Wednesday, April 2, 2014


I used to have these visions of being free, doing what I wanted to do. In these visions, I would be in interesting places, talking to interesting people about relevant and fascinating subjects. I wasn’t the center of attention, but I wasn’t so marginalized that my thoughts and feelings were negligent. These dreams would keep me going, keep me writing, keep me on “my grind” but lately, there’s nothing to grind. Any edge I had has been worn down to a dull point, so that instead of piercing through things like I used to, I’m finding myself having to bludgeon my way through obstacles. And I’m tired. I’m worn down. I’m close to giving up and throwing my hands skyward.

I know I don’t do anything all day, at least by your standards. I’m not sitting on a fat account. There are no houses or properties that I will be closing ESCROW on any time soon. Just student-loan debt, cell phone bills, and the daily need to feed myself. I’d rather go without food, to be honest, with my stomach as messed up as it is, and all the stress tearing at my insides making me feel like food falls right through me. But I go through the motions anyways. I think the realization has hit me that I won’t ever be anything. You’ll never read my words and gain inspiration, I’ll never feel that life fulfillment that comes with being good at something. Doubt and anxiety are my companions through it all, and as needy as I may be, I can’t think of two sensations I’ve felt a need for less than those two. I know the seriousness of my situation. I know that if I don’t land a serious job/career here in a little bit, my life will be perma-fucked, and I’ll be lucky to one day have a house to call my own. It’s frustrating to know how wonderful this world could be, how many opportunities could be waiting for me, but with how far away everything seems, I can’t help but admit I’m drowning and there’s no way out but to drown.

Maybe I can swim to safety. Maybe someone will throw me a life preserver. I hate this feeling. I hate this hopeless sensation that is overwhelming me and taking me over. I hate how weak you make me feel and how eagerly you remind me how fucked I am. Everyday I awake to this burning deep in the core of me. This thing that tells me hurry, move, get your ass up and move or these flames will take you over and reduce you to a pile of ash. I’ve been burning for I don’t know how long so maybe a dive into the deep end will do me good. That’s what I keep telling myself through all of this. This is good for you, you need to be reminded how things can be, how things are. And for awhile, it was enough to keep me motivated and positive, keep me pushing and wading through the daily mountain of bullshit you have to wade through just to keep your sanity. But lately, day by day, incidence by incidence, it’s like there is nothing sacred anymore. There is no sure thing, there is no clear path as to what you’re supposed to do or who you’re supposed to become. I used to so clearly know exactly who I wanted to be and how I wanted to be that person, but now, I just feel like I don’t have the tools to do anything that I really want to do.

Let’s say I really did want to write as a profession; where would I even start? Just write, they say. Don’t stop writing. Live, eat, and breathe writing. Don’t put the pen down. But I don’t even know what to write. Does this count? Is this inane rambling good enough to qualify as writing? I honestly don’t think it is. I don’t think anyone cares, honestly, what I have to say or how I say it. I don’t think anyone but me wants to me to succeed at this. Call me selfish. Call me a loser who can’t acknowledge the people supporting him and holding him up. But you know what you won’t do? You won’t tell me how much you enjoyed my writing and how disappointed you are that I don’t write anymore. You won’t tell me that you can’t WAIT for me to end this story I’m writing, or how you need to know how it ends. People tell me I write brilliantly, but, what exactly am I writing? To me, this feels like some pre-pubescent’s high school diary, complaining about how this isn’t working or that person isn’t feeling them. I want to tell myself to get the fuck over it. Who the fuck cares what people do to support or not support your writing. You didn’t start writing because people like it. You didn’t start writing because you wanted people to read what you wrote. You started writing because YOU enjoyed it, and it was a release for you to explain what was going on in that chaotic little head of yours. So why does the need for a plot or story change that? Why can’t I just do this and enjoy it? Why do I have to become successful or known from this? Is it because I fear working a dead end job for the rest of my life? Am i afraid that I’m destined to be a blue collar worker for the rest of my life, surviving in between odd jobs and favors?  I know next saturday I’ll be bouncing just because I need income. I know that the degree I earned, that I EARNED, won’t be used during that 8+ hour shift of yelling at co-eds to keep their drinks off arcade games or cleaning puke out of a bathroom stall. All that degree does is remind me of what I should be doing with my life, how much money I should be earning, and how much I gambled with on those to assumptions.

