First thing is first

Once again it is coming. There is no stopping this monthly apocalypse. It is once again time to lock myself in my room curled in the fetal position. That's right, the first of the month is about to arrive. It is good to know that I have a regular appointment with failure. I can't even imagine a day, or even a world for that matter, in which I could live where the first of the month wouldn't be a silent death.

It's amazing, I live in a prison of my own making. It doesn't matter if at the time of its construction I thought it was going to be a nice cottage looking over the shore. I should have realized that wasn't the shore but a sewage waste leak. My eyes are bigger than my stomach and my budget is bigger than my wallet.

But it is getting better. I am quite proud of myself in that I have almost caught up to current time. Almost. But I don't like to think that I am behind on things, so I just think of it as I am one step ahead of my paycheck. This way I can look at it in a positive light.

I must continue to play the lottery in hopes of salvation. Money may not make you happy, but currently it is the only thing that is making me unhappy. Believe it or not I am a happy and well adjusted person, but it is amazing the effect of stressing over finances can have. I never knew the evil of money. It is a horrible thing. It's one small thing that impacts everything. I can't believe that the one thing that brings me misery is paper. It's just paper. And yet paper tears flow each month.

But maybe I do it to myself because this is the punishment I have grown use to. My pure stupidity of picking a life I can't afford has to be for some reason. I never knew. I don't know how all those people do it. How can they hold on each month by a shoe string when the shoe only has velcro? Hurray for socialism. When does the revolution start? Not like it would help to know because I can't afford a watch. But that is a good thing because that way I can't see my life ticking away.

Pessimistic on the surface, Optimist at the core

I was once asked if I was pessimistic or optimistic. My answer was, "I'm pessimistic on the surface but I'm optimistic at the core. In other words; I think that things suck now, but I have hope that things will get better." Yesterday, while I was sitting in my pool of numbness, I thought of that. Then it hit me, like a dodgeball in gym class, hope is truly the one human emotion/experience that is universally shared. It doesn't matter what religion you prescribe to because at the foundation and at the heart of all of them resides hope.

America was built on hope and survives solely on it. I think the main obstacle between the status quo and the socialist revolution is hope. It doesn't matter that the people below the poverty line will soon reach a majority percentage which might seem like the seeds of revolt might start growing because no matter how poor people are in this country they still have hope in their social mobility. People would rather have the opportunity, despite the dismal size of it in some cases, to be social mobile than to have the guarantee of being equal.

The problem seems to be that sometimes we rely too much on hope. I hope all the time, I can't help but do it. However, hope is inactive. Change doesn't spring from hope. Hope gets us through the day to day in order to facilitate an environment in which change can occur but it doesn't actually cause change. I've always kind of made hope into a wish. If I just hope long enough or I just wish hard enough then my world would change; but I am still here, stuck in a world of my own imagination.

These thoughts all poured out while watching an episode of the West Wing. It got me to thinking about Capra and what it is that his films embody: hope. They are filled with unabashful hope that the world can be a better place. They feed on the very fabric of hope that resides in people's heart. His world's perfection isn't perfect at all. The world isn't perfect, people aren't perfect, and life isn't perfect. But with the hope that they have the possibility to be we strive for excellence. Sometimes we fail miserably and sometimes we have minor victories.

I wonder what it is like to have lost all hope. For that final bit of light to go off when you are trapped in that dark place. It must be the ultimate death within life. Because I know that no matter how deep I plunge into that unknown abyss, the light of hope will always guide me back. It must be so quiet at the bottom in all the darkness. To finally feel what it is like to truly be all alone. It makes me quite sad to even think about it. Every time I see a homeless person I wonder what happened in that moment. What was the final straw that made them give up so entirely.

