturizing routine de rigeur in front of a mirror beside his bed.

b.) flipping the switch of his garment hand-steamer 'ON' with a curt CLICK.

c.) sliding the doors of his closet open, revealing A VAST SELECTION OF CLOTHES, neatly organized by style and color.

d.) selecting a conservative NAVY PINSTRIPED SHIRT and PALE GRAY WOOL DRESS PANT from the wardrobe and hanging it onto the steamer.

e.) steaming out the wrinkles from the shirt and pants to flawless perfection.

f.) slipping on the pair of pants, the trouser creases crisp and neat.

g.) buttoning up the shirt from the bottom up, stopping at the second to the last button.

h.) slapping on some Kiehl's styling wax to his cropped hair and styling it in a formal military-esque fashion.

PAN OUT to REVEAL we're in:

INT. L.'S BATHROOM – CONTINUING

L., now primped, polished, and impeccably styled, looks back at his reflection gravely and nods.

L.
Go get 'em, Tiger.

CUT TO:

INT. L.'s HOUSE – CONTINUING

L. prepares to leave the house when he is stopped by HIS MOTHER.

L.'S MOTHER
Where are you going? Work?

L.
No, I have that Navy test I told
you about. So I can get that
Nuke job. Remember?

L.'S MOTHER
Oh.
(beat)
I don't know what that means.

L. just smiles back at his mother and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

L.
I love you, Momma.

L.'S MOTHER
Love you, too. Good luck, anak.

She sees him out, watching him go with a MOTHERLY SIGH of affection.

CUT TO:

INT. NAVY RECRUITING OFFICE – TESTING ROOM – LATER

L. and ANOTHER BOY (20, confident, impatient) sit at a testing table, partitioned off from one another in the small, sparse room.

A blank answer sheet and test booklet sit before them, along with other testing materials including a few sheets of paper, three perfectly sharpened #2 pencils, and a simple calculator.

L. looks sickeningly anxious (but trying his best to hide it) as the uniformed exam proctor -- DANIEL CROMWELL, EM1(SW) (30s, wholesome, classic American good looks) -- briefs the two boys over the test.

(NOTE: He pronounces "nuclear" as "nucular.")

CROMWELL
You will be tested on your
skills in Algebra, Algebra II,
geometry, physics, and chemistry.
You must score at least 50 out
of 80 questions to be considered
a qualified candidate for the
Naval Nuclear Program. You will
have exactly 2 hours to complete
the test. Please mark all of your
answers in a neat and clear fashion.
(beat)
Any questions?

OTHER BOY
Nope.

L.
(struggling to speak)
No, sir.

CROMWELL
Very well. You have until 1430
to finish. Take your time, and
good luck to you both.

He exits the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

The Other Boy jumps right into the test.

L. TAKES A DEEP BREATH, staring at his blank answer sheet for a moment before opening his test booklet.

TIME CUT – LATER

L. stares at the open test booklet before him, stuck on question #7. His first page of scratch paper is already half-way marked with crossed-out work from the previous six questions.

He checks the time.

L.'S P.O.V. – HIS WATCH
tells him 15 minutes have elapsed.

BACK TO SCENE

He sneaks a quick glance from the corner of his eye to -

L.'S P.O.V. – THE OTHER BOY
who is seemingly flying through the test.

BACK TO SCENE

L. looks back at his test booklet, SWALLOWS HARD.

L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET

"7. A 50-kilogram firefighter is on a ladder 10 meters above the ground. When the firefighter descends to 5 meters above the ground, the firefighter's gravitational potential energy will decrease by

A) 0.194 joules.
B) 5.10 joules.
C) 490 joules.
D) 2450 joules."

BACK TO SCENE

L. stares intensely at the question, frustrated and frightened as he struggles to find a way to work out a solution.

Finally he gives up and just fills in a random bubble on his answer sheet.

He moves onto the next question.

L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET

"8. A ball is dropped from rest from a height 6.0 meters above the ground. The ball falls freely and reaches the ground 1.1 seconds later. What is the average speed of the ball?

A) 5.5 m/s
B) 6.1 m/s
C) 6.6 m/s
D) 11 m/s"

BACK TO SCENE

L. scrunches up his brows in pure frustration.

L.
(under his breath)
Give me a fuckin' break.

TIME CUT – LATER

L.'s on question #34, having already gone through two pages of scratch paper (both sides) and is on to his second pencil.

He's sweating bullets as he reads the question.

L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET

"34. The specific heat of copper is about 0.4 joules/gram ºC. How much heat is needed to change the temperature of a 30-gram sample of copper from 20.0 ºC to 60.0 ºC?

A) 1000 J
B) 720 J
C) 480 J
D) 240 J"

BACK TO SCENE

L.'s face contorts to that of desperation and panic, just as Cromwell returns to the room.

CROMWELL
Gentlemen, it is 1330. You have
exactly one hour to complete the
exam. How are we doing?

THE OTHER BOY
Good.

L.
(small)
G-Good, sir.

Cromwell peers over The Other Boy's shoulder, seeing that he's currently working his way through question #62.

CROMWELL
Very good.

He peers over at L.'s answer sheet, noting where he is in regards to time.

L. SWALLOWS HARD, avoiding looking at the exam proctor in the eyes.

Cromwell places a reassuring hand on L.'s shoulder, giving him a polite and encouraging smile.

CROMWELL (CONT'D)
(gently, sotto: L.)
Just take your time and try
to do your best. You still
have one hour.

L.
(nods, small)
Yes, sir.

CROMWELL
(addressing both)
Very well, then. Continue.

He exits.

L. EXHALES FORCEFULLY and resumes his test, feeling defeated and embarrassed.

CUT TO:

INT. NAVY RECRUITING OFFICE – MAIN ROOM – LATER

L. exits the exam room and into the main room of recruiters' desks, tentative and wary.

All desks are empty of their respective recruiters except the one farthest away from L., where Cromwell and The Other Boy are CHATTING.

They STOP CONVERSING upon hearing L.'s approach and turn to him, causing L. to stop dead in his tracks.

Cromwell gives L. an amiable smile.

CROMWELL
How was it?

L. hesitates to answer.

CROMWELL (CONT'D)
Fun?

L. cracks a nervous smile, unsure how to respond.

L.
Barrels of.
(beat)
Sir.

Cromwell gestures for L. to sit beside The Other Boy.

CROMWELL
Come, sit. We were just discussing
the Nuclear Program. You can listen
in, maybe learn a thing or two.

L. tentatively sits beside The Other Boy as Cromwell resumes his account.

CROMWELL (CONT'D)
So after boot camp, that's nine
weeks of hell right there, you've
got what we call your 'A' School,
and you're there for about, say,
4 months. Then it's on to Power
School, and that's 6 months. So
starting out, it's a lot of time
spent in classrooms, lot of book-
learning, things like that. Then
after that, if you volunteered
to be in a sub . . .

His voice TRAILS OFF the soundtrack as we SLOW PAN TOWARDS -

C.U. - L.'S FACE
which is consumed by a poorly-constructed mask to hide the sinking fear and disappointment he's feeling inside.

CUT TO:

EXT. L.'S NEIGHBORHOOD – EVENING

L. makes his way home, his walk an unconscious studied tribute to the military's drill & ceremony standards, albeit a bit stiff.

He keeps his eyes trained on the horizon as he marches on, but his face betrays the confidence he's trying so hard to project.

Upon closer look, it's obvious he is visibly shaken. Terrified.

CUT TO:

INT. L.'S HOUSE – LATER

L. enters, carrying a box of chocolates. He closes the door behind him QUIETLY and heads for his bedroom when the SOUND OF HIS MOTHER'S VOICE catches him off-guard.

L.'S MOTHER (O.S.)
How was it?

L. pauses in the hallway for a moment, collecting himself before turning to find his mother on the sofa with a cup of tea.

L.
(haltingly)
It was fine.

L.'S MOTHER
"Fine?"

L.
Yeah. Fine.

L.'s Mother peers at her son closely, a concerned look on her face.

L.'S MOTHER
Come here. Sit down.

L.
Nah, that's okay. I'm kinda
tired and I just wanna take
a nap right now . . .

But L.'s Mother is not having it. She sets her cup of tea down onto the coffee table and looks back at L. gravely.

L.'S MOTHER
(no nonsense)
L., sit.

L. decides against putting up a fight and joins his mother, sitting on the opposite chair farthest from her.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Tell me about it.

L.
What's there to tell? I went,
I took the test, I bombed.
End of story.

He opens the box of chocolates he brought home with him and begins to dig in, searching for some kind of comfort among the wrappers.

L.'S MOTHER
What do you mean, "bombed?"
Is that a nuclear joke?
(reaching for the chocolates)
Give me some.

L. hands her the box reluctantly. He peels out of his shirt and kicks off his shoes as he continues.

L.
No, Momma. It means I wasted
my time. The test asked questions
on subjects I had in high school
that I didn't even know the answers
to when I was in high school.
(beat)
I . . .
(with great difficulty)
I failed it, Momma.

L.'S MOTHER
Don't say that, anak.

L.
I did. I failed that test.

L.'S MOTHER
How do you know? Did they tell
you what you got on it?

L.
No, I won't find out until
tomorrow.

He stuffs his face with more chocolate, not finding any solace.

L.'S MOTHER
Then how do you know you failed
it when you don't even know
what you got?

L. stops, mid-chew, to consider this.

L.
I did so poorly. I struggled
with so many of the questions.
I barely finished the test
on time.

L.'S MOTHER
As long as you did your best,
that's all that anyone can
ask for, anak.

L. gives her an ironic smile.

L.
That's such a motherly thing
to say.

L.'S MOTHER
Of course. Aren't I not your
mother?

A rogue tear appears in L.'s eye. He is quick to dispatch it to the back of his hand, but not before being caught by his mother.

L.
I don't know what I'm going
to do if I didn't pass this
test. I don't . . . I don't
have a back-up plan if this
fails. I have to get this.

L.'S MOTHER
Don't say such things. God
has a plan for you, whether
or not you pass the test.
He has a plan for you, and
it is good.

L. gives her a skeptical glance.

L.
How can you be so sure?

L.'S MOTHER
How can you not be? You just
have to believe that God has
good things planned for you.
I believe that.

L.
(sardonic)
Yeah, I'm sure he does.

L.'S MOTHER
Don't you dare talk like that
about God to me.

L. is immediately caught off-guard by his mother's sudden impassioned tone. She softens her voice.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
I was like you once. For 35
years, I wished and I prayed
for something I wanted so
badly, every single day. I
waited 35 years for it. I
suffered so much for it,
wanted it so bad that it hurt
deep down inside. You know
that kind of want?

L. can only nod. It's the same kind of hunger he himself has.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
And I finally got it, but even
till now, I haven't gotten all
of what I wanted. You understand?

Another tear slips out from L.'s eyes. This time he doesn't bother to hide it.

L.
You mean me. For 35 years, all
you ever wanted was a boy,
and you finally got him.
(bitterly)
But he wasn't exactly what
you wished for. Wasn't he?
Because he's gay.
(beat, disgusted)
What a cruel joke from God.

L.'S MOTHER
It's not a cruel joke. I don't
think of you as a cruel joke.

L.'s tears stream freely now. He STIFLES A SOB as he stuffs another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
God was trying to teach me
a lesson, the same thing He
is trying to teach you: be
patient. Be forgiving. Some-
times what you think you
really want isn't in God's
plan for you, because He
has something better in mind.

She reaches across the space between them and takes L.'s hand in her own.

L.'S MOTHER
I love you, anak. No matter
who you are. No matter what
you do. No matter whether
or not you pass a test.

L.
I just want to make you proud
of me, Momma.

L.'S MOTHER
You think I'm not? I am! I'm
proud of you, L. So, so proud.
I thank God every day for you.
I don't need a test to tell
me to be proud of my son.

L. shakes his head, covering his face with his hand as he tries to wipe away his tears.

L.
If you're so proud of me,
why can't I be proud of myself?

L.'s Mother's face falls in sympathy. She gets it now.

She reaches for her son's hand again and holds it tightly against her chest.

L.'S MOTHER
Oh, son. No. No, you can't
think that way. You have to
be proud of yourself first,
before anyone else can be.
You have a lot to be proud
of, anak. You are smart, no
matter what that test says.

L.
This isn't about that test
anymore, Momma. Don't you
get it? I have people everyday
telling me they believe in
me. Telling me how smart I
am. Telling me how talented
I am. Telling me everything
I want to hear, that I can
do anything I want to if I
just put my mind to it, but
at the end of the day, I still
can't believe it.

L.'S MOTHER
Then you better start believing
it, L. You are my son. There is
nothing out there you cannot do
if you work hard it. You have
to be determined first to believe
you can do it, and the rest is
up to God. You just have to have
faith. That's all.

L.
(panicked)
But how? How am I supposed to
have faith in myself when I don't
have faith in anything else?!

He begins BREATHING HEAVILY, hyperventilating almost, as he struggles to get the words out.

L. (CONT'D)
Momma, help me. Please.
Momma, I can't breathe.

L.'s Mother immediately leaps to her feet and helps her son lay out on the sofa.

L.'S MOTHER
Here. Just lie down. Breathe
slowly now. In, out. In, out.

He does so, forcing himself to BREATHE SLOWLY.

L.
Momma, I can't feel my face.
I can't open my eyes!

L.'S MOTHER
Just relax. You're having a
panic attack. Your face is
all red. Just try to relax,
and keep breathing.

L.
Okay.

L.'s Mother breaks away towards the kitchen. Feeling her no longer at his side, L. starts to panic.

L.
Momma?!

L.'S MOTHER
I'm getting you some water.

L.
Okay. Okay.

L.'S MOTHER
Just breathe, anak. Deep
breaths now, just like that.
Here, drink this.

She returns to her son's side with a glass of water. He takes it from her and finishes it off in one gulp.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Another?

L.
Yes. Please.

L.'S MOTHER
Okay. Just relax.

She goes to grab another glass of water, returning promptly. L. finishes it off quickly as the first glass, his BREATHING SLOWED.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Feeling better?

L. nods.

L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Good.

She sits beside him on the sofa and takes his hand, kisses it softly.

L.
Thank you, Momma.
(beat)
I love you.

L.'S MOTHER
I love you, anak.

She tenderly strokes his cheek as he slowly gives into exhaustion, letting sleep overcome him.

FADE OUT.

THE END.

Tragedy

2010-05-08T23:07:00.001-07:00

Sorry.
I'm only human.
You know me.
Grown up- oh, no.
Guess again.

My days always dry up and blow away.
Sometimes I could do that, too.

But make no mistake.

When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.

Progress, changing.
Growing, then giving up.
Somehow we're never quite prepared.

But I understand it.

When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.

So, taking you with me would be like taking all your money to the grave.
It does no good to anyone.
Especially the one you're trying to save.

But it's so hard not to save.

When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.

You know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.

Scales Of A Lion

2010-05-08T22:58:00.001-07:00

0506 – 1224AM

Sometimes I like to reread these pages and try to remember the boy who wrote them.