So fuck. My girlfriend wants to tell me about her boss and how they know each other so well that he can finish a story of hers two words in, how they can hang out at a lake where she can grab a dip in the water while he presumably watches and perhaps even joins her. I don’t think she’s cheating on me, I hope she isn’t, but for fuck’s sake, how often do I have to be reminded of how much I don’t know you or how I’m not someone else in her life. I swear to god I feel like I know her ex better than I know myself sometimes. But she’s a sweet girl, and she’s young. She treats me right and she doesn’t have that superficial vibe that I can’t cater to at the moment. Yeah babe I’d love to buy you a house and car to go with that diamond ring but my loan payment is too high and I need enough money to feed myself so, how about some subway instead? 

Feelin’ some hopeless
Tryin’ to smoke the dope less
But without the smoke, I feel a mess
An angry monster in distress

It don’t matter, no one cares
From the bottom, its a long flight of stares
Full of self doubting and despair
Like you want to sit down but life’s already pulled that chair

So whatever, who’s got time to sit?
Never enough time to deal with all this shit
And this drama, like a tight shirt that don’t fit
Chokin’ on the stale air feelin like a misfit

Cause freedom tastes so fresh and sweet
Serfdom done ruined my feet,
Blistered broken and ready to bleed
Sometimes I wish you’d just end me

Stop making me suffer through this endless charade
No relief in sight, all night and day
Just pain, which you pay to play
Can’t stand it? That’s okay.

This too shall pass, they say
But then comes the next day, with the same fate
The same problems just a different date
Yet all you want is a little escape

A little relief from the disappointment, the shame
Knowing you’re fucked but what’s to blame?
You, and your lack of fame?
Your inability to conquer and lay claim?

What you want isn’t coming to you
Instead of rolling in green, you drown in the blue
Depression, anxiety, misunderstandings to name a few
Searching for answers, all you need is a clue

A reason, a path, an adventure to start
These cloudy skies will one day part
And the light will you hit you so bright it’s blinding
Embrace the warmth til it’s binding

These days won’t last
Your pain will be your past
So, before you denounce man and become an outcast
Look up to the sky kid, life can be a blast


Saturday, March 1, 2014

Anonymous asked: It says ask anything. Can I ask for your number? I've read everything on your page and love it, I've also seen some of your other sites and find you for lack of better words you are hot. Maybe we could exchange photos get to know each other?

You sound quite possibly fake :I

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

I Need This

I need you. An audience. Otherwise I’m just telling stories to myself. Which, don’t get me wrong; I don’t mind them. I think they’re good stories. Entertaining stories. But they’re just glimpses and flashes. A scene here. A character development there. Some kind of possible ending or scene that ties up all the horrible and nasty and awful things to turn them into something beautiful and majestic and wholesome. 

But I’ve been broken for the past couple months. It’s a long story and perhaps I’ll tell it another time, but the energy and time involved with that side of life drew me away from this, which is what I need. I can no longer afford to sit around idly and neither invest time or efforts into something I so clearly need to be working on. Some people go their whole lives without receiving a compliment about an action or skill or talent they may possess. I’ve had the direct pleasure of multiple people telling me they ENJOY my writing. They come back for it. They subscribe to my channel, but, this makes me shy somehow, like someday I’ll say something that will make them decide in their head I was nothing to enjoy to begin with. This fear, this anxiety, has driven me my whole life. Everything I do or don’t do is a result of standing up to some fear or acquiescing to it. And it’s exhausting. It really is. To doubt everything you do..

Something, someone is telling me to doubt this no longer. It doesn’t matter if I write about video games or sex or movies/tv shows or quirky interactions I have with people in life or some made up fantasy about people that don’t exist in worlds that aren’t ours, and yet, for a moment, all of these can be interesting and draw you in because, me? Yes. Me. I have to write. No one else is going to do it for me. No one is going to come up to me and tap me on the shoulder and say, “Kid, you should write one of them space drama novels! The youth really loves them these days!” And don’t worry, kids, one of those is already in the works, but really, I have to just remain disciplined and keep at it or else this skill, like so many others, will slip by the way side and I’ll be reduced to someone who never was.

I’ve been very fortunate and blessed to do the things I do, be able to enjoy the things I enjoy, and still be around to share my experiences and hopefully provoke a little bit of thought. So, I need you. It’s gone beyond wanting to write for the fun of it. I am not the same person when I don’t write. I don’t feel any hope or joy getting up; just worry, self-doubting, and self-shaming, which I am great at. None of these things do it for my anymore, though, and I’m ready to start trying at something again.

