Numb, numb, numb, numb, numb, nuuummmbb

It amazes me how little I care. I use to feel something, I use to feel everything. And now when I stop running I realize that everything in my life makes me miserable. I use to be able to find joy just by just being, now I'm used up. Empty, spent, hollow. How did I let myself get here? How is it possible that a person like me, who could feel everything, can now feel nothing. And yet death doesn't become me. I've become a stranger to myself. Like invasion of the body snatchers. And somehow the only thing or feeling that I can register is trapped. Trapped in a circumstance that I don't know how to get out of and am afraid to try to get out of. I just don't know how to proceed. When beginning to climb out of the hole you have dug yourself in, where do you first grasp. I just feel like I am grasping at straws. All I know is that the hole is dark and cold and unrelenting in its pursuit to take over my whole identity. Identity theft, apropos I suppose given the nature of my job. I'm just so tired. I just want to be me again. To feel like anything is possible and to actually believe it.

I look back at the person that I was and it makes me sad to think that I left her behind. I look at what I've become and I am ashamed. So ashamed that I have just totally and utterly given up. It is hard to believe that I ever had it together, now I am just like walking death. I've let myself go in everyway: mind, spirit, and body. And now I don't know if the damage that I have done can be undone. Like the yarn where you pull the wrong end thus forcing you to unravel the whole thing in order to roll it into a ball in order to keep it from tangling. But I'm all tangled up inside and don't know if all the knots can be undone.

I don't even know you anymore.

I stare at the mirror trying to identify the creature blankly glaring out at me. Who are you? You are no person that I know. A mere shadow of a soulless body. A remnant of the girl once filled with the hope of a magnanimous destiny. She has slipped away finding regeneration in the earth below her feet no longer finding comfort in the hollows of my spirit.

How did this happen? Did I not see the slow drip of the water facet I didn't take effort to fully turn off? But worse seem to be the recognition of this reflection as myself, no longer distancing myself from it but rather seeing the truth in it. Know the picture of my former self seems foreign while the illumination from the looking glass becomes what is familiar too me.

How could I have traveled so far from that girl? Shifting from changing for the better to just allowing change to happen to me. An inactive participant in the train wreck that has become my life. That is the worse part, doing nothing to prohibit this life force from taking over all that I am.

Here I stand, not knowing what I have to offer anymore, I've given it all away to time and space. Floating in the galaxy while my being remains detached here on this planet. I'm hoping that someday the person staring back at me will be off into the unknown. And the person I will have become will be someone worth looking back at.

Why is everyone manic depressive?

I can't handle any of these people whose moods swing like a pendulum traveling from one emotional extreme to the opposite emotional extreme at a drop of a hat. I realize my moods run the gamut but the only difference being that I don't externalize my moods the way that other people do. Tired of walking on egg shells every time I'm around one of said people until I can gauge which end of the spectrum they are on.

I can't deal because I internalize everything. Making myself feel horrible because of someone else's mood. For a while I never understood why I took other's moods so personally, but now I know why. When I care about people, in any small way, I feel powerless when they reach the depths of emotions, I want to be able to fix it, but I can't, I know I can't. I know when I am in the dumps that no one or thing can retrieve me other than my own shear will to see it through to the other side.

But really, it is not so much my need to fix them as it is my need to not feel like I have failed them in some way. I don't know where this constant sense of failure comes from, as if nothing I do will ever be what is needed or even what is wanted. But here is the truth, nothing I do will ever be good enough to satisfy myself and my own expectations.

So I am left wondering what I did like I'm a little girl who blames herself for her father's unhappiness. I can't control other people's happiness, so why do I let it effect my own. Maybe someday I won't let it get to me the way it does. I might learn that I can't be in charge of the emotions of others. It has nothing to do with me, I did nothing wrong. And maybe someday I will actually say that to myself and believe it.

Can you see me?

I'm the one over powered by my own shadow. If you look, if you try, you can notice that I am falling apart right in front of you. Are you too scared to start gluing the pieces back together, afraid you might inadvertently superglue your own fingers together while helping me out? But you can't see me through the smoke and mirrors I've put up and you don't both to stare beyond. We all put up our defenses; in fact we are all so busy trying to defend ourselves that no one is storming the castle. Everyone remains on their side of the battle field just thinking how to prevent a sword through the heart never paying attention to the knife plunging into our back.

But my guards are down, I surrender. But no one peeks their heads out from behind their shield, all too much in their own heads strategizing. So the war becomes a peace by shear unwillingness to put up a fight. Then why does everyone still have their swords drawn?

I've figured out the answer to the question. It is a trick. The truth being that there is no meaning to life rather it exists as a social experiment which fails to measure anything accurately because there is no control in the experiment.

How can I be out of control when there is no such thing? Control is a delusion we all participate in perpetuating. I can't find my center of gravity so the world continues to leave my head spinning. But the world revolves regardless of those who inhabit it, taking us all along for the ride.