There are times when my heart aches reading these passages, my sympathy stretching, reaching out across time to the self-pitying boy who scribbled them down months before.

Sometimes my heart feels as if it's tearing anew as I relive those moments that tore it in the first place, perhaps to serve as a reminder that the hollow void in my heart still persists, unfulfilled.

Other times I read through these entries and am left confused, having forgotten the author of those passages and disbelieving that he and I are the same, the emotional wounds that I wrote of long before having healed- scabbed over and scarred to take shape a new persona far from where he, I started.

- - -

0506 – 0419PM

I now know from where this intense desire to be in a meaningful relationship stems.*

I never really understood the aspects of Libra, perhaps because I never really understood the aspects of myself.

It's all becoming so clear now.

This newfound understanding has made sense of a lot of things I could not have quite figured out on my own before, has given rhyme and reason to the previously unexplored enigma of my subconscious.

The driving force beneath my ego is, as I've mentioned many times before, to be part of a meaningful relationship. To possess ties to other people and breathe something much deeper into its connection.

However, this driving force, this desire is so intense that it frightens me.

Its commanding intensity as my basic primal need is so great, so desperate in its yearning to be fulfilled that it's become my tragic flaw. My Achilles heel.

It's no wonder I am handicapped by my fear of rejection.

Partner that with the numerous disappointments from my previous endeavors and it becomes even more apparent as to why I don't even try to make new relationships, friendship or otherwise, anymore.

I am simply too exhausted, too disappointed to emotionally invest in someone else now.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but maybe that's because I gave up searching long ago.

T2M #6

2010-04-13T23:37:00.001-07:00

0410— 211PM
I'm trying to make an important life decision, and all I want to do is weep.

I'm frightened and confused, lost and uncertain.

Nothing in life is ever easy, and everything must come at a price.

I know why I want to do this, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

Everything is giving me different answers; I can't even hear the voice inside.

I'm too bound by my fears, my fears of failure, of uncertainty, that I cannot make a move.

- - -

Thank you for that fated encounter, Mr. B.

You played an important role in setting my plans in motion, of motivating me to set forth and blaze that trail that had been beckoning me, almost haunting me.

I've been torn over this for so long, agonizing in my indecision that I've nearly lost sight of all direction.

But now, seemingly in the spur of the moment, I've managed to muster enough courage to make the first step.

Hard part's over.

Or has it just begun?

- - -

The best decisions in life are made on the fly.

Le Grande Artiste: 10-0411

2010-04-11T17:41:00.001-07:00

Choices
Inspired by a random run-in with the ex-boyfriend's dad, this piece is the result of tireless rumination in making a major decision that will play an integral role in shaping the rest of my life.

It represents my fear, while boldly expressing my wild hopes.

Mon Avis
My first attempt at linear painting.

Wasn't too successful (I have no idea which brush to use for that yet), so I just painted over my crappy lines and filled it in to make a bolder statement.

(it's supposed to be the Eiffel Tower)

Chantico
A meditation in brown and caramel,
this image had been haunting my mind for so long that it inspired me to go buy a paint set so I can get it out of me.

It didn't turn out the way I wanted it to, but I can live with the results.

Fun fact: none of these paintings turned out the way I pictured them in my mind (nothing ever really does, I guess), but the results are serendipitous.

Still, it sucks being a perfectionist.

Embarcadero, 10-0331

2010-03-31T22:19:00.001-07:00

T2M #5

2010-03-30T11:21:00.001-07:00

0319 — 703AM
Pick a side.

You're either independent or not.

Stop teetering back and forth between needing nobody and wanting somebody.

Admitting you're lonely is the first mistake.

Batter up, rookie.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!*

2010-03-06T10:32:00.001-08:00

There is fun to be done!

There are points to be scored.

There are games to be won.

And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all.

Fame!

You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t.

Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games, too.

Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

Ain't it the truth, Mr. Geisel.

* Dr. Seuss. Oh, the Places You'll Go!. New York: Random House, 1990. Print.

INSPIRATION: boudoir

2010-03-03T10:41:00.001-08:00

(source)

Action Plan - 0211

2010-02-11T13:29:00.001-08:00

Tax return money finally came in and already, I'm thinking of ways on how to spend it in the most frivolous manner despite the fact that I've got priorities to take care of first.

Let's remind myself what those priorities are, shall we?

(REV. 0212 | 946PM)

GET YOUR FUCKING MASSAGE LICENSE !!
x pay $150 CAMTC license fee - done online
x ~~request $10 school transcript from Mueller College~~
x ~~mail out CAMTC application~~
x get $90 Live Scan fingerprinted
_ set aside $200 for membership organization fee

VOLUNTEER WITH THE LGBT COMMUNITY CENTER !!
x get $20 Live Scan background-checked
_ attend New Volunteer orientation (TBD)

Let's get the ball rolling here in the right direction.

Absolution 9:50

2010-02-10T21:50:00.001-08:00

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

I have thought unkind things toward myself and other people.

I seek Your retribution.

I seek Your forgiveness.

Forgive me for belittling Your work.

Forgive me for taking Your gifts for granted.

Forgive me for beseeching Your forgiveness.

Forgive me for what I've broken.

Heal me for what I've lost.

Give me hope for the better.

Help me find in me the strength I need.

Return to me the love I've lost.

Forgive me for losing sight.

Forgive me, Father, for all my faults and wrong-doing.

Give me hope.

Give me strength.

Give me faith.

Give me love.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

Amen.

From P., With Lust

2010-02-07T17:24:00.001-08:00

0206-10 | 0942PM

A call from an unfamiliar number interrupts his thoughts, his solitude.

Curious more than anything, he decides to override his initial instinct to screen the call and just answer it.

He immediately regrets his decision once he hears the familiar voice on the other line- casual and nonchalant, but there is no denying the urgent need to fulfill a primal instinct belying an ulterior motive as the conversation progresses.

A brief catch up (How've you been? Alright. Me too.) serves as an awkward preamble to the meat of the of the matter, both comparing notes of their soonest availability and discovering a mutually agreeable opening in their respective schedules.

Put on the spot, his instinctive fear to commit kicks in, and he casually and nonchalantly in return asks for a raincheck, his gregarious nature leaving his response more along the lines of an open-ended regret than a flat-out rejection.

He hangs up as soon as the opportunity presents itself, remaining polite yet detached, and is surprised and ashamed to realize he's hard.

- - -

This loneliness thing is a bitch.

He knows what he wants, and it isn't this.

Or is it?

He can't decide.

He wants a committed, meaningful, satisfying connection with someone he can call his significant other.

His boyfriend.

His own.

But there doesn't seem to be much that, if any at all, headed his way lately.

So he figures, Why not settle?

Why not just go for something that is headed his way?

Even if it is just a meaningless fuck in a dark, dirty arcade booth of a sleazy adult video store?

Even if he knows this romance-less encounter will only leave him feeling all the more lonely, all the more empty inside?

Why not?

Bubble Boy

2010-02-07T17:09:00.001-08:00

0206 – 0925PM

It's hard to admit to anyone, let alone to myself, that I'm sad, bitter, miserable, all because I'm lonely.

I drink to forget I'm lonely.

I sleep with strangers to hide the fact that I'm alone.

I push people away to deny that I need them.

I don't know where this insecurity comes from, where this persistent fear of rejection originates.

I can trace its effects, list the symptoms that derive from this fear, but I can't for the life of me find its origins.

I am stubbornly independent. My need to be in control of things at all times have won me no friends, in fact has drive more people away from my reach.

The comfort I find in working alone alone has put me inside a bubble, apart from everyone around me.

I don't know how to work in a team after working alone and only relying on myself all this time.

I don't know how to relate to people when, growing up, I only had my own experiences, my own thoughts, my own knowledge from which to draw.

I can't see anything beyond the solitary bubble I love in, besides the fact that I'm all alone, and everything I'm doing isn't helping to change that.

Righting The Wrong

2010-02-04T22:44:00.001-08:00

It always feels like I am in the wrong.

It feels as if all the good I've done, am capable of doing, is overshadowed by the things I can't seem to get right.

I know I ought to look at the bright side, believe that the good I do outweighs the bad.

I know I'm looking at it all wrong, that I'd be happier if I just shifted my perspective on things a little different, but that only goes to show that I'm only capable of doing things wrong.

I'm not a great friend- I don't ask about you, don't care about you unless my immediate needs are met first, that my list of expectations have already been checked off before moving on to someone else.

I'm not a great leader- I'm blunt when it comes to communicating. My focus is on the task at hand and what needs to be done, not on why you can't do it if you're having a bad day.

There are times when my emotional side gets flipped off, diminished to a point of near nonexistence just so I can get through the job, get through the day.

I can spend a good portion of my day working and getting all my shit done, not realizing until the end of the day that I come home to an empty house, that there's a void in my heart and I can't figure out why.

I know I need to be my own best friend.

I've told myself that so many times.

No one's going to believe in me unless I believe in myself.

And I do.

For the most part.

I know I'm capable of doing good.

I know I'm capable of being so much more.

I know all that.

The worst thing about being able to see both sides is picking one.

I can find all the faults, scrutinize all the flaws and cracks.

And I can see the good, the glory behind the tragedy, the sun behind the clouds.

I can see the problem and find the solution.

The only thing I find difficult is choosing a path.

So I stay in the middle.

I stay on the current road and hope for the best while bemoaning my agonies.

I am a sadistic optimist, a optimistic sadist.

And I know that's wrong, but I won't choose something else.

- - -

I'm tired of always having to remind myself that I am better than this, better than wallowing in my sorrow over failures and hurdles I can't ever seem to overcome.

Tired of always having to remind myself that I am also capable of great achievements, accomplishing triumphant success.

Tired of reminding myself how far I've come, the leaps and bounds I've made, and the long, unfamiliar road that still looms in the distance.

I'm tired of being my own cheerleader.

It gets lonely sitting on the sidelines by myself, with no one else there rooting for me.

But it's the only choice I have.

Even it's a wrong one.

The Fate of the Groundhog

2010-02-02T21:31:00.001-08:00

I'm feeling at such a loss.

Strange, I thought that period of the year for me was already over and done with.

I thought that once I made it through January, I'd be okay.

That I would pick up where I left off and resume normal functioning, rejoin the ranks of being a functional member of society again.

Looks like there's six more weeks of trouble.

- - -

I'm not yet at a point where I can fully comprehend how the loss of the man who taught me so much has affected me.

I'm devastated to be sure, but I just can't find the words to sum up exactly how I feel, to accurately identify what it is that's plaguing my mind over this.

I've learned so much under his tutelage, through his mastery and philosophy. It's added an invaluable layer to me that I hold dearly in such high regard.

I'm in woe of the regret I have for not making much of it, for not taking advantage of the time Fate had graciously given me to be spent with him.

Missed opportunities and such.

And now there is no more possibility of chance to learn more from him, learn from his experiences to help me grow, and I am saddened by this.

E.W. "Bill" Mueller was a great man. I did not know him personally in intimate detail, but nonetheless he imparted to me something so great I have no other way of thanking him but to continue on with what he's given me and to help share that with those in need of healing from his wisdom.

- - -

I've been filled with such grief and anguish lately and it feels like there is no stopping point looming in the horizon any time soon.

Blame it on the lack of working.

Blame it on the lack of consistency.

Blame it on the excessive amount of free time on my hands, and the lack of things to do that are within my control.

Blame it on reading old journal entries of tales that are done and over with yet from which I can't seem to move on.

Blame it on anything but myself because right now, I'm finding it difficult to take responsibility for my actions.

I'm lacking focus. I can't fully analyze anything, make sense of anything at the moment. This translates to a feeling of lack of control, and I automatically enter panic mode.

I feel as if I'm running in circles, going nowhere.

Can't even formulate a sentence, an idea or thought, to full fruition.

Can't even finish a fucking blog entry.

Notes on a Scandal: I – Last Night's Regret

2010-01-27T12:39:00.001-08:00

Thomas

He woke up to the lingering smell of last night's cologne on his pillow.

He made an attempt to turn his head away from the strong scent stained beside him, catching instead the sharp morning light streaming from the room's sole window.

The screaming pain coming from the back of his skull as his eyes burned inside their sockets forced him to stop, forced him to assume his previous position with a defeated sigh.

Averting his gaze from the sunlight, he turned his attention to the still mass snoring softly beneath the blanket beside him.

Thinking it was easier on the eyes than the first glimpses of sunlight, he had yet to discover the dangers behind this vision- the meaning of it and the repercussions that will follow.

For now, he only took silent inventory of what he was seeing beside him at face value.

Shaggy dark hair spilled onto the pillow next to his.

A forearm draped over the eyes of an unidentifiable face.

A small, slightly upturned nose rested above a slackened mouth, outlined by a thin set of lips, from where the source of the soft wheezing came.

The neck beneath the angular jaw lead to a flat, bare chest, rising and falling with every breath, sparsely decorated with hair in the center that trailed down beyond the boundary of the covers.

It was an unfamiliar scene, finding a body next to him in his bed.

At least, it had been a while since he last found himself in this predicament.

Two years, three months, and nine days since, to be exact.

Not since the day Robert decided to effectively end their seven-year partnership by sleeping with somebody else.

Even since then, he remained faithful—to what, he didn't know now that everything he had believed in had dissolved in wake of his lover's departure.

He dutifully went to bed alone every single night since then, never once bothering to fill the empty void beside him even when the nights grew long and the bed loomed lonely after a hard day's work.

Until now.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember the previous series of events that transpired to this moment but not being able to see past the drunken haze of last night, couldn't recall anything beyond opening his eyes to the morning's harsh light and the cologne on his pillow.

It wasn't until the body of the man—no, a young man—beside him stirred, removed his arm away from his face and blinking his sleepy eyes back at him, did the entire night come back to him.

"Julian," he whispered in a gasp, shocked by the sight of the familiar face staring back at him.

Sleepily, Julian smiled back at him and touched his face.

"Good morning, Teach."

Looking for Trouble

2010-01-26T21:03:00.001-08:00

Trouble is his only friend and he's back again.
Makes his body older than it really is.
He says it's high time he went away; no one's got much to say in this town.
Trouble is the only way is down.
Down, down.

As strong as you were, tender you'll go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.
I'll carry you home.

If he had wings he would fly away, and another day God will give him some.
Trouble is the only way is down.
Down, down.

As strong as you were, tender you'll go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.
I'll carry you home.

And they were all born pretty in New York City tonight.
And someone's little girl was taken from the world tonight, under the Stars and Stripes.

As strong as you were, tender you go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.

I'll carry you home.

- - -

Expectations are gone, and I don't know who I am anymore.

From the moment I sent the text, I knew what would happen.

Knew what kind of unfulfilled emptiness I was doomed to repeat yet again.

But I still pursued.

This casual business has gotten me nowhere before, and it's getting me nowhere now.

I can only think of two things:

1) Old habits die hard, and
2) Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Problem is I can remember my past; I just choose to ignore it.