So many topics to choose from. For awhile I wanted to try my hand at some steamy erotica, but I don’t really have an outlet for it as I wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable sharing it here. I want to go back to The Henchman of The Princess and Her Knight, but I’d have to re-read them to get back in the mood, and quite frankly it’s awkward to re-read my own stuff. I don’t enjoy doing it. I’m so damned critical. But I have to get back in the habit of doing that too.

Since I can’t decide on which old story to work on or were to progress to, I’m going to cop out and basically chronicle my friend James’ role-playing game. The premise is we’re all people chosen to board a giant spaceship with a brand-spanking new technology that’s going to slingshot us across the galaxy/universe to an inhabitable planet like 33 years worth of travel away. So naturally we’re going to be frozen for the trip, the ship is like a giant freezer with thousands of humans, and then start a new life on this planet. For my character, I was thinking he’d be a botanist, cause, well, knowing plant life would be kind of useful on a foreign planet, right? Also, I was thinking he’d bring some plants from earth that would help us self-sustain until we figured out if there was anything we could eat while they’re there. But, even though my character was a botanist, he was mostly going to be masquerading as one. His real character profile is he’s a spy from the USA made to ensure that the planet has a USA influence. No one’s calling my new city/town/planet New Moscow or China II. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t know that weeks prior a fellow player had talked to the game master and arranged to also be a botanist, so, inadvertently I stole his character makeup and forced him into a tech-y role. Sorry Adam. My other comrades were of various backgrounds, mostly from USA, except one, Scott, who always plays “unique” character types.

That’s the setup. Humans signed up to travel into space to setup a new planet, a new way of life, far, far away from the Planet Earth…

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Anonymous asked: I've seen you around and think you're so cute! Are you single?

I’ve been thinking about this question for a lot. At least a few times a day. I don’t know if it’s the Catfish episodes I’ve been watching lately, the depression, or some kind of spiritual awakening but for me the more I think about this the more confused I am.

So let me simplify. Yes, I am seeing someone. I like this someone very much and would have a hard time walking away from them. I don’t know what our future holds other than a fair amount of uncertainty. She’s emotionally unavailable and I find myself reaching out to other people who actually enjoy communicating with me throughout the day/week and not just an hour before they want to come over and get some. I feel a sense of loyalty and duty to close myself off to others, but it just makes me a shell of a person. She doesn’t ask me how my day is; only wishes me a good one. We chat some in person when we hang out but I can’t help but notice how alone I feel when she’s not around. I find myself checking my phone for messages and am usually disappointed.

So, yes, I am otherwise involved with someone. But the extent of our involvement and extent for which she cares about me is making me doubt myself. Also.. Who notices me around town and then finds this blog? I haven’t posted here much lately.. I don’t even think she reads this. If I wake up tomorrow without a text, should be obvious. Either way, I’m one lost puppy.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

My Neat Mess

I don’t remember creating you, and yet there you are. Starring me back in the eye. Try harder, you say. Try at all, you say. But here I am, doubting myself, pacing frantically back and forth inside the cell that is my head. I’m alive, but I’m not living. I’m moving, but I’m not progressing. Stagnation. Stale thoughts. Decay. All the things I fear forming before me. 

But I just keep pacing along, waiting for some sign, some miracle, some Manna from Heaven to trickle down and set my world on fire. This slow burn of frustration and futility is starting to burn me out; can you be the spark to jump start my heart? Can you be that bolt of inspiration that sets me free? 

I’m begging you. Unleash me upon the world for I grow wary of cages. Look to me and I won’t lead you on. This is the world we live in, and with chivalry dead or dying, you wouldn’t spare a knight his one last smoke, would you? Very well. Let’s do this.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

kaliiwashere asked: hang in there buddy <3 I'm proud of you for standing up for your hard work! XD

Thanks :D Same to you! Hope you feel better!

Anonymous asked: Who has been your most enjoyable sex partner and why? (no names needed)

She’s unselfish. She’s passionate and she’s got stamina from what I imagine involves morning runs with her dog. It’s interesting that you would ask a question that begins with who but doesn’t end or include a name, so, I’m not sure what you want. Maybe a description of her physical features? She’s been my most enjoyable sex partner because she wants me to get off as much as I want her to, and she lets me know when she wants something or when to move a hand from here to there; pretty much all those things I’ve wished past partners have told me because I’ve never owned a female body, let alone yours, and I don’t know how to push your buttons unless you give me several test runs OR some feedback. Hope that answers your question.

