WELL, they also sold new books, but the interesting ones were used. based in santa cruz, calif. it was the hub of the city, or one of many, where tourists and locals would flood in and ask questions like “can you provide a map of all the spots where they filmed ‘lost boys’?” coworkers brought in flowers, jars for their tea. where once an old hippie began reciting poetry: “she wears jasmine in her hair..” a column was for the weird, the mythical, the unknown, ufos. a section for santa cruz college, a group of intellectuals branched off from the university. how i miss working there! yet never felt i belonged there. we held tarot behind the counter, and a section that had books, like the one on laundering money. only the obscure and the obscene. sun tanned, but mostly burned being european, curly hair or thick black framed glasses. alarm…the sound of a dial tone interrupted her concentration. the memory of santa cruz, broken, she sits at a library, east of los angeles, a local community college, where her workers are also characters, but back to the used bookstore. sounds of jazz played during the day, but the young ones at night chose their choice of music to play..the cranberries or a metal band that he found randomly. the bookstore also sold records, and it’s share of films/dvds, but books took up it’s majority. walking in was like going into zen, a place of pure bliss, yet it was not short of ugliness, that was the beauty of it. “toughen up” …he told me in response to my response to someone who tried to steal some comic books. i stopped them, but it was not without dramatics. but not too much. i’m not one to make a scene, but i can be a bit of a drama queen. MISCELLANEOUS HIGH WEIRDNESS was the section that i earlier described. they also had a magic tricks section and another on pirates, philosophy languages, theatre…there are more that i have forgotten, but it is buried somewhere in my subconscious memory. the pretentious ones that worked there were inevitable, the authentic hippies and the disgruntled. which category did i fall in? doesn’t matter now since it has been shut down and turned to a brewery, from books to alcohol, a natural transformation.
Tag Archives: musings
IT WAS actually quite gloomy this morning. it finally cleared this afternoon, and i sit at starbucks not knowing what to do with my life or time, but what else is new? consumption, that is the only thing i am good at. i went to a figure drawing class and think i disrupted the seating flow, as some people seemed a bit irritated that i got a good spot on the side of where the model poses…oh well, first come first serve, buddies. anyway. i stayed in pomona at a victorian home that was among a cluster of other very cool, uniquely made homes. i miss it already! but it definitely had a weird vibe. it was built in 1897, had a lot of charm and character. i basically frolicked around pomona and claremont all weekend, watched the movie ‘yesterday’ which i may or may not do a half-assed review on. all i know is it was a cute love story or whatever but not convincing. chemistry is not easy to find. silver linings playbook was the last convincing love story/drama i have seen in awhile, unless there are others floating out there somewhere that i have yet to watch. i’m still catching up on stranger things and have not gone to season three, i’m at the end of season one. i’m always slow and last place when it comes to anything in life, that’s just the way it is. my mother, who is an aspiring actress/filmmaker has been filming at our house all weekend and we basically all got kicked out so she could basically turn the house into a movie set. yeah. i need to move out. i didn’t walk yesterday, and since it is too hot to walk during the day i will go on a walk this evening, when it cools down. i bought this strawberry acai refresher and the old man that made it put way too much fucking sweetener but i feel bad having him re-make it. so extra sweet refresher it is. the movie ‘yesterday’ inspired me to go to the record store where i bought two albums by neutral milk hotel. i’ve been listening to this band since i was 15, you would think i would expand my horizons, but alas. i regret nothing.
