My Stoner Life

quoth the raven

2010-09-08T21:11:00.000-07:00

things i shouldn't want? like a superior at work who's as squeaky clean-seeming as ned flanders, with a very boyish face. out of my league - really, out of my life. someone i simply have the pleasure of working with. nothing more.

nevermore! like the e.a. poe raven.

pursuit

2010-08-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

in lamentation for a hobby, i have begun a french class at my local community centre. no doubt my professional life (and one of those i do undoubtedly have) will benefit from this pursuit - this activity could foster the social contact i need to muster on the job to grease the .... rails to that brass ring my type are apparently forever seeking. come off as charming during those chatty social bookends of office-wide events/phenomena.

upon entering the large meeting room for the strategic planning session - see and greeting with: 'bonjour! comment ce va?'

charmed director replies: 'bonjour! je suis bien, merci. et tu?' - acknowledging our special association through the office's french lunch hour

you see, things don't really change after high school - after kindergarten, really. whoever has the best shit at this very moment wins. i mean wins at life in a philosophical way - assuming there's some sort of rank or grading system, and every social encounter is just a battle disguised as an exchange. as (david mamet? tom stoppard?) describes, talking is only a means of getting something. so when i make the investment of time and effort to make connections with others who can help me, i'm really paying my career forward.

or is this just called being a suck-up?

a knotty little girl

2010-08-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

at the last session of my buddhist theory and mediation course, my teacher talked about rebirth and living hundreds, thousands, millions of incarnations. he had a really specific details about the death and rebirth process. to his understanding, we can be incarnated as humans, animals, ghosts... i forget the other one or two.

anyways, say someone is experiencing human incarnations - the literal actions are be born, live until you die, spend about a year as a ghost, and then be born into a new incarnation. he went on about how we are incarnated relatively close to where our last incarnation ended.

he also explained retained memories of previous lives when we are very young - and depending on the reception of those qualities when they first appear, they may be vanquished early on, never to be thought of again in that lifetime. for example, a young child may ask their parent about a memory, and the parent tells the child that that memory is not real because it never happened (in this child's brief lifetime). it's not that the parent is necessarily judging the child for misunderstanding reality or blatantly lying - the parent is most likely just trying to be factually correct with the child.

when i was a small child, i remember mentioning or asking my mom about certain memories, and she would say whatever i was thinking of was just a dream because, to her knowledge, whatever i was talking about didn't happen or didn't even make sense. i wonder if my mom remembers that, and if so, what i was remembering or talking about.

i can think of one inexplicable quirk i had in particular as a child that we all remember - when i was very young i would tie any two loose ends of anything stringlike together, over and over until there was no more material left to tie. i would take my long hair ribbons and tie a few ends together to make a long chain, then tie one end about my stuffed animal's neck to signify a collar, and the other end to the leg of a large piece of furniture to signify a leash.

i recall having a helium balloon on a string, and even though my bedroom had especially low ceilings, i was very intent on keeping it tied to my bedpost.

my mom has mentioned a few times that when i was a baby in a car seat - i would take off my shoes and socks, and if i had hood strings available, i would tie those strings together over and over until there was no string left.

i'm not sure why my behavior stopped - but it wouldn't be much of a stretch that my parenting taught me to stop doing that. the funny thing is, i don't think i was doing any special or intricate knots (well maybe i was, who knows) but it didn't matter, i remember tying knots making me feel pleased as punch.

what about tying knots could have been significant in any of my previous lives - maybe even a more recent incarnation? you always think of special knot tying as associated with sailing or ships or the boy scouts of america. did i sail the mississippi river in my previous life, to end up being born on the banks of that river in this life?

i felt somewhat adverse to the notion that reincarnation is so literal as to happen a year after the death of your most recent life, within 50 miles of the death place give or take a few - but maybe i can become comfortable with that idea if i take a second look at the signs in my life.

if i want fireworks, then i shall have fireworks

2010-07-28T22:43:00.000-07:00

the first time i have seen what i could believe as my wedding. on the rooftop of a bayside apartment building. the ceremony would culminate with the 10-1 countdown to the fireworks show.

i can see it in the summer of 2012. maybe i'm growing up. finally.

shamanism

2010-06-11T20:47:00.000-07:00

Do Glass Pipes, Incense Prove Teens Are Practicing Shamanism?

italics | babe

2010-05-21T22:22:00.000-07:00

it's completely ridiculous that it took me the need of an internet dating website to notice a guy who works at the same place as me... and even moved desks to my floor, like, a month ago.

is this what she meant when she said my 'next involvement would be through someone at work'? i thought as a networking thing... but maybe as someone from work. i'm already architecting my fictitious relationship with him in my mind, which is a good thing because anything i ever imagine up as something i want, it is thus guaranteed by the universe never to happen.

word across the cubicle lane is that he's a pig. i might have to start calling him babe as he seems like a charmer.

the new face of marijuana

2010-03-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

if i don't feel inspired

2010-03-05T22:41:00.000-08:00

maybe i should look at my patterns and habits. if i set the mood, i'm making an open invitation to magic.

confidence

2010-02-11T19:36:00.000-08:00

funny how i'm thinking about his email. how he said that worrying about what others think of you is a greater source of pain than joy. it's not worth worrying about in the long run. all good advice.

i stood outside smoking, thinking about how my actions were inappropriate at work -- how showing too much emotional stress is a drawback professionally. i believe that you need to show confidence at work so that your superiors feel that same confidence in you. i feared that showing a weakness in that manner would cast doubt into my superiors' minds about my capabilities.

i stopped and realized that i'm worrying about what my superiors think of me, which is exactly what i need to stop doing: worrying what others think of me.

stop worrying about what others think -- strangers on the street to boss in the corner office.

legalize it

2010-01-26T21:46:00.000-08:00

would i topple without my fix?

2009-12-28T16:14:00.000-08:00

a week without weed due to travel and familial visitations was like some kind of test in balance.

i was leaning hard at the end there.

most violent fantasies

2009-12-08T19:50:00.000-08:00

all sorts of scenarios of seeing v again. slow-mo action shots of him hurting. directly, utmost physicality.

not only fantasies of the warped corporal possibilities, but of the music playing over the scene. something light, happy -- although not an ironic innocence. something that conveys relief, a finite 'this feels better now.'

a way to show what joy and resolution is possible in violence.

don't go for second best, baby

2009-12-07T18:59:00.000-08:00

put your love to the test

details of personal romantic affairs tend to be cliché. we don't care who said what when -- it's only the sentiment we're after.

express yourself

hotel california: a study in alcoholism

2009-11-29T19:44:00.000-08:00

he's no longer in my bed. he's no longer in my sight line. he's no longer of my interest.

but did he really need to ruin hotel california in the process?

on a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

isn't this absolute heaven.

up ahead in the distance, i saw a shimmering light

substances alter perceptions.

my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
i had to stop for the night

binge bliss; blackout.

there she stood in the doorway
i hear the mission bell

temptation's calling.

and i was thinking to myself,
this could be heaven or this could be hell

crossing the line; loss of innocence.

then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
there were voices down the corridor
i thought i heard them say...

welcome to the hotel california
such a lovely place
such a lovely face

the blush of new love.

plenty of room at the hotel california
any time of year
you can find it here

the life of an alcoholic is a 24-7 party.

how they dance in the courtyard
sweet summer sweat
some dance to remember
some dance to forget

addicts run circular patterns; each one has their own reason for using.

so i called up the captain
'please bring me my wine'
he said 'we haven't had that spirit here since
nineteen sixty nine'

living in the past; maybe a past trauma has arrested development.

they living it up at the hotel california
what a nice surprise
bring your alibis

party reference, and a note of the lying that is typical of substance use.

mirrors on the ceiling
the pink champagne on ice
and she said, 'we are all just prisoners here, of our own device'

addicts sometimes run off the deep end of opulence, of their own free will; alas, there's no longer anyone else to blame.

and in the master's chambers
they gathered for the feast

massive binge.

they stab it with their steely knives
but they just can't kill the beast

the throes of addiction; the failure of attempted sobriety.

last thing i remember, i was
running for the door
i had to find the passage back
to the place i was before

fear and pain return the addict to the mercy of the substance; feels paranoia and seeks immediate relief.

'relax,' said the night man
we are programmed to receive
you can checkout any time you like
but you can never leave

you can think you're in control, tell yourself you're in control; you'll see what's in control in due time.

how can anyone who gets wasted and plays hotel california on their acoustic guitar deny that they're an alcoholic?

maybe he's always been my pet

2009-11-28T19:45:00.000-08:00

i'm a mutt, inversely to my kitty. he's white underneath with a dark cloak -- like a lamb in wolves's clothing. i'm some kind of lower-class folk parading around in a deity's facade. but as masks often allow, the eyes give it all away.

i've set my desktop to a photo of my kitty, now recently deceased. i sit still and look at his face, and through all his fluff i can see the definitive feline skull -- a direct descendant of egpyt's domesticated companion. he could have been my cat in ancient egypt.

maybe he was. maybe he's always been my furry little guy.

this made me think of the woman who reads for me -- she once mentioned that one of my helper spirits is an egyptian named ali. all of a sudden, one of my childhood stuffed animals, a white cat with a pink nose, is showing in my mind as significant. significant.

maybe this is my sign that no matter how many trials and tribulations are experienced along the way, trusted and loved ones can always be found. my beloved kittyfur has been there in the past. he's beside me always.

weed for a reason

2009-11-26T20:04:00.000-08:00

i got to the point where no matter how much weed i smoked, i plateaued at a mid-level high at best. i kept preparing myself for the cold-turkey dip. it's gonna happen, and i'm not giving in -- i'm not texting my guy. when i run out, then i'll be out, and that's what's going to happen.

maximum estimation of sobriety, roughly a week. not so inclined to believe it, although giving it a think makes it appear as so. and what a terrible week.

smoking weed ceases my ego voice and lets me hear from higher sources. it's been a week of emotional response to petty trivialities. a week of what was traditionally my personal hell.

when i'm stoned, i think that smoking weed is logical and not that big of a deal. when i'm not stoned, i guilt myself over the monetary aspect of getting stoned regularly. but feeling peace at the end of each day is a blessing -- the universe probably brought me to weed for a reason.

the kissing thing

2009-11-24T19:32:00.000-08:00

the fact that he coaxed me into giving him a handjob before he ever attempted to kiss me says quite a bit about his character.

new altitudes

2009-11-17T11:54:00.000-08:00

thinking about traveling to see himalayan kingdoms

flashes of my recent dreams that looked like the scenery in kung fu panda -- certainly high mountain altitudes. it looked wonderful.

could this be the inspiration i need to mend some unharmonious vibes i felt at a place some time ago? or more in preparation for an adventure of ascending altitude?

he's reckless

2009-11-11T03:25:00.000-08:00

there's a guy in my bed, of my interest, and yet i'm standing out in the stairwell smoking weed in the middle of the night -- returning first to put my thoughts into text before rejoining him in rest.

he's reckless, ~~and~~ but i'm ~~pretty damn~~ not scared.

let your disappointment be your inspiration

2009-11-01T17:23:00.000-08:00

that thought came to me in the bath this afternoon. all my hurt feelings come down to the deep regret of disappointment. one of those recurring themes in my life -- obliterated by disappointment.

but i've been there before, and i've felt the deflating blow when my wildest dreams weren't even remotely realized. it feels really not good. and now i think i'm at a point where i know i have a decision to make -- i'm not automatically a victim that must suffer a sentence of grief. i know that feeling that grief is as much a decision as allowing myself to recognize the disappointment, and move on.

when i was in the bath, over and over in my mind, use my disappointment as inspiration, disappointment as inspiration. my subconscious, that i can tap into somewhat when stoned, wanted to subvert the situation by turning disappointment into inspiration.

at the least, if i had any previous doubts, i should let this disappointment provide me with a fresh perspective.

not having any of that

2009-10-27T20:17:00.000-07:00

i've never once dreamt of flying. if anything, my dreams tend to be anxious -- rushing, catching up, even swimming uphill. it's like my subconscious is always set against the countdown clock.

most recently i dreamt of rushing to hide my stash and any other remnants of my weed addiction from my dad. the dream seemed like an endless sequence:

i'm in my old bedroom smoking weed when i can hear my dad descending the unforgiving staircase, slow but loud. i swipe all paraphernalia into a desk drawer with one arm, while reaching for the window with the other. he knocks or says my name outside my door as i'm trying to fan out the unforgiving scent of weed.

i'm walking down the street of my current neighborhood when i see my dad approaching from the distance. i need to hid my baggy stash quick -- in the postbox? between a sandwich sign? at the base of a planter?

i'm a kid at school and my dad's dropping off the packed lunch i forgot to take with me when i left the house that morning -- and i need to find some place to put my still-lit joint that won't break out in a fire.

the recurring theme of 'dad catching me smoking dope' is not incredibly difficult to interpret; i probably feel some subconscious guilt about my weed habit, and my dreams are using the scariest character in my life just to freak me out. it may be freudian psychology, but it's certainly not rocket science.

if that weren't sleeptime torture enough, there was a surprise blockade at every turn -- voldemort. two seconds away from my dad catching me red-handed and v steps in trying to act like our encounter is by chance. v's really picking the worst time to try re-initiating a connection; the good news is that in my dream i'm not having any of that.

i'm pretty sure i can say i wouldn't be having any of that in waking life, too. pretty sure.

familiar / foreign

2009-10-18T19:29:00.001-07:00

the key to remembering which one is the pantheon and which one is the parthenon is that pantheon, broken down, means pan - all, theon-religions -- the pantheon is the home of all religions.