Stingaree, 10-0122-23

2010-01-25T23:13:00.001-08:00

Good times.

Signs

2010-01-25T17:31:00.001-08:00

Found this while cleaning out the microchip in my phone:

I saw this at the Starbucks when I went to do some soul-searching.

It was the headline that caught my eye.

Am I still looking for a sign?

You Can't Handle The Truth*

2010-01-25T17:05:00.001-08:00

"It's love that we need, Mike understood: sex is just what we do to get it."

Preaching to the choir, Mr. Scott.

I'm just envious of those who make it possible to base a relationship on sex first, romance later.

* Scott, Kevin. The Boys in the Brownstone. New York: The Hawthorne Press, Inc., 2005. Print.

Inertia

2010-01-21T22:33:00.001-08:00

You think you're numb.

You can't feel a thing, aren't phased by any glaring sort of emotion, aren't coerced into action due to an overpowering gut instinct too great to comprehend.

You think you've lost your passion, unstirred by any sort of feeling, unmoved by a lack of empathy or compassion in what surrounds you.

You move through your days listless and unexpectant, not hoping for much but just for enough to get by to the next day.

And you're okay with this.

You've settled for this life of mundane content, knowing all the while you are capable of taking on so much more than you're given, as evidenced by the acute, inscrutable pang of emptiness that has burrowed deep inside you that you've managed to ignore.

The situation you've found yourself is not ideal by any means, but for you, for now, it's fine.

Simply… fine.

And then something comes along to knock you off that path of inertia you've been traveling on for God knows how long.

Something so huge, something so profound in its meaning has reached out from the blur that is your life and shakes up your world, shows you that the dormant emotions you've had within you were just idling, waiting for something to stir them up.

What's less surprising is where that catalyst is coming from.

a hand from the past reaches out to shake up my future.

I couldn't have said it better myself (which I did, November 21, 2008).

Same situation.

Same catalyst.

New year.

River Flows In You

2010-01-21T16:26:00.001-08:00

FASHION VALLEY, parking lot B

I'm amused by bodies of water being in places they shouldn't be.

Shiver

2010-01-20T11:36:00.001-08:00

Natalie Imbruglia - Shiver

Awesome.

Seaport, After Dark (10-0115)

2010-01-18T16:00:00.001-08:00

Règle de Reine

2010-01-17T22:20:00.001-08:00

"On a high throne, looking into a clouded sky, sits a queen with a raised sword in her left hand. This suggests, 'Let those approach who dare!'

Her crown and the base of her throne are decorated with the butterflies of the soul, and just under the arm of the throne we find a sylph, the elemental of the air. The queen's face is chastened through suffering.

Choose this card for a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman.

Divinatory Meaning: A subtle, keen, and quick-witted woman who may represent a widow or one who is unable to bear children. Perhaps she is mourning for those she loves who are far away from her.

Reversed: Unreliability. Narrow-mindedness. Gossip. Deceit. Malice. A woman of artifice and prudery."*

- - -

"The Queen of Swords indicates a woman who is blessed (or cursed) with sharp perception, and highly honed intuition. She is acutely analytical, with a razor-sharp ability to get to the heart of a situation, seeing exactly what is, rather than what others would wish her to see.

She is a private woman, unwilling to let people too close to her until she is satisfied she thoroughly understands their motivations. But once won as a friend, she is unfailingly loyal, honest and supportive.

She's usually very intelligent, with a dry sense of humour. Her penetrating insight will often reveal aspects of themselves to others that they had previously been unable to grasp - thus she is a capable therapist, teacher or leader.

The woman represented by this card will be experienced in the flow of life, understanding a great deal about both the great triumphs, and the deepest failings of the race. Her clarity and measured expression will be of great value at times of confusion and sadness.

Sometimes in a reading, this card will turn up to indicate a woman in a particular phase of her life, where she temporarily becomes a Sword as a result of what is happening to her. In that case the card is not quite so positively defined, for it can indicate a woman left alone, and perhaps embittered. She may be a widow, or a woman passing through the aftermath of divorce.

In this case we often see the more negative aspects of the Queen - coldness, judgmentalism, criticism. At these times there is a certain sourness about her, with cynicism and sharpness making themselves felt.

It should be said that these qualities are inherent to the woman who is a Queen of Swords by nature too - if the woman concerned has not evolved sufficiently you will often find that the card represents a person who is hard and cold toward others."**

- - -

My guards are rising.

I can feel them going up, even though I know I'm desperate for the opposite.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

I want to say, Come in, come in. You're welcome here.

But the barbed wire I surround the gates with are less beckoning than my whole-hearted appeal.

You're welcome inside, as long as you don't hurt my pride.

And I wonder why the signals are always crossed.

- - -

I know I am meant to be happy.

I just haven't found anyone yet to bring me that happiness.

* Gray, Eden. A Complete Guide to the Tarot. New York: Bantam, 1972. Print.
** (source)

0104-b: Identity Crisis/Great Expectations

2010-01-05T12:10:00.001-08:00

Last night's journal entry made it clear to me that I really did not know myself very well, despite what I firmly believed.

I still look to others to tell me who I am, to give me a definition of myself so I know what the expectations around my neck are.

I often measure myself up to other people who share my birthday, holding myself accountable for insurmountable achievements that or on par with those of Yves Saint Laurent, Frances Scott Key, Herman Mellville, William Clark, Dom DeLuise.

Doing this only makes me feel even more at a loss at discovering my true self.

I've yet to accomplish any great feats my birth date brothers have accomplished before me, leaving me feeling only more like a failure, like I'm not meeting the maximum capacity of the potential bestowed upon me right at birth.

Instead of becoming obsessed with this realization, I decided to catalogue what I do know about myself.

So while in bed, I took out a sheet of paper and began jotting things down.

The following is what resulted.

WHO THE FUCK AM I??
a map of Jun Belisario

Granted, I couldn't get every last piece of who I am fitted into the 8.5" x 11" borders, but the general ideas of my persona are there.

Hopefully with this better knowledge of myself, I can put these qualities to good use and do something great with them, because it's about time I make my own great achievements to which other people can measure themselves up.

0104-a: Snake Skin

2010-01-04T21:54:00.001-08:00

I went to Starbucks today to see if I could make sense out of the uncertain chaos going on in my life.

After yet another failed attempt for human company, I tidied up my room a bit (moved a pile of clothes from one spot and moved it to another) to the old, familiar, comforting sounds of Death Cab for Cutie's "Transatlanticism."

After accomplishing that task, I crumpled onto the floor, my back against my sliding closet doors, as I tried to make sense of what was going on with my life as the mellow, poignant tunes of Death Cab continued to play.

Finally after a long moment of self-pity I decided, I don't need anyone to escort me through my life, and got up to head to the neighborhood Starbucks on my own.

Armed with cigarettes, my Gold card, one of my trusty journals, and two pens (hey, you never know), I grabbed my usual venti soy green tea latte at 140° and a table outside and got to writing to sort out the heavy cloud of thoughts I had floating in my head.

At a point where it felt like my life had fallen off the tracks, I originally wanted to write about what I was going to do to help myself get back in order.

But knowing the way life goes on (especially my own), I ended up writing about something else, touching on something much deeper that was going on in my psyche.

The following is the journal entry that transpired from this event.

0104 — 0550PM

I don't know what to do with my life.

A common theme, at least I'm sure it's something with which the pages of this journal is not unfamiliar.

I've been here before. This chaotic feeling of being all out at sea is not foreign to me whatsoever.

Regardless, I am still unnerved by this overpowering notion that the ground I've put myself on is still rocky, still unstable — ready to crumble from the immense weight of uncertainty I carry, ready to allow the earth to swallow me whole with no trace of me left for others to find.

Yes, I've been in this same situation before.

These raw feelings of being vulnerable and bare I still find uncomfortable, no matter how many times I've already come face-to-face with them.

It feels as if I'm shedding an old layer of skin to make room for a new one.

It is within this awkward, transitory process do I find myself naked and vulnerable. While having outgrown another layer of my life, I feel I am not ready to take on a new one.

I would very much like to hold on to that old layer of skin because it is there that I find secure protection.

I've earned that layer of skin I'm now trying to shed.

I've earned its experience, earned its knowledge and wisdom.

Earned everything that came with the life I lead while wearing it.

Everything I absorbed from life while living in that skin is what made it tough. The knowledge, the familiarity, the undoubted certainty -- everything that came with the passage of time -- made that skin my protector, my shell.

Those experiences helped to shape me, gave me an identity to show the world around me.

Told me who I was, where I stood.

My strengths. My flaws.

The overall quality of my existence so I knew how I measured up to those by whom I was surrounded.

Now that the powers that be have decided that it's time for me to shed that skin I had grown into, grown comfortable with after all this time, not only am I afraid of feeling raw and vulnerable once more, but also I wonder: who am I going to be once I lose that piece of me?

Despite my immense desire to understand the unknown (especially if it comes with the advantage of personal growth), I'm frightened by the possibility that after all these years of self-introspection and psychoanalyzation, I still don't understand myself at all.

I still look to outside sources to figure out who I am.

I guess in my desire to be a part of this world, I seek out ways to define myself in their terms.

A gay male.

A Leo.

A Rabbit.

A schizoid with minor psychopathic tendencies.

These are definitions made by other people that I assign to myself, believing in the knowledge of others as a means to understand myself instead of going straight to the source.

Because the truth of the matter is: I don't even know myself.

But then again, does anyone know their selves at such an intense and intimate level similar to what I am in pursuit of with myself?

It's very rare, if not impossible, to come in contact with an individual who knows everything about them self whole-heartedly.

For one, not many out there are willing to exchange their vision of the world around them for a closer look inside themselves.

They might already be too preoccupied with their outside world, too involved with the external to even consider the internal.

Or they may have already taken a peek at who they are inside, and either they were satisfied with the superficial snapshot of what they saw and moved on, or they saw something in themselves that frightened and discouraged them from the possibility of deeper exploration of their psyche.

Also, because of our resilient and pliable nature, it may very well be impossible for anyone to completely know their selves entirely.

As we move through life, we grow. We change. We are not always the same.

The beliefs, ideals, and understandings we hold on to one moment may not be the same ones to which we subscribe the next, or years after.

Because of the infinite possibilities bestowed upon us and the forward, linear fashion of our existence, our movement through life, we will never fully explore all the avenues within our grasp, therefore unable to fully understand the limits of our capacity, our actions, our thoughts, our essence — in short, the whole of our being.

Knowing this, however, has still yet to prevent me from attempting to wholly explore and understand myself with what I know and what I've been given.

I could have gone on and on, but unfortunately due to my body's design, my hand was already exhausted.

Also, I became distracted by the goings on of Facebook via my cell phone, so I decided there would be a good stopping point for that entry.

Going back to what I originally planned on writing about: my life being a jumbled mess of sorts.

Now that I'm officially no longer in school, it's as if my life is one big open road with just me behind the wheel.

While other people take solace in that and often doggedly pursue to be in a situation like that with their own lives, it has the opposite effect on me.

In all honesty, it scares the shit out of me.

I'm a person who craves structure.

Being the schizoid that I am, knowing all the predetermined rules and boundaries of a situation helps to make me feel safe and secure (then my minor psychopathic tendencies kick in so I can manipulate known variables toward my favor).

That's just the nature of my individual life's philosophy that I've willingly accepted.

I'm used to having life being dictated for me (under my conscious decisions to pick and choose my actions, of course), used to having schedules and tasks and preset expectations that I can meet and/or exceed.

This creates something of a bubble for me, if you will. An environment where I know what is expected, and thus, in control.

Take that bubble away and give me the freedom to choose where to go next in life with some dire and pressing points to consider, and I will inevitably choke.

I don't know where this fear of making my own decisions for myself stems from, because I know it's apparent that I have a mind of my own and am deftly capable of picking and choosing things of my interest or benefit.

However, when it comes to the huge, life-changing decisions, that's the part I always have the most trouble with.

I've experienced this before, after graduating from high school. Instead of going back to college immediately that fall, I decided to continue working my part-time retail job and wasting time.

Sure, I had a general idea of going to massage school, but I sat on that for two-and-a-half years before I eventually got myself around to enrolling.

Now that massage school is over, I'm back to square one. Back to trying to figure out what new direction to take my life on next.

I have yet another general plan, one I've already shared with countless others.

I've already publicly made known what my intentions were after finishing massage school, so not following through with them will only make me feel like a fraud, fill me with humiliation over the fact that I am unable to follow through with what I've set out to do in the first place.

I have the resources ready to get the ball rolling in that direction, so why I am hesitating?

Going back to what I've written earlier today about feeling like a snake shedding its skin. That's exactly what it is, where I am in life at the moment.

I'm being forced to outgrow my old skin (the safety and structure of going to massage school) to make room for a new one.

The only problem is that I don't know exactly what this new skin is meant for.

All I know is that I'm at a point in my life where things are fresh, the opportunities abound, and I'm still standing in the hallway, wondering which door to pick.

It's as if a burden has been lifted from my shoulders after completing school, only to have another, weightier load placed on my back— the weight of the world.

The question is not what am I now supposed to do with it, but rather, how can I get my fickle ass to make a decision?

That remains to be an unsolved mystery.

(another topic begs a response [just who the fuck am I?], but that's for another journal entry...)

The Boy In Blue

2009-12-30T16:46:00.001-08:00

GEORGE EADS
TV Guide Magazine, March 27th, 2009.

Need I say more?

(source*)

* edited with APs-CS4. Auto-tone. Crosshatch Filter, SL4/Sh4/St1.

Ghost of Christmas Past

2009-12-25T00:33:00.001-08:00

I look up at the clock and realize, Oh, it's already 12:13AM.

My first thought is Jesus, I need to get my ass to bed.

And then, with a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone, Oh, it's Christmas.

To think, around this time, some odd years ago I would've given anything for the energy to be able to make it to midnight just so I can experience the fortune of being able to open a beautifully-wrapped gift I had already picked out beforehand and purchased under my strict direction by my mother or father.

Nevertheless, being granted the privilege to unwrap that present and call it my own on the beginnings of Christmas Day held such joy in my younger years— something not found all too often in my later years.

The surprise, the novelty— it's all worn off since I earned the capability of being able to buy my own luxuries and treat myself to my own gifts.

My world-weary attitude of having seen it all and done it all before has left little opportunity for surprises, let alone diminish my ability to find the novel quality of life's precious but all-too-overlooked experiences.

I miss being that little boy sometimes.

Cold Feet

2009-12-17T21:17:00.001-08:00

"A term used to characterize apprehension or doubt strong enough to prevent a planned course of action.

It is used to show when someone has lost the courage to do something."

(source)

Yeah. Something like that.

VII – The Chariot

2009-12-17T20:41:00.001-08:00

"This key signifies victory for the triumphant king who has conquered on all planes, particularly those of the mind, science, and growth. The chariot stands for the human personality, which can be a vehicle for the expression of the Self.

If his powers of observation are faulty, superficial, or fearful, the resulting sequence of subconscious reactions is bound to be destructive.

