INSPIRED by my sister who lives in missouri, i decided to sign up for a 5k as motivation to walk/run every morning. this blog is not motivation enough for me to get my ass up and go every morning, so i figure i have something tangible to work towards. i sip a cold green tea and feel tired as i write this. i listened to an interview with jesse itzler, an entrepreneur and book writer of sorts, but it’s always weird when the intention of the interview is to get spoon fed answers to pathways of “greatness” or to “become legendary,” i mean sure there were pockets of good information discussed, but even as he said in the interview, you can’t cut corners, you have to respect the process, etc. everyone’s journey is different, and everyone is trying to monetize something to survive. the biggest takeaway i took from the interview was that life is short, our days are numbered. this alone makes me want to act on impulse and do something crazy like quit my job and move to santa cruz but i won’t do it. an even crazier thing to do is stick this job out for as long as i can…go against my nature and commit to this place called work. so i’m reading articles on how to train and prepare for a 5k. i was thinking of signing up for one in october which gives me three months to prepare. i think that is enough time. next day….yeah i could never keep a daily blog, i am way too lazy and have nothing useful to say. i don’t even want to do the 5k anymore…lol. LIFE. what am i even doing/saying anymore. i pay for a gym membership i don’t even go to. it is literally down the street from my house, i could walk there but i haven’t been in months. well i signed up for the run, a dia de los muertos themed 5k in downtown la…yay, i think. now to get my ass in shape and start running….even if i don’t feel like it.
Tag Archives: poetry
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!
THAT’S IT. i am done complaining. well, probably not, but i will be complaining while also improving. i’m 33 years old and have dealt with a life time of being overweight, and it is time to face this life long issue. overeating and carrying the weight of it around wherever i go. i’m going to document my progress, not with before and after pictures but with entries, how i’m doing and feeling. this cycle needs to end. i also want to begin running. i had a brief phase with running when i was thinner and living in missouri. i can’t keep allowing my circumstance and environment dictate how i live my life. i want to be the creator and maker of my own existence, of my life that is, the way it is lived, what i eat, how i utilize my time, and master it. there are so many facets of my life that need improvement, spiritual, intellectual, my relationships that are basically non-existent. i’m not trying to turn into another health, self improvement blog, but i really am tired of the BS. this is about as raw as it gets, and i don’t imagine it will get any prettier. i prefer raw and real anyway. i also want to improve my art, how i draw, realism. so i will be posting my hideous drawings and scribbles even if it is just a line, something, anything needs to be done! i really am surprised these people hired me. they obviously saw potential, something, and that gives me hope. but i’m tired of feeling punked by my work, by coworkers, even though all of it is in my head. it’s time to master the art of working, using time well, mastering my thoughts! a crazy man with an injured eye babbled on to me for about 20 minutes about being in the vietnam war, writing novels, going into real estate etc. i don’t know what that has to do with anything, but damn it there are people out there under worse circumstances with better stories to tell but everyone has something to contribute. i like the idea of being put on this planet with a mission, that i have a purpose to serve humanity, or trees or animals, anything! i really don’t want to be a babbling crazy person either! if that is my destiny so be it but i at least want to look good and be in shape! i’m excited to begin this journey of weight loss and self improvement. time to get organized, and hopefully improve my writing as well, since i will be devoting a daily post to writing about my progress. I will begin, monday, july 1st. the weekend will be when preparatory work will get done and i have nothing to lose.
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.
I TURNED 33 on monday. the only epiphany i’ve had is, i am getting older and i do not want to get worse. worse how? health. attitude. mindset. etc. i told myself, during this downtime at work i would write a novel and free myself from the obligation of having a job. but is that what i really want? the only thing i can think of to write about is my experience going crazy, or living in santa cruz. i thought of writing a comic book, using santa cruz as the backdrop, and loosely basing the novel around my experiences there but also add classical myth/fantasy/sci-fi elements..maybe.
BLESSED by apollo when her mind went hollow, her senses skewed by serendipity. the poison brought upon by a con man and an unforgiving cup of tea. walking around china town talking about chinese populations, when in fact he was testing her attention. she knew there was a greater symphony at work, the orchestra building up in crescendo, this orchestrated work of apollo. her body is a portal, but it is already occupied, that’s when it took the breaking so she could die. the artifices built around the truth, the superficialities implanted by T.V., the minds of idiots, and music made for money. what is the truth? who are we? are we really actors on a stage, playing our role. waiting and writhing until life takes its toll on our minds, our bodies, our spirits, our hearts waiting for death to depart. i digress, i am not an empress, i am merely the messenger, blessed by apollo and for a moment Hashem himself.
three boys stood in Macy’s. my mom bought me this vest and i would like to return it. the second boy intercepted, hey do you have a recycle bin? i’m sorry we only have trash, she looked him in the eye when she said this. oh, for real? the well kept clean cut teen responded and walked away with his empty plastic bottle in hand. wow, these kids are environmentally conscious here, how great is that. the cashier took the receipt and scanned the IPC as she had been trained to do, and pressed away at the proper keys to complete the exchange for currency. broken poets don’t work well with machines, they either succumb to their power and break altogether or break the broken poet. would you like cash or macy’s credit back? i’ll take cash, the blonde boy with blue eyes said back. the cash she returned, and off he went never to be seen again.