One time a friend of mine told me a story of how he was sleeping on the streets for a short time. He had a job at the time at a major coffee company, but he couldn't pay his rent. He had many friends, one of who he stayed with for a short time. But slowly he was forced to live on the street. His story brought me to tears. It wasn't so much the fact that he had to live on the street but more about the fact that he had friends that would allow him to live on the street. I wish I had known him then. I would have taken him in. I guess that has always been something that I can't understand about humanity; how can people not help somebody when it is within their means to help them? I know that people feel that it is this slippery slope that will lead to them being a pushover. But who cares? What is so bad about being a pushover? We all wonder why feel so alone but we never reach out a hand to help people. True interaction and relationships are about giving even more than you receive, doing the things that suck, being there for people in times of need. Like it is that hard to let someone sleep on an aeromattress in your living room. Yes, it might be inconvenient for you, but it makes a life altering difference to the person sleeping on it.

Another friend of mine had a horrible thing happen in her family. Her life had always been picture perfect. She lived in the cute apartment, she had the tight group of friend who lived walking distance away, and she had a good paying job. But once the incident happened only two of those things remained true. Friends, who she considered to be best of, didn't even call her to say anything. They just ignored her. She hit her lowest point in the world and her friends weren't their to help her through it. I didn't know what to say to her, but I was there. I could be there, if nothing else I could be there. People always use the excuse, "I didn't know what to say." You don't have to say anything then.

There are many things that I can understand about the human condition, but lack of compassion is one that I will never be able to digest. It is not hard, it is so easy. Why do we run from it and hide from it? We are all connected and intertwined in so many ways that we will never understand. We share so much of each other's lives whether it is active or not. United by humanity and divided by the same force.

This whole ramble was suppose to be about hope, but somehow spinned into the opposite. See what I mean about the core and the surface. I recognize that things aren't perfect, but God help if I don't believe that they can be. I can't control my undying belief that we as humans can do better, act better, and be better. We have so much untapped possibility. I envision a future where everything unleashes into the universe. So, basically I think that things suck now, but I have hope that things will get better.

Underachieving Stalker

I've always wanted to stalk people, it always seems like such fun. But I don't have the patience for it (which is really a p.c. way of saying that I lack the commitment). I mean, I don't think people give stalkers their due. Mind you, I am not talking about the psycho serial killer type stalker who sends black roses to their pray. Soap opera type shows like Melrose Place have given stalking it's undue wrap; once again having society judge something based on the furthest extremes.

I want to go back to the 80s when stalking was deemed as cool, but mostly because it wasn't considered stalking. Times where the Police dealt with stalking and not the police (still the best stalking song ever). The days that allowed Lloyd Dobler to stalk the valedictorian without anyone thinking he was mental because he wouldn't give up pursuing her.

While I have always admired the stalkers sense of commitment; I, myself am too lazy to stalk anyone. I mean I would drive by someone's house but that involves: getting dressed, getting in the car, and driving over to said person's house to drive by and see if a light is on. But I don't have that much energy, in fact even typing it has made me a little tired. I know, the internet has made stalking so much easier. But I even lack the patience for that. Plus, the gains that have been made in stalking are matched by the upsurge in obstacles. People can see you stalking them, there is now counter-stalking. This all becomes way too messy for me.

I guess I prefer the time when stalking was merely referred to as: going out and getting what you want and not stopping until you've got it. The label of stalking has hurt our generation. Any hint of persistence leads to use of the term stalker. While this isn't a bad evolution in terms of romance, it is in every other area of our life. Ambition and strive are becoming the new four letter words. I myself fall victim to the trend. I always settle, only I keep changing places and people that I am settling for. We see not settling as constant change, but a settle can last for a second and still be a settle. We fool ourselves into believing that we haven't settled but to not be actively striving or achieving for our goals is settling. My current job is me settling, no matter how brief my run here is it doesn't change the fact that in this moment I have settled.

Maybe we all need to learn to stalk things. I'm going to start to stalk my dream. If that means that I have to drive by office buildings searching for lights that have been left on, then so be it. Wow, that still sounds tiring.


P.S. this post does not give you permission to stalk me or any other person unless, of course, you are really good looking then stalk away.

My battery needs a good charge

Get your mind out of the gutters, it really does need a good charge. Yesterday, I came down to the parking garage after an overly extended work day only to find that my barely 7 month old car died. I think I might have left the trunk askew when I went down at lunch to get my Ipod. But it seems odd that a trunk light would drain the engine battery of such a young car.