MICHAEL appeared at her window again. hey there! hi, michael. what are you up to this fine morning. i am still waking up, typing away at this keyboard trying to come up with something useful to say. useful? why write something of use unless it is a manual you are writing, or something “how to” but there is youtube for that. you’re right. we’re molded by memories but don’t get stuck in the past. michael, are you drinking again? i always do, he replied, taking another drink. what other state is there to be in than intoxication? i have a predicament, i’m in a predicament, i am a predicament! everything good has come from conflict. is that really true, i asked. just observe and you’ll find the answer to that. what is this predicament you speak of? aside from being stuck in the past, i live in a boring suburb with boring people, i feel so uninspired. i desperately want to fall in love. woah woah woah…wait. desperately WANT to fall in love? falling in love isn’t something you should want. love decides who falls when LOVE wants, and as you know, it is always when you least expect it. not true, i fall in love hard and easily with anyone that gives me the time of day…now that is desperation. listen, wait, no, i forgot what i was going to say. now i remember! you spoke of being molded, but you have to break through them first, you have all of these preconceived ideas of what love is supposed to be and how it is supposed to happen. why put love in a box? let the story unfold naturally, worrying about it will only delay it, or maybe it will happen this instant, this moment! love, there is plenty of it to go around for everyone. yet it is the most precious, invaluable, undefinable thing we have. you’re right, michael, all i can do is agree with you. NONSENSE! disagree, argue, tell me everything i just said is bullshit! this conversation is going nowhere. most conversations do. go nowhere that is. but it’s time well spent, is it not? you could be right…ah there i go again agreeing with everything you say!
IF a lady from canada, no, where she is from does not matter, but i decided to throw it in there, if a lady from canada can make money off of freezing paint into a mold and mixing it in a 1 minute clip, clearly there is something mundane out there that i can do that doesn’t involve an hour long commute and interaction with people i do not wish to interact with that i can make money from. that sounds a bit harsh. it’s not that i don’t want to interact with them, well i don’t, but, i just suffer from social anxiety. who said anyone needs to be cured from that? i’m in my cubicle again with these thoughts rushing in. i saw a video of the paint mixing lady, her name is annette labedzki for those of you who are curious or want to know who i am referring to, and she explains that she has painted for years and years everyday and it has led to 1 minute clips of paint mixing. i mean. is years and years of quitting jobs going to bring to fruition some novel idea (pun intended!) or something? well, maybe it will. the process is agonizing. i will blog every day and draw something every day and maybe that will birth something i can monetize. yes, everything needs to be monetized! that’s what makes the world go round. but it isn’t. she doesn’t mix paint for the money (well, maybe she does) but she painted for the sake of painting and her years of labor is paying off. i want to break from these molds (pun again). i want to find my passion. maybe it isn’t in words or drawing. maybe it is just to be frustrated and dwell among books and be among other weirdos that work in cubicles. everyone should follow the paint mixing lady on instagram. screw that. everyone follow me on instagram @robinannortega where my posts are as random as my blog entries.
THIS morning’s walk was not pleasant. i woke up an hour later than i did yesterday and you can feel the drastic difference in temperature and brightness of the sun. today was my 25 minute walk, too, but i did it anyway, and feel good about that. i looked up roommate ads on craigslist and may or may not find myself in a three’s company situation. i’d rather not, so i probably will not go through with it. i feel so uninspired and uninspiring. i’ll admit it, i had tommy’s burgers last night, and i am trying to break the habit of buying fast food when i get off my work shift. i work late so it is especially crucial that i avoid eating junk so late at night, and in general because it probably accounts for 90% of the reason why i feel like crap and depressed all of the time. SoCal makes it very convenient to grab fast food and go, it will take discipline, and i hope by posting about it, accountability to just stop. when i lived in santa cruz or kansas city, missouri it was easy to break the habit simply because fast food places weren’t on every corner of the street. baby steps. i began watching stranger things for the season 3 premier this thursday and got flashbacks of the hospitalization i’ve experienced when eleven got flashbacks of her hospitalization experience. lol. so strange to even say that i was once hospitalized. life is simple. i don’t know why it is so exaggerated in my head. people are people. the grass is green, the sky is blue. girls with bright colored hair make me happy. anyway, it is my hope that by mastering self-discipline with eating and walking, eventually running every day and continued practice with drawing i can slowly begin to find myself in the life circumstance that i want and will thrive in. but what does thrive even mean? life will never be easy. there is always something to battle or overcome.