Anonymous asked: 916.346.6735... Lee ann, from chipotle. :)


Anonymous asked: How is life?

You know, it has it’s ups and it’s downs. More often than not I’m confused, but I get along. Not really where I stand, which is a horrible feeling, but I know when one door closes, another opens, and so forth so, I’m just trying to keep busy, keep my head down and just power through this next few weeks til things become a little clearer. How’s yours?

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

I don’t think I know how to write anymore.

Maybe once, for awhile, I think I had it figured out. At least, for m writing style. Just sit back, relax, and let the fingers do all the dancing across the keyboard. There wasn’t much thought or anticipating, like tuning into a random show on a random station that for some reason, after some time, relates to you and keeps you interested. Maybe I’m not so much interested in what I have to say as much as I am interested in the process.

Let me be more clear: I cannot control how you view me, or my petty, trying words. I cannot make you like me, or make you like what I do. I can’t make you do anything. I just have to hope that at the end of the day, I’m not the bad guy. Why would someone who is so nice be worried about that?

Simply, because I’ve spent my whole life NOT trying to stand out and NOT trying to be the guy that everyone pitied or loathed or despised. Now that I think of it, I don’t know what I want people to think of me. I guess it doesn’t really matter, it only matters what I think of me, and I think I’ve been too quiet for too long.

My grandmother, Hedwig Kazlikowski (i think thats how you spell it) passed away on Friday, 7/27/2013. She was the self-proclaimed fastest coil winder. When I’d drive her to eye appointments or to various doctor’s offices, she’d always tell me the same stories about her days as a coil winder during, what I presume, would be World War 2. Apparently she was so gifted, all her other peers and co-workers envied her and wished for her demise behind her back. Now, I never heard why she stopped winding coil, or what lead her onto bigger and better things, maybe to marry and raise a family with my grandfather, but in any case, she held onto that story. That was her story, and bring up any form of coil winding in front of her, and bam, say goodbye to at least fifteen minutes.

When she passed, when I tried to say goodbye to her, to myself because I didn’t get to see her in the hospice care or in the emergency room because I was too busy working and she had had multiple scares like this before. For years and years she would go on insisting to myself, my father, and I’m sure anyone who would listen, that she was “ready”, and she wanted to be with her husband, Ted. But none of that eased the shock when I found out she had passed. I can’t even really remember the last time I saw her. That makes me angry. At myself.

Other things I’m angry at: while we, my immediate family and my mother’s side of the family, were sitting down eating at my father’s favorite local italian bistro, my uncle decided to engage me in the standard “catching up” that we humans, or rather, Americans, tend to do with one another after prolonged absences. “How are you?” “How have you been?” “Do you have a girlfriend?” “What are you doing for work?”

We get to this last one, and before I get to my answer and the ensuing dilemma, let me just say that my mother’s side of the family is EXTREMELY conservative. They were raised super Catholic, with more crucifixes than light switches in their home. Simple fun, travelling, an occasional glass of wine, no smoking, no swearing (not really, maybe a little..), but generally speaking, pretty “normal” people with good jobs and proper families. That having been said, my mother’s side of the family has a tendency to be very “catty” for lack of a better word, and before you can ask, “What’s going on meow?” let me get to the story.

My Uncle: “So, what are you doing for work besides working for USA Today?”
Me: “I really enjoy the opportunity that USA Today is providing for me, but unfortunately it doesn’t provide enough money for me to cover the costs of my college tuition, so I work as a manager at an alternative medicine facility where I help patients, maintain the patients’ files on the system, welcome them to our facility, train new staff, and so on. It’s a very active—”
My Aunt, who has been eyeing me sideways from just to my uncle’s right, decides to chime in with a: “Alternative medicine? I though you worked at a weed shop?”