* * *

walking the forum is walking the ruts of ancient traffic - a core of history, a vortex of energy, a keystone of my structured world. it's not the cradle of humanity, but of civility. ancient rome planted the seeds of my current expectations. but being in the forum doesn't simply sink you with its gravitas of extensive timeline of historic societal activity. you lounge on forum rubble like everyone else, like it seems to have been done always. thinking about being in the forum creates a context for home, making home incredibly distant. home has nothing to show for any resident ancient civilization. does that make home historically irrelevant? maybe it just means my home's ancient population, civilized and resident or not, practiced living in harmony with its surroundings, not manipulating the terra for the sake of ego. ego, because what else makes man want to strive for grandiose feats?

* * *

sometimes grandiose things are created in small spaces. just because it isn't a large building with a marble facade doesn't mean it won't change the world. in the theme of european architecture, take for example the german wartburg castle. cute little place that has a modest room where martin luther translated the bible from latin to german. a translation that took the power of a religion's most sacred text from the religion's practitioners and handed it directly to the congregation. took the power from the leaders and gave it to the people. power to the people. ol' martin luther, what a revolutionary badass. an extraordinary turing point in western society, lacking glamor entirely. it's something we can all aspire to.

* * *

traveling makes the traveler decide what feels familiar and what feels foreign. the more one can feel familiar with their surroundings wherever, the better.

* * *

difference between china and india -- china is automated, predestined, restricted, whereas india is organic, all natural, spontaneous. india feels like love already.

green / conformist

2009-10-10T18:52:00.000-07:00

being green isn't interesting, it's responsible. and being responsible isn't interesting, it's the opposite of interesting.

who ever wrote an epic tale of a conformist?

maybe i travel for the sensory benefits

2009-10-07T19:25:00.000-07:00

travel: the best remedy for boredom. it's the way i can play dress-up with my life, try on new facades -- life tourism. when most people get bored, they find ways to occupy their time; they may develop hobbies that progress with time or skill, they may simply coast along thoughtlessly, they may use their time productively. but some of us need an entire change of scenery. maybe we're incredibly superficial -- we want the same stuff, but we just want it to look different so we can impress our peers with blurbs of queer comparisons once we go back home. (home loosely defined here as not foreign).

faceplanting

2009-10-04T01:40:00.000-07:00

i'm envisioning myself getting in contact with p because i'm publishing a book and one of the main characters was inspired by my time with him.

i used to think a life partner had to be my everything -- best friend, constant emotional support, lover. but living with p showed me how two people who have very little in common can live together peaceably, even having a degree of fun once in a while. maybe every day wouldn't be a carnival party of excitement with p, but it really wouldn't obliterate our relationship in the end the way co-habitation can ruin even some of the best relationships.

it makes me see that just because i have a lot in common with a guy on an intellectual or spiritual level doesn't mean our intense connection would prove a compatible practical commitment. v and i met at a particular philosophical place, briefly. nothing else was compatible, but i was bored with my own circumstances and willing to take on his facade as a new perspective experience. it was a trip -- and i was the one who ended up faceplanting.

feeling industrious

2009-09-28T21:48:00.000-07:00

the last few years of my life have been rough -- a generous portion of all things shitty for quite a while. somehow a conglomerate of emotional, physical, academic and professional pains were all absolved in a short period of time, leaving me embarrassingly blissful. everything used to be complicated, and now everything is simple.

with so much clarity in my life, there's no ambiguity to provoke me. nothing gets me riled up to the point of needing an outlet and release from a certain stress. sometimes i have more opinions that i can keep track of. i form opinions mostly in direct relation to experience. when i'm in a situation of continually new sensations, experiences and thus opinions, the voice i write from goes on and on and on. it's like when i'm in a phase of reading novels, i start to think in a narrative, i narrate my own my own actions, thoughts, and even narrations. (how meta.) when i'm dealing with any variation of adversity, inspiration abounds.

in this new phase of clarity, the lack of conflict, resistance, and novelty lets the flurry of inspiration settle to the very bottom of the tank. the inspiration can sit at the bottom for a while -- it's so out of sight that it drifts out of mind. which is why it's essential i keep practicing listening for that subtle voice, finding opinions in contemplation instead of reaction.

so what if there's nothing before me to examine anymore? if i can stop fretting over the tangible, material and social sticking points, maybe i can look inside myself and take stock of what i'm really working with.

i've weathered a pretty lengthy, nasty storm and i can allow myself a time of rest and regeneration. i'm starting a new chapter and i'm feeling industrious.

some constructive self-criticism

2009-09-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

i think i'm observant but that's not always true -- i didn't notice that my roommate puts my mail on the coffee table. she has a plan or intention i was unaware of. i tend to be rather convinced of (some of) my own assumptions.

i need to keep in mind that just because i think i know something doesn't actually i really do. not an incredibly profound or original philosophy, but a pretty important one.

one down...?

2009-09-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

at this point in my life, there are three main questions i've been working to answer:

1. where do i want to live my life?

2. how do i want to spend my time, both professional and leisure?

3. who do i want to spend my time with?

with my recent move, i think i've found where i want to be. i think i've found my dream location, maybe even my perfect living situation. if this is contentment, then that's good enough for me.

number one, 'where do i want to live my life?' answer: right where i already am. check.

number two, 'how do i want to spend my time...' answer: i am generally enjoying how i spend my time currently, although there's plenty of room for additions and various spicing-up. pending.

number three, 'who do i want to spend my time with?' answer: slowly but surely i'll shed those unnecessary to make room for those of value. pending.

i'm sitting here thinking about how i'm addressing what seems to be such basic elements to life's foundation as though they were complex insights. maybe some people are good at details, those finite things. i could sit and pick at the subtlest characteristics, but be shattered by the overwhelming enormity of broad concepts. that wide openness filled with infinite options just kills me sometimes.

even though...

2009-08-17T19:12:00.000-07:00

...this is the only character i play, i play it pretty well. i came across shakespeare's quote 'all the world's a stage,' which got me thinking about who i'm playing now.

* * *

some people need so much to be satisfied -- careers, spouses and families, community, hobbies. that must be so complicated. right now blueberries are my universal satisfaction. i think a life too full of others would be too distracting in getting to know yourself. and that's one of the reasons we're here -- examining our personal circumstances. i think people who don't like looking at their own lives haven't got far in spiritual development.

some of us are just here to live our lives. sometimes we feel like we don't know what our calling is, in a professional sense; but we don't necessarily need to do our best intellectual work actually on a job. some of us have some complicated circumstances that take a different kind of effort. i'm not that worried if i excel in my newly chosen and certified profession, because i already have a hint that my greatest learning opportunities are going to be personal and social experiences. my job is to simply live.

maybe my job just became easier because i removed an existential burden.

acid cat lesbian

2009-08-05T23:10:00.000-07:00

i just don't know about participating in the dating pool -- the more i think about it, the more it looks like a cess pool. the pH is much too high, burningly acidic.

maybe thats' my social defect -- that i feel a stronger connection to animals than i do to kids, babies, children, sometimes even adults. i'm the weirdo animal lover -- not in the way of treating pets like human children, but in the way of respecting an animal for what it is. i don't love my kitty for being a friend or a companion -- i love him because he's my pet cat. sometimes he purrs and cuddles, sometimes he ignores me, sometimes he does cute or amusing things. it's because he's a cat, not a furry version of something else.

i just had a birthday and it looks like i've hit the cat phase. it's when young singles have their shit together (aka: out of school/after traveling/have a job) and the dating/mating scene is not so hot... how about getting a kitten who requires lots of attention?

has my life turns into a cathy comic? [carrie bradshaw responds: 'never say "cathy comic" to me ever again.'] but no, cathy has a little dog, so maybe those (small dog-loving) women get this weird yearning is a worse way.

so what am i saying now, that i yearn for a cat? well that has pretty blatant lesbian undertones, but sadly i am not a lesbian. as conferred by my gay and straight friends alike, i'm no where cool enough to be a lesbian. one said i could be bi, but i think he was just being nice.

when stoned, my obsessions

2009-08-04T23:06:00.000-07:00

are blueberries, oranges, and universal connectivity.

i met someone new today who's going to be a part of my life in a new way. maybe the ironic part is that while her initials are the same as the acronym of a sobriety organization, she described herself to me as addicted to pot.

then again, maybe what i need is a place where i can use weed to access my creativity and voice. i'll finally be able to live the way i'd like.

then why isn't my gut all aboard? just as her philosophy on problem solving, maybe sleeping on it will provide a solution.

skateboard philosopher

2009-07-31T22:58:00.000-07:00

we met today. you had 2 dark beers, i had a shaken lime margarita and a pino grigio. jesus, why didn't i just order a cosmopolitan and a sex on the beach? my drink choices couldn't have been lamer.

you said your form of daily exercise is skate boarding from transit to school. you're multi-focused like i am (well, i'm more like generally unfocused, same thing). we're examining life, which i think is a fine qualification for philosophising. that plus the boarding equal the skateboard philosopher. like an intellectual super hero.

well that's not a bad thing to be.

a pretty west coast thing for certain.

attracted to intimidation

2009-07-19T22:52:00.001-07:00

i feel like a sell-out poseur compared to you. i think of myself as a creative and a humanitarian, but i generally do neither, whereas you're doing both, pretty much on your own terms. you have your shit together in a way that i really envy, that i feel i'm racing after more every day.

i'm racing to get somewhere, and i guess you looked like an interesting route to take.

new guy

2009-07-14T23:08:00.001-07:00

i finally bowed to the common knowledge that your situation isn't going to change unless you change your behavior. i decided to available-ize myself to the meat scene, and a new person has caught my attention.

unrelated to any interaction we've had, i was out in the park, stretching behind the bench, using the back for balance. i stood in a straddle stretch, then bent over the bench back, releasing my lower back muscles, letting my vertebrae pop out. that in itself is a great feeling, but i thought of new prospect j, who i find attractive, asking me if i like it from behind. i would quietly rasp 'any word of affirmation would be the greatest understatement of all time,' completely in control.

hm, i don't think i have power fantasies very often, but i'm liking the change of scenery.

their fo

2009-07-13T00:10:00.000-07:00

isn't orgasm like a burp? i just had a really satisfying, extended burp, but as quite a surprise. the release of air while burping mimicked the release of blood during an orgasm. maybe that's why guys like burping so much, it's like their female orgasm.

maybe that's what intuitives do, we can see in the dark

2009-07-12T23:45:00.000-07:00

as i was walking home from the park, i noticed the different styles of houses in the dark. some that were generic and dark, that look like life-filler -- those parameters, boundaries, limits we set where things exist or don't. it's like we line our lives with a tactile quality, the limit to how we can understand things in a physical realm. where we say 'the coffee table is large and made of wood, and that's all i need to know about it,' that far.

so i walk up the street that is lined with the facades of houses and front yards. some are completely dark, some have interior lights. then i began to think about the intention of using light as some sort of deterrent of bad energy. the house across the street was flipped a year about and has been on the market since; the reality company keeps all of it's decorative exterior lights all the time. showing the exterior of the house in lights.

i wondered why someone would do that. quite a time ago it was safe to sleep at night, whether in a home, shelter, out in the open -- life was safe. but when you get too many people in a small space, there's going to be friction. so we as people created various defenses, light being a popular one. i thought about what light does -- makes it easy for a witness to see what a criminal is doing to property and identify a suspect, but even that's quite a stretch. criminals tend to go in the shadows.

then the idea of light in a spiritual manner came to me. there are quite a few people who believe in god as the light, right? maybe they're keeping god around them for safety. they feel safer in the light, because they can only see in the light, and they are uncomfortable not seeing in the dark.

maybe that's what intuitives can do, see in the dark. maybe most people could see in the dark, if they really wanted to. but people don't want to look there because some not great stuff is out there in the darkness. it sounds like the ritual i've had of entering my front door, feeling as though dodgy things are approaching me from the back. i walk through the gate and turn around to close it, thinking 'no, you cannot come in here,' and upon entering my front door, i image it closing on all the things that are not good for me, that i really don't need to deal with. those things will sort themselves out.

but sometimes i do think i can see in the dark. i don't know why i have such a high spook factor, i don't know why i still fear these things. i only allow passive energies to come through