The fog rolls in and my shadow becomes my reflection bouncing off every window. The rainy season begins as the precipitation floods from the clouds and my cornea. Each drop revealing the truth of all that is hidden on the sunny days. Cleansing the path to a new morning, the fluidity of release. Thus, change reveals itself in many forms. The process of letting go always requiring one to hit the bottom of the hole before a secret passage out can be illuminated.

But the chemical reactions remain an internal force which no one can see. Emotions are processed alone. No one really knows what anyone else can actually feel or how they feel; only able to empathize through personal experience, placing our own emotional response in an attempt to relate.

Can you see me? Only through your eyes.

I'm Not That Girl

Stop treating me like I am that girl. I can hear the subtext in what you are saying. I'm not a fool, don't pretend that I am. I have worth, you know. Just because I am a female doesn't mean the only valuable contribution I can make to society is with my looks, or lack there of. I am not the person you type cast me as. I don't want to be credited in your movie with this title card. I'm not the funny girl. I'm not the smart girl. I'm not the pretty girl. I am a human being, so start talking to me as such. But mostly, I am not one of your guy friends, there are somethings that should remain between the boys.

Women don't want to be objectified but at the same time they hate even more when another woman is objectified because we view it as an insult to us. If you say another person is pretty we hear that you think we are a dog. We are crazy creatures, but it all fosters from the societal insecurity instilled into us.

Don't tell me what kind of woman I am. Don't label me or put me into some category. Because I will categorically deny whatever pigeon hole you put me in. I am not who you think I am, I have never let you see who I am so don't be presumptuous. I will be whoever I want to be. Just because I am not up to your holier than thou standards, don't think I am not worthy of your respect.

I hate LA. There is no meaning here. Value is measured in golden tresses. Can't I have any value as a person if I am not a blond? In LA, that is like asking for a white Christmas.

You make me feel hideous. You make me want to be invisible. You make me see that you are the one that might lack worth.

Stop telling me what kind of woman I can't be. And I will stop thinking about the kind of man you are.

An ant looks big from this angle

Why do we all try to cut ourselves down to the size a single molecule? And why are some people so eager to help us out. Why is our natural inclination to tare things down rather than to build things up? I don't get it, we are all in this rat race together. Life is hard enough to get through without any added obstacles. So why do we let people do it? Why don't we walk away? Sometimes walking away is the only thing that will make us feel big again.

All consuming

I always do this and I don't know how to stop it. I obsess and I fixate on someone I never even talk to, in fact I think I avoid talking to them as a way to keep from squelching the hyper emotions I feel because if I really knew any of these people I wouldn't be able to think they are so perfect. Yet I let them haunt me, I let them penetrate my very essence. I'm consumed by my yearning, suffocating and unescaping. How can I take a deep breath if the air I breath is occupied by them.

Chilling is the occupation they can take over me. I want to retreat but I don't know which corner to turn because I know they all lead down a dark alley. Where is the release button? How do I deflate this balloon? How do I get them out of my system?

I don't know why I like to torture myself so entirely. I thrive on the complete loss of myself to this overpowering submission of all emotional transgressions. I stew and pine for that which that will never be mine.

One of these days I will find the courage to say something, anything, even if it is only "how are you doing today?" To break the illusion is the only way I will ever see past the smoke and mirrors that I create in my mind. I will rid him from my system. But it would really be easier if he wasn't so smoldering.

Insecure

Why is insecurity a fact of life? Even if we think we are the most secure person there is, something happens that sheds light on every insecurity that lays dominate within our being. Is it the search for acceptance? But this search is fruitless unless you truly believe what you want to hear. Everyone is searching for the people around them to say the one thing they think will give them the ultimate validation. As if the outside world could ever give our life purpose. Life and the world exists within our own being. Only we can prevent forest fires. So why do we use our firefighting skills to put out the fires in our souls. To deaden our own self worth simply because we don't think it stands up to the person next to us. Maybe it is time to stand next to someone else or if you are truly enlightened, to realize that the person next to you is probably looking at you thinking the same thing.

No one has it together. We are all faking it, sometimes we fake it so well that we fool ourselves. Like the t-shirt I want to make says: "My only talent is in fooling myself." But something always happens that cause things to raise to the surf and all the sudden before you know it there is a beached whale on your proverbial shore. And no matter how many people try to push it back out sometimes the whale suffocates by the weight of your own insecurity.

So we know the poison but do we know the cure? Is insecurity bacterial or viral. I want to believe bacterial but I'm not sure. But maybe insecurity is a good thing because it keeps you striving to better yourself. To push beyond that which holds you down. Maybe insecurity is the fuel for our fire. Because it is important to know how to put out a fire but it is equally important to know how to increase the flame.

Change happens all at once...

Or at least the threat of change happens all at once. I really am an all or nothing kind of girl by choice and not by choice. This is just the way things seem to happen for me. Like right now, I have to go to the bathroom all at once. Lordy, must pee now. Will focus on this blog to get me through the pain...Ahh. I got to go, found someone to cover me. Nice work.