I’m just shocked. I never told her that. I wasn’t speaking with her. I was talking and having a conversation with my uncle, and, with her seventeen year old son sitting right next to our uncle but on the other side, she thought maybe it was a good time to discuss the positive sides of medicinal marijuana, as you know I wasn’t going to take that fight sitting down. Admittedly she caught me off guard and maybe I stumbled for a second, but I quickly recovered, and in between gulps of his frosty beer, I could see he was opening up to the idea that I might not be a complete and total scumbag drug-dealer type. Meanwhile, my aunt minds her business and continues on with other conversations. But it brings me to my point: Yes, I work at a medicinal marijuana dispensary, and yes, I enjoy my work. No, I don’t smoke/medicate at work, nor do I lounge around eating cheetos and snacking on pizza all day, either. My dispensary serves over 500 patients a day, on busier days, and closer to 400 on average. Not only is it the first job that offered me a full time position since the economic collapse, it’s also the first job that’s allowed me to progress and advance to the ranks of management where I am getting tons of valuable hands-on experience. I love the opportunity I have to work for these fine folks, but goddammit, what we do isn’t exactly 100% accepted. We have more work to do. And the one thing that I want to have control of is to be able to explain to people who I am and what I do on my own time. I don’t want someone else to sit there and explain to someone else who I am, with a casual term, some throwaway 60’s/70’s’ terminology: doper, reefer-head, hippie. 

I am a hard working young man. I work 40 hours a week, and I’ve interned for the past year. I’ve worked with veterans, disabled, homeless, cancer survivors, AIDS victims, mentally disabled/handicapped, and some people who were just dealt a shit hand. I work out when I can, and try to eat as healthy as possible because I don’t have a gallbladder anymore and that really limits what I should put in my body. I’m passionate, and feel strongly for people who are wronged and marginalized, but I know that more often than not, I am powerless to do anything. But you know what, not this time. This time I can do something, because I know I am not the only person who subscribes to the fact that medicinal marijuana is something that is productive and useful and not something that earns you the stigma attached to a prison convict or hardcore junkie.

When you marginalize what I do by saying, “Oh, he just works at a marijuana shop” you marginalize the relief and the success the hundreds of patients I’ve helped in the eight years that I’ve been there. You say what I do, you tell me the results and the positive feedback I’ve seen with my own eyes, is meaningless and destructive like referring to a pharmacist as someone who slangs pills, when we both know, they do so much more than that.

To the forty year old patient who just found out two weeks ago he has stage four lung cancer, I say come back anytime, and I would love to discuss which edibles are going to be the most effective on helping you put some weight back on, negate some of the chemo treatment nausea, and maybe, just maybe, turn your head off long enough so you can get some honest to god sleep. Let me also tell you not to worry about what your friends may say, because the true ones will be happy to see you feeling better and the false friends will make their personal grievances a concern for your health. But worry not, as you’ve come to the right place.

To the twenty something with Chron’s, keep your chin up. I know how hard it is when your stomach doesn’t feel right and you have to be cautious about what you eat, and how that makes others feel in your presence. I went on a date once with a beautiful girl who was oft-put because I only ate half my dive-bar cheeseburger and not all of it, which made her feel like she was fat. We didn’t have a second date after that. But others have come into my life, who don’t care how empty or full my plate is when we’re done eating; they’re just happy to be sitting across from me at all. Don’t forget to be yourself, even if it’s silly, goofy, “weird”, whatever. Normal is like living life in black and white when you have HD waiting at your fingertips. Embrace your uniqueness, and remember from pain comes strength.

And to the rest of you who don’t know why you smoke, or why you feel the way you do when you do, don’t worry about it. These things tend to have a way about them. I didn’t start until I was twenty-two, and didn’t really embrace “alternative medicine” until my mid-twenties. I didn’t know Trainwreck from Bubba Kush. I thought honey’s were something you ate, and I thought all stoners were the same. But we’re not.

We’re all different. I don’t know if my grandma would be proud or ashamed of my actions, but I do know some of the elderly women that have come in that have reminded me of my grandmother have usually walked away smiling/happy with their care. And, at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters to me. I’m no rockstar. I’m twenty-eight and live at home with my parents. I am so saddled with debt, with my 22.5k a year salary that I don’t see myself moving out or starting my own life for at least a couple more years, but at least I got that Economics degree that I’m putting to good use.

I was having trouble getting to sleep but we’re approaching 5am and I think enough is enough. Thanks for reading, those of you who still do. You’re my silent, engaged audience, and while I write this for me, I do also write it for you so that you can share in my life. However, if you ever find yourself tempted to share a fact about me in a conversation you’re not involved in, maybe it’s best you just go ahead and keep that one to yourself. I wanted to say something mean but she is after all family. And after wednesday, they’ll all be gone. Or so I’m told. 