I’VE written myself off as being boring, as people not liking me at work, etc. and it is so. i really shouldn’t care. i’m not at work to be liked or to make friends. i’m at work to work. i have a cart full of books to work on but i don’t want to. i’d rather vent on this blog and probably not click the publish button. i don’t feel like i am making any progress, i’ve plateaued. i’m surrounded by people ready to retire, they simply don’t give a shit. i cut my bangs again. and attempted at dying my hair red but it came out a dark auburn. my life is simple and boring but everything i feel is amplified, magnified, exaggerated. i feel completely uncreative. i still talk to my ex-husband which is weird and probably the underlying root to all of my problems. i need to let him go. everyday feels like a lifetime. each day presents its own problems, worries. how does anything get done? a tarot reader that i frequently watch on youtube spoke of leaving a legacy. what will be my legacy? do i even need one. is that an outdated idea? legacy has too much grandeur to it, i’m a descendant of alcoholics and schizophrenics. there are a few mathematical geniuses on my father’s side of the family but it skipped my dad. words are a sign of culture, an elevated form of life. but they were invented by man. i know nothing of the history of language so i won’t pretend that i do. i know i’m going to start my period soon. hormonally imbalanced. everything in my life is so off kilter. i need to buy posters and things for my cubicle. time to turn this place into my bitch. right now all i have is a card that my coworker gave me, a post-it with swirls drawn on it and a small piece of paper with a portion of the library drawn on it…i drew it while i was at the front desk, bored with nothing to do. yesterday i applied to the school, might as well take classes while i’m here so i can transfer and finish my BA.. i’m not entirely unproductive. i think i am too people deprived. i get overly happy when people talk to me, i think it freaks people out. i would get freaked out. i need to get high or get more pills to chill me out. i plan on running, walking first, but eventually running. i almost did it this morning but i kept hitting the snooze button. we’ll see how it goes tomorrow.
AS I’M READING man’s search for meaning which i stupidly recommended and now need to back up with a small blurb to support such a recommendation i begin to question my own purpose. most women who have children that i’ve encountered say it’s their children that they live for. i am childless so scratch that option. christians say jesus is their purpose, or mission. meaning and love, tension keeps one going according to frankl. being comfortable is a death wish. i am comfortable. i recall not that long ago being kicked out of my parent’s house for flipping out at my dad, and how everything felt strange, scary, beautiful all at once. maybe i’m too sensitive. glendora is a pretty, fattening suburb where you pay and drive around for everything. how did i end up here? where can i find balance? i miss santa cruz, my crazy ex-roommate (not really), maybe just the beginning days where he bought me flowers and proclaimed his “love” for me. i only like the onset of things, the initial initiation, the beginning. the middle is boring, and the end means its over, but it’s good because that means a new beginning is at work. i miss meditating in claremont. i need a hair cut. i was going to dye my hair red at the suggestion of my coworker but decided not to, that would be weird to follow his suggestion when i’m perfectly fine with natural colored hair. i had a purpose a vision, to finish school but that has been thrown out the window with this new job. maybe i should quit? maybe my life purpose is to have no purpose. and to just go with the flow. life is too crazy and complicated to understand, anyway. my problem is i get to caught up in the details or look to broadly and generalize everything or i completely crop out the scene. i keep looking back fondly on times in the past, but at the time i didn’t give a shit what was happening at that moment. i am always looking backwards. time slows down. our perception of time, is it in real time or are we always looking past, is there a time delay? this happened during my first time being high, time slowed down. or when i went crazy, the world was ending and i was part of a bigger mission. it’s odd viewing people’s perspective of you when you are going crazy. you can see who has compassion and who will despise you, or those simply unphased, or people who are straight up control freaks. i became the impetus of true character, a magnifying glass, a light. or maybe not.
“I”M NOT talking to you,” the don’t-fuck-with-me-or-i-will-deck-you-attitude student said to me, the lady had to have been in her 30s. my dear, you’re in college now, let’s fix up the attitude, i thought, but i kept my happy demeanor and let it brush off my shoulder. she later slid a book at me across the checkout counter “here you go,” with the same attitude. this library i now work for is nothing short of interest. everyone i work with is an extrovert, they have a lot to say, and i feel like i should be more talkative. i wonder how long i will last here. maybe silence is something i can offer, something needed since everyone just talks.
that was from day one or maybe two. i’m on day four of my new job and have no idea how long i will last. it is a good job, very secure with good benefits and all of that but i feel undeserving of it. it feels weird to have landed something stable after a long history of instability due to a divorce and being bipolar. all of my coworkers are nice people, the students, for the most part, are respectful and at that age where they are in their prime with wide eyed curiosity. working at this place makes me feel old and jaded, burned out, sad, tired. all of these are just thoughts, i know. i’m there to just work and make money, not daydream or reflect on how empty my life is.
that being said, if you’re reading this, pray that i last at this job, or think good thoughts. i feel nervous going to work everyday so far and i don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. my mind is filled with so much self doubt and negative self talk. its quite ridiculous considering how chilled and relaxed everyone is at work. don’t get me wrong, there is a lot to learn, and know the ins and outs of the library, i haven’t worked in a library in years, so it’s a refresher course. i can’t help but feel imposter syndrome, however, like i do not belong there, but i honestly can say that i feel that every where i go.