Key 7 means rest and victory, self-discipline and stability. The conqueror may not yet have conquered himself. Here we find both will and knowledge, but there is more desire to attain than proven power for real attainment.

Some occultists divide the Tarot Keys into three groups of seven cards each. In this case the number 7 indicates the Fool has reached an outer triumph and is ready to learn further lessons in the next seven cards.

Divinatory Meaning: Triumph, success, control over the forces of nature–thus triumph over ill health as well as money difficulties or enemies of any sort, including one's own lower animal passions. This is a card of those who achieve greatness. It may also indicate travel in comfort. Mental and physical powers should lead to fulfillment.

Reversed: Decadent desires, possibility of ill health, restlessness and desire for change, an unethical victory."*

After a long period of spiritual distance and neglect, I decided to break out the Tarot cards once again to help me figure out where I'm going to go with my life now, what's next in my journey after finally putting an end to the latest chapter of my book.

I managed to pick up the entirety of the deck of cards from the black box that my (late) Chanel sunglasses came in, save one.

After setting down the cards I had grabbed, I picked up the remaining card left behind in the box.

When I turned it over, I involuntarily gasped—it was like being shocked by electricity.

Shocked by the hand of Fate.

- - -

I'm scared.

Now that it's over and done with, what now?

What's next?

I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I had a plan.

I thought I had something for sure, something so solid in its certainty that nothing could have shaken me out of my resolute determination.

Call it cold feet, but now it feels as if the cracks I've managed to overlook thus far in the foundations of my strategies have gradually spiderwebbed to a point too far past the limits of denial.

What the hell do I do now?

* Gray, Eden. A Complete Guide to the Tarot. New York: Bantam, 1972. Print.

So Tell Me When You Hear My Heart Stop

2009-12-11T13:08:00.001-08:00

Lykke Li // Possibility

This song has been haunting me for the past few days.

L.I.F.E.: 120503/102503

2009-12-10T23:07:00.001-08:00

OVER BLACK.

L. (V.O.)
I love you.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S APARTMENT – BEDROOM – DAY

A. (24, dark features, ruggedly handsome) sits on his bed, a half-packed suitcase beside him. He is absolutely dumbfounded.

L. (16, young, but an old soul) looks back at him expectantly after having released a heavy burden from his shoulders.

A LONG, AWKWARD SILENCE fills the room.

A CLOCK TICKS AWAY in the background. Six, seven, eight . . .

L.
Well? Say something.

A. struggles to find the words, STAMMERING.

A.
I-I-I don't . . .
(beat, incredulous)
What?

L.
I said I love you.

A. looks as if he's reeling in shock, still SILENT. His gaze is unfocused, jaw slightly open as he tries to digest this.

L. looks back at him, pained at A.'s lack of expression, the lack of returned sentiment.

L. (CONT'D)
Jesus, A.!

He brings a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes. He begins to pace.

L. (CONT'D)
You know what? Forget I said
anything. I'm . . .
(heads for the door)
I gotta go. I gotta get outta
here. Forget I said anything.

A. finally gathers his bearings. He immediately bolts up and goes after L.

A.
No, L., wait!

He catches him at the door, puts himself between it and L. to keep him from leaving.

A. (CONT'D)
Wait, okay? Wait a sec. Let's . . .
Let's talk about this.

L. looks away, embarrassed.

L.
Just forget I said anything.

A.
I can't- I can't just do that, L.
Not after you drop a bomb like that!

L. looks back at him in disbelief.

L.
(hurt)
"A bomb like that?"

A.
You know what I mean. You gotta
admit, that came pretty far out of
left field.

L.
You know I don't understand your
sports analogies.

A.
It was just . . . pretty unexpected,
is all. Can you blame a guy for
being caught off guard?

L.
(offended, incredulous)
"Pretty unexpected?" Have the last
few weeks meant NOTHING to you?!

A. looks back at him in shock, not realizing till now what the last few weeks meant to L. He sinks back onto the bed, stunned.

A.
L., look. We were just . . .

He STAMMERS for an answer.

L.
We were just what?

A.
Just . . . fooling around.

Not the answer L. was looking for. He looks as if he's just been slapped in the face AND punched in the gut, ready to crumple with one more hit.

L.
(wry)
Deeper, A.

A.
What?

L.
Twist the knife deeper, why don't you.

Now A.'s shock turns into a shade of frustration. He leaps out of bed and starts pacing the room frantically.

A.
What did you expect, L.? You're . . .
You're my best friend's ex-boyfriend!

L.
What does that have to do with
anything?

A.
Don't you get it, L.? It's wrong.

L.
Yeah, yeah. I got it. You've only
been saying it was wrong every time
YOU called ME up in the middle of
the night, every time YOU brought
ME to your bedroom, every time YOU
slept with ME --

A.
Don't you dare victimize yourself
here, L.! It takes two to tango.

L.
But YOU were the one saying it was
wrong even though YOU were the one
initiating it all, so that makes YOU
the hypocrite, A.

A. sinks back onto the edge of the bed, defeated.

A.
L., we can't -- We can't just . . .
We can't just do this.
(beat)
We can't.

He looks up at L. with pleading eyes, which L. meets with a cold stare.

L.
So, what? It was fine for us to hang
out together without anyone knowing,
fine for us to be alone together in
the middle of the night, fine for us
to just keep seeing each other and
sleeping with each other as long
as we kept believing it was just
"fooling around" and nothing more?
Because, God forbid, one of us might
actually care about the other one
as more than just a fuck buddy and
might actually have real feelings?

A. looks at his feet, caught.

A.
(muttering)
Something like that.

L.
I don't believe you!

He kneels before A., letting his desperation show as he grabs for A.'s hands to hold in his own.

L. (CONT'D)
A., I love you.

A. wrestles his hand away.

A.
L., don't.

He leaps to his feet. Searching for a distraction, he continues packing, grabbing anything in sight and tossing it into the suitcase on the bed.

L.
So, that's it?
(A. ignores him;
on the verge of tears)
A., please!

A. stops packing long enough to give him a reproachful glance before redirecting his gaze to his hands.

A.
I can't –- I can't do this right
now, L. I'm sorry. I just can't.

L. looks at him, defeated. A. continues to pack in silence; L. doesn't stop him.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BEDROOM – EVENING (TWO MONTHS AGO)

A. sits on the edge of the bed in the dark room, naked. He looks over his shoulder at L., sleeping soundly beside him.

A somber look flashes across his face.

AFTER A MOMENT, A. gets up and heads into his bathroom.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BATHROOM – CONTINUING

A. stands over the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

HE AVOIDS MEETING HIS EYES IN THE MIRROR.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BEDROOM – CONTINUING

A. sits back down onto the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

L. stirs awake.

L.
Hey.

A. barely GRUMBLES a reply. L. sits up, concerned.

L. (CONT'D)
Everything okay?

He reaches out to touch A.'s shoulder, who only brushes it off.

L. (CONT'D)
(confused)
Hey --

A.
Let's get you back home.

He rises off the bed and gets dressed, AVOIDING L.'s EYES.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S CAR – NIGHT (LATER)

A. and L. sit in the car in silence outside L.'s apartment complex.

L. shoots A. a glance out of the corner of his eye.

L.
Are you okay? You haven't said
a thing since we . . .
(beat)
Are you okay?

A.
(doesn't want to talk)
Yep. Fine as rain.

L.
Fine as pie?

A.
You know what I meant.
(beat)
Are you okay?

L.
Yeah. I'm fine. It's you I'm
worried about.

A.
(through gritted teeth)
I told you I'm fine.

L. struggles to accept this.

L.
Right. Okay.
(beat)
Well, then I guess I'll . . .
see ya around.

He starts to exit the car when A. SPEAKS UP.

A.
We shouldn't have done that.

L. looks back at him, confused and a little hurt.

L.
What?

A.
What we did . . . We shouldn't
have done that.

L.
Why?
(beat, small)
Was it bad?

A.
No. No, L., it was . . . Good.
Great, even. But . . . It was
wrong. We shouldn't have . . .

L.
Fucked?

The word stings A. a little.

A.
Yeah.

I can't bring myself to finish this, because:

1) it hurts too much to try and relive, and
2) it's already faded from memory.

This is all I'm gonna leave with for now.

Call It Off

2009-11-27T21:55:00.001-08:00

Maybe I would've been something you'd be good at.

- Tegan & Sara

T2M #4

2009-11-23T17:46:00.001-08:00

1122– 235PM
You aren't the kind of guy who asks for help when he needs it the most.

You know it; everyone knows it.

You're in your own words a "true friend" because you rise to action when a call of duty is sounded.

You make yourself available, you offer your help, you don't stop until the job is done.

That's the kind of person you are, and you have to trust that they know it.

However, they have something you don't: the ability to ask for help when they need it.

How can you fault them for not coming to your side when you don't even let it be known that you need them there?

You cannot be angry at anyone in this situation, not even at yourself, as much as you are looking for someone to blame, a scapegoat to target.

It's not your fault you find it difficult to speak your wants and needs from other people because it has been what you were taught.

The only thing left in this situation is re-learning that it's okay to ask for help when you need it.

By accepting the fact that you cannot be in control of everything, you will make it easier to be able to express your needs.

Just trust that they'll be there to help you fill them.

- - -

A quote comes to mind that sums all that up perfectly.

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me
-- Bill Withers / Lean on Me

Amen to that. Thank you, Glee.

just for memory's sake: #3.
1001 – 508PM
Get over yourself.

This is not about you. This has nothing to do with you.

Your role here is strictly to be his support, not to be noticed or have everyone bask in your glory.

Let him have his turn; lord only knows he deserves it.

And most importantly he deserves to have you push your own ego aside and just be the best friend he needs right now.

To Judge A Book By Its Cover

2009-11-20T22:32:00.001-08:00

My favorite book cover of all time:

Forever: A Novel by Pete Hamill

The story was interesting enough (it's the "inspiration*" behind FOX's cancelled [quelle surprise] show New Amsterdam), but it was the cover more than the jacket synopsis that compelled me to buy this book.

* unofficially. you be the judge.

Words of Wisdom

2009-11-20T21:25:00.001-08:00

"Get ready, then," she says, slightly annoyed. "I'm already late."

He runs to his room and throws on his peacoat and cashmere scarf, two of the most prized possessions in his wardrobe, over the gray sweater and jeans he's already wearing.

He shoves his boots over his feet, already adorned with white athletic socks which he knows is both A) unfashionable, and B) unpractical for the walk back home, but he's in a rush—no time to waste tying frivolous laces while she waits for him in the car.

He hears her honking and runs out of the room, stopping only to turn first the television set off, then the cable box. No point in wasting more money on electricity that doesn't even go to good use.

He fumbles with his house key as he tries to lock the door. The cold air comes as a shock to him—a foreshadow of what to expect on his walk of shame back home.

He pats his coat to reassure himself that he brought a lighter with him. He didn't. Luckily he had left a matchbook in the small interior pocket beforehand for situations such as this.

He gets in the car and they pull out of the driveway.

"Where are you going?" he asks her idly, just to make conversation as they make a quick trip to the liquor store down the block.

"Dave & Busters," she replies. He stays quiet, trying to bite back the bad experience he had there a few years ago. No need to share an upsetting story with someone eager to get the night started.

They make it to the gas station faster than he expected.

She hands him a twenty. As he takes it from her, a bit of guilt consumes him.

"Camel Crushes?"

She nods affirmatively as she texts away on her phone.

He walks into the liquor store, recognizing the same man behind the counter. It's always the same man, looking bored, looking like he'd rather be at his friend's party, rather be anywhere then there to help out with the family business on a Friday night.

Always the same man behind the counter every time he walks in to indulge in one of his many vices.

The man is on the phone, irritated. "I don't know, the black one," he grumbles. They lock eyes as he enters. He gives him a familiar nod as he continues his unpleasant conversation over the phone, already reaching towards the cigarette stand.

"Marlboro Menthol 100s, and a pack of Camel Crushes," he tells him. "Please."

The man behind the counter produces the familiar green and white pack, plus a small, black one to pair the coupling.

He hands him a twenty; he hands him his change and gives him another nod.

"Thanks. Have a good one."

Proper social etiquette is something he values, especially when dealing with people who have something he wants.

He returns to the car and drops off the black cigarette pack and change back to her through the window.

"Okay, get in," she commands.

He shakes his head. "Naw, I can walk back."

She has genuine concern in her eyes. He doesn't like it. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I do it all the time. I'll be fine." She doesn't believe him, so to assure her he adds, "Besides, you're already late."

Good enough reason, at least she thinks so. She shrugs and exits the car back onto the main street. He's already turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.

He stops to open the fresh pack, takes out a cigarette and lights it with a match. A deep breath brings smoke into his lungs, along with relief.

He exhales it back out, taking the feelings of guilt with it.

He tightens the scarf around his neck, holds his coat closer to his body to protect him from the night chill as he makes his way back home.

As he walks the dark and sullen sidewalk, he can't help but ask himself how he ended up here—alone.

They're only going to fail you, a voice says in the back of his head.

Don't give yourself away. They only disappoint.

He explores what this small, thoughtful voice is saying as he continues walking. He takes a deep drag off his cigarette as he ponders.

"It's true," he suddenly says aloud, slightly surprising himself. "They only let me down."

Encouraged, the voice continues. Why bother trying anymore? They only make you sad.

He gives heed to the voice he hears, as if it's coming from all around him, until he makes his way closer to home, where the sound of a not-so-distant football game begins to drown out everything else around him, even the voice inside his head.

The last thing he hears as he makes his way through the threshold of his home strikes a cord within him.

It's okay to give up now.

Past Life

2009-11-20T20:33:00.001-08:00

05-0419:

Ahh, then I went home all dejected-like because I was depressed about the gelato and I didn't get my Ringside CD, so I crawled into bed and slept for. like. three hours.

Oh, and before I went inside the house, I decided that it would be nice if I had a cigarette, so I smoked one out on the patio until I realized Papa had been watching me from the glass doors.

Then he's like, You're smoking?! When did you start smoking?! and blah blah angry I-care-about-your-health cakes.

But I was like, Whatever. and trudged upstairs, slamming my door dramatically before locking it, of course.

How cliché. When did I turn into this angry, emotional teenager with issues who stopped talking to everyone and put on this sour face and started hating life and everyone in it?

What an unexpected change from the boy who so very much wanted to be loved.

(source)

Ballad

2009-11-18T22:31:00.001-08:00

Meat Loaf – I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

(lyrics)

THE HILLS: Can You Meet Me Halfway?

2009-11-15T16:02:00.001-08:00

BLACK TITLE CARD: "THE HILLS"

LEO (V.O.)
Previously on "The Hills..."

CUT TO:

INT. THE X – MORNING

LEO and the rest of the VISUAL TEAM are hard at work executing a large floorset throughout the store. It's all about BLACK, WHITE, AND RED, and VERY PROPS-HEAVY -- it screams HOLIDAY.