Guess we’ll find out.

Monday, June 24, 2013

We’ve Come A Long, Long Way

More than anything, tonight, I just wanted to sit down and actually write for once. I’ve been so focused and committed to my internship and my job that I haven’t really had time to work on my writing as much as I would have hoped. I find myself getting irritated when people ‘edit’/’correct’ my writing because they usually insist it’s just small grammatical stuff, but I’m always, in my head, like Nope, I like my way better, but just outwardly nod and go with whatever they’re saying. I too am human and make mistakes, I suppose. Maybe I’ve made mistakes in the past, labeling things as this or that. Right now, all I can say is I’m in a better place today than I was a year ago at this time. I remember the desperation sinking in, feeling like I was stuck at my job, driving miles away to do a job a monkey could do, but there I was, chipping away at my college loan debt because unknowingly to me, the moment I graduated and got my degree, I had become an indentured servitude looking at economic collapse and a bunch of employers who wanted no part of what I had to bring.

But some folks took a chance on me, and now, I feel like my life is actually moving in a positive, corrective direction instead of a self-destructive or even stagnant approach. I’m making progress, I’m helping folks, I’m giving back to my community, I’m covering my favorite sports teams, I’m finally developing confidence and trust in myself to get things done and achieve things I thought otherwise in-achievable.

Work finally saw the strength and consistency in my demeanor and I’ve been given a chance to manage some employees that used to be coworkers. Unfortunately, now, I find myself wanting to hang out with them and tell them how proud I am of their efforts and how much I appreciate what they bring to the table individually, but new work policy requires me to maintain a professional relationship with these people, which means no fraternizing with them after work. I used to be able to swing by a coworkers house and relax for a couple hours before heading home, but now I say good night, barely get a reply, and zip myself home so I can at least enjoy some rest. I do regret not being able to let my guard down around people I would consider friends but I feel like at the end of the day, this “promotion” will be a good thing and help with my overall growth as a human being, professionally and personally. I’m excited at the challenges to come although I can already tell there are going to be some tough, confrontational situations I am not going to like having to deal with, but hey, that’s what I agreed to sign up for, so it’s only fair I don’t complain and do my best to handle each situation to my utmost capabilities.

Maybe some day I’ll get to share some of the stories and things I witness on a day-in, day-out basis, but as is, with wiretapping and digital profiling/cataloging, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if I keep what we do to myself and compile some kind of comprehensive writings after a good “stopping” point, which I don’t forsee anytime soon. All I can really say for now is I love what I am doing and I am so grateful for the opportunity to prove myself. Things like this don’t come around very often for me, and I know deep down I worked my ass off to get this chance. I remember walking in and looking at my boss and thinking some day, I’m going to have your job, and I’m not going to be the asshole that you are. I do have the job, but unfortunately being an asshole is just part of the territory.

Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes you just might get it.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Bend, Don’t Break


There’s this energy that seems to follow me everywhere I go, and no matter what type of accomplishments I think I may have acquired or accolades earned, I always feel like there’s something I’m not doing, and I’m 99.5% confident that something is THIS. I always feel like I need to be writing or should be writing or should be reading more so I get a more rounded, more diversified tool shed when it comes to telling my own stories, but instead, all I do is work. Even when I’m not at my job, I’m thinking about work. I’m thinking about things I can do to improve my own situation. I think about all the little intricacies that go into my office workplace dynamics: high-turnover, questionable morale grounding, and high volume. I came to terms long ago that I was dispendable there. My first week, I told myself I’d be proud if I made it a week. And then the same after a month. And then after three months. Now, I’m approaching my six month mark, and approaching it quickly. My internship is more than half-way through; as far as I remember, playoffs start next month, and that’ll be the busiest time of the year for me in that regards, probably. I like my income, I like the areas I’m working in; I just hate working for individuals that feel they can talk down to me and make me their own personal mouth piece. That’s what I’ll be because I have to be, and in this stupid, broken, and mal-aligned economy. There are no other jobs. These are my jobs. I have to do these things or else what am I? A nobody loner with an anxiety disorder and a propensity to medicate a lot..

