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.

Snuff n' Stuff

Just been hanging out. Getting scared shitless of the unknown the unsolved and the things to come.

We're growing up, we find reasons to look typically older, wiser, and sometimes harder. That's why we picked up dipping, but I have to be honest, sometimes it tastes terrible and my mouth blisters up. Am I older now?

It's funny to see us do it, because we know why we even do it. This self mutilation almost, gives us a sense that we are better than that. We are doing it to experience it now. To tell the story to those that will learn from it, and to motivate others like us that have to experience it to believe.

It's not something that we do consciously, it's not something that we want either. It's who we are, we choose to live simply and vividly at the same time. Living on the edge some say, we're just doing it for the ride.

(-;

I love and stuff.

Even during the best of highs, the lowest of the low.

Love the one that may meet you half-way, the one that even if the chick from whoresville-that-you-wouldn't-mind-doing was down. And while avoiding all temptation AND hope. You can't stop but to wonder. Because knowing she's not there makes it all go away. You realize you still love her. The way you did from ultimate beginning and end.

 

Poetry slam, you're mine.

If you want to be happy...

..For the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife. In my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you.

Well, at least a decent one. Not the pretty one that you had once and can't get out of your head.

I think that's what I need. A pretty girl with an ugly girls' personality. Or maybe an ugly girl with a nice rack. Either one is a-o-kay.

Well, it's official, little girls don't like me.
"Mommy, who's that?" [aww, my coworker's daughter takes interest in what mommy does.]

"That's Carlos." [so mommy says]

"Oh" [....and, you might be, cute little girl?]

"I don't LIKE Carlos" [WTF! WTF little girl?!, who said you were so awesome, well, you are sporting that lovely pink sweater]

(I make a degrading joke and go back to work with tears in my eyes)

But seriously. If I didn't have such a good sense of humour I'd be in shambles and expecting an apology and maybe a card, and those really big smarties.

Going to the gym is a huge obstacle every day, always that burden for me, but I know I have to go, it makes me happy when I go. I need to get a calendar or something so I can do something after, I feel if I cross out each day it will go faster somehow.

 

I just dialed Melina's number by mistake/habit. After doing so, I didn't feel like crying or anything. I guess I'm slowly, slowly, slowly "getting over" it. Though, I know this will ultimately haunt me, and will never leave me. But at least I won't be fazed when I see her driving or something. I'm better than that.

Getting it all out.

Because tomorrow is another day.

I always told myself it wouldn't hurt this badly. I never expected it to hurt this badly. It's kind of when you get a shot, you expect the pain, you expect it to swell then go away. But when you finally get pumped with the medicine, it hurts more than you could imagine, but you just have to give a good face and not look like a bitch in front of the cute phlebotomist.

so why did I post such emo things? Well, it's because it meant more to me than anything else, EVER. I decided to make them public, so I can have a timeline, to show me later that I do have a soul. That I can love passionately, with conviction, and selflessly.

Today is a new day. I've always tried to live life a day at a time. I still am, I just feel I have no direction.

I still love her. I still want her. I still need her. But she's gone. I can accept that. We talked, she promised me it wasn't my fault and that any decision she'd make it would be by her own self doing. I'm never going to believe that, I know I could have done better, I just don't know how. But now she's gone, all I can hope for is that she'll be happy.

Please, everyone, be happy.

I've never thought she was a Bitch.

"Don't worry I was probably one of her stupid friends"

I just saw something I probably was never meant to see. Now it seems all hope is lost. Bad timing I guess. )-';

[full size: http://flickr.com/photos/kumaku/2495870210/sizes/l/ ]

Earlier I had been talking about how my stomach stopped turning when I saw her picture, saw her name, said her name, or even thought about her. I was starting to make the distinction from my hellish sleep these past two nights, and the real world that I live in. But, as I drove to Circuit City, I didn't expect this.