/ /

hiding under something as a female child, looking up as those there are wood slats, and a light yellow, loosely knitted table cloth. the hiding feels more curious than fearful. it's like this scene from a past life played in my mind, like a memory. i'm playfully hiding in a cabinet with a dishtowel hanging over the door, peeking out. it looks like the incarnation of this memory is a blond girl, swedish, maybe swiss. it feels like a pleasant memory.

my religion

2009-07-12T01:06:00.000-07:00

i was sitting out on the park bench, feeling especially paranoid this evening. i imagined a cop pulling up, getting out of the car and walking directly towards me. i'm standing, and he says, 'how are you tonight?' i tell him, 'just meditating very deeply.' something to do with the second level, or rising to be on a higher plane. sorry officer, but my connection to the sentient universe is away at the moment, please leave a message after the beep.

the i heard that persistent voice return, the one that always shows up first, nagging me to eat my vegetables and find a job. it's telling me, 'but this is your daily meditation.' i have a ritual and i feel that it connects me to what i value, what i praise. after dark i sit on the same park bench, facing approximately sw. i sit under the lamp light, looking at the sky, the clouds, the stars or the moon, whoever feels like showing up. i noticed the running track looked like a religious oval. it sort of is. i sit on an alter and praise a symbol -- that must make this a religion.

i am rather pious in my devotion. i say my prayers every night before i sleep.

it would be so easy writing scripts for kids cartoon shows high

2009-07-12T00:46:00.000-07:00

being stoned lets you drag out each and every intention, emphasize every dramatic inclination. kids love things for exactly what they are, they love things that lack a context. that's what's different for adults, older individuals who've learned the routine and lost all contact with the universal; context is everything.

root finding

2009-07-10T22:39:00.000-07:00

the more i try to understand it, the further it away it gets. when i was a kid, that was a great reality to live in (visually or creatively) but i hated being a kid in all of that, i wanted to grasp all that with the power and knowledge of an adult. the more i tried to work, study, and practice that awareness, to make some sense of it, it just slipped away. now all i do is spend my time trying to find that natural awe in life. the more i do so, though, the thinner the connection.

smoking weed brings me back to my roots. i can see v looking at me with a doubtful nod, finding me an ungrateful hypocrite, 'and you thought i was the poseur?' yes, i do think so, because i mean back to my roots as in how i visually saw and physically felt the world when i was a kid. i can look at natural things and watch them show me things, tell me things, explain energy, when i smoke weed as an adult. i no longer see those things as an unstoned adult.

this is why we, as humans, love buttered toast

2009-07-05T21:24:00.000-07:00

something about an epic standardization of information. something grand, like the ushering in of a new era. the world needs to collectively get on the same page.

hey world, did you hear that? let's all get on the same page.

let's all get back to our roots. that's what i was doing in the kitchen.

waiting for my toast, thinking about the different between my chemically-toxic margarine spread and real, old-fashioned butter. margarine users were uppity in the begging of its existence, 'you're going to clog up your arteries with all the butter!' now butter users can all 'who cares about clog arteries when margarine's going to give you cancer?!'

but back to the butter. salted, the fat of cow's milk. pretty basic. wheat to make bread, flour, salt and yeast. grain, salt and fat -- straight from the earth, these things nourish us. toasting the bread over heat makes the butter melt and resolves the dichotomy of yin and yang.

toast is a great metaphor for balance, if you think about it.

intelligence // disrespected // relationships

2009-07-04T00:27:00.000-07:00

it's like the universe is offering to trade me something to get p back, in the more mature state i wish him to be in. the universe wants a religious promise.

i gotta pick one. if i actually want to be with p in the state i wish him to be, maybe i owe the universe a simplification of my spiritual beliefs? loose touch with my intuition because i will need a prescribed ideology to base my life -- for p, that is. if i want it to be p and me, the trade off might be shutting out my intuition.

uh, god that would suck. well no, p didn't have a negative reaction to his own intuitive thoughts. so maybe the impression i'm getting is more of the universe taking away my intuitive ear if i want to be with p. that's a strange and undesirable outcome.

maybe i'm maxing out my toking. i do hear critical thoughts when i smoke, but i usually catch and remind myself that i don't need to listen to nonconstructive criticism.

so whatever the reason, i guessing i'm thinking that if were to be with p in a manner of my choosing, i might need to ascribe to some of his chrisitian-like values. he's a mennonite for hell's sake.

god i miss his face. now i'm getting the impression that he'll be the cliche 40-something who's hard partying past catches up to him in some sort of serious medical condition. heart disease or something. if he's able to carry out a successful career, which may happen when he decides to really grow up, and i get the sense he'll be pleased with his success. but a health issue is gonna take him for a spin. that looks like his forecast.

if i impose myself on that, where he's the relationship i want and need, i may need to sacrifice -- move to his rinky-dink town. but the sensation of coming home from a stressful day, lying with him in bed, my head on his chest, whispering 'baby i love you,' it sense really lazy warm chills through the back of my knees.

i had a coffee date with 'ski over the dinner hour yesterday. it was really great, now that i reflect on it. we met in a part of town neither of us lives in, got coffee, and then he walked us over to a park that had a pond, or as he called it a lake. now that i re-call what i wrote in my profile, 'i like checking out new parts of the city, getting coffee, and going for a stroll.' we did all three. this guy actually listened.

it has me thinking that his explicit intelligence played an important part in our date -- he was a smart listener. i know i have joked about loving cute but dumb guys... but 'ski just slammed them all to shame. [i'm so impressed -- but at the same time thinking 'don't act like this is the best thing ever. sure i've dealt with aloof dumb dumbs, but i should be better at realizing who the smart listener guys are by now. maybe this should be the baseline.' maybe i've been allowing myself to be rather disrespected in prior relationships and maybe this is the time to increase the quality of who i choose to spend my time with.]

well, that's quite a sell there, universe. even if it's not an intentional sell, my guiding voice is pointing out quite clearly that there *are* different options around me, and to be open to where these new paths lead. i was also impressed with how he gently waved his had over the occasional bug on my arm or shoulder, instead of an aggressive swipe. a mature wave, from a young guy. that another difference i find rather promising. rather odd now, i just did spell check, and three words in the paragraph are highlights as incorrectly spelled: intelligence, disrespected, and relationships. but all are spelled correctly as is. the conjunctions i'm and two i've(s) are highlights because they're not capitalized, which is correct. but i was a bit puzzled as to why... but why couldn't this be the universe or any of my guides pointing out two very important things: intelligence is a very important quality i need in a mate, and i haven't been listening to or validating that necessarily (spending my time and energy on academically intelligent guys doesn't automatically make them socially or emotionally intelligent, and the ever present need to consider my opinions and feelings. as i've been told, stop worrying about what he thinks -- what do i think about this situation? i'm recognizing my need of an intelligent mate, and i'm owning up to allowing guys from my past to disrespect.

this is rather mayjah.

so i can look at my two options as retaining and growing my intuitive abilities throughout my life, without p, or i can kill the intuitive abilities but i get my perfect p, our time filling with resting my head on his chest and whispering 'baby i love you.'

for better or worse, this is still not a clear choice for me.

also, trees are important to the human condition.

a guy who's not a complete narcissistic d-bag.

2009-06-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

voldemort was the kind of guy who could get away with whatever he wanted, and he knew it. what i need is a guy who knows what he could get away with, but doesn't do so for personal gain. v would take absolutely everything; the guy i need wouldn't take everything out of respect.

identity: overdue

2009-06-28T22:56:00.000-07:00

sounds like the message is that i have a hard time remaining myself, i get caught up in trying to be what the guy wants. sure sounds like an identity issue. one of my life themes is the identity crisis.

i have a hard time distinguishing myself from others -- in a coherent way. i pretty much act and react on a case by case basis, i'm fond of contextual significance and have difficulty respecting dictated rules, laws, conditions. how can you say what is or is not 'ok' before it even happens? i'm having visions of myself writing a radical political manifesto -- writing something that looks at why you're doing X instead of being concerned with what you're doing, what X is.

might that be a more sophisticated society, one that is concerned with intention, not just action?

i don't really care to have a pre-ordained identity plan in my life, but society is really demanding it nonetheless.

dear cc

2009-06-28T22:35:00.000-07:00

are you a stoner? i was sitting out on the park bench, thinking about our afternoon today. thinking about how i felt disappointed about not feeling a spark with you. you weren't what i had hoped for.

it was nice meeting you, really, but i didn't spark. that's usually an irreparable deal-breaker.

i feel as though i should give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him if he is a stoner, like me. i would tell him 'smoking weed has been an integral part of healing my back surgery. if it's not a significant aspect of your opinion of me, well maybe it could at least be notable.' like maybe even though we don't feel compatible while sober, we could experience an entirely different relationship high.

isn't this one of the most common themes in love?; 'would we be together, if only we could be different people entirely?'

p as a gladiator

2009-06-24T22:15:00.000-07:00

standing out in the park, thinking of how p took latin as his second language requirement in high school. there's something exquisitly nerdy about that, punctuated by how un-nerdy p acts. his group of friends are the small town deliquents. not complete badasses, but not complete poseurs. not country-ish, but not nascar-ish either. they do their fair share of drugs, fighting, and random stupid shit. binge drinking, hockey and video games are a constant. p is the brains of the organization, but not the alpha male. he fits in, makes sure not to stand out. a loyal pack member.

it's this question-less dedication to his pack that annoys and disappoints the hell out of me about p.

now i'm annoyed at myself for now recalling the annoying instead of the pleasurable aspects of my thoughts of p. standing in the park, thinking of p learning latin in high school -- was this part of his inspiration to attend law school? completely unrelated?

i chose the path of more fun and envisioned p saying things like 'i have fond memories of ancient rome.' the visual is p in a cartoon profile, taking a bite out of large chunk of time, his slab of time reading roman empire. a literal taste of the time. i can picture him in a simple white toga, sandals, a laurel wreath-like crown hair edging his dome. [one of the things i like best about p was that while he was clearly early on the road to hair loss, i could picture him with no hair on the top and i still thought he looked hot. that looked like a keeper to me.]

if i'm going to fantasize about some guy, why not make it a fantasy i really enjoy? if i want p to be a gladiator, so what? that's what's great about getting stoned -- allowing myself to dream whatever i want. it's a positive experience.

maybe p as an ancient scholar. his fundamental wisdom stems from ancient knowledge [but he's still a contemporary soul who's dealing with its own purposes, choices and consequences]. i'm intrigued and turned on by his intellectual ability; i find his face very pleasing and i've come to realize i would still feel attracted to him after loosing his hair. i'm so into his head; weird. he's a certain denomination of christianity -- not quaker, but not mormon either. they have a belief in pacifism, and i'm wracking my brain trying to remember what it was called. it's a belief in leading a simple life--

mennonite. 'a member of an evangelical protestant sect, originating in 16th century europe, that opposes infant baptism, practices baptism of believers only, restricts marriage to members of the denomination, opposes war and barring arms, and is noted for simplicity of living and plain dress.'

why do i keep distracting myself from thinking of p as a gladiator. why and i looking up the definition of mennonite?

maybe if i allow myself to think of him in pleasurable (gladitorial) ways, i'll remember that i'm missing him but am hesitant to try contacting him again.

food stoner

2009-06-24T22:12:00.000-07:00

it's not meant to be an ironic oxy-moron. it's just that in the last few years, as my dad has aged, everything he eats is 'the best _____ i've ever tasted.' well, sometimes it's 'the worst _____ i've ever tasted,' true, but it's mostly the best.

my dad's certainly not a stoner, he's the exact opposite of a stoner. he just talks about food as though he were stoned. which is funny, in an ironic sense?

i got more drama than yo mama

2009-06-22T22:35:00.000-07:00

this whole grad school, herniated disc, back surgery, wedding thing has been more drama than a soap opera. i'm in dire need of a turn of good luck.

i've been thinking about p lately, missing him. it was this time a year ago that i last spent time with him. i feel discouraged because i haven't met any guy that i've felt even remotely attracted to since him. my physical attraction would be described as blissful. simply, a happiness. a sense that i can't ever get close enough to him. i feel as though he is like rock, petros, and i am sponging onto him.

i am horrified and sometimes disgusted by the idea of becoming a parent, the ultimate turn-off. something about p made parenthood with him almost semi-plausible. there's that something in his eye...

then there's that thought that i could be building this all up in my imagination, and given the chance to reunite with p he might not be as awe-inspiring as i'm currently perceiving him. he had his lameness on display from time to time when we hung a year ago.

is the characterization... more amusing?

swing batta' batta'

2009-06-01T22:52:00.001-07:00

i have needed to figure out what i want in the professional, spiritual, personal and emotional realm, and i've spent the last few years doing so. i was standing out in the park thinking about how i've come to this point where i've been doing my studying -- now it's time to go on the record with my official answer.

what are my career, belief system, ego-fulfilling and romantic priorities? i wondered if i'll be ready to try dating again after i return from my travels this month. the little why not voice in my mind asked in an excited gasp 'am i ready?!' would i allow it to be an option?

the career thing is hanging there, ready to find its landing spot. i feel like i'm looking for my best work option, but feel like i'm not seeing anything. i'm hoping my doubts will be resolved by a great opportunity coming out of the blue, landing right in my lap.

