The King of Pop has Died.

It wasn’t long ago that the vision in my head was still alive.

Be it a de javu; random incling; or maybe i’m making shit up. Either way, I remember the picture and thinking…. The king of pop has died. 

http://pics.livejournal.com/zarex/pic/0006e3kf

I’ve just been keeping it real and losing pounds. I feel the same. I guess it’s me that can’t get chicks. Oh God why can’t I get chicks?! Fail Wail. Get it?

I can only say that I don’t like to get stared at by creepy old ladies that think they have a shot at a good fuck. Cause you know. Old ladies can settle with a lot of stuff. I hate wal-mart.

I feel like I need to write more. I guess it’s my head telling me to get some food in it. I’ve been slacking it in the school department. I can only say that there is going to be a hill to climb. A tall rocky, sandy, hill. Yeah, that I’ll conquer on my mtn bike.

There has been a lot of changes recently. But I do feel like myself. Just with more composure because I manage to think before I speak, it feels like I can say a sentence and make some dialogue. I’m thinking it’s because of twitter. People forget that a single sentence can hold a harsh meaning. It’s perfect for people who live their lives on “quotes”. Either get some meaning behind those things or RTFM and find out why it’s so bad ass. That’s really what’s frustrating me, I just feel like I can’t do what I want because of my parents. Then I realize I don’t have anywhere else to go… But let’s not confuse thinking with being a pussy.

Good times.

I’ve had them, but nothing beats a BBQ…

Who’s down? I’m up for whatever.

I <3 Getting Older.

I was born a bad guy.  Bad guys always lose. It’s up to me to change it. Every action leads to an equal but opposite rxn.I rather work hard to change it, than to plateau at some mediocre level. After all, I am the good guy, don’t good guys win all the time? After all,I have nothing to lose now. After all, I still have the deck in my hands. Because once you start winning at your own game, that’s when progress is made. But, what work should I do? I know the answer, but it’s that I don’t have the desk.

Jesus, someone get me a desk from school…

Best birthday present ever…

Just being me. On paper, and out loud.

Live Life

If living life passionately requires any special ability, it’s the ability to live for life.

Sadly my passion I was living for, left me. She was my passion and inspiration, a whisper of her – made me happy. Yes, she was, through and through. All of my love and passionate ability, gone. Luckily I have a rag-tag team of !!Good Guys!! who can just about solve anything that matters. … But I digress, or should it be depress?

Depression made me realize I really am not a depressed person, but I do like to prepare for the worst. I am not a nice guy, but if you treat me nice I’ll treat you nicer (Ladies?!) And far and foremost, I am my Parents son, I guess I’m the bad parts of them. [Did I mention that I am a lesbian woman inside? But that’s another post.] Overall, a learning experience.

So, sadly and jointly I began a quest to reveal who’s really there, I mean, the whole city had just collapsed and reconstruction was being paid for in friendships, shots, family, beer, bad rally calls, smoke, shit talking, rap, money, hits, my image. Stranded and stained, I lost focus.

Later I began to come home. And, realize some important shit.

Later, I began to come home. And, realize some important shit.

It felt good. Even with shame, I knew she was out of my system. I was who I was and there’s only one way up. So I started climbing towards a Greek perfection. So I keep climbing.

I am not at the summit, nor do I think I’ll ever get there until I’m out and about. Out and about doing? Doing, finishing, it’s all the same to me right now. I’m living life.

I’m living with no passion though… That is where things like school and a possible future keep driving me. That’s what I like doing, and thanking my friends and family for being there.

The Passion of LIVING. Is that so wrong?

As for her, she still sits as a big part of my life, not only because she was around for so long, but because I came out with something more than just anguish. Anguish I would have felt if we had married now or later. I came out with the ability to breathe and depend on myself to make me feel okay. [Personal note: If I could talk to her, I would, but my failed attempts at communication are all I’m able to invest my time in. And they’d be questions about how good a lover I was.   :-P      ]

Finally, I’m just beginning trying out my new and improved self. Trying to fix some shit from people in the other time period was sooo last year. Writing this, I am trying to avoid the same mistakes [unless you believe anti-provocation can lead to direct provocation, but I think that mentality is backwards] and trying to slow down, to take it all, and observe what is really going on to solve some problems. Solving problems, it’s what I do.

I just say, live life.

Just gotta keep goin'

My heartbreak isn't original. Nothing about this is. People have written, spoken, and acted about this grief. That's what it is, grief. But it's not original. There's nothing original about it. The only variables that change are the names and characters. But this feeling is universal. Some people choose to hide it, others choose to abide by its rules. I'm choosing to be a little bitch and do neither. I have to let it go. But I can't. Yes I can. I really can. But I can't do it. Not yet. Soon.

I could argue have argued that it was meant to be. I could argue have have argued that it wasn't our time. I could argue have argued that too many things added up, and that the universe and all the stars in the galaxy line up perfectly now so that the little things remind me of what it used to be. Of what I still feel it HAS to be. But, what for? No one will listen. No proof of the concept, no genuine knowledge. Just a feeling, some certainty, and a whole lot of observation. Wasn't that good enough for love before?

What changes is the person. What's unique is the interest. What's unique is the idea of "maybe".

Maybe isn't in my language. I'll have the last laugh, probably though...

I have to let myself let go. At least the stuff that I can't change. But I'm a believer of "everything is possible". I guess I'll have to believe that only the person will be able to see. But that's just hope. Hope isn't good for coping. Hope is what you have when you have nothing left. I have nothing left. Hope isn't cutting it for me. What I need is to stop looking around, look inside......

I've already looked, everything is still the same. Having to erase it from the most important parts is like having to erase part of myself. A true part of myself.

What do I do now? I'll say it again, back to square one.

That's why I feel broken. I guess now, my eternal struggle for self realization starts?

Like Einjo said, "That sucks man. I hurt for you. I've seen it plenty of times too. Never have I seen it hurt someone as much. Never ever did I think that something like that could happen so well formed. It's like someone was playing with the pieces. Kind of like a movie, but more fucked up. But I'm not going to lie, I have seen something like this before plenty-a-time. It always sucks, not like this though. This sucks the worst, not only because you're my friend, but because you can tell. I like to call it, "The world crashing down on you." But this is different. It feels kind of like when you know it isn't supposed to happen like this, but it does. Really though, I think you've officially won the worst luck."

 

Luck is a bitch. Fate is what you call it when you can deal with it.

I still need some last words to some people.

Those people know who they are. Those people need to at least give me a signal. Those people are just dodging me for some reason.

Those people aren't cowards, she just moved on.

Until then. Adieu.