ADJ., BORN from or originating in chaos. new favorite word. found on the oxford english dictionary online, the school i work for has a subscription to this lovely goldmine and the above word was randomly chosen under the “lost for words” link, which i always am. if the guys i work with make me nervous, i really should find another place to work. and if getting here gives me near panic attacks, i really should find another place to work. but, free access to the oxford english dictionary? that should make up for it, right? i wonder if i’m going to pass probation. i don’t want to, i hope they fire me. it’s like this place is too good to be true and is, but it’s not. how do you pronounce that? chaogenous. honestly i’m just happy with the definition, not so much the word itself. should i just get high off the sharpie in my office? damn this is boring… also, i would never do that. i’m all talk no action. words can only elevate so much, reality is reality and it is freaking boring. oddly enough, time is going by fast. los angeles. blue highways. theology in america. psychoanalysis and personality. blood in my eye. the new golden bough. historia de la medicina. mythology. bookspines face me with these titles. maybe i’m supposed to be a library bum. someone who just goes to the library and reads and writes. this can’t be healthy, keeping oneself from interacting with people, hiding away in a cubicle. one of my coworkers described the job as already being retired. i’m not retired! i’m too young to be content, damnit. only old people have mastery of anything. or young prodigies. but even then they are creative, or constantly discovering or something. what about boring people who are given jobs, getting paid to do nothing? did i earn this? i haven’t yet bought posters or anything for my cubicle. this place isn’t home until i pass probation. until then…i don’t know. wish i was back in santa cruz. write a novel. draw a comic book even though my drawings are unrefined, do it anyway.
I BEGAN my walking/running journey today. i found a 7-week walking program online as preparation for running. i woke up from a gnarly dream around 6:30am and got up to walk. it felt good to move for a bit. now i have some time before i need to get ready for work. lo-fi hip hop beats play in my ear as a ponder the next thing to write about. it’s a summer morning. i’ve been missing santa cruz lately but walking really does ground you, placing you where you’re at. i walked along baseline road, near the freeway where i live so it reeked of car exhaust at first but then became the winding road among the suburbs that is this little town i live in. it’s odd to think about, i landed here 3 years ago as a temporary stay, yet here i am still. i drew a bit this morning (see previous post) and will continue drawing daily. i hope to get good enough one day where i can make my own comic book. i feel refreshed. REWIND, or is it FASTFORWARD? now i’m at work, in la. having had a near panic attack getting here, i suddenly feel the weight of sadness and not-knowing on my shoulders. i’m in touch with my crazy ex-roommate and tempted to leave work and just move back in with him in santa cruz. it’s sounds so stupid yet free-ing all at the same time. i’m going to give myself three days. if i feel the same in three days, i will give my work notice and leave. life is too damn short to experience it with anxieties and fear and stupid people rushing to go places. i wish i knew what i wanted. even if it is wanting to do something stupid, at least i would know what i want. everything takes time, too long. is everyone just miserable where they are? is anyone happy? why is life so hard?! what am i aiming for? what is my purpose? to gaze and walk around and draw things? i don’t know. i’m done pining and wondering. but i don’t want to do anything stupid, either. do i just suck it up and keep going? so much for peace and zen. i did see a nun driving in a jeep behind me, that was kind of relieving and funny. we’re all in this rat race together, i suppose. the day is half over, but it is only just begun. this is all just temporary, this too shall pass. screw LA. why do people even live here? i’m so over it.
I CAN’T live like this. yes, this is probably just a bad day, but this getting up early, driving to la, living with my parents, i just don’t know how much longer i can take it. last time i dropped everything to live with a man in santa cruz it failed big time, but only because i gave up. there will be bad days, hard days to get through, and they just have to be endured, there’s no escaping it, there is no easy way. unmedicated robin would say fuck this and leave to santa cruz but i am pacified by pills, restrained by responsibility, but left wondering what is this all for? in the grand scheme of things, i have been blessed with a good, stable and secure job. but why? i wish these people didn’t hire me, i wish i never interviewed. i am aware that i have another post titled “being unemployed sucks” being employed sucks too, everything sucks! i feel like i’m being held up by crutches that are falling apart, ready to collapse. “don’t feel that way” i just overhead a coworker say, in the other cubicle. these are all just feelings. just because my coworker is an asshole doesn’t mean i have to quit my job, just because i do not talk very much and therefore, i am avoided by people…well, that doesn’t sound good. am i just this miserable person? no matter where i go, whatever the backdrop, i will always be unsatisfied. honestly i am just tired. living at home with crazy adults and children is draining. no room to breathe. this is all temporary, is my new mantra, this too shall pass. these feelings will pass. they suck, but they won’t last forever. it’s friday, i guess this is the week’s last hurrah before it let’s me escape for the weekend. the hour is nearly over, each minute ticks by and i am just complaining. on the clock, turning in time cards, paperwork, paper earned, time off, time driving, back on the clock, and the cycle continues.