in the chorus of my profession: network!

ugh... i'm over this already. anyways, go ahead career life, give it to me straight...

why am i holding it in? let it out

2009-05-31T23:25:00.000-07:00

i was sitting on the park bench just now, realizing i had my thighs drawn together, squeezing calves, shoulders raised and curved -- why am i holding it in? let it out.

i was sitting on the park bench crying, thinking about how if this were any other relationship, the relationship i have with anyone i consider family to be at the point where we need to break up. but when i came back into my room, i followed with these amusements ~

the many options of slanting 'my stoner life':

my stoner life: just a part-time gig.
my stoner life: raising a voice in what i assume is a legion of blogs written by stoners; an interpretation.
my stoner life: the entirety of my time stoned, all that it encompasses.

the correct slant is my stoner life: it is what it is.

lately, it's been like i can't enjoy things. i get so incredibly irritable.

i remember from the first moment of waking up in the recovery room after surgery until at least two weeks later feeling a sense of mild euphoria, sometimes even better. it was like my back surgery was like winning the lottery -- what a surprise, what a peculiar way to get some extra rest and time off. oh well, i'll make the best of it by using my newfound enthusiasm for novel amusements to get myself some more hobbies!

that's when i was dreaming about how i'd ride off into the sunset with the kind of attractive-in-a-nerdy-way doctor who administered my rectal test. [and then i said to the doctor, '... and once i thought it couldn't possibly get worse, you told me to squeeze.' doctor and i throw our heads back in laughter, then bring our chins back down and lock eyes; in that instant the universe decides that we will join and remain united from that point on. fin.] those were some great days. why i abandoned that delightful fantasy plot point, i'm not sure, but it feels cozy after feeling so withdrawn.

no wonder people like doctors, sometimes they work some serious magic. and no wonder people don't care about librarians, no one likes gatekeepers who prance around acting like they think everyone's buying their usher act but really they're the bouncers. i just wrote as my facebook status,

for some reason i'm thinking of how librarians are like bouncers, and there are actually quite a few reasonable comparison.
-
library cards = can i see some id?
where's my hold? = you're not on the list
overdue fees = $5 entry for guys when it's ladies-night
-
top-shelf drinks = dubject guides
-
patrons hear the same music = patrons hear the same silence
-hm, those last 2 weren't really related to being a bouncer, were they. man, i can't even answer my own reference question right. I SUCK. :D

not that everyone loves doctors and hates librarians.

upon editing, i'm now here with the chore of writing that i need to dump my father. but i'd rather go to sleep happy and amused, so i'm not going to regurgitate my thoughts from the park. i stared at that quarter moon, directly in front... no, i'm not going back right now.

i already let it out once tonight, and i have the right to say that's enough for now.

harassing... eh, so what

2009-05-30T23:31:00.000-07:00

i've taken on a new pursuit: harassing local tween population.

if ew she can smell my smoke across the park, too bad, because i can smell her douche juice. well, more like hear her... douche tone. this place refines douche to a new level -- the intricacies of superiority in the attitude here seem like they stem from having a modern, progressive society, without the guilt of it's colonial master's history.

they both stink.

if you think cigarettes and weed are gross, then you have a lot left to experience in life.

do we absorb less when we connect more? maybe we're supposed to get to the point faster. maybe not faster but improve progress. spiritually, universally. i was reading a book about communication and how internet as a media decreases attention span, turning readers into skimmers. the book's angle on this theory was that skimming was bad.

well yea skimming's going to be bad, if you have too many words.

maybe spiritual growth is coming in communications that access our emotional evaluations and reactions, maybe being able to tap into that is a type of spiritual or connecting-to-the-universe-ical progression.

we're all in a hurry to get on the fast track to get to the end, right? to achieve growing amounts of objectives as time, we're told, runs out, as if there weren't infinite time -- time being something we've invented for ourselves, it's our own fault for subscribing to a belief of its importance. just as is a common moral to many stories, we're doing it to ourselves.

my point being, i don't think skimming is a terrible thing, as long as it still facilitates its purpose. maybe directness is the future.

it's my present.

the tween girls gawked at the bad smell of my cigarettes and weed, so i got up, smoking all the while, and sat on a park bench near them. after two or three minutes they organized themselves to leave, and as they walked by, i said in a wry voice, 'talk shit louder next time.'

[larry david voice] 'eh... i'll be burning in hell for eternity for saying that... eh, so what!'

an exacting revenge scenario

2009-05-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

i looked up exacting to see if i was using it correctly, and one definition is 'stern; severe and unremitting in making demands.' yes, that's right, i'm thinking up a rather harsh dish of revenge.

i've been writing lately about voldemort, my over-ness of that situation. thought of smoking weed with him but have concluded there really is no purpose for us to be face to face ever again. i was standing out in the park this evening, thinking of my recent actions. my information gathering, my peeping, or nosing through. i know i'm over v by how each successive time i've gathered some info, i'm progressively apathetic. why try to stir myself back into that mix?

does it seem like i have anything better to do, legally and physically unable to work presently?

right, so here's the revenge scenario: i email a long document of communication between v and myself, exposing his sleazy, or at least adulterous-if-i-won't-get-caught, choices. i'll send this email to his current girlfriend, moral being 'girl, i don't care who you are, you can do better than this douchebag.' [god, the worst memory i have of his is how he flat out told me about how his ex-girlfriend got an abortion after she told him she was initially pregnant, not consulting with him about the abortion. i don't know what's worse -- that this guy is bitching that she didn't consult with him before doing it, or that he openly tells people this, especially in the context of talking about his past relationships. such a douchebag.]

the thing is, i'd need to re-establish contact with him, which may be a challenge, and although i have my suspicions there's no guarantee he'll act in the way i've planned most deviously for. i would need him to open up to my again, have him show a sign of his availability. i'd need that in order to show that he not only kicked me, unwell person at the time, when i was down, he talked shit about me to his friends all the while. i read the emails, the chats.

he used me and threw me away, and it was all kind of grotesque. as one positive gesture, person to person, i'd feel some kind of relief in passing that information on to his current partner. considering how these make-believe events could potentially unfold, the whole thing could result in her dumping him.

it would make for the best revenge, because his entire self-worth is based on having the validation of one female, and if could take that away from him, nothing could really cut him deeper.

then the fun stoner part where i let my thoughts run wild, this could be a run up to a murder on a crime drama like csi: ny. what if my exacting revenge scenario works so well that she dumps him, demolishes to infinite numbness? would he still be 'converting to islam' and thus some kind of pacifist, or would he feel enough pain that would ignite enough anger to react violently?

my high is making me wonder if he could ever be angered enough to kill someone. i think he'd be capable, as the cooler the temper one projects, all the more the core burns. he's like my dad in that way, he wants everyone to think he's cool as a cucumber, impossible to rile up, but when that one thing appears that flips the switch -- stand back, it's going to get hot. one of the more vivid images i have of my dad abusing me is watching the spit fly out of his mouth as he screamed in my face.

i can't believe he thinks he deserves any credit for being a good parent after the way he fucked up my head, but whatever. i don't have to keep allowing him to negatively affect my life, i can keenly practice edging around him whenever possible.

the next 3 weeks excluded.

back to v and the severe revenge scenario; i took the personal-perspective narrative of revenge and played it over to a fictional setting, v being so pained by the affect of my revenge that he would murder me. would it all fit into one episode of a csi show, or would it have to be a mini-series? if it's just regarding the murder, then one episode, but if it were some drama about the causes and effects of things like murder, it might be a 2-parter. i'm sure if v had editorial input, he'd at least want to be a 'smart' murder, where he plans it well-enough to almost get away with it.

that would be an interesting opus: the creation and endurance of a new-millennial relationship, the psychological play of a narcissist and a no-self-worth abuse victim. it could be something like 'he mocks and criticizes her to his friends, but makes empty promises of help and compassion. she decides if he's calling her crazy to his friends, she has every right to take that characterization and use it to advance; getting that long awaited-for revenge was the only satiating conclusion. but then he's so upset over the consequences of his actions, that he kills her -- and he was claiming she was crazy? he was the one so taken over by his emotions that he killed.'

is that the ultimate exoneration of someone falsely labeled? is that enough to make a martyrdom?

i never thought of myself writing crime drama, but maybe this some intuitive nudge coming through.

when my muse is my nemesis

2009-05-27T23:48:00.000-07:00

he was right, we don't have much in common. i don't actually like rap music and fashion, he doesn't really care about traveling or providing personal humanitarian aid to those in need. he's not the kind of guy to get his hands in the earth, he prefers his ivory tower. he's probably into manicures, gets his nails buffed or something.

if i'm so over him, why him as a topic? because i've been thinking of v lately, and noticing this new thought. he was gone, now he's back, oh my. just because he's coming to mind does not mean that he's allowed to come bother me again. why i would want to be in contact with him again? if there's anything i need to work out about that experience, i can do it on my own with out consulting him.

the only thing i need to do is answer this: if i want to talk to him, what exactly is it that i want to say? the only thing that comes to mind is to give him an open invitation to come smoke weed with me the next time he's in town.

yea... but why?

maybe i want to tell him what heinous thing i did? not to say i did anything lots of other people in my situation would do. the thing i fear is that i'm craving a certain inspiration, a particular kind of muse. an orator, one who inspires confidence exactly as the recipient wants it so. flatter my wildest dreams, banish my insecurities.

my nemesis, still a muse? i can't accept a muse who is my nemesis, it will only feed narcissism,

they called the cops on me

2009-05-27T00:24:00.000-07:00

with nothing particular in mind, i recall having made a joke today. dang, i should have taken a hint from my peers and worked a little harder on getting that MRS -- all those hours i spent on meditation and introspection just mean that i got no one to pay my rent when i'm broke. i also included a lame joke about craigslist and sugardaddies.

if i have no burning questions these days, if i'm waiting patiently and not overly concerned about anything, then i wonder what i had been trying to solve for so long. my creative writing ta in college referred to me as a relationship writer during office hours where she critiqued my writing. i used to write about relationships, but when did that stop?

well, when did it start? end of college -- strongly promoted by voldemort. i guess i mimicked his desire for a mate, and the more i subscribed to his opinions the more i was fretting over dating and relationships. looks like when i got over voldemort i stopped caring about my status in intimate relationships, or even whether one was in the works. i suppose i was tossing c around for a while out of boredom and competitiveness, but i really think we are incompatible and he's not the missed opportunity i was pegging him to be.

now i'm hanging out so relaxedly, like an astronaut on a space walk.

in non-relaxed times earlier today, i walked to my daily smoke spot to see a police car parked at the corner and the office standing on the curb, leaning on the car.

whoa. there are never cops in my neighborhood. and why is there one parked? right at my smoking corner?

i walked a wide berth around the cop car, keeping my hands out of my pockets, and went two blocks down and smoked in the alley behind a new house under construction. walked the three blocks back to my house with previously used avoidance tactics.

maybe... the police were researching for parking violations, or something.

but my roommate definitely thinks someone called the cops on my daily smoking, sending an office to wait out there all day if he has to. but wow, instead of talking to me directly, some random person notified the police.

uuugh.

my roommate continued, saying that whoever called the police did so probably thinking that someone smoking pot equals drug dealing in the neighborhood. that is the dumbest fucking thing i've ever heard. why would you smoke where you deal?! give stoners a little credit for fuck's sake. what are my neighbors thinking, that i'm trying to advertise and drum up sales?

it's how society works in the favor of ignorance. i smoked out in public, trying to show that i'm not a threat, but instead of taking the facts at face value my neighbors have made inaccurate assumptions due to stereotyping and ignorance. one person smoking weed equals lots of problems for anyone else in the vicinity. due to this ignorance, now i have to sneak around alleys and appear shady and threatening, even though it couldn't be further from the truth.

it's the undesirable consequence of my location.

the political commentator

2009-05-18T21:35:00.000-07:00

i've been noticing lately that i've been noticing my thoughts about voldemort. i now realize that noticing him in my thoughts is surprising due to the fact that he'd been absent -- for quite a while. my first reaction to thinking about him was 'oh, stop that, that's like asking for a disease relapse or a catastrophic collision.'

well, that is kind of true. but thinking about him raised no significant emotional reaction. didn't feel a burning hate for him (anymore), didn't feel sentimental for anything regarding him... didn't really care in general. so i decided googling him wasn't taking much of a risk.

the only thing of interest that resulted from the search was his guest... i was going to call it an appearance, but you don't see people when it's radio. guest commentator, that's it. wow, i should have just looked at the title of the post sooner. anyways, i listened briefly to the topic of the show and a little bit of his input, but i stopped. it wasn't due to being offended at the show's topic, which was tolling a conspiracy theory about america having planned and orchestrated 9/11 to create an excuse to start a war, because i already knew v's opinions on such, and i have no strong feelings one way or the other. i stopped listening because i didn't really care about what v thought or what he was up to.