LEO (V.O.)
I was hard at work with the new
holiday floorset, meaning more
hours, and more money.
(beat)
Unfortunately, more hours for
my bank account meant less hours
for my social account, which,
like my bank account, was already
nearing bankruptcy.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE X – DAY (LATER)

Leo exits the store after a long day. He's texting.

C.U. – LEO'S PHONE

TO: CHRISTIAN
Sorry I'm late. Just left work. You still free to hang?

He presses SEND.

CUT TO:

INT. TROLLEY – LATER

The sun is already setting. Leo looks at his phone.

C.U. – LEO'S PHONE
The screen reads 1 NEW MESSAGE. He opens it.

FROM: CHRISTIAN
Busy running errands. Sorry. :(

Leo SIGHS and shuts his phone. He shifts his gaze out the window, annoyed.

CUT TO:

INT. BAR – NIGHT (LATER)

Leo sits alone at the bar. The BARTENDER hands him a double-vodka tonic.

Leo toasts the empty stool beside him somberly before taking a long swig.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE X – DAY

Leo is on break, smoking. He's joined by CAMERON, eating a small take-out bowl of pasta.

LEO (V.O.)
Thankfully, unlike my bank account,
I still had some social currency
saved away for rainy days, like
a friend like Cameron to help me
cash in a big reality check.

CAMERON
You know what your problem is, Leo?

Leo turns his head languidly to face Cameron.

LEO
(feigned interest)
Oh, do tell, dear friend.

CAMERON
You expect too much from people.

Leo SNORTS and takes another drag off his cigarette.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
(re: Leo's response)
What? Am I wrong?

LEO
No, dear friend. You're not. In
fact, you're actually right on
the money. However, I don't feel
as if these expectations aren't
justified. After all, it's not
like the expectations I put on
other people aren't as high as
the ones I put on myself.

Cameron takes this in as he works through a few bites of pasta. Finally, he comes up with something.

CAMERON
Okay, two things –- One: are the
people you're putting these
expectations on capable of even
meeting them?

Leo thinks about this.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
(patronizingly)
Yes, we all know you're great. Yes,
we all know you have the capacity
to go above and beyond what's
expected of you. We all know that
about you, but do you know that
about them? Can you say the same
things you can do, they can do
just as well?

A small frown forms on Leo's face –- the answer is no.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
And two: do they even know what
the expectations are that you're
hanging around their necks?

This catches Leo off guard. From the look on his face, the answer is an even bigger NO.

Cameron smirks, satisfied.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Didn't think so.

LEO
So, what? To be happy and have
my expectations met, I need to
draft a policy with everyone I
know to let them know what I want
from them and have them sign and
date it, promising to uphold the
aforementioned expectations?

Now it's Cameron's turn to SNORT.

CAMERON
You're nothing short of extreme,
you know that?
(beat)
No, what I'm saying is you can't
walk into a friendship expecting
one thing and not even telling
the second party of the friendship
your expectations. Other people
have different thoughts of what
being friends means, and unless
you're clear about what you want
from them, they're never going
to give you what they want.

Leo takes this in and nods in understanding.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
And second of all, stop putting
yourself first. It's not always
about what YOU want in a friendship.
Maybe people don't want to hang
out with you as much as they do
with their other friends because
you don't put any thought into
what THEY want. Have you ever
thought about that?

Leo cocks an eyebrow at him -- a challenging no.

Cameron SIGHS, exasperated.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Oh, Leo. I don't even know where
to begin with you. Friendship is
not just about having one person's
needs met, aka yours. Both parties
need to get something out of it.
You need to meet each other halfway.

Leo struggles to take this in, a new concept he's trying to wrap his head around.

LEO
You think that's why all my other
relationships failed miserably?
Because I don't know how to compromise?

CAMERON
(deadpan)
No, I think it's because you're
a lousy lay.

Leo looks at him, mock-insulted.

LEO
I'll have you know I'm great in
bed, thank you.

CAMERON
Sure, let me just ask all those
one-night tricks of yours that
turned out to be nothing more.

LEO
Ouch. Fuck you.

CAMERON
No, thanks. You're probably not
going to even try to meet my
needs, so why bother?

Leo mock-glares at him. Cameron smiles sweetly back in return.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Love ya.

Leo blows smoke in his face. Cameron SCREAMS, COUGHS.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Eww, you bitch!

Leo smiles back at him.

LEO
(a la Cameron)
Love ya.

END ACT ONE.

Too lazy to finish the rest. Maybe later. :)

Soul-Shredding Wordplay* #2

2009-11-15T14:46:00.001-08:00

Part of me might want him to realize that nothing had changed since he'd been here last, that the orle of paradise was still there, and that the tilting gate to the beach still squeaked, that the world was exactly as he'd left it, minus Vimini, Anchise, and my father.

This was the welcoming gesture I meant to extend.

But another part of me wanted him to sense there was no point trying to catch up now—we'd traveled and been through too much without each other for there to be any common ground between us.

Perhaps I wanted him to feel the sting of loss, and grieve.

But in the end, and by way of compromise, perhaps, I decided that the easiest way was to show I'd forgotten none of it.

Sometimes, the old saying rings false.

Sometimes you can't go back home again.

- - -

And just for fun:

"Come, I'll take you to San Giacomo before you change your mind," I finally said. "There is still time before lunch. Remember the way?"

"I remember the way."

"You remember the way," I echoed.

He looked at me and smiled. It cheered me. Perhaps because I knew he was taunting me.

Twenty years was yesterday, and yesterday was just earlier this morning, and morning seemed light-years away.

"I'm like you," he said. "I remember everything."

I stopped for a second.

If you remember everything, I wanted to say, and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you're just ready to shut the door of the taxi and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there's not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, even in jest, or as an afterthought, which would have meant everything to me when were together, and, as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.

Powerful stuff, this book.

* Aciman, Andre. Call Me By Your Name. New York: Picador, 2008. Print.

Gallery Art: #1

2009-11-13T14:29:00.001-08:00

(source)

0 – The Fool

2009-11-12T23:47:00.001-08:00

Had a fortune teller offer me all the answers to my burning questions, I wouldn't know what to ask.

Admittedly, I am the type of person who needs to know how things will play out — whether in regards to a book, a movie, a television series, what have you.

In those terms, I like knowing what to expect. It's not the end result I'm truly concerned with; it's how the journey arrives at its destination that intrigues me the most — the vast difference, the tremendous amount of growth that took place between Point A and Point Z.

As much as I'd like to say the same reasoning applies to my outlook on my life, I truly can't.

I can honestly say that I don't really care how my life will end up—what I'll be doing, who I'll be with, where I'll be.

For one, I don't want to look at my life in terms of a timeline and measure out an end point, a finite moment in my life where I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing I've reached my goal and there is nothing left to do anymore.

It's my mission in life to constantly achieve personal growth, to constantly be motivated by the urge to learn and grow and make myself better.

Setting expectations and striving to meet them to me is like setting a limitation. Once I've met that goal, then what?

Which explains why I like leaving things vague and open-ended—it leaves plenty of room for possibility, for unforeseen events that can throw my plan off course and set me on a new direction, a new opportunity for personal growth.

Sure, it makes life a lot more difficult to measure in terms of success and achievements, but from where am I really basing these units of measurement in the first place?

I've only learned that to compare other people's personal successes and achievements to my own will only lead me to disappointment until I force myself to realize that we are two different people with two different goals, two different mindsets, two different sets of priorities—so why even bother comparing the two?

It's like apples to oranges—there is no common denominator, therefore the comparison is invalid, inappropriate.

Also, I don't care how my life ends up because it really doesn't matter all that much to me.

Granted, I do have a few base requirements:
- I have a job I am absolutely passionate about that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning for
- I have a loving partner who supports and challenges me, and I the same to him
- I have children who I cherish and can teach the lessons I've learned and help spread goodwill
- I live day to day with no regrets in full pursuit of my own happiness

I admit that these requirements are pretty lofty and pretty challenging to measure up to, but at least it gives me something to strive for, something to go after with every day of my life.

And that's all I pretty much need.

Everything else, I've learned to accept as they come to me.

I look forward to meeting what life has to offer me head-on, as they come to me.

I can't allow myself to sit and wait for my fortune to come to fruition.

I'm just putting blind faith into my Fate that everything I ask for will come to me in due time, and everything else will just fall into place.

Defying Gravity

2009-11-12T23:00:00.000-08:00

GLINDA:
Elphaba- why couldn't you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle!
I hope you're happy!
I hope you're happy now.
I hope you're happy how you hurt your cause forever.
I hope you think you're clever!

ELPHABA:
I hope you're happy.
I hope you're happy, too.
I hope you're proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition.

BOTH:
So though I can't imagine how, I hope you're happy right now.

GLINDA:
Elphie, listen to me.
Just say you're sorry.
You can still be with the Wizard, what you've worked and waited for.
You can have all you ever wanted.

ELPHABA:
I know.
But I don't want it.
No-
I can't want it anymore.
(beat)
Something has changed within me.
Something is not the same.
I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.
Too late for second-guessing.
Too late to go back to sleep.
It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap…
It's time to try defying gravity.
I think I'll try defying gravity, and you can't pull me down!

GLINDA:
Can't I make you understand?
You're having delusions of grandeur.

ELPHABA:
I'm through accepting limits 'cause someone says they're so.
Some things I cannot change, but till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost.
Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy defying gravity.
Kiss me goodbye.
I'm defying gravity.
And you can't pull me down!
(beat)
Glinda, come with me.
Think of what we could do- together.
Unlimited.
Together, we're unlimited.
Together, we'll be the greatest team there's ever been.
Glinda-
Dreams, the way we planned them.

GLINDA:
If we work in tandem.

BOTH:
There's no fight we cannot win.
Just you and I defying gravity.
With you and I, defying gravity.

ELPHABA:
They'll never bring us down.
(beat)
Well? Are you coming?

GLINDA:
I hope you're happy, now that you're choosing this.

ELPHABA:
You, too.
(beat)
I hope it brings you bliss.

BOTH:
I really hope you get it, and you don't live to regret it.
I hope you're happy in the end.
I hope you're happy, my friend.

ELPHABA:
So if you care to find me, look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Everyone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free.
To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me.
Tell them how I am defying gravity.
I'm flying high, defying gravity.
And soon I'll match them in renown.
And nobody in all of Oz, no Wizard that there is or was, is ever gonna bring me down!

GLINDA:
I hope you're happy!

CITIZENS OF OZ:
Look at her, she's wicked!
Get her!
No one mourns the wicked.
So we've got to bring her down!

The "I" in "Team"

2009-11-10T14:51:00.001-08:00

I am a hard worker, therefore I will be successful in life.

It's not about doing things the right way anymore.

Doing my job the way I am directed to do so on paper is no longer my focus, because I have proven time and time again I am more than capable of doing so.

The challenge, I know now, is to disregard whether I'm doing my job right or not, and to just simply be a team player.

Enough said.

A Friend in Need is a Friend Who's Fucked

2009-11-08T20:37:00.001-08:00

I don't know where things stand, and that to me is what I find the most frustrating.

I'm a dynamic, ever-changing person, so it's stability and consistency that I crave the most— some sort of grounding element that helps pull me back when I start to drift out.

And lately, there hasn't been much of that going for me.

There hasn't been a floor, that aforementioned grounding element to help reel me back in lately, especially during these recent times when I've been feeling all at a loss— lost in myself, lost in my problems, lost in my loneliness.

I've not felt that support I've so desperately seeking, so it feels as if I'm tail-spinning further out into the unknown, into somewhere far away, somewhere unfamiliar, dark in complete isolation with no guide to help bring me back to the life I've known.

Maybe perhaps I'm partly to blame regarding this situation in which I've found myself.

Admittedly, it is not in my nature to reach out when I feel like I am being pulled away.

I expect someone, anyone to take the first step and grab hold of me to pull me back in, bring me back to the world, let me know that I'm safe and supported.

I know it's an unfair expectation to hang around peoples' neck, but it let's me know that I'm not alone in this world, that there is someone out there who cares for me, watching out for me.

But no.

Same shit, different day, I guess.

Every time this had happened, I never got what I had wanted all along: a friend, someone close, someone I trust, to just even drop a line to say Hey, what's going on? Let's go have a cup of coffee and talk.

I don't expect much from anyone, but this is pretty much my only requirement for people who really want to be a true friend in my book.

Someone to just look past all the I'm fines and I'm okays and make the attempt to pry it out of me to see what's really on my mind, and helping me to see that no, I'm not all alone in this world.

But do I ever get that?

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

None of that at all.

So can you blame a guy for wallowing in pity after realizing that yeah, he pretty much is all alone in the world? That this feeling of a vast cloud of loneliness hanging above him is in fact justified?

Didn't think so.

So I guess it's up to me again to pull myself out of this sea of misery I'm drowning myself in.

It's up to me yet again to take the responsibility to get myself to buck the fuck up and get on with life, because obviously no one else is gonna risk reaching their hand out to help me up.

And I wonder why I'm so self-sufficient sometimes, so stubbornly independent that I absolutely refuse to ask for help when I know not doing so will only shoot me in the foot.

Can you blame a guy for not trusting anyone to help him out when they haven't given him a reason to trust them in the first place?

I'm tired of this.

I'm tired of investing all my time and energy caring for other people, showing them I'm capable of being a great friend when they never seem to do the same for me in return.

I will drop everything I'm doing at a moment's notice to meet up with you at your insistence.

I will persistently ask you what's wrong until you really tell me what's on your mind.

I will put aside my own problems so that I can genuinely help you out with yours.

I will be the one to reach out and pull you back in when it feels like you're spinning out of control.

And now I won't be the one waiting for your phone call when I'm on the other side of the situation, because in all honesty: what have you done for me lately?

I'm tired of this shit. I don't care anymore.

Deal with your own drama, because you're the one leaving me to deal with my own.

Failure to Launch

2009-11-03T22:57:00.001-08:00

I'm feeling trapped.

I feel like I'm stuck in self-destructive cycle, doomed to keep on repeating the same mistakes that tear me to shreds, only to force myself to gather all the strength I've got left in me to pick myself back up, only to allow myself to get knocked back down again.

I don't know where I'm going.

I'm feeling as if I've done it all before, over and over again, and just like all those previous trials and tribulations, I've failed—failed so miserably so many times that it seems that that's the only solution I can arrive at without batting an eye, without even trying.

Maybe that's the problem.

Maybe I'm not even trying.

It feels as if I've been letting myself fall by the wayside so many times already that it's become the go-to answer, the default option I let myself go to when things get rough and situations call for me to step up and be a man.

I'm letting myself lose.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Why am I prioritizing the trivial when all along I know I what I need to do is to just buckle down and get my shit done?

Am I failing on purpose?

Maybe. I wouldn't put it past me, knowing my previous track record concerning this particular modus operandi.

But why?

For attention?

No, I don't need the attention. This isn't a cry for help, at least not the way I see it.

I don't want to draw attention to myself this way by spotlighting the fact that I can't focus, can't do what just needs to get done, can't do what it takes to just move on already.

I'm exhausted. I've been working so much, working my ass off.