Sometimes I feel as though everything is always changing yet at the same time I feel as though nothing ever changes. I guess what they say is true: "the more things change, the more they stay the same." The cyclical part of life. Everything comes full circle. But we tend to see the change we want and ignore the change we don't want to acknowledge.

I'm lost and found. I'm drowning and breathing ease. I'm blind and I see. I speak volumes yet I say nothing at all. All or nothing, that is what I am. Two paradoxes always finding a balance with my equilibrium. So why do I feel like I am going to fall? And what will catch me? Will my vicious wit bounce we back into action? Or if I focus on one spot will my head stop spinning. You spin me right round baby right round.

Stop! Collaborate and listen. Get it together, kid. Stop doing cartwheels and maybe you will stop being dizzy or at least stop being ditzy. Come on, champ. Be all that you can be.

No more. Stop everything. Stop reciting crappy songs. Stop listening to any of the voices in your head. Stop second guessing everything you do. Stop holding your breath. Stop thinking you have something to prove to anybody other than yourself. And remember to always wear sunscreen.

Hormonal as Heck

Today I finally got the crying at the Hallmark commercial thing. I am so hormonal, every moment I'm on the verge of tears or laughter. Only the two extremes, never meeting in the middle. The fact that I am so in my head right now only propels the PMS factors. Thus, I am sensitive to everything and everyone. If someone says something that touches on anything I have issues with, I lose it. Of course, these are always the days that I choose to talk to people about my issues. And now I am drained from the roller coaster of emotions. Nothing left to give or take. Numb by shear exhaustion.

So, here is the thing: why does it only take someone to say one thing for you to look at a different person in a new way. Things that you use to like about the other person now annoying because you see different motives behind them. Revenge and spite ooze from your mind everytime you encounter them. They didn't do anything to change how you feel, merely someone else telling you something about them did that. But it doesn't matter who told you, you can't unchanged the change.

Our problems with human relationships is that we project. Our relationships with other people are like a connect the dots game. We take the little information that we have and we fill in the rest of their character. But then something happens, a new dot is added and suddenly their character is a totally different picture. That is what we do, we are like the computer that predicts the image. Predictions can sometimes be horribly wrong because the fundamental flaw in the connect the dot character builder is that people only let you see what they want to show you.

Now, this is a very negative way to look at human beings. If you totally believe this theory than it can be concluded that you can never truly know anyone. But maybe that is reality. Sometimes I hide some of my dots from myself. Everyday I learn something new about myself, things that I would never let anyone else know.

Maybe that isn't so bad, it could be better to not really know people. Why is there this assumption that life looses all meaning if we don't truly know who people are? Can't the projection be enough? Denial can be a beautiful thing; it can be harmonious.

In relationships with other people we are all on a need to know basis. It is what makes life interesting. People shock the hell out of us all the time. It's funny when say that someone did something "out of character" because that just means they did something outside the lines of the character we drew. It is their character because they did it. But imagine how boring life would be if everyone turned out to be exactly who you thought they were. Then the world would just be paint by numbers and we would have no abstract paintings. Who wants to live in that world, if you do then I totally pictured you differently.

What's the meaning of this?

I check craig's list for job postings, what I always do when I am frustrated with my job, hoping that the company monitors will see it and recognize it as a cry for help. But nobody ever watches when you want them too. The monitors are like that person you show a movie that you really love to only to have them barely pay attention, how can you not care enough to watch something I love.

On Craig's List main page I see the category under community titled Lost and Found. I stare at it, wondering if perhaps I am on there. I'm for sure lost, maybe someone has found me or list something that will be a catalyst in my finding what was lost. But maybe I'm not lost, can you be lost if you have never been found. I feel lost but I don't know what I'm lost from. I suppose it is the lose of meaning, somehow I believe I had it in my life before or maybe it was just the belief that my life would one day mean something.

I've come to the point in life where it is time to give up the foolish notions that I am going to do or achieve something great; that I am going to, in child speak, "make something of myself." The Nietzsche thought that haunts me being that some people are extraordinary and the rest of us are just normal, destine to live monotonous lives. My worst fear of my destiny becomes brutally clear, I'm destined to just "be."

This is it. This is all I get. This is the cards life has dealt me and I've already given my two cards up in exchange for two equally shitty cards. But in life folding isn't an option or at least not an option I would choice to take. So meaning remains stuck in a permanent limbo. With no face cards I must face the facts that my hand isn't extraordinary.

Being stuck, there is something I know all about. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Trying to breathe it all in. Soak it up and ring it out. Breathe in, breathe out.

This is existence. It isn't exciting or poetic, it's just mundane and fruitless. So I'm over here dying of scurvy. Maybe if I just ate an apple a day. No. No. No. No more what ifs, it is time to accept. I might not get it, but time to let go the lofty expectations. Time to give up the delusion. Time to resign to my own destiny. I know return to my regularly schedule life, I join this life already in progress.