the great thing about being stoned is the new opening into flexing creativity. if i were sober, i'd probably just feel weird or bored about v for a while until my mind wandered elsewhere, but stoned i can take a sad thought and re-write the ending. open my train of thought to intuition and see what i can pull out of thin air:

he will write his phd disertation declaring some new scenester-approved social condition. he'll do the academia thing, the book writing thing. he'll be more than happy to step into the spotlight and be known for some sort of affiliation. he loves the attention (truer words have never been spoken). i can see him being some sort of political commentator in the future.

poor guy, that sounds like the worst.

luckily i find it rather amusing.

mano a mano

2009-05-18T17:52:00.001-07:00

i need to not talk to c anymore. it makes me sad, because i really liked his parents, and i think they liked me, too. but i'm trying to live my life being as open and honestly as i can. that's not to say i'm perfectly open and honest, because i'm far from it, but i think it's important. that's the only way i really connect to people. as i thought in the park, under the cozy coniferous tree, 'mano a mano.' one to one, that's what 'mano a mano' means, right? google says it means a head-on conflict or direct competition. hm, maybe my subconscious is finding direct personal interaction as something combative.

oh wow, that's pathetic.

what i mean is that i am more interested in meeting a person face to face, giving each other the benefit of the doubt. not meeting someone from behind personal prejudices or concocted barriers. as i was bickering with c most recently, i hated china because their culture of respect is based on a hierarchy and enforced with fear -- no one respects anyone, generally, unless there's an obvious reason why (ie: you're a poor, powerless, rural farmer appealing to the government for help). respect only exist for a reason, within a context. respect is not thought of as a way to exist in secular china (and just because people are buddhists doesn't mean they're legitimately respectful to strangers in everyday life just like christians in western culture). so you have nearly a billion people treating each other like shit.

i was bickering with c about this, as he was equating me to that which i was condemning. my response was that i was raised to respect others right from the go. i wasn't raised to think anyone who wanted my respect would have to earn it first. i told c that i respect people unless they give me a reason not to. he had no response to that, really, as i am correct in observing that in china people generally don't respect and consider others unless they have a reason to do so.

it's so primitive. i was standing under that tree, tuning into my intuition, trying to open myself and listen:

i was really doing him a favor. since he was very intelligent and sensitive, i gave him the benefit of the doubt over the glaringly obvious fact that his social skills were pretty weak. i guess i had seen enough value in him otherwise to practice patience for his weaknesses. i gave him the benefit of the doubt. i have been approaching him with respect and trust. an investment i was willing to make. this is where my weak will comes and says 'well, how can i really feel mad at c when i made the choice(s) that lead myself to this point?' taking ultimate responsibility for your actions is a pretty mature thing to do -- but it's not what i'm really in the mood for right now.

in an effort to change my weaknesses, i need to be more assertive and address what bothers me. i'm learning my boundaries and refining my values. at this point, my values still seem rudimentarily rough hewn (do those last three words, together as that phrase, make a redundant description? kinda maybe).

i'm solidifying my values, and i stood out in the park thinking about how i value being as open and honest in my life as possible, i find spiritual fulfillment in practicing those things in my life. i spend quite a bit of time on honestly and openness, as they're two challenging things for me, as they are for most people. no one's perfectly open, completely honest, but they're great qualities we can work on during our lives.

c, though, does not seem to value his personal openness and honesty. he'd quickly argue that he's an honest person, saying he does not tell lies. he defended himself for this concern by saying it wasn't his fault that i made assumptions. assumptions i made based on ambiguous answered he would give me to rather blunt questions. unfortunately, i find that to be a rather childish answer. he's faulting negligent use of communication, not taking the blame for his own actions, his words and intention to conceal exactly what i was trying to get out of him.

i don't feel i have time for that primitive level of... combat. if we're going to clash here, i'm only willing to deal with the issue at hand, i really don't want to waste my time petty things. i want to deal with the issue of openness and honesty between c and i, and since he apparently doesn't want (or have the ability) to deal with it, he's scapegoating it all by blaming differences in language interpretation. because that's never ambiguous.

i called c out on using ambiguity in order to deceive, which he denies. i really believe that if you're an honest person, you'll know how to indicate your intention. i find ambiguity to be some sort of defense mechanism, a block. generally acceptable in daily mundane life scenarios, but a pretty big problem when used in what is thought of by both individuals as a close and trusting relationship. i'd be just as concerned if any of my other friends deflected personal or sensitive issues with blatant ambiguity. we're friends because we can trust each other with the personal, heavy, difficult stuff -- we're friends because we care about each other's well being.

i'm not interested in being close to someone who only wants me to see the good, someone who insists on hiding the insecurities, fears, anything unsightly. c only wants to see the best of me, only wants me to see the best of him, and wants us both to steer away from and generally ignore the heavy, difficult, unpleasant stuff.

i guess some people really just want to be happy as much as possible, whatever that entails. that seems kind of boring to me. as i've been thinking over and over, i'm tired of the shallow and boring conversations with c.

i now find him shallow and boring, the opposite of how i felt about him when we first met. people really don't change, but perceptions sure do. what you find provocative one day, you may dismiss as completely parochial a few minutes, days, weeks, months, or years later.

people don't change, but your perception of them can go any way it chooses.

forking / john mayer / clue

2009-05-17T23:06:00.000-07:00

i'm thinking about what makes a good forking skill. as in, using a fork. i have the fork stem balanced on my fourth finger, my third finger holding the stem in place. the third and fourth in tandem move the fork across my plate in an arc. those are the stiffer functions. the real art of it is in the delicate thumb pressure, leveraging fork's... fingers? is that what they're called? the internet says they're called prongs.

am now thinking about awkwardest pub visit ever -- in belfast, contextual details never to be repeated. no. i'm un-existing it. never happened.

something in my mind is saying 'stoner me can connect with stoner john mayer, somewhere in the stoner ether.' then i hear what sounded like john mayer saying hello to me, but he sounds undesirably southern. looks like i'm not sure that he'd be my ideal smoke buddy. a few times in the past i've thought about what it would be like to get stoned with voldemort. we connected in a really unique metaphysical place. when it was good it was lovely, but when it was bad is was raw. i think getting stoned with him would be the only possible way i could ever really speak to him again. i had no idea then what i know now -- v is a classic stoner guy; i feel like smoking a lot of weed is giving me a clue about him i haven't had previously.

for some reason i want to call it a culminax

2009-05-17T02:19:00.000-07:00

combining culminating and climax -- we've reached the culminax.

c and i. had it out this evening. over godawful instant messenger. i guess my intuition told me early on to switch over from adium to gmail chat because adium always stops working like 3 minutes into a conversation. i suppose i was being lead to a secure medium in having an important confrontation.

what we needed to talk about is not of interest to anyone else -- everyone's relationship problems are boring -- but privacy was a key issue. he needs multiple times the amount of personal privacy than the average guy (why oh why, he'll never say why) needs. he knows of his featured roll in my china blog, where we met and spent time together, and has read it ('it' being the edited version i left on the blog once i took the blog address public, as it were, where c and others could read it).

i think i'm not realizing how others feel about being in one of my stories. they enjoy my stories but certainly wouldn't want to be in one. i'm probably being completely clueless -- when i play narrator, they're subjected to my interpretation of who they are and their actions i report. the amount of transparency i want in my life, my work and my relationships, plenty of people would want prefer to have privacy.

what one wants open, another one wants closed. it doesn't matter why, each side has its valid points; it's simply a conflict of interests. a nearly impossible one to overcome in most situations. i opened my floodgates at c in true me style, he restrained from giving any kind of reaction and kept his hand close to his chest in true him style. i poured it out of my heart; i felt as if i were tugging the lead of a resistant mule. a stubborn ass. that's not a completely libelous thing to say about him, there's some truth to the metaphor.

as i stood outside my door, looking at the gray slate clouds in the plum blackberry night sky, i recall thinking 'he's deeply insecure but doesn't want anyone to see.' he goes to great lengths to appear that he's comfortable and happy, even when he's not. after focusing on the thought that he is insecure, the strong intuition repeated 'you and he are not unalike.' yes, we're two insecure people, just like millions of others. what i've been failing to realize this whole time is that his way of dealing with that is to hide it from others, to work on it out of lookie-loos' gaze. i on the other hand feel that my way to deal with my insecurity, and somehow connect to anyone at a very base level, is to voice my personal doubts. while c is down in his lair, doing his personal work, i'm as transparent as the wind. i best deal with problems by re-connecting to the universal, to know that my pain is just like the pain of everyone else. we all bleed. knowing that i'm not alone, and telling others they are not alone, is how i measure my progress.

now that's making me think that's precisely why c likes living in china, it's all about face... and so is he. he'd really prefer to have flaws, problems and other indiscretions dealt with behind the scenes -- cracking it out in plain view is agonizing for him. it's a serious compatibility issue. at one point i didn't know how to tell him i needed some space without being cliche and saying exactly that ('it's not you, it's me. i just need space' -- code for 'this isn't working, period').

he asked me if i still wanted to be friends with him, and i said yes. the problem remained in that i didn't know how to tell him to stop being likable, to stop leading me on. but i couldn't think of specific lead-ons he's lead me on, as he's a master of walking a finely ambiguous line. i knew that i needed to signify some sort of marker point, some indication of change, a new direction, attitude or perspective. like i was sending up a flair to say 'hey, i'm not going to be bugging you as much any more.' is that being ironic -- when my actions contradict my words, when my words do not describe my actions? or is that just being a hypocrite?

it's like i'm finally coming into the ring, i conclude that after three years of hiatus and a year of follow up study, we probably aren't going to end up together, and even if we did it might not last anyways. his reaction to it all was akin to a sleepy middle aged man drowsily leafing through the morning paper, sipping his tea, responding with the occasional 'yea' or 'what?' but ultimately gives me a redundant look and sighs 'yes, i already know that,' turning the page and tilting his chin up to bring his bifocals to the headlines. even after he told me i'm important to him, i feel ridiculous and insignificant. not due to how he's treating me, but due to my own insecurities. c and i are not unalike.

all c wants is his privacy, and look what the universe is giving him -- someone writing some kind of memoir, including very personal information about him. we all have to deal with exactly what we loath, what is most difficult.

i had a flashback of mortification; in my college creative writing class, i met with my ta to go over some of my works, and as she looked them over to recall what they were about, she said 'oh yea, you're the relationship writer.' it pained me to hear it that day and to think of it long after, i thought it the least original topic possible. now i do realize i'm a relationship writer; i write about my relationship with all things.

accidentally slammed

2009-05-16T00:13:00.000-07:00

am speaking with c right now, but my gut feeling is a bit fired up, i'm feeling aggressively defensive -- i don't want to talk to him, no!

i don't really know how to just put it away... how to start pretending it doesn't exist. i no longer have any chance of going back there, i certainly will not see him again in the near future. i need a new direction, i need to stop going through these paces just because they're the only thing i know. i need to rid myself of the influence c has.

i told him i've been thinking, writing and dreaming. he asked if that's helped me any, and in what way he means that, i don't know. i simply said that i was waiting for the answer to 'fall out of the sky any day now.' he asked 'what's the question?' and i bantered, 'what isn't?'

i hate how he always bounces back everything i say as a question, see how he likes it when i do it to him. he may be the most honest person in the world, but i just don't trust his lack of disclosure. everything out of his mouth is a question or a clever quip; he's essentially saying nothing. god, no wonder his chinese princess dumped him over lack of communication -- i apparently speak the same native language as he, and even i have no idea what he's talking about.

i accidentally slammed him in the end -- he said he needed to sign off chat soon because he was all chatted out from his day. i responded 'signed onto chat when you're all chatted out, huh,' and signed off.

i'm pretty good at being bitchy.

another hostage situation

2009-05-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

i've had my second intensely realistic and very violent dream about being in a hostage situation. the first time i dreamt of being in a hostage situation was soon after my recent surgery, when i was still taking narcotic pain meds, or at least to help me sleep at night. i don't recall much of it now, other than my parents and i were being held hostage... and i swear i'm not kidding here, but i think we were being held hostage by girls, girl scouts-aged girls. i suppose there's some sort of subconscious symbolism there, like i'm letting my 'inner little girl' control me or something. well, if that's the case, then i have no idea what my inner little girl wants for ransom.

the second dream i had, i'm not sure it necessarily qualifies me as being held hostage, but i consider fearing for my life while at the mercy of some ominous force to be in the same sort of fear family.

the entire dream i'm hiding in a house, worrying. fearing for my life. hiding from some police or military soldiers [what's so honorable about signing up to fight for a certain side in a battle? we shouldn't be fighting at all. there's nothing honorable about participating in something dividing, only in uniting, brining together, healing]. they're raiding all the homes in the neighborhood that have been marked in a certain way. in the dream i do not know if i'm in a house marked to be raided. the action of the dream was entirely hiding, waiting, listening, fearing.

the meaning of the dream is mostly the context: in my dream world, the planet had become so over-populated that the global government (of sorts) decided to implement measures to contain population growth. the global government introduced something along the lines of the voluntary human extinction movement, and those wanting to commit to never reproducing needed to indicate so by placing a round sign, pictured as the globe, outside their home.