Luckily there were still people in my office so I was able to convince some poor soul to give me a jump. Too bad there aren't any guys I like at work because that would have been the perfect excuse to use the double entendre: "Hey, would you mind giving me a jump?" But alas, the only person I could find that had any jumper cables and who was leaving was this very kind female broker.

The thing that made me even more mad was that I had just pulled out my emergency road side kit but had yet to take it to my car. However, I did have the kit placed in the to-be-taken-to-the-car pile. So the fact that I had intend to take it to my car means that I thought about it. It would be easier to swallow my defeat if I had outright failed rather than actually to have put some effort into it.

But my car breakdown put the perfect cap to the day. I went home a did the only thing that was left to do. I made fifty billion gallons of fudge. Granted, half of the fudge was for the broker who helped me with my car and the other half for a broker who is leaving. There is something cathartic in not just the eating of fudge but in the making of it. The melting down of tangible things seems to quench my own need for a meltdown.

To recap: I had a breakdown, got jumped, fudged a little, and in the end found it all very satisfying. Tomorrow I think I'm going to burn down my house and then make baked Alaska. From now on I am going to displace my emotions in whatever dish I am cooking. Like water for chocolate: like therapy for crazy.

I just called to say I love you

A very weird thing has been happening to me and I am trying my best not to over analysis myself because no good can come of that. When we self-analysis it only leads to us knowing things about ourselves that we were much better being in the dark about. But this is my problem: every time I talk on the phone lately, no matter who I am talking to, when I go to hang up the phone I almost blurt out, "Bye. I love you."

Now this might not sound that terrible because it wouldn't be that detrimental to tell your friends and family that you love them before you hang up the phone, maybe never to see them again. But this is a bigger problem because I answer a phone for a living. I don't think a client would appreciate my ardent love for them expressed especially if they are just calling for a stock quote. "Apple closed at 30. Bye. I love you." There is customer appreciation and then their is harassment. I don't think they would mind me thanking them but saying that I love them might be crossing some boundaries.

Although, I don't know. I think I might like to have a good chunk of my money going to a company that professes its love for me. Then they might invest my funds wisely. Although sometimes if they love you too much their judgment might be clouded by their feelings for me. So maybe I don't want them to be in love with me, but at least like me a lot.

All this crazy talk is coming from a woman who wants to tell complete strangers that she is in love with them. I don't know if it means that I feel overly joyful about the world around me. Or that I am just lonely. The funny thing is that I don't feel either of these things. Maybe I am just in love with love. Please, if I am talking to you on the phone and I accidentally tell you that I love you; don't feel special because I want to say that to everyone, you're just the only one where my mouth was faster than my head. My proclamation of love was merely a neuron misfire.

Regardless, whether or not we say things out loud sometimes thinking them really loud is half the battle. If our mouth never betrayed our head and heart, then no one would probably ever say that they love anyone. I guess the survival of the species relies on this betrayal. Or else people would have to start having a lot of one night stands without protection.

Forget everything I just said. I love all of you. Sometimes you just have to say it.

I hope in the morning I don't regret saying that.

Living is killing us

This is the motto I've dubbed as a response to the people who tell me a particular thing causes cancer or something of its likeness. They usually tell me that something is killing me while I'm in the midst of enjoying whatever it is that is leading to my death. Society is always dictating what the current killer is with its use of circumstantial science by releasing a new study today that contradicts the study that came out yesterday. So I say screw it. Living is killing us.

Everyday we grow closer to our death, why not enjoy the ride? So we choice which death traps we allow in our lives by weighing the sensation against the result. Everyone has the option to choose their addictions. Some pick smoking because the act of smoking brings them enough pleasure that it is worth the shaving of years off their life. Yes, cigarettes are addicting, but if we truly want to give something up, we can. It's hard, but it can always be done it's just whether or not we want to face the consequences or if the trade off is worth it.

Life really is about whatever gets you through the day. We all deprive ourselves of things, why? Because we want to be miserable a few years longer. People view life as this dance marathon that who ever is left standing at the end of the night will be declared the winner. But who will declare you the winner if everyone else is gone. Some stupid teenager who has no respect for you?