These past two nights have been rough. I wake up in the middle of the night. I lay there, looking at the ceiling, wondering if everything we once had is "officially" done. My dreams are full of stuff I had never been prepared for. Stuff she said would never happen. I wake up and realize I'm alone.

What makes me depressed is that, I was right. I knew this would happen, for her and for her friends it would be a day of relief and freedom. For me it's a day of anxiety and reprise.

Such contradicting realities. One joyous rebirth, another a morose bereavement.

Just yesterday, my brother said, "When it rains, it pours."

I don't know.

While I read the newspaper during my Monday morning routine, the white starts to disappear and the text in front of me starts floating away. I'm just looking at them, none of it really matters at this point. My heart is calling me, telling me to wake up and get loves defibrillator. I can't though. I don't know where to find one, I'm now at a loss.

Knowing, knowing, KNOWING. Knowing you never had any of it. It breaks it. The thing is, I called it out. I said it. Word by word, action by action. In detail, at least once and in general terms, countless. I guess that's why my eyes are only puffy and I'm not in complete shambles.

So, when do I manage to keep living? I think I've already started. Maybe I started a few months ago, I don't know.

I'm calm and collected. Only, there is this tension I can't get rid of, my chest feels tight and I'm having trouble concentrating. Not because I am distraught of knowing the outcome. But, because I don't know.

Every time I breath out, I can feel it. I just won't know until.

Jealousy: A new frontier

This weekend my girlfriend went to a Kanye West concert in Albuquerque. I miss her, I wish she wasn't far away, but she's with her parents, brother, and a friend. I guess it's a normal feeling. This helped me realize something, something that has been stowed away deep in my intimate emotions I have towards Melina. I'm jealous of her fantasies, mainly because she, somehow meets all of mine.

I won't say that I haven't fallen in lust with various... countless... movie actresses and other women, but any time I do think about that, I always count my blessings and realize I have a companion that can't be beat.

For the past two and a half years I've done this.

I'm not the jealous type, I really don't care if she talks to guys, goes to party with her friends, or if she says, "This guy hit on me today and he was really funny, charming, and good looking." (Okay, she's never said that, exactly) None of it really bothers me, I know the game, If the bitch don't have a ring, she's available. But I trust her, she trusts me, and we're happy.

Lately, I've come to notice that she is particularly weak against certain, physical and personal attributes in the opposite sex. It started with a comment, in laymans terms it was, "I like black guys." TO ME, it sounded like, "I'm going to ditch your fat-ass for a black guy". I don't know why, it's not that I'm racist or prejudice, or have anything against black guys, but the fact that MY girlfriend is into a certain group of adult males, it struck a nerve. At that point I felt vulnerable, I mean, black guys are good looking. So like any other guy, I just put up a tough guy attitude, laughed it off, and let it claw at me from the inside.

Then, the rain came. It started to go into detail.

"(Some singer/actor/deuchebag that I've never heard of) is so sexy"

"OMG, freekin' sexy voice"

"He is so sexy I'd marry him"

"When I marry sexy (insert famous black guy)..."

 

Then, she twittered:

"Oh my god Pharrel williams is fckn sexy as hell!!! Ay!!! I'll

give him a lap dance for free even though i cant do that shit..."

WTF! I want to be sexy too! [I'm cracking up, writing this, you know, to offset the tears]

It's not like she's never told me that another actor is good looking. But, the fact that I have no idea who the hell she's referring to, makes me uneasy, it brings that human aspect to them. Like she's going to go see them and do something. It doesn't help that it's just about looks. It's never, "I think he is a great guy and I want to have lunch with him and talk about subjects that affect us emotionally." I take that back, THAT would completely demoralize me. ):

Good night.

[The thing is that I know Melina CAN get good looking guys, and CAN be a flirt. Then, when you compare me to the caliber of people she can attract. Add on top that she has particular tastes. Also note that I'm not exactly the most attractive/smooth cereal/cool person out there. Then add that this feeling does demoralize, weaken, and saddens me....]

 

I'm sad now.