From zero to hero

What a crazy couple of days. I now know that the only way to truly learn is to make tons of mistakes, but the key is just to be able to recover from them well. I've gone from the ultimate self-loathing about my ability to execute a simple task to supreme confindence in my ability to move an entire continent over two inches. It is funny how you can feel suffocated by bs and red tape but the moment you get through it all it feels like this ultimate victory, a little bit of a high results. Feeling so much better, but I still think this job is going to give me an ulcer.

Couldn't be further away from the point

It's official, I'm having a nervous breakdown. I don't know what I have gotten myself into. I feel like Alice falling down the hole, down into the dark abyss not sure what will break my fall that the bottom. Or have I already hit rock bottom? I try to get to the bottom of this but all I get is more unanswered questions, questions I didn't know I had until they flooded my from my subconscious to my conscious. But still, no answers.

Where is that white rabbit going and what intrigues me to blindly follow? Sometimes I'm not sure if I can see anything at all, blinded by ambition? Hardly. Blinded by love? I wish. Blinded by the light? Here's hoping.

All I know is the fear incapacitates me, I'm not sure I ever knew I had all this fear in me. I've become claustrophobic within myself, yet I can't escape myself, there in lays the problem. Going mad with anticipation, regret, and paranoia. Not knowing if the path keeps taking me in a direction not pointing North. But maybe that is truly living, not seeing the road in front of you and just putting one foot in front of the other, regardless. Fear makes you feel alive, heightens all emotional responses. But it also dictates, never ceasing its power.

So here is the real problem; why should I continue on a road that is anything but smooth terrain when the view at the top is not what I aspire to see? But am I really aspiring to anything when I do nothing to achieve such a differing view.

Stop freaking out! You can do this. Be strong for crying out loud. Suck it up and live up to your potential. Be afraid to fail but try nonetheless, that is the only road to success. Success isn't a path you just stumble upon. It's a path that requires you to find your footing and seek a higher ground. Don't act the fool even though it's what you are use to. Find the courage to trust your abilities and to squelch the voices in your head. I can do this, I must find the tools I need to pull of the ultimate deception: that I actually know what I am doing.

Do you not understand what I just told you?

Ok, I thought we discuss this. I'm fairly sure I made myself abundantly clear. So, why aren't you listening to me? Why are you still torturing me? The silence in the elevator was all to hauntingly familiar, you want to bring up college scars in the process of creating new ones? Sick and wrong is what that is. Honestly, the silence is worse than the stupid small talk.

Why you got be like that? Don't you care enough not to want to hurt me. I don't know what to do about all this. I gave you suggestion that you don't seem to be taking. Because doing the silent brooding thing makes it all the more worse. So we need a plan C, the way things are going, probably even and E, F, and G. But we will get through this, we will find a solution that will benefit all that are involved.

But what to do in the mean time? First, I will avoid you at all cost, this includes; darting out of the room the moment I smell you cologne drifting in my direction, hanging up on you if you pick a line that is not your own, and hiding under my desk pretending to feel an earthquake if you actually dare try to ask me a business related question. As for you, find yourself a proxy. Send notes by messenger, point clients in my direction without guiding them personally, and get a voice muffler for your phone so when you do have to call me I can pretend it isn't you.

These are only temporary solutions to our problem. Maybe you could introduce me to a cute single friend you have. Or get in some face disfiguring accident (ok, don't really mean that because if you actually get into a face disfiguring accident, I don't want to feel all guilty and responsible for it as if I karmically willed it to happen). Will work on the plans, separately, in different states.

Okay, I'm glad we had this second talk, but let's not make this a habit. Because pretty soon even a black ops CIA agent couldn't take all this torture.

I'm done with them.

I am so sick of having crushes on guys with girlfriend and fiances. No more. I can't handle the nice guys who are unavailable. At first I thought it was a coincidence, but after four guys in the last year I'm starting to think it is me. Safe crush I suppose. But I don't know, I usually like them before I find out, so I think it is rather karma playing a joke on me. What did I do in a past life to deserve this. All I want is for them to no longer be nice to me, don't joke with me, don't give me those eyes. Leave me alone, be mean. Have a heart and treat me like shit.

Where is Cary Grant when you need him? Is it so much to ask for a nice and strong man. Watching Tom Cruise go crazy on Oprah made part of me wanting to believe it was true and the other part of me wanting to believe it was a hoax. I don't know if it is better to believe it exists out there or to not believe so you aren't sad that you don't have it. But then I think too many people settle. This one guy got engage the other day and I wouldn't have known if someone didn't say anything. He wasn't glowing or even chipper. I don't know, it seems like you should be bouncing from the ceilings. Too many movies, I know. But maybe not, maybe the attainment of contentment becomes enough.