the apparent outcome of the global government's labeling project somehow turned into the military raiding homes that did have the sign, the soldiers killing all inside. it feels like a bad guy vibe, where all those who were willing to be the last of their own kin in a nod to decreasing global population, improving the future of the imminent humanity that will indeed live on -- aren't respected and left alone, but made martyrs by being killed very violently.

and what for? that's where part of the fear comes from: the uncertain. in the dream it feels as though there's a rumor that another house in the neighborhood was mistakenly marked, the people that died inside were the family of a classmate i had during my childhood. the twist to the rumor is that the house had been intentionally marked by someone who didn't like the family.

and there i was for the entire dream, hiding in some home, dreading what felt like an inevitable death regardless of the fact that i couldn't logically figure out what it was i feared: had i chosen to label myself something that was now clearly in the line of fire? or if not, was it possible there could be anyone who would want to sabotage me?

the dream was in some sort of hyper-realistic world, all senses heightened. the echoing rattle of gunshots through out the neighborhood. the absolute stillness of everything besides the gunshots. no wind, no birds chirping, no dogs barking, nothing but still tension.

i've been thinking about the meaning of this dream as i've been writing it out. the plot doesn't really make sense -- people of a certain belief are indicated as such, for what seems like a positive reason... only to be slaughtered. i suppose the suspenseful, fearful setting of the dream is not too unlike how nazi raided towns and killed jews, that is, if they had the stars on their clothing.

incredibly frightening. as i described the context of the dream, i found myself filling in blanks that weren't necessarily included in the dream. i started to write that some sort of belief-driven group instigated the systematic killing of those who hung the round earth sign outside their homes -- but that wasn't in the dream. in the dream, personally volunteering to extinct your line of kin wasn't necessarily a good thing... in fact, it seemed subversive. although in waking life i am aware that scientists say that the earth is currently over-populated and it will break down as the human race depletes the earth's resources, to which i agree, maybe i didn't necessarily agree in my dream. one of my thoughts in the dream, when trying to figure out if i, or my family, were voluntary extinct'ers was 'well, if they want to end their use of the earth's resources, why wait until they die? why not just end them now so that there's more for those who do want to continue humanity?' i guess that would have put me on the 'not a round earth-sign person.'

doesn't it seem odd that my subconscious is more conservative than my conscious thoughts? then again, your subconscious is supposed to hold your taboos, isn't it... i guess i'm uncomfortable with conservative logic. maybe it's some sort of guilt over thinking that sometimes, people ask for it, or get what they have coming.

now that i think about it, this is the same dream i was having in vienna, about the guy trying to get in the house because he was going to kill me. he was a random dark haired man, and i tried getting help -- i was standing in a room full all my friends and family, screaming at the top of my lungs, and everyone carried on as though no one could see or hear me. i always woke up after he broke into the house but before he killed me.

in my hostage dream recently, though, i didn't make a sound.

my dreams have been more violent lately. usually my dreams are all symbolic of anxiety, it's always fear, i always feel like i'm chasing something, or being chased. i can't reach what i want, or demise is biting at my heels. maybe the violent dreams are just condensed anxiety dreams, packing more of a punch as the burden of fears piles up.

lion in a coma

2009-05-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

that's what my ipod told me about my life, when i asked. tell me something i need to know about my life, the song is lion in a coma. i suppose it's applicable as my astrological sign is leo, the lion.

and i'm totally in a coma these days.

i was sitting out on the park bench, thinking about my physical recovery in the last four weeks, and my mental health during that same time. [just was sidetracked thinking about whether or not i will win a scholarship i applied for... but thought about how dumb awards systems can be, isn't trying to do your best kind of the point of everything? we're only trying to do the best for ourselves, so measuring each others' hard work for comparison is not only pointless, but kind of mean-spirited.]

in the last four weeks i've covered the emotional span from mildly euphoric to majority numbness. i'm trying to make plans, make ah plan, find the solution to whatever this problem in my head is... i'm in a hurry, but i have no answer, no destination, no directions. i feel as thought i'm waiting for something to fall out of the sky. i'm so completely bored and over this chapter of my life that i'm searching for the exit.

when i grow tired of looking, i take a nap. but this lion has been sleeping too much...

not to be the success, but the inspiration of success

2009-05-09T19:43:00.000-07:00

that would be the greatest honor. yes, there would be something of honor to be the best at what you do, what you create. but what's more sacred than those who inspired the greatest artists?

can you hold? i'm having a difficult life

2009-05-09T18:52:00.000-07:00

what i tell me about myself is not necessarily the truth. that is the big message i need to listen to now. my ego, my incarnation, has its personality, and maybe mine isn't so genuine. maybe my ego is a liar. maybe not, but my intuition says that the things i tell myself that create my identity -- some of those things aren't true. i never tell myself some certain truths, and sometimes i may tell myself untruths, i will believe lies if it makes me feel better.

this thought of what i tell me about myself is not necessarily the truth came from thinking about whether what i express in this medium is fiction or nonfiction, whether what i write here is truthful or not. my intuitive voice started up, showing me a larger-framed context. i need to see the bigger picture. looking as though my life is laid out in front of me on a drafting table, one of my trickiest obstacles in this incarnation is my ego; this is a sticky one. i watched the things my intuition showed me:

i feel as though i have more of a relation or understanding of male or yang perspective, thus i'm learning to appreciate being female or yin this time around, as challenging as it can be. but i feel as though i have this typical male strength and thirst for competition. it feels like i have quite a bit of experience spiritually, some sort of rank or distinction -- i have the abilities and resources to do great things. that's what my ego feels like.

the challenge is achieving that rank and distinction from the most indistinct of launching pads: the as average and middlest-of-roads female humanly possible. well obviously in the industrious world, seeing as i'm writing english prose and publishing it to the internet by using a computer. but of all the people that have those same abilities... i'm lost in their sea. i feel as though i need to do great things simply because i can, but i'm annoyed at having to figure how to navigate this abysmally ordinary life.

i often feel as though around me are saying 'we're waaaiting...' - waiting for me to do the whatever i'm supposed to do, and i don't know how to tell them i'm waaaiting too. i feel as though i should hand out little business cards that say 'can you hold? i'm having a difficult life...' and maybe the listener would be waiting to hear that ended with 'at the moment.' but no, i don't think it's a difficult life at the moment -- i think it's most of the time.

not for taste, but for effect

2009-05-08T17:12:00.000-07:00

the enjoyment of eating is not only in the feeling of satiation, but in the quality of the food. sober, we think of sweet or salty. stoned, i feel i love the things i eat for reasons greater than sweet or salty. i love anything crisp, wet, or crunchy. chewy or dry things are the worst.

orange slices are the best. they're juicy and provide a really satisfying sensation in my mouth as my teeth and tongue work. i have mentioned previously that i notice all the work my tongue does when i'm stoned, in ways that i never think about when i'm sober. but there's something to be said about what foods make the eating process feel the best -- and not necessarily for taste; outstanding texture and effect can make something delicious. i love that being stoned makes me appreciate new foods for new reasons.

so this is when i start smoking during the day

2009-05-05T15:33:00.000-07:00

before the traditional workday even ends. on a tuesday. this is exactly when i become a full-blown stoner, i guess. i had such an unhappy day, harping on old pains of the past. i know it's just psm. i know that i'm not really angry at what i think i've been angry about all day. it's so incredibly disruptive, makes me feel so awful inside, provokes me to lash out. at the people who come to me, my friends, something about this change in hormones makes me angry for no reason, and i really don't like feeling that way.

which is why i'm getting stoned in the middle of a tuesday in may. smoking during daylight hours, out in the alley, makes me pretty paranoid. although i'm in my room, all doors and windows closed, i can still hear a neighbor's lawnmower. can still hear the landlord's racket above me. i need to get stoned so that i can take a break from worrying about my financial situation. from harping on the 'why' i needed this surgery, the why of 'why couldn't i have the opportunity i wanted?'

i spent the first two weeks after recovery in some sort of mildly euphoric state. i was aware of it, but didn't care about the why of it all. it felt good -- who cares why?

anxiety broke the disc in my back

2009-04-28T22:20:00.000-07:00

i've been trying to write about the supposed emotional issues that relate to the healing of my back. i've been taking swings at the concept, but have realized it wholly.

i used to have a lot of anxiety, when i was younger. at some point i figured out how to block the anxiety, mute it's message of fear and worry. about what? what does that matter; anxiety is about fear and worry, regardless of anything else. there's just nothing worse than failing when you confront your anxieties. the last time that happened, i went into shock and felt the negative effects of the reverb. i think after a while, i decided there's no way i could ever let myself get burned that badly again.

i put it all away. decided what i needed to do, to believe, to be less of my anxiety. well, turning off my reception of an important aspect of my well-being, this anxiety that was controlling me. even after i thought i had mellowed out, i was simply ignoring the bills of how much i was spending for the facade, and my own belief in it. i really thought i had made improvements. maybe i have handled some anxiety front and center; it's possible.

but the end result was my anxiety built up to an unmanageable level, and it found its way out of me by busting a squishy disc in the lumbar region of my spine. yes, i was probably also abusing my back strength in general. i think bodily stresses find their way out where weakness already exists.

... just had a brief daydream, even now at night: i was imagining c and i have a laugh as we figure out how to look each other in the eyes despite using a webcam. we talked on skype webcam the other day, and you look at your screen to see your co-conversationalist, not at your webcam which is several inches above the image on the screen. and what you're looking at is your co-conversationalist looking down, not up, at you in the eye. we're both looking at each other looking away... you're looking at someone who's looking away from you.

incredibly lonely, really. who's looking at you? you can say 'my co-conversationalist is looking at me' but if they were, you'd make eye contact. instead you see them looking down. it's like watching someone watch you. it's voyeurism, and it makes for awkward conversation in some circumstances.

returning to the daydream, i was seeing c and i talking about this precise aspect of webcam chat, and him and i devising a game where one looks into their webcam while the other looks at the screen, then we get a rhythm going where we alternate our gazes from screen to cam so that it seems like we get to look each other in the eyes every other moment. it all ends with us laughing.

that's what i'm struggling with -- focus. i wanted to write about my anxiety and its connection to my healing and recovery. i talk about this anxiety that i've ignored -- but then i drift off to some little scene that contradicts exactly what i'm trying to focus on. i've been ignoring my anxiety, it's caused this injury, and healing my emotional health is part of healing my physical health. relationships give me plenty of anxiety and i keep reminding myself to let go of c, i'm really working on the anxiety i have about being abandoned... blah blah blah.

point being, when i'm pro-actively trying to deal and heal, why do i go and have these little flights of fancy, making me forget everything i'm trying to learn. i'm really trying here.

this is hard. maybe that's the point.

* * *

as i was walking back from the park, the message was my anxiety as a package and that 'it's addressed and stamped -- send it off.' it's finished and is ready to go; release it.

i decline participation

2009-04-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

i don't want to play this game anymore.

this is the letter i need to write to c:

i have to step out now. we've been running circles for a while now, i feel dizzy. i change my perspective one hundred and eighty degrees every other moment. this is a pretty intricate dance, a very challenging duet, but i can't continue playing.

i do not want to spend a life with you always holding the asian thing over my head, eternally ready to stab at a personal irritation whenever you feel i am abandoning you. and your constant defence makes me ready to run at short notice. it's a classic toxic relationship. no trust.

i originally abandoned you, so do you think that is a legitimate reason to not give me a second chance, to not trust me? well, your lack of communication skills has resulted in your knowingly leading me on while withholding pertinent information that would affect my interest in you, affectionate or otherwise. i hurt you, so now you don't feel too bad if you lead me on and then hurt me when you brush off my advances. it's not the most honorable thing to do, but you're kind of hurt (or annoyed?) by how i handled things when we together, that while ago.

returning to my point: i think our only destiny is to go in circles, and that's what you do when you've got time to kill. i've killed a lot of time with you, and vice versa (i believe). but besides simply having grown tired from it, i think it's time for me to let go. release what you grasp now, in order to be able to grasp for something higher, better when it comes along.

what i fear is that i've run these circles with you out of sheer competition, maybe even some vanity. i fear that seeing you again, i might realize why i physically resisted you when we were together; i wasn't attracted to you. all these years and thousands of miles between us has photoshopped the hell out of my perception of you.

that distance makes it grow, man, it does wonders for those affections.

seeing your teeth again on skype the other day (not to start talking trash, but to provide concrete examples)... well that's what has got me to thinking about an actual reunion -- can someone say potentially awkward? i know it's not the most graceful point to make, but i'm trying to face the truth here.

now, i know i was rather euphoric following the surgery, and maybe i'm just coming back down to dry land, but the joyful bubble has burst. not entirely, but seeing complex feelings for you met with avoidant apathy in my mind, that might have tipped me off. what this means -- sometimes i get hung up on things from the past, and the way you've dangle your aesthetic jones for asian women over my head any time you feel i've rejected you, i just hate that. and i think of all the reasons i don't like you. it's not pleasant, i think it makes my blood pressure rise sometimes, but it's real and it's necessary. that's how i feel.