Caring too much.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I pouring all my energy into my work when I already know I've proven myself?

Granted, I admit there is still some residual guilt left in me for having thrown it all away in the first place. I've not forgotten what I had to go through to get back to where I am now.

Humiliation aside, I'm glad I went through it. It's humbled me, knocked me down a couple pegs.

It gave me the opportunity to learn from previous mistakes, old failures, and make something better of myself.

And I have. I've proven I was worth the second chance, proved that I can change, that I've grown, that I can do so much better.

Knowing that, being able to acknowledge that, see the difference from who I was to who I'm becoming— that alone has been one of the most truly gratifying gifts I could ever give myself.

But what now?

I don't feel challenged anymore.

I'm not motivated to do anything else, not inspired to bring myself to action for… anything, it feels like.

I hate to say I'm dead inside. I know I'm not.

But something in me feels like it's broken.

Something in me is not clicking, something in me is not fueling the fire to get me off my ass and do something, anything.

I've fallen behind in my schoolwork, which is completely ridiculous and unacceptable, I know, considering the fact that I've only got one class to worry about this time around.

I can't fail it again, can't waste anymore of my time.

But that desire to not fail doesn't seem to be enough for me to motivate myself to do something about it.

I'm normally an action-oriented person.

Something ignites my interest, flames my passion, makes me want to get up and rule the goddamn world.

But I haven't felt that way in quite a while now, and I don't know why.

It feels as if I've fallen back in a slump.

The only consistent thing about me is my erratic mood swings.

I go from happy, inspired, brilliant, jubilant, to melancholic, apathetic, lethargic at the drop of a hat.

One moment I'm up, up, and up, and the next… I don't know what happens or how I get there, but the next thing I know is that I feel like I'm on a tailspin towards depression.

It is that time of the year…

I'm more susceptible to depression 'round this time.

I never do so well in the fall and winter months, when the only feeling I can recognize in me can be summed up as "bleak."

This is when the vices increase, intensify to a new level of addiction I'm normally capable of staving off any other time of the year.

This is when I feel the most empty, when I rediscover the void in my heart still exists and has continued to go on unfulfilled.

So what do I do?

I fill that void within me with more vices, in desperate hopes to plug up the hole that I can't fill, can't even name, can't even fathom how vast and bottomless it is.

More cigarettes, more alcohol, more pharmaceuticals.

More unfulfilled longing for love and intimacy, covered up by casual sex and artificial detachment.

This is the time of year I fuck myself up even more than I already am.

Because I am a fuck up.

No matter how intelligent I can make myself sound, no matter how competent I can portray myself to be, no matter how confident I can carry myself to look, it still doesn't make up for the fact that I'd rather take the easier route and make a mess of myself than to even try to break out of the self-destructive cycle I've been in since God knows when.

Caught In A Bad Romance

2009-10-31T22:42:00.001-07:00

"Hydrocodone may be habit-forming and should be used only by the person it was prescribed for. Hydrocodone and acetaminophen should never be given to another person, especially someone who has a history of drug abuse or addiction. Keep the medication in a secure place where others cannot get to it."

(source)

Slippery slopes are best navigated with ankles that aren't screaming in pain.

An Itch You Can't Scratch

2009-10-21T23:55:00.001-07:00

I'm irritated and I don't know why.

The only emotion that rushes up to meet me when I check in with myself is anger and frustration, the hatred boiling in me so hot that it's manifesting itself through physical symptoms.

I'm itchy and agitated. I'm scratching needlessly, desperately at my skin, my hair, as if I'm digging for something deep within me, something that would provide the answer as to why I feel this way.

It's like a metaphor, with me scratching away, trying to find that spot that would hit me right where it hurts, but would also deliver me the pleasure of satisfaction over having found my mark.

But I'm digging and scratching and I feel like I haven't even begun to have scratched the surface, haven't even begun to discover a ballpark estimate of what it is that's driving me up the wall.

What is it that has got me feeling so hot under the collar?

Better yet, what was it that triggered this seemingly dormant emotion?

I was fine before all this.

I got my shit done, I behaved appropriately (well, as appropriate as I can be.).

I was in every means a normal, functioning member of society.

Until now.

Now I feel like a madman's taken hold of me, holding me captive until I've figured out a way to resolve all of his issues, so vast a task I can't even begin to discover where to start.

Maybe I'm just exhausted.

I've worked my ass off these past few weeks, barely functioning on little to no sleep whatsoever.

I've barely had time for myself, let alone other people. When I wasn't working, I was trying to squeeze in some time for sleep, or forcing myself to get the rest of my responsibilities or errands done, or wasting away all hopes of free time on public transportation.

Now it feels like I'm falling apart, coming undone at the seams right before my very eyes.

What is it that triggered this in me? Why am I now so consumed with my own irritation that I can't even focus on maintaining control of myself?

There are things I know I need to say, words I know I need to verbally express to make me feel more at ease in my situation—but I'm not saying them.

Why?

What are my motives for keeping them to myself, for not letting my needs known?

What exactly am I trying to grasp at here?

I crave a connection.

I'm desperate to find that intimate connection because for some reason, I feel as if possessing that would somehow complete me.

I'm irritated because I don't have it.

And with this irritation, I only push people further away instead of bringing them closer.

I'm putting myself on a destructive cycle here.

I want you, but I want you to keep your distance.

Come closer, stay away.

I'm torn between these two and I don't know which way to go.

Don't even know how to take a step in either direction.

I need space.

I need to distance myself away from everyone.

Better to have nothing than to have just a little of something.

Oh God, I'm falling apart and I don't know how to put myself back together again.

Learning Curve

2009-10-20T22:36:00.001-07:00

What did I expect?

You bare your heart and soul to another person.

You finally give verbal expression to what you're really feeling deep down inside.

You openly pour your guts out to someone you trust completely in an honest, no-holds-barred fashion without being afraid to be seen as weak, vulnerable, flawed.

You willingly lay out all of your cards on the table for the whole world to see, and of course, this is what happens.

It's astonishing to see the lack of a learning curve I posses with this sort of thing, given the amount of times I've put myself in this situation many times before.

I give, and I give, and I give—but what do I ever get in return?

Besides regret, that is.

Let that be another lesson to you.

How does a fish get caught?
He opens his mouth.

The cards are staying close to my chest this time around.

Mission Statement, revised

2009-10-03T01:14:00.001-07:00

I'm having an extremely difficult time with the first assignment of the class I'm taking for the third (and hopefully last) time.

Establish your life's mission statement and tailor it to meet the description of your business.

Step one:

To promote the awareness and understanding of the connection between the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of life.

To teach the world about the integration of body, mind, and spirit.

To increase the efficiency and productivity of an accessible population.

To make the world more productive.

To empower the masses with education and physical prowess.

To eliminate the musculoskeletal hindrances of the working class through therapeutic bodywork and client education. (?)

I guess I'm having a very tough time trying to get past Step One because I've yet to find exactly what it is that makes up the driving force of my life.

I don't know what my purpose in life is, my reason for being here.

And it's driving me nuts.

Not just because I need to know it so I can finally move on with my Career Development project, but because I've spent 22 years of my life living on this earth without ever knowing what it is I want out of it.

I guess I should calm down, take it slow. Be a little more patient with myself, because what 22-year-old really knows what it is exactly that they want to make of their life?

I know I shouldn't expect too much out of myself, but I can't help placing these nearly-impossible expectations around my neck— it's just who I am.

And also, I really want to move on with this fucking assignment.

So what is it exactly that I want to make out of my life?

What is it exactly that gives me that oomph!, that driving passion that makes me can't help but do something?

What is it exactly that puts a fire under my ass and inspires me to do something great, make my mark on this world?

I have so many wants in my my life, so many tasks I want to cross off my life's To-Do list, but I've yet to run across that one entry that makes my heart leap out of my chest, the one I read and immediately know that's it!

The one thing I know for certain is that I don't want to leave this world without ever having made my mark on it.

I want to make an outstanding impact, make the time I spent on this earth mean something before I leave it.

This is the big picture I see that really inspires me to… what, exactly?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

What can I do to leave that kind of impression on this world?

It feels as if there is this large cloud of enigmatic possibility floating above me, so profound I can't even begin to comprehend its existence, and it is just waiting for me to tap into my highest potential so it can finally break and let loose the greatness I've got stored up inside of me.

And all I can do is feel washed up with regret over the fact that I still haven't figured out a way to reach it, to not even begin to have scratched the surface if it after all this time.

It's left me feeling nothing but frustration.

I feel like banging my head against the wall until I force it out of me, just so I can save myself all that time unsuccessfully trying to figure out who I am and what greatness I can achieve.

To answer why I want to achieve such greatness is easy: because I love praise and adoration that would come of possessing such an accomplishment.

I'm only ever truly happy when I have an audience, someone with whom to bask in the glory of my triumphs, the darkness of my failures, the pride in my success.

Perhaps that is my main purpose in life: to have an audience.

It's what I can honestly say makes me truly happy in life.

But how to tailor it to a massage-oriented business…?

Open Letter: Little J.

2009-09-23T23:38:00.001-07:00

Dear Little J.,

I'm sorry I held you back.

I'm sorry I didn't give you all the support you needed as you struggled through your life without knowing what any of it meant.

I'm sorry I believed all this time that you were too weak and fragile to stand up and fight for yourself.

I'm sorry for not hearing your voice, for letting you cry yourself to sleep some nights without letting anyone know why.

I'm sorry I put so much fear into you I had to put you in a shell to protect you from the world.

I'm sorry for not giving you the strength you needed to fight those fears, the courage to seek life on your own, the love in yourself that was the summation of all you ever really needed.

I'm sorry I taught you to fear instead of to love.

I'm sorry for shutting you out.

I'm sorry I let you down.

I was stupid.

I made some horrible mistakes.

I wish to God I could go back in time and correct them for you, to save you from all the hurt and misery I put you through, but you and I both know that's not how it works.

So instead of sending you my regrets (what would you do with them, anyway?), I'm sending you my gratitude.

Thank you for all that you've done. The decisions you've made. The choices you've chosen. The actions you've taken.

The situations you've been through.

The hurt you've felt.

They've all helped to shape the person I am today.

Without you, I am nothing.

I would not have the great strength I possess now had you not suffered for them.

You are the one who has taught me that the strength I've needed all this time could be found in myself, and that the love I've been looking for has always been there, just waiting to be discovered.

Thank you for showing me what I thought I destroyed was never lost at all.

Love,
J.

A Walk In The Park

2009-09-18T20:31:00.001-07:00

Had some spare time today after work and before class to spend walking through the Marina district of Downtown San Diego on a whim.

Spent some time here:

The Children's Park

Managed to take a few panorama shots before having to rush off for class.

You told me that you go back to the same places a lot.
Yeah, it's like gravity—big events pull you in.

You were a big event.

Texts To Myself (T2M) #2

2009-09-15T15:40:00.001-07:00

0914 – 417PM
I've been feeling so out of touch with the world.

I haven't spent much quality time with my friends lately. The only thing connecting us now is Facebook and sporadic text messages that don't come as often as I'd like.

Even that makes me feel as if our friendship is hanging on by a measly string.

I've gotten so used to spending so much time with them that when we resume our normal distance from each other, my dramatic nature takes over and makes me believe I've been deserted, stranded, abandoned.

I guess this time away from my friends can be considered a blessing in disguise.

It's given me time to myself, time I only see now that I've desperately needed all along.

I need time to recuperate, nurture my strength. Get everything I need done that doesn't require their help.

This period of isolation shouldn't be misconstrued as a dry spell of loneliness, but as a time to get myself back on track and reprioritize my life.

curious for #1?
0829 – 1243AM
Don't punish him for what happened.

It's not his fault; it's your own insecurities coming to the surface, your own jealousy you're coming face to face with and you know it's never going to be pretty.

Allow yourself to recognize that yeah, you are jealous. Then be able to forgive yourself for feeling that way.

The sooner you get over yourself, the sooner you'll enjoy the moment for what it is and leave it at that.

Action Plan - 0910

2009-09-10T23:21:00.001-07:00

My head is in such a messy state right now.

So many things to do, so many things to take care of; I feel like I'm spinning out of control into disaster unless I force myself to shake out of my hysteria and take the reigns.

Time for a little prioritizing.

(REV. 0921 | 1116PM)

ESCUELALA
x ~~touch for health~~ ~~// study TFH protocol + exam (0916)~~
x ~~synergistic massage // (3) client evaluation forms (0917)~~
x ~~advanced lab //~~ ~~Thoracic Outlet Syndrome pamphlet (0918)~~
x ~~asian bodywork //~~ ~~(12) Tui Na/Shiatsu treatment logs (0921)~~

_ call financial aid to increase student loan by $900 (0915)
x ~~register for career development for the last time! (0918)~~

OTHER
x ~~pay phone bill~~
_ renew ID
_ buy:
xxx- ~~glandular adrenal supplements~~
xxx- condoms
xxx- beard trimmer
_ fold down woven shirts
_ remember to breathe

I think it's about damn time I got my shit together.

M.B., 09-0827

2009-08-27T21:19:00.001-07:00

The good times are killing me.

The Culprit

2009-08-23T11:05:00.001-07:00

vastus medialis

(source)

Open Letter: I.

2009-08-17T02:01:00.001-07:00

I.,

I'm happy for you.

I'm excited for you.

You have a fresh start.

You've got every opportunity in the world laid out before you, and it can all be yours, just ripe for the picking.

I only want everything good possible for you.

I'm only sad because this situation just serves as a painful reminder that I've already cashed in my check, already had these opportunities you're only beginning to experience and had lost them with nothing more than a bat of an eye.

Don't make the same mistakes I've made.

I won't let you make the same mistakes I've made.

I love you.

J.

Over(sex)drive

2009-08-17T01:55:00.001-07:00

Has sex lost its meaning for me?

It's been a long time since I've had a physical relationship with someone I genuinely cared about, rather than anonymous strangers in unfamiliar places.

It feels as if I've been on autopilot for so long that I'm afraid I've forgotten what it's like to take the wheel and drive to a destination of my own choosing, to a place I've been yearning to go for so long.

I feel nothing but emptiness inside, only a wave of regret washing over me at every attempt I make to fill that void that only results in failure.

Maybe W. was right.

Hiding my expectations and desires from the world doesn't protect me from disappointment; it only leaves me feeling weaker, emptier.

A fraud.

By not claiming my true wants and needs, I will never receive them.

I'm settling.

I'm accepting things way below the standard of my expectations.

No wonder I'm unhappy.

I'm not getting what I want, and I can only blame myself.

I've set my self up for disappointment by trying to protect myself from it.

It feels as if I've been given something completely opposite of what I wanted all along, and it's too late to take it back, too late for a do-over.

My mistake has cost my happiness, but this time I'm willing to fight for it back.

I know what I want now. I've always known.

Now it's just a matter of being honest with myself for wanting it, and not being afraid of going after it.

It's my turn to take the wheel and point it to the direction I want to go this time around.