FUCK YOU. jk. it’s all good. i DO need to go back to school. people probably aren’t passively aggresively liking anything. but for the record, my posts aren’t edited. i read through them once or twice and just hit the publish button. these are all first drafts, not well edited manuscripts, so yeah that is probably why i ended up dropping college and why my posts come out so half assed and not well written or clearly thought out. even my professors in college commented on how my papers read like fragments but they added that what i wrote was good, so at least there is something of substance in these writings. maybe studying chicanx art history, or just too much time away from school, has made me rebel against writing well-written long grammatically correct and correctly punctuated sentences. or i’ve read too much damn literature that i’ve given up. all the greats have composed anything worthwhile anyway, why follow rules and convention? but alas, as in art, one must know the rules in order to break them, and i barely got by on knowing the rules. learning latin also screwed me over as far as grammar is concerned. the latin langauge has no articles and word placement doesn’t matter, well it does in terms of emphasis, but not in meaning, as in english. aside from all of that nonsense. today sucked. i don’t care what fucking day it is. people were just straight up dicks today at work. to top it off i got rained on then dealt with more dicks and dumb asses on the road. it’s just water, people! what the hell is wrong with everyone when it rains? just complete and utter stupidity and lack of courtesy or on the flip side, complete and utter entitlement. ugh!!!! okay i’m done. nope i’m going to complain some more. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. back to better writing. the only thing i took to heart from william strunk’s elements of style was to be concise, to the point. what good is it to drone on and waste people’s time? or at least one’s own time. this is all a moot point. that’s the problem with writing. it feels so set in stone. context definitely matters, but it feels limiting also. which is why i prefer poetry, or vague writing, that leaves the reader to interpreting as they wish, and leave an impression. regardless, writing has rules that one must follow, to some extent. perhaps it’s my lack of structure in life that i’ve been drawn to books and libraries. a place of refuge. art was the deviation from this, it’s a sanctified space but also a place to express, and anything goes as art isn’t so well defined yet there are rules and realities to overcome.
a stone revealed that we teleport in transportation, transient transitions different scenes and scenery, redundant redundancy, ample amplification of misery, brought upon by the week set before me, mathematical beauty lost in markings made by mad musicians and physicists looking to psychics carried by fabric pieces lost in sheets sang by neutral milk hotel heard in a bell that fell from fives stories high to the ground repeated words genetics flow through me, all of this was said before me, computer coding and technology threw the wrench in the proverbial gears of the machine that runs everything, natural versus artificial edifices, we’re all a drifting conscious set to consume and buy, i miss my teen years when weeks weren’t as feared as they are now, and how i’d like to build a time machine a man and i said we would build one on a screen but never did, it was a lie, men lie all of the time. a reader in qatar is quite far to learn different languages but i already know them all, my mind has yet to reveal this to me, for now i am plagued with being unable to see, i’ve blinded myself from seeing the truth and instead talk nonsense and do nothing of use. carefully carved architecture designed to greet the eye with a point of reference, direction to a designated space, circumference, angled boxes that entrap us, protect us and act as a fortress, i’d rather stay asleep on a mattress i found a photo of a relative in old age laying in bed with a book in hand i miss my eccentric uncle that lives in a victorian home darkened by time that creaks when stepped in and says goodbye, i’ve been given things in increments and on silver platters in retrospect, but in the present everything is just a choatic mess, even the way i dress shows lack and laziness. forget about my hair, it has a mind of it’s own, grey hair is starting to grow. tired and cumbersome is what i am becoming, i have a gift in making things complicated and am constantly complaining. i can gather data but it’s sorting and sifting and making something creative or something of beauty that eludes me, i’ll take what i can get.