That bothers me though, and I’ll tell you why. I remember what I was like before “medicating” ever came into my life. Before the prescription pills, the experiments with alcohol and cannabis: before all of that, all I would do is stay in my room and play video games all day. I would desperately seek to crawl into another story line or universe in which I was anyone but myself. It wasn’t because I didn’t like myself or I didn’t enjoy this world, it was that I was suffering through an extraordinary amount of pain with no way out. So I made a way out. I played video games and read books and played role-playing games. The usual competitive me that played basketball, soccer, baseball, football, participated in Karate (purple belt, bitches), natural swimmer, etc.. no longer wanted to do any of those things, COULDN’T do any of those things, so I turned to the only thing I could: stories. Love stories, war stories, ancient stories, fictional stories, and in those stories, I found something that I could not find within myself. I found a certain strength and perseverance that allowed me to turn each page knowing full well there might be some pages better than others. Knowing that the good guy was always going to get roughed up, beat down, told “No”, that he was worthless, just another grain of sand among billions, before he ever stood up for himself and decked that evil son of a bitch villain right in the chin. I’ve worked for several people now. Women bosses, men bosses, bosses that were related to me, bosses that were older than me, bosses that were younger than me. I’ve had bosses that knew me very well, and bosses that didn’t care to take a moment to get to know me or my name. And the one thing I’ve learned from all these “upper management” folk is I don’t want to have a boss for the rest of my life. Lord knows life’s scary enough with certain things looming your shoulder every day, but I think having a person or a group of people checking in on my well being and looking to censor any slip ups before I make them disturbs me. I want to make mistakes. I want to fail. I want my first stories to suck and turn people off. That’s all part of the process. What I don’t need is someone to remind me the importance of each failure and how my failures affect them. I know. That’s what you’ll never understand. All you have to do is point out I made the mistake. My mind and poor self-esteem will take care of the rest. You throwing fuel onto the fire by pointing out how you’d like things to be done going forward or how important it is that I “stay in front” of things only makes me more nervous and more likely to mess up in the future.

I know who I am. I like who I am. I understand who I am. And while I can put a shit eating grin on my face while you chide me, I just want you to know I’m taking notes the whole time and plotting my escape. You may have me as your man for now, but don’t be fooled: you can’t buy loyalty outright; you earn it.

Honestly, I don’t know how long it will take, when it’s going to happen, or what will be the subject to get me off this shit island but, I know that I won’t stop trying. You have me bound today, but look out your window soon enough and see me soar. I refuse to live a mediocre life. I refuse to accept this as my reality. I will not be your ‘yes man’.

But still, where do I start? So many areas, so many subjects, so many different angles to consider… It really does leave me exhausted when I pull back to look at it all, so, let’s start somewhere and focus in on what comes first. Me. Writing. Me writing, what? Me writing about… work? Me writing about… love, or lack thereof? Me writing about… me?

That would be slightly ironic. I pull myself out of everyone else’s stories to lose myself in my own, only to share that story with the world and make myself vulnerable from just about every angle. What do you say? I heard this ‘irony’ thing is all the rave these days…


Saturday, January 12, 2013


I’ve done a little “celebrating” tonight; i’ll be honest. I recently received a mandatory pay raise, and starting feb 1, should be covered insurance wise, so, that should be cool. 2012 was a tough year and there are still remnants shown through this new year. Two 45+ hour weeks back to back on top of some internship stuff. Heartbreaking news about the Sacramento Kings leaving Sacramento, where i was born and raised, and the team i was looking forward to covering, or at least getting a chance to see what it might have been like but, it looks like that probably won’t be happening. So, if i can’t control what happens to the kings, and i can’t control whats happening at work and i cant control the women i so badly wish would let me into their lives, i will instead focus on controlling my thoughts and desires into things more productive and positive, like trying to write again.

Its a tad frustrating because i just signed a non-disclosure agreement so i cannot really talk too much about work and there’s still a lot of questions i have for management as far as what i can even confirm/acknowledge publicly but until then all i can really say is that im a patient services representative and i work for a medical facility in west sacramento called RCP Sacramento. I like what i do, and im having to work more in my life than ive ever had to which has left less room for things i want to do like write or work out or play basketball or hang out with friends or see movies or play video games, etc etc… I can see my arms getting leaner and my body too. I can see the facial hair sprouting all over. I suppose this is a time of transition, and I’m totally eager and willing to embrace the change, but i cant help but just reflect on how far ive come and all those that have helped me along the way. I feel so much more humble a person, and so much more… Confident. Dont get me wrong; i have my shy moments and moments of doubt same as ever but i also have a boldness and fearlessness that can give me great strength when i need it. Im thankful and grateful to have these talents, and these friends and families whove given me ample opportunity to grow into the man i am today.