I THROW that phrase around a lot. it’s all chemicals. ernesto, fernando, francisco, rodrigo, burrito. what the hell. why am i attracting these random latino men. i hate artsy types, or worse wannabe artsy types. i hate cholo/gangster types. hipsters. any man that wears marvel t-shirts. i’ve pretty much summed up all of la so i am basically screwed. i don’t want to date an older man because they’re old, and in 10, 20 years they’ll be even older. i don’t know how i’ll fall in love again. i don’t think it is in the cards for me, at this rate. i really need to find a hobby and a group of friends at least. i’m allergic to cats so i can’t even become a crazy old cat lady if i wanted to. i could be a cool dog lady. i don’t know. i woke up this morning to an angry sister and a parking ticket. fuck glendora and the lazy ass officer who has nothing better to do than issue parking tickets for the one time i didn’t park on the drive way. i’m not paying it. my poor brain. the worst thing i can do is feel sorry for myself but really, i’ve put my brain through such nonsense. i didn’t used to have anxiety. i used to enjoy driving, i’d always drive to laguna beach, i’ve driven myself to santa cruz, i’ve driven myself across the country to missouri. now i can’t even drive to the post office without feeling anxious at a red light. why have i become this way? what is wrong with me. i used to romanticize the recluse, the weirdo, and aspired to become an obscure archivist/librarian, unknown to the world. fuck that. i don’t want to waste away in the dark somewhere, i mean i will eventually, but not while i am ALIVE. i did a psychoanalysis of my own drawings of a house, a tree and a person. i won’t go into too much detail but what stood out to me the most was that my reality is based in fantasy. fuck. i just want to be normal and happy. why is that so difficult to attain? my husband was relatively normal, yet i was a drama queen and made life difficult for both of us by thinking going away to a UC would resolve my boredom. how differently i would live my life if i could go back. they really do need to make time travel a thing already.
I gave my employer two weeks notice and it backfired. they cut me off. perhaps it is karma from all the jobs i just left without notice. now i have all this time on my hands before i start my new job (if i even have a a new job to start?) and i’m lost in thought. my lazy ass knows i should go to the gym but i don’t want to. i hate gyms. i’ll try to go on a hike tomorrow morning. i did develop a crush on one of the guys i’d often see at the gym. he’s probably compensating. jk. anyway. too much free time. i randomly started listening to the drums, a band this boy who liked me very much recommended a long time ago. he liked me a lot and i just used him. i feel bad about that. and karma has hit with that, he won’t even talk to me anymore. he was a sweet guy but really not my type. good sense of humor though, which seems to be hard to come by these days. i’m hitting 33 soon and i’m still nostalgic. i’ve always been this way.
I have so much debt. and it isn’t comforting to know that there are millions others who are in the same if not worse situation. debt is debt. my divorce didn’t help. being bipolar didn’t help. but my goal now, with the new job, is to focus on financial stability and taking care of my debt. i don’t have kids. i live rent free. i might as well make use of my situation. or, say eff it, that is part of life and move the hell out of my parents house. i really don’t know what i am doing with my life or how to navigate it. i read these numerology reports that said i am a born leader and should be an entrepreneur. i really just want to live a simple life. i don’t want to lead anyone anywhere. i made a line drawing today that just came out weird. my art, my writing is weird. i don’t think i am intelligent or creative enough to do these things yet i will continue doing them. some artists are worse or not that great and still they have their own studio and success. i don’t know what i want that is the problem. i think anyone can get what ever they want. if they don’t get it it’s because they don’t really want it. my problem is i am too dependent on people and circumstance, i need affirmations, reassurance.
HAVING so much time on my hands is making me think of march in 2018. meeting with that man in la and subsequently going crazy shortly after. like really, what the fuck. am i that love deprived i fall in love easily with some douchebag and then become a 51-50 the next day. if we ended up together talk about a start of romance. he really was just a douchebag trying to get laid. i liked him, nevertheless. but why did i go crazy. it was the anti-depressants which apparently induce manic episodes. stupidest experience ever, really. and embarrassing. i did feel a heightened sense of clarity the last day at the hospital, and the feeling of being trapped, locked in began setting in. how our environments shape our thinking. i need to get over all of this. and move on with my life. but i can’t deny what happened. it was scary and tripy and something i hope never to experience again. i remember that there was a sagittarius and a picses. i remember being very wide awake, still in mania, until 4 am. hardly getting sleep. i still wonder if any one besides my mom visited me while i was in ER. someone came close to me, i don’t know who it was, it could have been one of the staff nurses messing with me, it could have been G-d, it could have been no one. it shall remain a vague memory, that night of insanity.