Everyone worries about time. Why do we worry about something that is scientifically and psychologically screwed up and relative? We base our days and our life on something that's definition and understanding of are constantly changing. Time fleets away and so too does life. Why don't we enjoy it? Why do we always put perimeters on our joys?

I say, tell time to go fuck itself. I know, I usually don't swear, but I think I'm going to start because even worse than our fenced in area of life is our focus on what is appropriate and inappropriate. We live life by what society dictates acceptable. Now it is time for society to accept me. It needs to love me for all my habits, vices, and faux paus.

Death is inevitable but life isn't. Like with time, why does society put restraints on something that has unlimited potential and possibility? We wonder why we hold ourselves back, maybe it is because that is what we are conditioned to do.

No more holding back. When we restrain ourselves: what are we afraid we are going to find or reach if we aren't kept in check? This seems to be a pre-age of exploration notice that hasn't gone extinct once we found out the world wasn't flat. Well, the world is round and we no longer have to worry about falling of the edge of it. Time to reassess or arcane social behavior. Who knows maybe if we could fall of the face of the earth, we might find that there is something better waiting for us. I think I might metaphorically jump because if life is killing us, then what do I have to lose?

Depression Anonymous (DA)

Note: this post is not trying to make light of any kind of addiction, but merely to comment on my experience with or without it.

I've always thought that I had an addictive personality in that I am a Scorpio. But I think the reason that I am not addicted to any thing or substance is because I just don't care enough about anything to be addicted to it. Plus, nothing ever holds my attention long enough to get me addicted. Memories of habits lost or not lost haunt me, but that is the extent of it.

Once again I am forming a club. It is really the only club I feel qualified to establish. You see I made the tragic mistake of believing that I could one day join AA, but last night I learn that will never be the case. Everyone always glorifies alcohol as this cure to the bottomless pit of emotion called life. You always hear of people numbing their pain with alcohol. So, I believed that if life ever got too miserable to bare that I could find comfort in alcohol like so many before me. Drink myself into the gutter with the historical likes of Poe.

Last night, I found that none of this is true, at least for me. I am not much of a drinker. In fact it is an extremely rare occasion that I drink and last night I remembered why. Drinking does nothing for me. Sure, I might be a little bit more entertaining to the people around me, but I get nothing. I still remember everything, I still feel everything, the only thing that is different is my reaction time. I realized that I am much better at numbing myself than any amount of Alcohol could achieve.

In fact, I was a little pissed off about the false advertising about the evils of alcohol. It didn't cure or delay any of my problems. If I can't drowned my sorrows in a pool of margaritas, then what is a girl to do? Alcohol might be a gateway drug in that since it doesn't work I am going to keep going up the drug scale until I find something that meets my needs. If that means I have to become a chain smoking, pothead, heroine addict then so be it.

So while I will never find myself in AA, I still hold out hope for NA. But as a last resort I know I can fall back on my newly formed DA. Whichever way, I need a support group maybe I should just start co-dependents anonymous now and get it over with. At least you would never have to worry about attendance, you know everybody would show up for those meetings.

Huge Sale! Everything must go!

I've decided to have a garage sale; but instead of selling the material possessions that clutter my house, I am going to sell off the useless knowledge that occupies my brain. I think there is too much clutter up there that it doesn't allow me to think straight.

Who wants some useless trivia facts? Fifty cents for each meaningless morsel that will only help you win a board game. 1 dollar for my knowledge of caffeine. Any takers? I'm willing to barter. But I need to have a clean slate, I'll even sell off the Latin words meaning "clean slate." Come on, anybody?

The crisp air of fall

Today it was slightly gloomy out in the morning, that was a nice departure from the hot days prior to this one. And suddenly thoughts of rain leading to thoughts of the fall whispered sweetly in my brain, one little voice to another. All I could think about as well as anticipate was that first night of fall, that night when you can actually smell the autumn that surrounds us. That scent that blankets the air that makes you want to wrap yourself in one. That is my favorite day of the entire year. I just want to listen to jazz and drink hot chocolate all while sitting outside wearing a wool cap and a jacket. Yes, I know in LA there is never an actual need to wear wool, but it is all about getting into that frame of mind/state of being.