But please, whatever you do, don't talk to me. I'm all for longing, but this is ridiculous. Don't lead me on with your pleasantries. Cease making me smile with your sincere jokes. I'm not this sweet girl who you can safely flirt with. It might be safe for you, but it is deadly for me. Stop damaging my heart before a single man can come along and fix it before it become inoperable.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Fine, I will be the bigger person. I will be a bitch to you maybe then you will get the hint and reciprocate by being the asshole that I need you to be. Ok, deal. I'd shake on it but fear the repercussion of physical contact to my psyche. Instead the head nod will have to do. I'm glad we had this talk.

The wake up call

No more hitting the snooze button on my life, this seems to be the new resolution. You let yourself slide a little and all the sudden your not even on the playing field. "Batter up" they yell as I try desperately to find a helmet. The slow trek to the chalk outlined box. I take a few practice swings, inhale and exhale a couple deep breaths, and pantomime some gestures that give me guidance. Each step towards the destination increases the magnitude of the world I carry on my shoulders. One foot digs in before the other drags behind to find the dirt. I twist my foot trying to find further contact with the earth. The bat lifts to my shoulder as if a result of my body disobeying my will. The pitcher takes his stances, sure to throw me a curve if for no other reason than to spite me. The wind up...Silence. The air becomes crisper as my senses heighten. Everything becomes more distinctive except the sound, it muffles into a blur canceling itself out. But I can taste the October air, see the molecules that fill the area in front of me, feel the energy of the crowd combining to give me superhuman strength, and smell the defeat.

I become stuck in a timeloop of this moment, this energy surrounds me constantly, but yet I never get a chance to swing. But the silence, it's deafening. I live knowing only the silence. I'm trapped in the moment in time before something happens. I feel as though I am ready by stepping into the batters box, but the pitcher won't release. Release! I don't care if I strike out or hit a home run, I just want to rotate my body around and not just beat the bottom of my shoes with a bat. I'm not sure if the pitcher is overly-confident or is scared to death of me hitting it out of the park.

But what can I do? Taunt the pitcher, I doubt that will work. Instead I remain frozen in time. Not moving forward or backward. I'm standing still. Not knowing if I secretly wish to strike out.

The alarm won't stop buzzing. The ringing might be worse than the silence. I'm trying to get up but the air in the room is too cold. Only pneumonia awaits me outside the covers. But in the comfort of the sheets lays immobility. Wasting away at the hands of a duvet. Goose feathers create a chicken. Too afraid to face to world beyond the borders of the land ruled by Kings and Queens.

But no matter how long I bury my head under the fortress courteously of bed, bath, and beyond; the alarm keeps getting louder. Piercing my ears with the cellphone version of "Daydream Believer." But the six o'clock alarm does ring, so I must rise and wipe the sleep out of my eyes. So I face the world, on leg out of the covers at a time.

Death by Conceit

It's amazing how conceited I am. A common ailment of many I know; however, all the people I know have just cause to suffer from such an illness. To be better than ones station in life becomes a necessity, or so they say. The paying your dues part of the successful life. But the conceit must be overcome to jump over the obstacle in between, that object that prohibits the transition from one to the other, from nobody to somebody. That "thing" one must hurdle differs from one person to another, but the action appears one and the same.

Opportunity doesn't knock, it enters blowing everything in it's path, but the placebo opportunity taps lightly on the door fooling you into thinking it's the real thing. There are few things that I know for certain in life, but this I know to be true: when things aren't working out it seems so hard, impossible even, conversely when things work out it is so easy. But we force things, make things fit that shouldn't and in the end it breaks apart into a million pieces when in the beginning it consisted of two.

Luck, I'm not sure if it is a mirage. How do you earn luck? Why do we mistake things for luck? Luck is when things happen that are not "our due." So what determines what is due to us and what is not. Do you deposit some money in the luck bank and then merely cash it in? Who really knows what the exchange rate is? Bottom line: how do we know what we deserve?

What is the unit of measurement for what one is owed? Afterall, give an inch and they'll take a mile. Do we take more than what is allot to us? I feel the world owes me, what I'm not always sure. Maybe I try to take to much from the world so in turn it gives me nothing. You can't want anything too much. But I haven't wanted anything in as long as I remember. I've told myself there are things that I want, but I am never that disappointed when I don't get them. In fact, most of the times I am relieved.

Is relief a sign of weakness or strength? I don't fight for things. I long for things, but the things I long for I try to deny myself. Pretend I don't want the things I really want and hide behind things I never wanted. But to want means I know the answers, of this I'm sure I don't.

Truth be told, I don't know what I deserve, but I know I deserve better. There is a motto to live by. But my conceit feeds me. With so many things trying to pull you down the balloon of conceit keeps me afloat even if it is merely full of hot air.

So here I sit on my high horse, nose pointed high to the clouds. Dark clouds will one day yield to one shaped like a dollar sign. Conceit can be a powerful thing, it brings some crashing down and comforts others moving up. For me conceit is my Scarlett Ohara protective mechanism allowing me to believe that: "Afterall, tomorrow is another day."

Burnt out or Burnt up? Is there a difference?