Soul-Shredding Wordplay*

2009-08-17T01:41:00.001-07:00

It must have come to me a while later when I was still in his arms. It woke me up before I even realized I had dozed off, filling me with a sense of dread and anxiety I couldn't begin to fathom.

I felt queasy, as if I had been sick and needed not just many showers to wash everything off but a bath in mouthwash.

I needed to be far away—from him, from this room, from what we'd done together.

It was as though I were slowly landing from an awful nightmare but wasn't quite touching the ground yet and wasn't sure I wanted to, because what awaited was not going to be much better, though I knew I couldn't go on hanging on to that giant, amorphous blob of a nightmare that felt like the biggest cloud of self-loathing and remorse that had ever wafted into my life.

I would never be the same.

How had I let him do these things to me, and how eagerly had I participated in them, and spurred them on, and then waited for him, begging him, Please don't stop.

Now his goo was matted on my chest as proof that I had crossed a terrible line. …

[I had offended] those who were yet unborn or unmet and whom I'd never be able to love without remembering this mass of shame and revulsion rising between my life and theirs. It would haunt and sully my love for them, and between us, there would be this secret that could tarnish everything good in me.

Sounds just like a first time to me.

* Aciman, Andre. Call Me By Your Name. New York: Picador, 2008. Print.

Apathy

2009-08-16T00:25:00.001-07:00

It's hard to care when there's so many things vying for your attention.

You just sort of give up trying to take control of things and say "Fuck it, I'm done."

I hate to be a victim of apathy.

I'm never against taking a stand for what's right.

I don't know how, but I've lost my fight.

Too many things to fight for, I guess I just gave up.

I'm sorry.

I just don't care anymore.

Say Goodnight And Go

2009-08-10T02:21:00.001-07:00

I think we're done.

(It was fun while it lasted.)

First

2009-08-07T22:57:00.001-07:00

There are lots of things I've come to learn about myself these past few weeks.

I am so much more than I realize.

These past few weeks have been a time of many Firsts for me, Firsts I had never hoped nor dreamed nor ever expected I would be ever capable of doing.

My First Time Hooking Up In An Adult Video Arcade Booth.

My First Time Hooking Up With Someone In My New House.

My First Time Hooking Up With More Than One Person At The Same Time.

My First Time Buying Drugs.

My First Time Having A Great Birthday.

My First Time Realizing That I Already Have The Amazing Friends I've Always Wanted.

My First Time Realizing I Already Have The Best Friend I'd Been Wishing For All This Time.

My First Time Realizing I Am Stronger Than I Give Myself Credit For.

My First Time Being Truly Happy With What I Have.

Yes, it's definitely been a series of Firsts, one after the other, and in such a short time frame.

I feel as if I've walked into a whirlwind, only to be spat back out a disheveled mess.

Only instead of losing everything like how I usually end up feeling in previous situations like this, I've gained so much more.

It's only now that I realize that I am truly meant to be happy. I've been given Life's blessings all this time, and in my constant pursuance of my impossibly high expectations, I've only felt as if I'd been given the short end of the stick… until now.

Until I had been given the gift to open my eyes and truly see what it is with which I'd been so graciously blessed.

This post is not what I had originally anticipated it to be.

I thought I was going to sit down and write about the profound impact yesterday evening had been for me and its repercussions on my psyche and that premiere relationship around which it centers, but I guess I've managed to see the bigger picture this time around.

I admit there are times when my insecurities get a strong hold of me, making it feel impossible for me to shake off those persistent voices telling me I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, I'm not strong enough.

But it took something so huge, so great in its divine meaning I can't even begin to comprehend its impact on me, to make me finally realize that I am so much more than I give myself credit for.

It's helped boost my self-esteem exponentially, which I have to say had been lagging for quite some time now that I began to wonder what my self-worth really was— and it's never a pretty picture when I let my mind wander over there.

Someone out there cares about what I have to say.

Someone out there appreciates what I can contribute to this world.

Someone out there can benefit from the wisdom I've learned and am willing to pass on.

Someone out there believes in me.

And I've finally realized for the first time: it's about damn time I started believing in myself.

Deuce Deuce

2009-08-05T22:22:00.001-07:00

Thank you, guys!

(Sorry, Wilfred + date!)

I Thought That You'd Want What I Want

2009-08-04T22:34:00.001-07:00

I Wanna Rock Wit U

2009-08-02T17:11:00.001-07:00

hey u want to hook up thresome

You sure know how to rock a guy's world.

- - -

I'm fascinated by the intrigue.

I never cease to feel as if my heart is leaping out of my chest whenever I hear from you, think of you.

I'm not bored yet.

If anything, you leave me curious as to what you're gonna pull out of your sleeve next.

The excitement you throw my way makes me feel alive again, gives me that rush, that thrill that I had been desperately seeking for such a long time.

It's never a dull moment with you.

Let's keep this going.

Don't stop now.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I am hooked on you.

- - -

I'm game if you are.

Life In Fiction, Edited (L.I.F.E.): 073108

2009-07-31T22:09:00.000-07:00

OVER BLACK.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
He always wanted to start his
birthday off with a bang.

THE SOUND OF TWO MEN GROANING
fills the soundtrack.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

TWO MEN are in the middle of a hot and heavy fuck session on the bed, softly outlined only by the limited pale blue light of the moon coming through a window.

Their GROANING and the sounds of BED SPRINGS CREAKING are the only things we hear until the NARRATOR's voice rises through the intimate noises.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
It was the only year he got
his wish.

We stay on the two bodies grinding forcefully in synch for a moment before we --

FADE TO:

INT. TAXICAB – EVENING (EARLIER)

A YOUNG MAN (20, of the first scene), dressed rather formally in a shirt, dress pant, and top coat (all black), sits in the back of a taxi cab making its way through a relatively affluent suburb, staring out the window with a glassy-eyed stare.

What am I doing? What the hell was I thinking?! Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Forgive him, Father, for he knows not what he does…

C.U. – THE REARVIEW MIRROR
The DRIVER'S GENTLE BROWN EYES sneak a glance at the young man in his backseat.

DRIVER
(trying to make conversation,
with a heavy Spanish accent)
You havin' a good night?

The young man tears his sight away from the window long enough to meet the driver's stare through the mirror.

YOUNG MAN
I'm counting on it.

He resumes his gaze out the window, ending the conversation.

Noting this, the driver CLEARS HIS THROAT at the awkward silence that ensues and turns on the radio to a SPANISH STATION, singing along softly.

YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
Thanks.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE - SIDEWALK – NIGHT (LATER)

The taxi cab pulls away from the curb, leaving the young man standing awkwardly on the sidewalk of a quiet residential neighborhood.

He takes a DEEP BREATH as he looks out at the dark two-story house in front of him, a soft, muffled blue glow emanating from the ground floor window.

Oh, God. Here I am. Jesus, now what?

C.U. – HIS HAND
begins to tremble softly in nervousness.

He immediately shoves his hand into his coat pocket, retrieving a small silver cigarette case.

He extracts a cigarette from the case and lights it up, taking a DEEP DRAG before EXHALING SLOWLY- a sweet release for his anxiety.

His gaze never leaves the house as he finishes his cigarette off desperately.

He's in there, waiting. The man that holds all my hopes and dreams. He's there, waiting for me. The key to this night. Better make it last. We've still got a way's to go before midnight…

After a long moment he tosses his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his boot.

He makes his way toward the front door.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE – FRONT DOOR – CONTINUING

He pauses at the front door, hesitating.

Oh, God, oh, God. Is it too late to turn around? End this now? I can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't see you. See, it's my birthday and I really wanted to do this because it means a lot to me but now I'm not so sure you're the right man for the job. Jesus Christ, just turn the fuck around…

He raises a shaking finger and moves it toward the doorbell, inching his way closer until his finger is just on the button.

Here we go. Judgment day..

Immediately he shoves his hand back into the safety of his coat pocket.

Oh, God, I can't do this.

He releases a HEAVY SIGH and withdraws his cell phone. He scrolls through his address book, stopping on "R." and presses "CALL."

It RINGS.

No turning back now.

He SIGHS.

MAN (V.O.)
Hello?

The VOICE on the other end visibly catches him off-guard. He takes a moment to gather his bearings, CLEARING HIS THROAT before responding.

YOUNG MAN
Hey, it's me. I'm outside.

MAN
Hey! I just got out of the
shower, give me a second.

Why bother getting dressed?

YOUNG MAN
Sure thing.

He hangs up, taking in another DEEP BREATH.

A MOMENT PASSES before the door opens, revealing a shirtless MAN (30) in well-worn jeans, the grin on his face a mile-wide.

Jesus. I want it to be you.

MAN
Hey! Come on in.

The young man hesitates for a moment before he raises a foot over the threshold.

THE DOOR CLOSES AUTHORITIVELY behind him.

CUT TO:

INT. HOUSE – FOYER – CONTINUING

The young man glances around the room (formal leather seating, glass coffee tables, abstract paintings, an aquarium devoid of fishes) as he removes his coat and shoes.

The man locks his eyes on the young man, drinking him in with a disarming smile as he continues his glance around the room.

YOUNG MAN
What happened to Kool and
the gang?

MAN
Huh?

He follows the young man's gaze to the empty aquarium sitting opposite the large living room window, its blue glow ethereal and haunting.

MAN (CONT'D)
Oh. They got sick. Bad food.

YOUNG MAN
What a shame.

MAN
Tell me about it.

The young man looks over to him, notices his grin.

It's my birthday tonight.

He looks away.

CUT TO:

SEVERAL LARGE KOI FISH
splash frantically on the surface of a small pond.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE – BACKYARD – CONTINUING

The fish are just quick flashes of white, black, and orange as the man, now wearing a sweater, generously sprinkles flakes of food into the water.

The young man watches from a distance, a slight smile on his face.

YOUNG MAN
Good to see they're doing
well.

The man looks over his shoulder at him, a proud patronly smile on his face.

MAN
Yeah, they're doing great!

I want to see that smile when I wake up in the morning. That smile will make this all worthwhile.

YOUNG MAN
They've grown bigger since I
was here last.

The man sets the container of food down, says a quick good night to the fishes, and makes his way back to stand beside the young man, his gaze locked on the pond.

MAN
("it's been a while.")
Yeah, they've definitely grown
since then.

Almost daring himself, the young man leans a little closer to him until he's only an inch away.

Noticing this, the man smiles at him.

It's my birthday tonight and I want it to be you.

He throws his arm around the young man and holds him close.

MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Let's go inside.

Oh, shit.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM – LATER

The man moves into the room, peeling out of his sweater and turning the television on to the local news, before throwing himself onto the bed with a LOUD SIGH.

He looks over at the young man, hesitating at the doorway.

MAN
Close the door. My roommate will
be home soon.

So private. I don't know anything about you. What am I doing here? I want it to be you.

The young man closes the door softly behind him and locks it. He looks over to the man, who pats the space on the bed beside him.

MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Relax.

The young man hesitates.

Oh, God. Here goes nothing.

After a moment, he makes his way towards the bed, removing his watch and emptying the contents of his pockets on the night stand, all the while being under the watchful gaze of the man.

He sinks cautiously onto the bed, nearly hugging the edge.

The man LAUGHS SOFTLY and places a friendly hand on his thigh.

MAN (CONT'D)
You alright over there? Why
don't you come a little closer?

The young man takes his suggestion, uneasily easing himself closer to the man.

I want it to be you. It's my birthday tonight. Here goes nothing.

He peels out of his shirt, leaving on his tank top and dress pants.

MAN (CONT'D)
That's better.

He places his hand on the young man's thigh once more, looks up at him.

The young man looks back at him with a gentle smile.

Don't hurt me. I want it to be you.

The man smiles back, a gleam in his eyes.

MAN
(softly)
You want to?

Of course. It's my birthday. I want it to be you.

The young man nods, slinking OFF FRAME to undo the man's jeans before getting to work . . .

FADE TO:

INT. BEDROOM – SUNRISE

Soft, morning light streams through the window, spilling onto the bed where the man and the young man lie on opposite ends.

The man sleeps peacefully, SNORING SOFTLY, as the young man watches him quietly from his side.

After a moment, he moves closer towards the man, nestling beside his arm.

It's my birthday. What am I doing here?

He reaches out a hand to gently stroke the man's chest, lingering over every plane of muscle as he works his way down.

Who are you? I wanted it to be you.

The man STIRS, opening his eyes softly and focusing his gaze on the young man beside him.

YOUNG MAN
Morning.

The man smiles at him.

MAN
Morning.

It's my birthday.

He wraps his arm around him and holds him close before breaking away.

I wanted it to be you.

CUT TO:

INT. CAR – MORNING (LATER)

The two men are on the drive back. SOFT POP ROCK plays on the radio as they gaze out into the neighborhood they speed through.

MAN
These houses are so nice. Must
be a nice neighborhood.

YOUNG MAN
Yeah, it's . . . nice.

The man YAWNS.

MAN
Jesus. I still gotta head
to work.

He turns to grin lasciviously at the young man.

MAN (CONT'D)
That was a nice way to start the
morning.

The young man grins back at him.

YOUNG MAN
Got a little pep in your step?

MAN
Maybe a little.
(beat)
I can't believe it's already
August. Time flies, man, I'm
telling you.
(beat)
Hey, isn't your birthday in
August?

I wanted it to be you.

YOUNG MAN
Yep.

MAN
What day?

The young man turns to look at him squarely in the eye.

YOUNG MAN
Today, actually.

The man reacts in complete shock.

MAN
You're kidding me!

The young man resumes his gaze out the window.

YOUNG MAN
Nope. Today . . . is my
birthday.

I wanted it to be you.

The man takes this in for a moment before slapping him on the thigh with an AMUSED LAUGH.

MAN
Well, happy birthday!

YOUNG MAN
Thank you.

As the man continues to let this fact sink in, the smile on his face begins to slowly disappear.

It's my birthday. I wanted it to be you.

MAN
(realizing, softly)
Happy birthday.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

Having Your Cake (And Eating It, Too)

2009-07-26T22:38:00.001-07:00

I thought this time around it would be easy.

I knew what I was in for. I knew the rules of the game: meet up, hook up, get off, go our separate ways— a clean break.

What I didn’t expect was my overinflated ego to get in the way.

It would’ve been so simple. It could’ve been so nice.

If it wasn’t for the awkward moment after the fact, I think I could’ve spent all day today with that goofy smile on my face.

But no.

Once again, Fate has conspired to use its entitled power to redirect a balance in my life.

Fate giveth, and Fate taketh away.

From one extreme to another, I’m still working on finding that middle ground again.

In the crossfire, the process of returning back to that state of homeostasis, I’ve managed to puff up my ego and, of course, shrink it back down to size— all in less than an hour, too.

Now I’m left licking my wounds and nursing my bruised ego, trying to figure out where it went wrong and where I can go from here.

It’s not about him.

It’s about me.

It always is, no?

I can honestly say I hold no judgment towards him, no hard feelings, no grudge. It is what it is on his end— what more can I expect of him than that?

