"even if you're awake..."

I have never regretted anything more than the choice I made in May of last year.  I'm not one to regret anything, ever.  But this...this I regret.  I was stupid.  I was foolish.  I...I didn't really know what I was thinking.  I wasn't thinking.  Something was blocking my brain and I ruined...everything.  And now... I live alone.  I only get her on the weekends.  And I hate it.  I HATE IT.  Every time she leaves I cry.  I cry and I cry and I cry.  Life loses its luster when she's gone.  I just force myself to trudge through the work week so I can make it to that twenty four hours I get to spend with her.

I want her back.  I want him back.  I want my life back.  I want my family.

This isn't living.
This is dying.

favorite / things

scotch / pancakes
peanut butter / pickles
laughter / tears
clothes / skin
music / breathing
fingers / heartbeats
vodka / tonic
running / away / towards
paint / canvas
ears / shoulders
friends / love

"let your fears go, you may find that you're not lost..."

I argued with myself.  'Should I go?  Why shouldn't I?  Nah, I shouldn't go.  That's stupid.   It's too far.  You don't know where you're going.  You've never done this before.  Yeah I'm not gonna go.  I'm just gonna go home.  No, I should go.  Yeah I'm gonna go.  Ah maybe I shouldn't.  Ok, I'm gonna do it.'
After work I raced home, unloaded the unnecessaries from my car, emptied my backpack, repacked it, changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and I was off and running.  Time of departure:  6:30pm.

I drove.  And I drove and I drove and I drove.  Made a few (very) quick stops:  caffeine reload at a Starbucks in Soledad, a gas station in I-Don't-Even-Know-Where for a pee.  I took the 101, crossed over through Stockton, landed on the 5, and I drove.  The music I was listening to transitioned as I made my journey:  old techno burned cds I made when I was a teenager, hip-hop I liked back then, then eventually I started grabbing random cds out of my cd case (because it was so dark I couldn't see them) and playing them.  Then I let my cd player rest for a bit while I scanned through whatever surrounding radio stations I could pick up along the road.  More hip-hop.  Then as I got closer to Sacramento I landed on a classical station and didn't change it.  My mood shifted.  The cd case opened back up and I pulled out my  Moulin Rouge soundtrack.  Had to hear Ewan McGregor singing "Come What May" (a few times).  I saw my final exit.  Up over the freeway, down the hill, running along the edge of Sacramento suburbia.  Left turn, immediate right, another left, another right.  Curve to the left, straight ahead.  Quick right turn.  Parked.  Engine shut off.  I sat for a moment.  Then promptly sprang out of my seat, closed my door, and leaned against the side of the car.  Standing on a street three hundred miles from home wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.  Time of arrival:  10:40pm.


Mile markers:
Fear.  Excitement.  Anxiety.  Exhaustion.  Anger.  Thoughtfulness.  Doubt.  Hurt.  Sadness.  Peace.  Joy.  Reminiscence.  Contentment.  Ad nauseum.

Items of note:
I need to do this more often.
I need to listen to myself when the "shoulds" and "should nots" come into play.
I want to be a stunt driver.

You won't get lost.  You're taking the scenic route.

 Old Soul Co. coffee shop

 the flats found Sac Town

 A necessary thing

 Cool chair (and the girls are on...you guessed it...Facebook)

 James, the long-haired bartender at Pangaea Cafe

 Just a few of the neighborhood beer patrons

Napkin art drawn by Sean McC

"..heaven.."

"I can get to heaven / Walking out in the streets at night / Pushing my soul into the open wind / And in a daze I've been there / In a daze I begin to see the way..."  Heaven by Jes

These lyrics struck me just now in such a way that it made me realize this is probably one of the best ways to describe how people watching makes me feel.  I feel so at peace with the world:  the people, the air, the sun, the sky, the sounds, the smells!

I think we forget how amazing life is:  how blue the sky is, how teal the ocean is, how vibrantly-colored flowers are, how intoxicating a laugh is, how contagious a smile is.

Something I've started focusing on / being more aware of when I'm walking about is smell.  I breathe in everything, as much as I can.  Absorb emotions and feelings and words into my bloodstream.  I breathe in life and exhale peace.

Breathe.

"The Bitch is Back"

And then, quite suddenly, she leaped from her seat and stepped into the bathroom.  Heels, balls, toes hit carpet, linoleum, carpet.  The light flickered eerily when she flipped the switch.  Palms on the edge of the sink, skin changing colors with the pressure against the fake porcelain:  red, white, pink, purple.  She glares at herself, but she sees someone else looking back.  A hand, like her own, reaches into her makeup bag, comes back holding a pot of pure black.  The cap lands on the counter, tap, tap, tap, tap, and then swivels and settles on its back.  Fingertips smear the blackness on her eyelids, above and below, the whites of her eyes stark against.  Her jaw is set.  Her hand comes down.  Lights out.  It's time.

I don't understand it

Why.  Why are we so damn conditioned to worry?  To worry about life, things, stuff, work, our looks, our words, our bodies, everything!  Why does one contemplate what clothes to wear?  Does it matter?  Is that guy sitting over there really going to care that you wore flip-flops with those jeans and that sweater?  How dare you! ...Seriously people?...  I'm not saying just don't give a shit about anything, but just ease the fuck up.  Everything in this world is temporary.  Everything!  In a matter of years, which is absolutely NOTHING in comparison to the entire existence of this universe, everything will be gone, everything will be dust.  Everything changes.  Nothing stays.  So why?  Why??  Why worry?  Do what you love!  Do what you feel you must do!  Do it!  And do it with all of your heart!  Love people!  Breathe the air!  Taste flavors!  Touch skin!  LIVE!!!

"embrace me, surround me..."

I have a strange relationship with food.  There, I said it.
It seems like all my life I've had this ongoing battle with it.  I remember when I was a kid, I would sneak food, all the time.  I would grab a snack and hide behind the couch and eat it really fast.  I would go get ice cream after dinner and eat a bunch of it, then put some in my bowl, and bring it into the living room.  I would bring extra food up into my room.  I would refill my bowl or plate two or three times, and just eat and eat until I was disgustingly full.  Why?  Was I not well-provided for?  Quite the opposite in fact.  The fridge was generally always full, we were fed full range meals.  So what was my problem?  Honestly?  I have no idea.  To this day I still don't know.  Literally, just now, I reached into the trash can at work and almost grabbed some french fries that a customer had thrown away.  I picked up the bag, opened it, and actually contemplated it.  It kind of shocked myself that I would do that.  ...And now my stomach's growling...
I regret food.  A lot.  Food is sort of this strange bane of my existence.  I know that doesn't really technically make sense, but it is a mental bane, let's say.  I sit and contemplate food.  A lot.  I'll tell myself, 'You really shouldn't eat this.  Don't eat this.  You're going to regret it.'  If I'm good, I'll stop myself, and not do it.  Generally though, I cave and eat it.  Then I regret it.  Like always.  Urgh!  Stupid food!
I've more or less "dieted" off and on since I was about 16, and it sucks.  For a while there, I got into the mindset of 'Eh I'll just eat whatever and take things in moderation.'  Yeah, that's when I actually started noticing the weight coming back on.  Oops.  My problem is, I don't MOVE enough.  Working three jobs has helped, because it seems like all I do is go, go, go when I'm at work.  I need to dance more though.  A lot more.  I will be dancing more and more over these next couple months, but I need want to dance, like, a RIDICULOUS amount more.  I would really, really love to full out, hardcore, sweat-dripping dance for 2-3 hours per day.  That would be amazing.  Yeah.  Dancer OUT!