So rundown can't do anything other than focus on that fact. My thoughts run on one track, some lapping others while others crawl to go full circle. But no matter the speed or the distance the perspective never changes. The grass was once green inside the perimeter of the rubbery surface, but the sun beats down on the area left unprotected by the absence of trees. I think one of the sprinkler heads broke, that must be it, otherwise the turf would be lush and kelly green. If I have to look at the same surroundings everyday then I want them to be thriving; living and not dying. But the sun keeps beating down, but the grass doesn't have SPF to protect it, it can't photosynthesize fast enough. The grass browns and I look down to see I'm sunburnt. This one track mind ages me from all the sun damage. I need cataracts from squinting my eyes constantly. Brainwaves don't like running they like surfing so my mind only finds solace on the web. Oh what a tangled web we weave...

Must force my thoughts to ride the rails. If I have to be on one track at least let if be a train track that way I can travel linearly, all these circles make my head spin. All the running makes me collapse, I need to sit down for a while, maybe look out as the sunflower fields pass by. Need to find a new relativity. Everything looks the same to me now. It's been a year isn't it time for change, change of scenery at least, at the very least.

Who are you? You intrigue me so. I know you are wearing a mask, I suppose the tie shields the really you from escaping. Talk to me, say something. I can hear you screaming inside, the screech drives me mad. Let it out, let me in. Curiosity kills this cat. There must be more to you. You're trapped like the butterflies in my stomach. I thought I saw you looking, did you look, could you see? I'm wearing a disguise as well. Do you think there might be a possibility that we could both have x-ray vision? If only I could see you and you could see me. Crazy talk, I know, but could it be? Talk to me, say something. Let your voice kill the noise in my head. I'm projecting, I always do that. Setting myself up for failure. The butterflies emerge from the cocoons as regrets fluttering turns into a sinking feeling. But I digress.

If I close my lids I can feel your eyes; glancing, glaring, and one can only hope, starring. This character does not exist but within the realm of my imagination. Yet, you're real merely my portrayal becomes false. If only, if only. Why can't you be everything I never knew I always wanted? But mostly, and for the first time in my life, I want to know the truth. I want the fluttering to be justified, I need the regrets to be nullified. Talk to me. Stop speaking volumes in the silence. Tension vibrates becoming only a sound that dogs can hear. Don't use the knife to cut my heart out, I can do it on my own with a spoon.

Delusion results from the burn. Burnt, spent, exhausted. How can one follow their heart when the brain sprints ahead to set the pace. Where am I? I can't even tell one from the other, I just get up and go. Going and going, my battery not lasting as long as the energizer bunny. But then what is the thumping sound if not the pounding of the drum? Idle fantasy becomes the only fuel that keeps my motor running. Always running. I should really get some fertilizer for the grass or at least replace it with sod, heck even astroturf would do.

Enemy by circumstance

Things in opposition can be a result of merely being the opposite; I guess that is where the word derives. The poor hate the rich simple because they are rich, the single hate the couples because they are couples, and unhappy hate the happy because they are happy. It's nothing personal, it's just circumstance. If you are void of something you covet then you despise those who obtain it, but if you are devoid of something you still appreciate it.

If you have something and then lose it you might miss it but you won't hate those who have it because you can relate having once been there. All of this has come about because today a client came in to deposit a check and made a joke about how rich he is making everyone and this obviously hit a nerve with the person taking the check because her reply was, "you make the company rich." It was the tone, the resentment hidden behind an unconvincing smile. Some days even the best actor has to break character.

The thing is the man was honestly trying to be funny and not condescending but sometimes if the scar is there and poking will open the wound. So even though he did nothing wrong, he could be a great person but the sole fact that he has money is enough to make him an enemy. That's how religious or cultural conflicts are. I suppose this is why I don't understand war, how one becomes forced to hate someone based on one thing.

So, all it takes is one thing to negate everything else. That's crazy. Every person has so many different facets no one ever having every single on in common. Then are we destined to hate. Maybe when opposites attract it is because the hate exists within oneself, i.e. if I hate the fact that I snore I will like someone who doesn't.

Two halves in a whole, this idea we cling to about completeness, can only that which is the exact opposite complete you. In science the answer is yes. But in life, in human relationships, complimentary forces rather than opposing forces seem to coexist. So is it the constant gravitational pull that makes us want to be pulled in the opposite direction, as if to counteract it?

This weekend there is a huge lotto jackpot, who doesn't want to win the lotto. I want to win the lotto for the same reasons everyone else does. But today I thought of another reason, I want to win the jackpot so I can finally tell everyone what I truly think of them, I don't mean this in a vicious way rather that in order to "not burn bridges" we hold our tongues when we shouldn't simply because we are intimidated. But if I don't have to worry about paying the rent then so help me I will fight for all injustices. Now, I know this is what one should always do, but in our society sometimes morals and a sense of what is right is a luxury of those who don't have rent due on the first of the month. I know that is a horrible thing to say, and in the case of gross injustices I would stand up, but in the day to day infractions one must grin and bare it. I wouldn't just tell of the people who have wronged me but also for the people who continue to wrong others, others who have to pay rent.