I am so excited. I know it is probably not going to happen for another month or so, but I still can't help but wait with wonder in my eyes. Sadly, this thought is the first thought of a future event that has brought me any joy in recent times. But, maybe this is just the beginning. This excitement will open the flood gates for other excitement. Why is it only the negative things that cause a slippery slop? Well, I'm not going to wait for winter to find a slippery slop; besides they are hard to find in California even during the height of winter.

One positive thought deserves another. Maybe I will pay myself forward. Or least start listening to jazz a little early this year. I'm sure they sell some air freshener somewhere that smells like fall in a bottle, that would hold me for now. Magic in a bottle.

The fall is the one time of year that I really miss Boston. Watching the sunset on the city as the brick buildings reflect in the Charles river which is occupied by several crew boats. There is nothing more peaceful than that image and the mood that it transfixes to the air. The warmth of the light and the coolness of the wind find a perfect harmony; natures finest tune that can never be matched by a man made creation no matter what the notes and chords are. Complete synchronization and opposition, may we all hope to someday achieve a relationship like that.

Write and wrong

I feel that if you are stuck in one situation for too long then you run out of things to say about it. I have nothing to say. I've said it all. Change breeds insight, so what breeds change? Whatever it is I need to find some of it.

I can't take my current state of being anymore. I've done the depressed thing for far too long. Time for a new phase. But how do I reach it, short of medication? I've reach the point of acceptance or as close to that point as Zeno says I can.

If all else fails then what succeeds? I can't keep riding this roller coaster of supreme conceit and ultimate self loathing. I don't think I am tall enough be on this ride in the first place, at least not tall enough in character.

I think the problem is that I've created this character that I feel that I have to play. I've gotten such rave reviews that I don't want to audition an new one only to have it panned by the critics. Maybe if there were more stages in Shakespeare's breakdown of stages then I wouldn't be stuck in this one for so long.

Does everyone get tired of being themselves? Of putting on the smile when that is what is expected. I can't do it anymore. It takes too much out of me.

I'm starting to get sick. I feel a bit of a fever coming on. Everytime I get sick I get excited. Hoping that maybe I will sweat out whatever phase I am in. Then when my fever breaks so do my habits. That literary notion that to get something/someone out of your system you have to come near to death in order to truly live again. I know, I need to stop looking to Jane Austen to solve my problems. I need to come to my sense and sensibility.

Snap out of it. A broker said that the reflection of the blind string in the window makes it look like there is a crack in the window. My thought was: "It's not the window that is about to crack."

Today the phone calls are driving me mad. If I hear on more stupid beep they are going to need a beep to sound over what I am going to say. Well, the moral of the story is that I need help getting out of this box I am trapped in. Someone let me know if they have discovered where the trap door is. I know this must be an illusion and not just my delusion.

We were on a break

I just got back from a week long vacation. It was amazing. I did nothing, thought about nothing, and my problems were nothing. It was perfection in the restful/rejuvenating arena. I was at peace with myself and my life...

Until I had to return to it. Looking at your life as if it was a TV show. Unfortunately for me, it is now a reality TV show. When you view your life from a distance of course it is easy to say, "wow, I don't have it that bad." But then the vacation ends and so does the illusion. It didn't help matters that on Sunday I realized a little mini drama was headed my way with the eastern wind. That snapped me out of my vacation mode quickly and put me full throttle into my dreading mode.

Since I was in a bad mindset, coming to work this morning was death. This work environment is dead to me. I don't know how, but I must find some way to resurrect it. Other wise I am going to be buried alive. I am hoping this will inspire me to start motivating myself to get off my ass and be productive. I have come to the realization that there is only one way that I am getting out of this place, short of being fired which might happen if I keep neglecting my job, is to sell something. Whether it will be a script or myself has yet to be seen.

I need to form a "Who needs a good kick in the ass?" club. I'm not only the president, I'm a member. In fact, I think I need to be first in line because I don't know anybody who needs their ass kick more than myself. Well, I do know people who need it more, but it's my club damn it.