Tonight, im celebrating the fact that im still here. Im celebrating that im not underwater in debt, i have some money in my wallet (not lots but enough), some friends to look forward to hanging out with, and a job i look forward to going to, despite all the politics and office dramas. At the end of the day i feel like im helping people, people who have told me thank you for giving me advice, and you were right, and i feel so much better, and yeah… it just feels very.. rewarding. I guess all the bullshit i had to go through to get here was worth it, and next up, after i put away some money, i think ill go back to school and get some kind of fancy degree. But first, i got another 40+ hour week ahead of me so, have a lovely weekend. I apologize for the lack of updates, i really do but know that im just so busy working and resting in between work that i havent had much time to myself. I appreciate you now more than ever, and thank you all for continuing to come back and read and check up on me. 

Youre often a quiet group but i can feel your silent presence around me :) Happy new year and have a blessed rest of your January ;)


Tuesday, January 1, 2013

2012 =====> 2013!


Well, it’s a new year, and thank goodness, because for a second, I thought I lost this file. I definitely don’t write anywhere near close to 2,000 words a day but that’s only because I have become saturated with work. I work full-time at a medical facility in west sac that I must be somewhat discrete about due to our patient confidentiality agreement with our collective members/patients, but I can say that I’m working close to 45 hours this week, and it’s pretty much my first real, full time job, where I’m working for someone I don’t know, and I’m showing up to work everyday like its my last day. But I can’t approach it that way anymore because there’s some consistency finally showing through and I dunno, I work tomorrow, and supposedly there’s going to be some evaluations so, I’m hoping for the best and crossing my fingers. Hopefully my hard work and efforts pay off.

I just feel distracted by the fact that I don’t really have anyone in my life to share my life with completely, outside of like a few close friends/family members, and even with them, there’s probably only one person I share everything with, and I shield some of the negative stuff from her because she’s sensitive like me. And lately I’ve just been negative because things have not played out with the ladies as I had hoped they would, but that’s okay, because I’ve been so busy at work, I haven’t even really had time to maintain a relationship, let alone my messy room. I want to have some time to breathe and write and create and get back into some of these stories that were my way of expressing myself, but every time I imagine the story, it was something bad or negative, and I’m tired of bumming people out. I want good things to happen, I really can’t explain it but it’s so frustrating to only report bad news. And that’s not to say my life’s all bad; I’m just really busy working, and that’s all there really is to say.

It’s a new year, and a year of exciting opportunity and growth, so, I’m going to approach with the ABE mindset: Always Be Expanding. Don’t let myself stagnate. Keep growing, keep fighting, keep getting better, keep knocking that debt off, keep grinding away those work hours until I have enough saved up and enough experience to self sustain. That’s the plan. That’s the goal, but I know for awhile, it’s going to be grind time. And, after being a bouncer and standing out in the frigid cold to check ID’s at a college town, I don’t mind the current job that I have now, at all. I just know, its New Year’s Day, and it was my first day off after working like 12 days out of 14, and I feel exhausted knowing I have to fall asleep to do it over again. I’m hoping the New Year brings change, and I hope my hard work has sewn a bright new future for myself.

For those of you saying tell it to your therapist, first of all, I don’t have the money for that, and secondly, I don’t really have anyone to share this stuff with so let me vent, okay? Alright, now that my defensive mode is off, let me just say sorry for the delay in between writings. Its been such a hectic, crazy past few months. At times I really did feel like the world might be ending but, nope; we’re all still here. Everyone’s still doing what they did yesterday, and the day before that. No zombies. No nukes. No aliens or sea monsters. Just another day of monotonous grinding and slaving away to earn enough money to pay my debt off, which, again, not complaining, just preparing myself with the proper mindset. I will get a break some day but not tomorrow. And not the day after.

My lil pupper Melvin, a 15+ year old jack Russell terrier, had to be put down a couple weeks ago. It sucked. I don’t feel like talking about it much. He was a cool dog and I’ll miss him, even if he did tear up the door after we put him in the laundry room to sleep, and then pee all over his bed and floor, too. But ill miss the lil guy.

Not much else to report really. I have to work some more over the next several days, but I’m hoping to bring good news so stay tuned. Happy New Years, and congratulations on surviving that tumultuous 2012 ;)

Coming back soon…


Saturday, November 10, 2012