There is a thin line between jealousy and hate one that goes crossed every minute of everyday. It's ok to hate the circumstance but why hate the people? I have enough of an enemy within myself, I don't need any more. I try to remind myself that everyone has problems, problems change with circumstance but no one is void of them.

Forced contentment

What is it about this time of the year that causes everything in my life to change? March has become the months in which the treadmills starts turning too fast resulting in me falling off the back of it. March seems to just come in like a lion and out like a lion, no lamb seems to cross my path. The upheaval becomes too much for me to bear. All the change ironically seems to put me in a holding pattern. I can't change one thing because I have to wait for the other change to occur first.

So, I find myself stuck in this weird limbo in which contentment seems thrust upon me. For the time being I must resolve to find stillness in the revolving chaos. The thing about this time of the year is that I want change, I'm antsy for it; I just can't handle the responsibility that it usually entails. The double-edged sword of change.

I was talking to my roommate about decision-making. I told her that now days everything is so unsure. I don't think I've made a decision I was sure about since High School. Possibly it all started when I began applying to colleges. The first real decision in my life, up until then everything that mattered was decided for me. I don't mean that in a "controlling parents" kind of way but rather that first thing that changes the course of my life in a drastic way.

These days’ decisions are harped upon, everything seeming to be a life or death situation. When you are looking for a course to travel every turn of the wheel steers you in a direction, in some cases a different path or keeping you on track. It all has "implications” or so we tell ourselves. I'm tired of the constant and consistent agonizing.

The problem with having the world at your feet appears to be that no one knows what to do with it. Too many options leads to inaction from crippling doubt. I can go anywhere yet I'm given no direction, which seems so cruel to me. Sometimes we tend to stick to a direction regardless of whether it is the right direction simply because it was so hard to choose a direction in the first place. We don't know how to start from scratch; we're the Bisquick generation. I wish I could just add water and stir rather than stir up emotions from every minute detail of my life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm this model mission I built in the forth grade; soap detergent used to represent adobe creates a beautiful product with a foundation consisting of a shoebox. I'm stucco surrounding a hollow shoebox. It's amazing if you put up a few little plastic trees the propriety value doubles despite the empty vessel that's disguised.

Every decision impacts you, so they say. Shouldn't we choose our own influences? I like to think that any mistake can be corrected. At least, that is the philosophy I have to live by otherwise that forced contentment would be impossible to bare.

Bored out of my fucking mind!

I'm all alone today. No motivation to do anything. I'm taking tomorrow off because I feel like it. That's right. I'm going to do my taxes and get my eyebrows shaped. I guess it will be the same as coming in to work because either way I end up pulling out one hair at a time. But it will be nice to do it in the name of beauty rather than torture.

I've decided that the meaning of life is merely to find a cure for boredom. That is what motivates all of us everyday. But sometimes we fail miserably and are unable to entertain ourselves, this is when things become very dangerous. I think this is where corruption comes into play, most industries that have the most corruption are normally the most mind numbingly boring industries in the world. I think that people just can't handle the monotony of it all and cheat and steal to add some excitement to their lives.

I am too bored to even blog. My mind has nothing to say. Calgon, take me away.

What the fuck!!!

I just went to the most pointless interview ever. I had originally gone to this open house at the company a few weeks ago, I didn't think anything would come of it since open cattle calls never yield anything. So, I was surprised when I got a voicemail from someone in the human resource department telling me that they wanted to invite me to another open house but this time for a specific position. When I heard what the position was I became very interested. So I arranged my lunch around the open house times. I went in and found a room full of girls exactly like me. I expected there to be people there, I even thought I would have to wait, but I didn't expect was for it to be the biggest waste of time ever.

First of all, I waited for an hour. Fine. Second, the lady was a total bitch. Disappointment. Third, she had no idea that I had already been to one of those. Ill prepared. Finally, she said the assistant are going to look over the resumes and call people in. What the fuck was the point of me coming in?

I hate interviewing. It is such a waste of time. I don't understand the point of a human resource department, they are just a time suck. I never even applied to the job, so why call me in if you don't think that I am qualified? Incompetent department that obviously doesn't communicate with each other. Now I am pissed off and hungry because I missed my lunch.

What's so funny?

I've noticed lately that everyone seems to always ask that question. It is understandable given that people search out any instant of happiness that the world has to offer. It's like a drug we will always opt to take no matter how laced down it is. No one ever asks: "What's so sad?" or "What were you saying about genocide?" Ok, maybe some people do but that is rare and usually because they have some profound theory or statement to add.

But any time laughter is utter everyone pesters you to find out what is so funny. In fact, if not immediately told people tend to act like a cokehead who hasn't had a hit in several days. The curiosity consumes them; they have to know what was so funny. But the thing most things that are funny only exist within the initial moment. Sure if it is a joke it can be retold. But most humor in life seems to come from our observations of it. Things that can never be recreated are what send tickles of laughter from our belly to our mouth.