What hurts me the most is the realization that I’m letting myself be punished by this. For taking it too strongly, too personally, when all it really was was nothing more than a silly game.

Tragic flaw #1: I care too much.

As much as I want to say, “What the fuck ever.” to all of this and call it a day, live and let live, let bygones be bygones, etc., I know this will simmer in me for a while unless I work it out of me via this entry.

I’ve yet to reply to his question.

I only remember my initial reaction as soon as I got that text was “Ouch,” and I think it has been ever since.

Not “Oh my God, I can’t believe this fucker!”

Not “Motherfucker, what an asshole!”

Not any of that.

Just “Ouch.”

It bothers me the most that I couldn’t have been enough, at least for the night.

It’s something with which I’m always struggling, I reckon.

It brings up old, hard-hitting insecurities that I am never enough, never good enough, simply not enough to captivate someone’s attention on an exclusive level.

That I don’t matter, just another face in the crowd.

I guess I still expected something out of the situation, no matter how much I told myself I was going into it with no expectations at all. I can at least give myself that.

I’ve tried to justify this to help myself realize that maybe I’m going through this for nothing, so I can just stop feeling sorry for myself now.

Maybe he didn’t mean it the way I interpreted. Maybe it was just an innocent question, one set forth by idle curiosity and chance.

Maybe I took it way more personally than I should’ve, once given survey of my consistent and naturally self-centered outlook on things.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.

I can continue on making justifications left and right, but damn, I gotta admit, I’m still left feeling a little crushed.

The Lion Takes Center Stage

2009-07-25T20:52:00.001-07:00

As the Sun moves around the zodiac, it spends about one month in each sign. On July 22, it moved from the deeply feeling sign of Cancer the Crab and into the limelight-loving sign of Leo the Lion! Whatever your sign, you'll definitely feel the influence as Leo adds sizzle to the summer and kicks the mood up a couple notches ...

The Sun is in Leo until August 22, and you couldn't ask for a more exciting sign to see us through the hottest month of summer! That's because Leo's element is Fire, and like fellow Fire signs Aries and Sagittarius, Leo is all about living in the moment! This Fire sign's ability to go from the gut can make it seem impulsive, but actually, Leo is incredibly intuitive.

To Leo, all the world's a stage -- and Leo would always like to be in the spotlight! For this reason, the Lion can come across as image-conscious, but make no mistake: regal Leo is no narcissist. Like its symbol, Leo is proud and noble, has natural leadership skills and a deep loyalty to those it cares about.

Even for those of us who aren't Leos, the mood for the next month will still be much more social. Leo is the sign of celebration, encouraging us to plan summer festivities, poolside parties and spontaneous nights out. And as you get ready to hit the town, you might just find that the notoriously glam Leo influence has a lot to say about your wardrobe decisions: you may not have opted for shiny fabrics, metallics or "bling" in the past, but you'll suddenly find yourself drawn to more flamboyant fashion choices!

Leo is also a very theatrical sign, so keep the drama in check with friends, family and life in general. At the same time, enjoy the fast pace and high style of the next four weeks!

(source)

Reunited

2009-07-23T22:33:00.001-07:00

I can’t believe I ever forgot how much in love I am with Eric Bana.

The refresher:

Romulus, My Father (Domestic Trailer) by ginfarang

(source)

And he’s a Leo to boot.

Highs & Lows

2009-07-22T23:27:00.001-07:00

What did I just do?

Like others before me, it was in the spur of the moment, in the bizarre and random twist of chance, that I made a really thoughtless, impulsive decision.

Just what the hell did I get myself into?

I’m scared for myself. I didn’t think this through, just dove right in.

Why did I do this?

I’m not the same person anymore. I’m not who I thought I was.

I crossed a threshold and there’s certainly no chance of coming back.

Who have I become?

I didn’t think I had it in me. It frightens me that when left to my own devices without superimposed logic and reason I would make a decision such as this.

I’m torn and don’t know why.

Did I just lose respect for myself for choosing this path?

It’s just a step in one direction; no telling where it’ll lead me, but it was a step I had never planned on taking.

I guess I’m just in shock over what had taken place, my thoughtless action that helped to shape the situation.

I am full of regret moreso than anything at the moment.

I had always prided myself in always knowing right and wrong, and now I’m not so sure where I stand.

Maybe I should take this as proof that I am more than I realize, that I am capable of more than I thought.

I’m not the goody two-shoes I had always thought I was, always picking right over wrong.

Perhaps this is just a symptom of the transformation I’ve felt undergoing within me these past few months.

I’m shaking off my old self, my old ideals, to show I’m now becoming something much more.

The two-dimensional landscape of my character is mutating into something much more complex, inheriting a new layer of depth and conflict to contribute to all that makes up the whole.

There is a new person in me fighting for release, for his well-deserved freedom, and I can do nothing but wait and move in his own time.

Jun Boy 101*

2009-07-22T15:34:00.001-07:00

Wilhelm Reich believed that without suppressed feelings we would not have a character, as we know it. We would all be open, free and loving in our relationships and dealings with each other.

Suppressed feelings, on the other hand, inhibit the free flow of feeling energies in our body and this causes us in our social interactions to react subconsciously to our suppressed feelings rather than to the immediate situation at hand. The various forms of inhibition of the free and natural flow and expression of feelings in different individuals are their ‘character.’

Depending on the nature of our suppressed feelings, Wilhelm Reich and his followers in bio-energetic and other forms of psychodynamic bodywork commonly distinguish between five character structures: schizoid, oral, psychopathic, masochistic and rigid. Commonly we represent mixtures of two or more of these types but with one character type usually dominant.

THE SCHIZOID CHARACTER

In the schizoid individual the main emotional trauma occurred around the time of birth. This may have been a distressing birth process or hostility from one or both parents towards the baby, commonly the baby was unwanted and it felt abandoned by the mother, either physically or emotionally.

The baby deals with this by withdrawing into itself, closing itself off from the world. This same technique is then used in later life whenever the individual feels threatened. The basic subconscious fear or anxiety is the feeling of being unwanted, having no right to exist, a psychological split between the desire to live in the physical world and a wish to withdraw into the spirit world.

In communications with others this type tends to intellectualize and use impersonal language. The body structure is with elongated limbs and digits and weak joints, the body appears uncoordinated with right-left imbalances and often cold hands and feet. The energy structure is 'ungrounded' or 'airy-fairy' with frozen core energies. Schizoids tend to be rather spiritual and creative but in need of grounding and becoming an integrated whole.

Class dismissed.

* Last, Walter. "Character Structure: The Schizoid Character," The World of Feelings and Emotions. (source)

Room For Squares

2009-07-22T15:21:00.001-07:00

I put people in boxes.

My incessant need to be hyperorganized carries into the social aspect of my life more than necessary, categorizing every single individual with whom I come into contact and saving each person as a file placed into a specifically-designated location on my social roster based on personal history, interactions, behaviors, and a heavily-weighted list of pros and cons in regards to my own personal growth.

The problem with this is that I am always caught off guard and never know how to best react when the boxes in which I place these people suddenly cease to reflect the ideals I had initially hung around their neck.

While I own the fact that I myself am volatile and inconsistent, it’s a harder pill to swallow when believing others are, as well.

I crave stability, consistency— mostly, I reckon, because I lack a lot of it in regards to the foundation of my own life, so I go looking for it through my relationships and daily interactions with other people.

There are persons in my roster who definitely fill the quota of the boxes in which I place them and seldom if ever exceed the expectations I have of them that come with having been placed in a specific box.

These are the people I tend to take for granted, not appreciating what their grounding impact possesses in my life until I am no longer on the receiving end of it, or when I begin to realize the other boxes have become too small or just wrong for those for whom I created it.

It’s not my nature to initially believe that everyone out there is a dynamic human being, each individual capable of change and transcendence.

I subconsciously prefer to seek out those who carry out their existence as means to portray the “background,” perhaps to give me a setting to prove my own character dynamics, or perhaps to feed into my Reichian character structure of the schizoid*.

I constantly seek to feel safe, and what better to provide me with a pacifying feeling than a calm and grounded person to off-set my volatile and inconsistent ways?

It is within this setting do I feel most safest, most myself.

This is perhaps the reason why although I enjoy the company and adventures of loud, outgoing people, I am never one-hundred percent content when I am with them and am, in fact, rather threatened and left feeling weak and vulnerable.

This feeling of vulnerability and overall notion of being at a loss affects me the most when the people I had categorized as calm and collected (or other variations of stability and groundedness) prove spontaneously to be other than what I had previously considered them to be.

Such an unexpected realization can have a profoundly traumatizing effect on my psyche. While it can be boiled down to something superficial as a freak-out (What happened? Who is this person?), its repercussions travel deeper than what my surface portrays.

You are not who I thought you were. Our relationship is a scam. I've lost my trust in you. I no longer feel safe with you.

Sadly this is an experience I keep going through repeatedly, sometimes with the same person, but I keep at it.

This process helps to reevaluate my relationship with someone, sometimes allowing to remove them from the box I originally placed them and moving them to a bigger box with more room to grow, more room for trust.

Other times upon reevaluation, the box is simply discarded altogether without second thought, along with the person it contained.

But it’s the most hardest when I have to force myself to move those from a box closest to my heart to another one much farther.

* see next post

Git-R-Done

2009-07-17T21:55:00.001-07:00

I need to get my shit together. ):

Although my life is going swimmingly on the surface, it feels as if I’m trapped in a chaotic jumble and that I’m struggling just to keep my head above water.

Work is going okay. Whatever. I’m scheduled, I show up, I take people’s money, I fold clothes, I go home. Nothing new there.

It’s just looking at everything not involving work does it feel like my world is falling apart.

My room is a mess.

I can’t remember which pile of clothes on the floor is clean or dirty or which need to get refolded back into its designated stack organized by department and style.

There are more dirty clothes on the floor than there are in my laundry hamper.

My textbooks are strewn all over the foot of my bed with my scarves and one half of a pair of Lacoste sneakers.

I’m not having anymore organizational success with school.

I’m missing assignments, not doing assignments, not going to class again, et cetera, et cetera.

Maybe it wasn’t as great as I thought it would be taking four bodywork classes this quarter.

Asian Bodywork, whatever. It’s not as tough as I thought it would be, but having sat out last class when we learned the Tui Na protocol on the abdomen and legs due to a sore throat really put me at a disadvantage.

I guess I can always watch the DVD, but the idea seems way too cheesy for me.

Besides, getting those treatment logs done seem very daunting. I barely have time to go to school, let alone do Tui Na on two people a week and then writing about it. Jeez…

Craniosacral Therapy, oh bother. Disregarding the fact that it’s with Andrew Grover, aka Cobra (that’s another set of issues in itself), I completely don’t get this class.

Maybe it’s because I can’t pick up the damn cranial wave while the rest of the class gloat on about their experience with it. I’m just not able to pick up other people’s subtle body energy easily, and I doubt I wanna stick around long enough to learn how.

And then, of course, more journals. One as the receiver during in-class hands-on, the other as the practitioner, and two separate experiences doing Craniosacral to other people.

Seriously, do these instructors not understand that there are students out there with a life outside of massage? Where the hell am I going to find the time (and bodies) to do two Tui Na and two Craniosacral protocols??

Fuck these class journal entries. I barely made it through Reiki, and that class only required one a week. Jesus.

But I guess the class is kinda interesting, given the fact that my partner this week made my arm spin all crazy just by holding my head. Go figure.

Synergistic Massage looks alright. There’s at least some Western involvement despite its heavily-influenced Asian Bodywork protocol, so I can deal. I guess I can fly through it if I at least do minimal effort and learned the protocol.

The instructor, Osi Livni, seems like a great gal. I pay more attention to her accent than what she’s teaching, however, and that gets pretty distracting.

At least there’s no journaling involved for this class, although I can be speaking too soon since it’s only the third week. Fingers crossed…

I’m just bummed I missed this week’s class since I got such a great back massage the week before. Oh, well.

Advanced Lab, can’t really complain. Back at the Wellness Center, doing the same ol’ shit. Only this time it’s at least with the same client over and over again, and more detail-intensive notes.

I kinda like SOAP notes. It’s teaching me to be more involved with the client and not treating it as just a rub down and a goodbye.

And I’m working with an HIV+ client, which puts me slightly on guard, I gotta admit.

Although, I am embarrassed to have believed my sore throat earlier this week was brought on by an HIV infection, seeing as how I had massaged my client not realizing the paper cut on my finger and the cuts on his leg. Oh, bother.

He’s a nice guy all the same, so hopefully I manage to impact his life a little better through the use of my hands, haha. (:

Now the sad thing is, whenever I do find some free time, instead of doing all those fucking journals, I just end up wasting time playing The Sims 3, which is a pretty fucking awesome game, I gotta say.

My interracial gay couple, Michael and Luis Dawson-Ortiz, has finally achieved their individual lifetime goals (man of perfect mind & body, and rockstar, respectively) and are now raising three adopted children in their amazingly-furnished 5-story house since their original child I had ended up accidentally deleting. Whoops…

Finally after playing The Sims all day, I’ve come to realize I tend to lose my hold of reality, relating my life experience per the game’s matrix, so I think it’s about time I lay off for a while to save me my sanity.

And hopefully it allots me some more free time to clean my room and do my laundry.

And those fucking journals.

(un)Wind It Up!

2009-07-16T23:07:00.001-07:00

“Cranial Unwinding allows the body to use its own natural way to unwind itself and the therapist helps the client move his/her body by following this movement. While the body is in movement the mind replays thought processes that happened at the time of trauma and the client has a chance to rethink and put into perspective what thoughts are of current value for the here and now. As the body unwinds itself it loosens the tissues and opens channels that allow the flow of fluid to move in areas that were too tight to benefit from the nourishment this fluid has to offer. It then has a chance to flow through the body's tissues, spine and the cranium in a balanced way. Loosening of the tissues also helps to free nerve endings, thus relieving the cause of pain.”

(source)

No wonder I feel all sorts of fucked up after last night.

ESSENTIALS: one

2009-07-16T22:46:00.001-07:00

venti black tea, double the sweetener, no ice.

form > function

2009-07-10T00:27:00.001-07:00

The logo* of the massage & physical therapy practice I'm planning to open as the final milestone in my career:

Is it not my nature to think of the aesthetics first before actually making any concrete business decisions? Mais oui.

The slogan?

Taking the weight of the world off your shoulders.**

Inspired by the sexy Greek god, of course.

* subject to change at the next strike of inspiration
** subject to change when I come up with something better

redux.

2009-07-09T20:51:00.001-07:00

Looks like I've made yet another* home for my random ramblings, which I must admit have been pretty few and far between lately.

I don't even know why I bother making these things when I already know its final outcome: me obsessively using it for a week or two at the most, and then letting it all fall into oblivion.

Let's hope this incarnation lasts, or at least lasts long enough to satisfy my recent urge to utilize my newly acquired Windows Live Writer.

* see: LiveJournal, Xanga, Myspace, Facebook, sundry journal hardcopies, et. al.