if i just don't trust you enough that i feel i can forgive you for past hurts, well then what's the point? yes, i think there would be an enormous capacity for love in a relationship between you and i; but i think there's something messed up about how we know how to most thoroughly hurt each other. i'm really ready for my hard work in my life to pay off, and i need to weed the things out of my life that no longer suit me, to make space for thing things i do want.

this is an emotional eviction.

hot chicks and douchebags

2009-04-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

oh, i get it now. i was walking home from the park, thinking about my landlords compact-sized car, and how his rather petite family fits inside just fine. it's the kind of car that's a nightmare for lengthy and/or girthy people of scandinavian heritage. (just thinking about 'heritage' coming from 'inhered from [parent]' how i would explain that to an esl student: to inherit means to carry-on a trait of your parent/s, and your heritage is your personal legacy, your inheritance. i am now thinking of myself as some sort of brilliant lingual expert, which is nice, because i'd never think that of myself sober. it's nice to have this kind of guest experience while i'm stoned, it's a nice change of scenery.

again, thinking about the height of my relatives, i have one short (genetically related) aunt on my mom's side of the family, and two tall genetically related on my dad's side -- where i tripped up in my thinking was remembering whether one of my dad's three sisters was tall before she was confined to a wheelchair, and then a hospital bed, with ms. but i was under the age of five by the time she was no longer walking. then i got to thinking about her, saying hi to her spiritually while i feel that i can connect. she's there, saying she's watching me, and that she loves it. if my life were a tv show, she'd be a big fan. and she's not judging me. what i do remember of her was that she was about the gentlest person ever, always knew how to make everyone feel special in their own way.

if we choose the obstacles and lessons to learn in this incarnation, see did some amazing things with an insanely difficult lifetime. as i said, she was the sweetest, gentlest person, but not prude or judgmental. she liked a good joke, even a racy one. she would probably be considered the neighborhood sweetheart, i think. and unfortunately, she married the classic douchebag. the entity of drama surrounding my dad, his sister, and her husband from the very beginning to this day is enormous. [just had a thought that this is the novel i could write. if i could pull it off, it would be tremendously exposing of my family's private affairs, and things like that can cause problems. still an interesting plot, nonetheless.] in the end, i think my dad feels bad that he didn't protect his sister from the jerk.

that's a tremendous cause of emotional turbulence in my family's home. i think my dad just rolls it over in his mind, endlessly, always carrying the anger about it with him. these days. when i was a kid, i have no idea what his problem was.

back to my aunt in the role of hot chick (or really nice chick) and the guy she married, douchebag. [There's a website about these things]. they had three kids, and once the youngest was maybe 10, she started feeling the effects of ms. rested more and used a cane, i think. went to the wheelchair, and they moved to a new house that was better suitable for her needs. once she ended up in a nursing home, around the time i was a teenager, i suppose it became apparent that her husband, my uncle, was cheating on her. he'd go on exotic trips with groups of 'friends' or specific women friends, whatnot to that accord. maybe he was cheating on her before she ever was put in the nursing home. there were a few urgent medical needs towards the end, and my dad's told me of her husband's attempts to stall seeking help as he was simply wanting it to end. her life, this eternally slow stretch to death. in some ways i can see what he was getting at, as in 'put an end to her suffering' as she was living a very poor quality of life at the end. but how can you not help the one you love -- i don't think it's unreasonable to be torn.

but then again, when you're preaching 'end the suffering' and having semi-open marital affairs while your spouse is indeed on their deathbed, well that just doesn't look very good.

because it's not very good, it's very terrible. but i'm not him and i'm not living his situation, so there could be factors involved that i can't even image right now. i'm still pretty naive -- but the way this situation looks like from the outside is not good.

after my aunt passed away, there was a falling out between my grandma -- my dad's and his sister's mom -- and the daughter of my aunt (my grandma's granddaughter, and my cousin). That's caused some big rift between the husband and children of my aunt, and my aunt's own family (my dad and his mom). over the years my deceased aunt's now widower-husband had dated and ended up marrying again. although he didn't tell any of his deceased wife's family, my family, that he was doing so. he had always had a bad relationship with his mother-in-law, my grandma. he was clearly ready to cut ties with his wife's family following her passing. this has caused all kinds of grief with my dad, his mom, and two remaining sisters (although not to such a degree with the sisters).

and just for good measure, the widower-husband didn't just re-marry when his own three biological were grown and out of the house, he married a woman who had three teenage children -- they even all moved into the house my aunt and him raised their kids in.

this guy is now father to six people and he is a douchebag.

and that is how the cautionary tale of 'the hot chick and the douchebag' plays out, to show us all just how important it is to choose carefully when picking a lifemate. don't end up with the bad guy.

duet for guitars

2009-04-24T22:18:00.001-07:00

i've recently been jonesing to learn how to play the guitar, as i have nothing to do while my back heals from surgery. i made a deal with a girl on fb to buy her guitar, but i wouldn't be surprise if she flakes.

that not being the point; the point being that my interest in guitar playing is a new addition to the table. i asked my playlist how i'm going to meet my guy, the answer was 'duet for guitars, no. 3' by m ward. the guitar will be part of how we meet. it's something we'll have in common; i want to learn, he can teach me.

mm, how cool, how indie. how the over-achiever snags on something, drops out of the 'everyday race' and meets her love, a simple minstrel if you're a ren-fest'er, which i am not. ah, mid-eval times, one of white people's most sentimental eras.

i'll focus and see if i had any lives in european medieval times... yea, i can see myself as a man, older with white hair and a long white beard, but thin, not like santa. i see as though i'm looking through his vision -- in that life, i'm witting in a sturdy wooden chair, in some sort of tent or hut with just a doorway. i walk to the opening and i'm on the side of a quite steep hill, covered in a thin layer of mossy grass. the landscape rises dramatically like machu picchu but it's in northern europe. looks like modern day sweden, but mid-evally ago. i don't really know what i do in the life, everything looks gray and white, my skin, the landscape, my robe. no metal helmet with horns; i was no viking. i can see an impending black sky approaching from the distance... the darkness looks threatening, the result is perished mental health. it's just really depressing -- that's what i see when i try to place myself in medieval europe.

that's kind of interesting. depends if you wanna italicize kind of or interesting. that's kind of interesting. that's kind of interesting. means two opposite things. isn't language so fascinating...

you making me happier, now i am snappier

2009-04-24T20:43:00.000-07:00

this is what i need in my life:

you, making me happier

now i am snappier

while i'm with you

i gotta be havin' you

cause i am happier

when i'm with you

someone to make me snappier! great song, glad to have just discovered it in my own little world.

i don't need nerdy white boys and their thing with chinese chicks

2009-04-22T21:07:00.000-07:00

i just don't get it at all. i just can't possibly see what they see in each other. does it make me racist to wonder what white guys see in asians, as i personally don't find anything attractive about asians? i mean, i don't personally find anything attractive about nerdy white boys, either. sometimes they're nice to talk to, but i just cannot imagine one boning me. just cannot.

i brought a pen and notepad to the park, to start writing down my thoughts as i had them, as i tend to forget them by the time i get back inside and blog. out in the park, on the bench i smoked, thought, and wrote. but my pen ran out of ink, and the wind was making my fingers numb.

what i managed to write: 'after years of planning, over-planning... things not working out --> but not i just see what i can dream up, and want, and see what happens' as the pen runs out. i spent all those years making so many plans, so many revisions, additions, variations, expectations... all for what? the significant decisions i've made in the last few years have not necessarily been the biggest or hardest decisions. the ones i thought were big, difficult issues melted away without a verdict, and some of the simpler decisions i've made have had the greater impact than i once thought.

now that i've stopped planning and have started listening, the message is telling me to dream up whatever makes me happy. just throw those ideas out there -- how am i tailoring my dreams, just for me? if i can dream it up and i like it, then i'll add that quality to the list.

lately i've been writing up the list for my dream romance with my best friend, oh yea the guy who's a surgeon. if i can dream up what i'll love about him, and what he'll love about me -- what kind of life we could have together -- then dream it up for the sake of seeing what it is i want.

i don't know why this is such a hard issue for me in my life, clarifying what i want -- i think the way i was raised has caused me to carry a lot of guilt and insecurity. i don't have to carry those things for me anymore, it was an environmental burden that i knew i had to leave quite a while ago. i can consider it off my shoulders now.

yes no maybe, is all i need to hear from you

2009-04-21T22:47:00.001-07:00

i've been told to write about my emotional issues as a way to heal my current back injury.

i sat on the bend, looking at the thinly clouded sky. i need him to be a great audience. he needs to know how to make me shine. he'll live for my performances. he's into the drama, at least somewhat. i need a man who knows how to be a great audience to my emotional needs.

i love being popular, i love getting attention. i need that factor considered for my life mate. he can be funny, but not funnier than me, never waiting after my schpiels to one-up me in the end. we should be as funny as the other, and even funnier together. that's what i need to love about him.

my first collection writings could be 'my stoner life,' and the sequel could be called 'the life of a surgeon's wife.' how a middle class girl struggles with adapting to the semi-society life of running in the professional surgery circles. oh boo hoo, what a sob story.

oh right, but i need to write about my emotional needs, or was it issues? i don't think she called them issues, but something of the like. the image i see is like a large, felted collection of outer wear layers cracking open, lifting up and away from me. 'it's time to shed all those layers i'm still wearing, still carrying around.' maybe winter is over, it's like my endless layers of experiences finally shedding -- i can shed the build-up of the past -- i can shed the past. i can let go of it now. in order to move on, let go of the past so that i can grasp for the future.

not bad advice.

i'm shaping, sculpting my objective, making sure that i get what i want down to the last detail. i have to make known what it is i want, so that the forces that be can do what needs to be done -- whether that is to assist, or not.

i woke up from that surgery a happier person. whatever it was that was depressing me so long, finally crippling me physically, was removed.

i was in the kitchen, waiting for my toast, thinking about my new instant-happiness. i thought up the little speech i'd make during my one month check up with the surgeon (and hopefully the resident that i'm planning to marry in my dreams -- this is how we're supposed to re-connect). i'd tell him how i just didn't realize how sad i was, now that i feel as happy as i am. it's like the surgery took away the black cloud that's been hanging over my head for... years now. 'i woke up from that surgery a happier person,' i'd tell them, showing the young resident doctor that i had indeed shed those layers of the past, i was ready for him.

as i stood out in the park, continuing to dream up my dream of falling in love, i knew that i really need to let go of the past. the best part was realizing that letting go won't be that hard -- i don't care that much anymore. so london's in my past; i nearly had a close encounter with it, but i'm not heartbroken. even when tempted, i can successfully let go of the past.

that's a nice place to be within myself, able to let go of the past, approaching a fresh clearing for a new start. it feels like springtime, i'm approaching my time to proper. well, that's good news. 'the hard part is almost done.'

but when i was waiting for my toast in the kitchen, thinking about expressing my exuberant joy in my newfound happiness, i got paranoid and thought 'maybe they'll think i've gone manic... ugh that cannot be good,' so if i do mention it when i see the doc next, i'll keep it brief.

i've been told to write out my emotional issues, and i've started with ending -- how i finally 'got happy,' less within my control than i had thought previously.

i have to keep in mind that everything i feel is not a fact. the reasons you keep yourself depressed are not necessarily true. not all criticism are correct, neither are all compliments (think: back-handed compliments). i don't have to listen to what people say -- i listen because i want to make sure i can do whatever it is i need to do to win their favor. that's something v and i had in common, the low self-value issue, although i do think his intensity was a bit higher than mine. i may have my insecurities, but i'm overall more secure in myself than v has been in himself.

we were just two insecure people, and that's about it. that's why it's easy to let that one go now.

looks like my emotional issues are starting to clear up...

love letter to mary jane

2009-04-20T21:55:00.001-07:00

we could be a downtown couple; yea, i'd like that. living in this neighborhood, or downtown, either would be lovely. what a beautiful life, married to my best friend who's a neurosurgeon. i'm loving this fantasy world were i don't shame myself for dreaming that i'll find some fabulous man and have a fairy-tale ending (of my single life). sober i think about it, but judge myself; stoned, i think about it, feel happy, and acknowledge that my dreams just in themselves can make me happy. i'm happy to dream, whether it ever materializes or not.

the joy is in the creation -- using what you've got in order to create is the best thing you can do, whatever that means in your life. you work a terrible job you hate your whole life, but you love making model trains for a hobby? if you enjoy what you create, that's all you need to achieve. not such a bad deal.

i'm enjoying creating these little dream scenarios where this is the 'romcom' of my life -- how i meet the one, the man i'll spend my life with. i spend the end of grad school stoned and writing -- meet the one when i've got a herniated disc, and during our first encounter he has to administer a rectal test of me. pure comedy gold. then in the month between surgery and a follow up visit with the surgeon and the handsome young-ish surgery resident doctor (or something) i smoke and dream up the best dream possible, only to have the young doctor step in and make my dreams come true. i'm loving even letting myself get this carried away.