We all want to be entertained. Never able to not be a part of the fun if it is right in front of our face. Jealousy grabs hold never yielding its grasp. Curiosity must be satiated. So maybe there is this primal need to be happy. To experience any and all pleasure the world has to offer still manages to not be enough. Laughter that fills the halls in which we are not apart of creates a hollowing and haunting feeling that some how life and happiness is within reach yet escaping us.

Or maybe it is merely the biggest fear of all that causes this instinctual question: we are afraid that people are laughing at us. Why did they stop laughing when I came in the room? Because humor is power, to be made fun of belittles thus paints people as weak. To laugh with and not be laughed at. So we're not in search of happiness but rather seek to avoid humiliation. Ah, humans we're all such traumatized children.

I realized the other day that everyone is funny to someone. We all merely have to find the right audience. In my case I find that I am my own best audience, which is why the funniest things I say are to the other voices in my head. Yes, I am one of those people who will be walking down the street and randomly burst out in laughter. And just like any other audience and comic relationship sometimes my jokes bomb and sometimes I kill; thus the burst of seemingly random laughter, it means that night I am having a great show.

Right now there is a rather comical play being performed right before me. Three young brokers enter from stage left, or sorry I mean they are trying to upstage my one-woman show. The scene starts with one broker trying to get another broker to hook him up with one of his clients. Nice. A slight chuckle comes from behind a large desk as the receptionist feverishly types while trying to hide her amusement. Hiding is not her strong suit. They catch on to the giggle but do they know that I'm laughing at them and not with them, or can the male ego not distinguish laughter in some kind of self-defense mechanism kind of way?

The process of a giggle through the male ego:

Giggle goes in one ear+ assumption that female thinks he is funny= every woman in the world wants me.

Poor fool, but I understand; everyone needs to protect themselves. What I don't understand is the need for it to be used as fuel to boost the ego. Who cares? Everyone is funny to someone. Sometimes we are the punch line and that is ok. What is so funny? You are but so are the voices in my head.

Never too old to act like a school girl

Wow, it definitely feels like a Friday before a holiday weekend, but only the feeling I got when I was in elementary school. I am giddy, antsy, and foolish. Only today I am not wearing my uniform. Although, that might be fun. I should dust the bad boy off and wear it to work just to see what kind of looks I would get.

Why do we act so stupid when you are in groups passing notes or in this case emails? Group mentality really equals the lowest common dominator. Like painting a house word problems it doesn't matter how smart the two people are individually, they will meet at the lowest IQ level using the equation a*b/a+b.

Wow, this broker and his wife just came into the office. She is tearing him a new one. His office is right next to the main reception so all the visitors can hear her screaming at him. Why would you come into the office to have a fight? Poor guy. She has him coward. Definitely wears the pants in the family. Why do some woman totally emasculate their husbands. It is so sad to see this man leave his work place thoroughly embarrassed.

Well, thankful for the weekend. I need a break. The longer the weekend the better. However, that means that next week is going to drag as all short weeks inevitably do. Time to get my relaxation on.

Throwing in the white towel.

Although I might need the towel to dry off from all this rain. I love the rain; it always makes me want to have a Tasters Choice moment. Remember that one time in Venice...

Rain seems so poetic, as if it is God's tears. And just like actual tears, the world seems so clear and refreshed once the tears end. Even God needs to let out a good cry every once in a while. Further proof that God is a woman: a maniac depressive woman, but a woman nonetheless.

The rain makes me resign to my reality. The emotional vent of Mother Nature allows me to come to my senses. Thoughts pour faster than each drop. The truth filtering in becomes impossible to stop. Trapped within yourself and your mind. Confined to voices in your head that become louder to compensate for the thunder and lightning outside. And like a bolt of lightning the truth of your circumstances hit you.

Life is what it is. I am where I am. Sometimes it is when you try to resist the quicksand that it pulls you under faster. Remain still and you might actually have a fighting chance. But can you remain still and also be fighting; contradictory terms find a loophole in the paradox. You don't fight a bear you just lay really still. Bull or bear, I can't fight this industry or this life.

If I find contentment within this situation maybe then I will be in a frame of mind to actually escape it. There is no moving on until you let go. Let go of: anger, resentment, and bitterness. Find: forgiveness, relaxation, and peace.

I will let the rain wash away all my sorrows. Drowned the sadness. And let the sunshine drip dry the malcontent. After all, the sun will come out tomorrow.

So, I realize you can't change overnight, change is linear and moves from point A to point B. Billions of stops along the way from the destination to the arrival, there are no non-stop flights but rather several layover. But it doesn't change to fact that you are moving away from point A no matter how long it might take to get to point B. Sometimes it is feat just getting of the runaway from the original location.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign to prepare for departure. I will wait to recline my seat then proceed to shut my eyes for the remainder of this fight. Who know where I might land, but at least when I open my eyes it might be tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow. I love yah. You're only a day away.