i love smoking weed because it lets me enjoy what makes me happy, instead of telling me what should make me happy. we don't need as many reasons to be happy as we think.

i could become a canadiens fan

2009-04-19T21:50:00.000-07:00

i'm enjoying quite the long-lasting daydream that the resident doctor in the er who examined me will come back into my life via the 4-6 week check-up. my legs will be waxed this time, and i'll be witty and funny, we'll flirt and i'll catch him hook, line & sinker when i leave the room telling him, 'well, you have my number...' and gliding off.

oh, to be so cool.

so i meet my soulmate in the er when i've herniated a disc in my back, and during the physical examination he had to stick his finger up my ass to make sure my bowels were still functioning. my legs are also very hairy. but we meet again, everything goes perfectly and we sail into the sunset, happy as can be.

don't think that's all; in the sequel we'll end up moving to montreal as he becomes a more and more successful surgeon. he's fluent in french from french-immersion school, and is as natural as a fish in water there. i'll adapt, i could write the canadian version of 'a year in the merde' recounting my experiences. wouldn't that be an elegant life -- the architectural glamour of europe, the hominess of canada, a happy and successful life. he dies when i'm 63, and i die at 84.

those 21 years could be my golden literary era. whether it's personal expressive achievement, notoriety, or simply remain using my voice to join with other storytellers and messengers, i can expect the end to be good. what a lovely life i've dreamt up here, falling in love with a doctor i spent less than 20 minutes of my life with. nevertheless, i think i could become a canadiens fan; i've always instinctively loved their retro-styled sweaters.

yea, you wouldn't wanna leg wrestle me

2009-04-18T21:34:00.000-07:00

cause i'd win. i was at the park, sitting on the bench, thinking of the funniest things.

for instance, last week at the hospital the handsome resident doctor was administering my physical exam, checking the strength of my legs. after one compression, he said under his breath 'really strong legs.' it was kind of hot, or at least i was proud of myself.

[there's also something nice about a guy down on his knee, looking up at me. now i'm having amusing flashes of him proposing, as to say 'what if this is how you meet your soulmate? the first time he sees me, i have grossly hairy legs and he has to stick his gloved finger way up my ass and instruct me to squeeze as tight as i can.

i mean, that's hysterical. i'm whipping up quite a nice 'this is how i met my soulmate, my hysterical neurosurgeon husband' tale. oh what a dream that would be. i'm glad getting high at least lets me fantasize such things, before instinctively thinking 'oh, as if.']

i was out in the park, thinking my joke should have been 'yea, you wouldn't wanna leg wrestle me.' i sat out there and thought about him laughing -- he sees all kinds of people all day, so how am i going to leave a lasting impression? make him laugh -- one of the nurses said that he was a jokester, he's the funny guy. it's fun to have nothing else to do than think up ways to win the heart of someone you think is way out of your league. i've got it pretty good, if that's the most of my problems.

fewer cliche endings

2009-04-17T22:06:00.000-07:00

i need to understand the irrelevance of making plans most of the time. we're all here working on what you could call spiritual lessons, coming to a better understanding of what it is i'm participating in this time around. there are lessons of all sizes, but you need to recognize what you're learning in accordance with what you're experiencing. i think i've done better this time, in terms of expectations...

i need to know what my feelings and expectations are, because they're sort of inversely proportional. the more feelings i have invested in a situation, the less i can expect the situation to reach my expectations. i suppose there's a correlation of the more feelings i have, the higher my expectations tend to be. that's pretty normal - we're all so easily disappointed in everything. we achieve so much, yet ignore it because we just want more and more. i should set smaller benchmarks in my expectations and appreciate what is diligently achieved. it's a slow climb, but it's still a climb.

i've recently had a complete change in my plans, everything i had worked for, the reward i was encouraging myself with, abruptly stopped. i've absorbed the shock of the unexpected blow, and now feel as thought i'm hanging in slow motion, seeing in which direction i recoil towards. i know this change in plans is intentional by the means of the universe - i wasn't meant to go, no matter what my ego tried to do. my ego is trying to repeat a pattern, and my higher knowledge is restraining me from the back of my hoodie collar.

so i didn't go back to london, didn't see c. would have made a fool of myself anyways, and why do that for a tenth time, really? you know what, i just need to let him go, let him escape to china again, let him and his chinese princess get back together. it was probably all just a diversion anyway. this is simply a boring phase of my life. the time that lay dormant for which will later be fertile. i'm not talking baby talk here, it's more a phrase from some tarot cards i use.

yea, that's not stereotypically hippiesh? or are hippies and the occult really that close? maybe i'm confusing hippies with gypsies. whatever.

so my spiritual higher self is achieving something in this test, showing a bit of wisdom and maturity in the face of this set-back. not the tantrum i had in front of v. i've done a decent job of protecting myself from becoming vulnerable in a scenario with expectations. although when i'm sober i hold out for that slightest of chances for the story to end happily. for the impossible to happen. 60% in denial. 100% vulnerable.

so it looks like c might reunite with his ideal, leaving me out on the stoop in the cold, the orphan in the rags, staring in the windows in victorian times, a chimney-sweep kind of kid. c would ultimately choose to not allow me back in this life. i'd be turned away and have to start at the roots, build once again. but this time i'm not so hurt because i finally know that an approaching future unknown is not necessarily a bad thing; there's no real reason to fear it. go with the flow and see where it takes you.

i used to have so much anxiety about where the flow would take me, my ability to cope, adjust and learn. different directions aren't necessarily the wrong way. for all i know, i've just avoided a disaster and certain death. this might be the best thing that's every happened to me, or the event that puts in motion a process with a great conclusion approaching.

i need to find someone who treats me as well as my mom does. someone who simple loves me and cares about what's best for me. maybe i've started the warpath to that person. this is the beginning of the romantic comedy movie of my life: how i meet the man i'll probably spend my life with. but life's way better than hollywood - much fewer cliche endings.

dear sleep, where you at? i can't find you yo

2009-04-10T04:02:00.001-07:00

smoking weed is more of a study than a recreational hobby for pleasure. sometimes the paranoia gets old. i just want to open up and see what options are around me. connect to a higher energy and see if i'm progressing or idling - or worse, pulling yourself backward.

i came inside after smoking and thought of how much i missed voldemort's attention. i'm craving a really specific kind of interaction - but it's no where in sight and there's no need to go back to him. the further away i get, the less there is to grasp at. i don't need to do that to myself.

dear self confidence, hang in there, really hold on to the edge, and wait. play it cool, don't sweat it, and see what happens. it would be nice if i could just sleep the remaining time away, but the nerve in my leg is throbbing and my mind is spinning. i guess c will meet me upon arrival next week -- very briefly.

i don't even know what to say before my schpiel -- nah i need to listen to him. i can tell him later that i've always saved a spot in my heart for him, he had earned an automatic second chance upon improvement of the scenario. we could give it another go if we found a comfortable compromise. but i've been spending quite a bit of time thinking about whether c will or even would consider giving me a second chance. i spoke to an intuitive friend recently, and she said something to the effect that we could reconvene for friendship only, that he was very affected by what happened between us in china and maybe still resents me in some ways.

this is too much for right now -- i wish i were having better clairvoyant dreams these days...

making note of my discomfort

2009-04-07T22:10:00.000-07:00

i sat outside, on the new bench in the park, this evening. i sat there and thought 'alright, let's pretend c is sitting here on the bench; pretend you've gone to london and he does in fact stay long enough to see you.' what is it i want to say? and does it really even matter if i ever say these things to him?

the more i thought about it, too many aspects of c, my relationship with him and his relationship with his chinese princess, sit uncomfortably with me. the bottom line is that i feel too uncomfortable with c to seriously consider him a potential partner. c and i have essentially kept each other on our respective back-burners while we've had other relationships in our own worlds; i've grown impatient to regain his attention while he is still dealing with his own problems. but now i'm thinking we don't have anything in common anymore. i've noticed my relationship has been me showing him my vulnerable aspects in hopes to entice him to do the same, but he doesn't. c doesn't get personal, at least not with me. so i show a bit more, hoping he'll feel confident to do the same. he doesn't.

now it's gone on so long i think i've exposed far too much of my very private business to him, to no avail of reciprocation. i wouldn't say i'm embarrassed, much more so annoyed. that's all the applause i get for such a production? that's the thanks i get?

but as i sat on that bench in the park, i thought 'i don't want to play this game anymore.' i don't want to play this way with c, i think we've both poisoned it enough in our own ways: me over-indulging c, c taking without giving in return. so it occurred to me, 'then stop playing.'

sounds like a good idea.

* * *

i woke this morning with the sweetest dream of p i've had in ages. i know i must be stoned right now if i'm easily able to fantasize up a little dream of p coming back to me, declaring his love and us spending our lives together cuddled up against the fresh night air. p lives for fresh air.

all of the integral parts

2009-04-06T21:45:00.000-07:00

c is trying to leave london before i arrive. that's all the long story of it boils down to. i'm reaping what i've sowed. i left him so long ago, he's leaving me now. all i can do is let go - completely release whatever i'm grasping onto and have faith that whatever happens, i'll be ok.

it was for my best that my past relationships didn't work out - is c really that different? that's what i wanted to check. maybe i don't need to check.

most of all, i need to be cognizant that i do what i need to do for myself while i'm in london. i'm going in with questions, and i need to come out with what i've determined as my answers. i'm still in the driver's seat. if c chooses to remove himself from the list of variable factors, i can't let that fact lessen the importance of all the other integral parts.

dirty barbecue / marital ice cream scoop / squirming away

2009-04-04T19:46:00.000-07:00

i was in the park, leaning against the trunk of a large trees, it's long limbs bowing to the earth. smoking from a pipe. i watched as a pair of middle aged parents tried to get their less-than-3-year old to engage in a game of catch with them. the tossed the ball to him, which he completed ignored and did not even react to. the parents would tell him to turn around and direct him to pick up the ball, turn around, throw it back. they did this over and over, the kid completely disinterested. it was hilarious, as the parents would try to demonstrate by tossing it to each other, but they couldn't catch or throw properly themselves. one would toss the ball short of the other, so that they'd have to walk and bend over to get it. i mean, he was just doing the exact same thing they were -- sucking at playing catch.

i laughed and laughed. i wonder if they heard me.

they must have smelled me anyhow. the very young child had basically turned its back in the parents and walked towards a sandbox and playground, vaguely in my direction. the mom walked with the tot, but as they went the dad said 'no, no, don't go over there... daddy doesn't like it over there...' the wife turns to look back at him, probably wondering why, and he said 'it's dirty over there, don't go over there, it's dirty...' and my stoned ass was positive he bobbed his head in my direction.

was he alluding to my presence as 'dirty?' that's quite funny if it is, but i live in a weed-friendly place. wow, was i really called dirty? it didn't occur at the time, but now i wonder if that was a censored slur, dirty hippy. did someone actually kind of call me a dirty hippy?

well, if that isn't hilarious, i don't know what is.

back to the story, the mom and tot walk over to the playground despite dad's warning against the nearby dirtiness. a handful of moments pass, i continue smoking, the dad still the furthest away takes a deep breath in and says 'smells like barbecue' he says, 'do you smell barbecue?'

'smells like barbecue, yea' says the mom, 'can you smell the barbecue? can you smell the barbecue?' the mom patronizes her poor toddler. well, for their sake, i hope they actually could smell barbecue, because of course i didn't. i was really hoping they weren't trying to get their kid to think the scent of weed smoke was barbecue so that 1.) the kid doesn't have to know what marijuana is and 2.) so that when their kid smells this scent again, mostly likely in mixed company, he won't be so ill-mannered to say 'smells like weed!' but will rather confuse or charm instead.

why do i have to get married and receive an ice cream scoop as a gift instead of scraping it out of the carton with a big regular spoon? why is a marital ice cream scoop the preferred? what's really so wrong about living like a vagabond?

have a growing fear that i do not necessarily have the feelings for c that i might have suggested i did, or at least not anymore. i just get stoned and think about what we don't have in common. i fear that he still thinks i have these feelings, so there's an impending awkwardness about my approaching arrival. what if he's not excited about my showing up, but he will regain his feelings for me - so that he's after me and i'm squirming away from him. again. that would be pretty awful. it's a good thing i'm not going there specifically to see him, i'm doing a bit of professional work and staying at his place. he may be there or he maybe be gone to china. what if i reeeeaaally don't want him, would that push him over some kind of edge? really hope not.

lua

2009-04-03T20:21:00.000-07:00

what rocky road is to one, is heavenly hash to the other. rather amusing/yummy.

i asked my ipod to give me insight into my life right now. result was lua - listen here.

i know that it is freezing, but i think we have to walk

i keep waving at the taxis, they keep turning their lights off

but julie knows a party at some actor's west side loft

supplies are endless in the evening by the morning they'll be gone

when everything is lonely i can be my own best friend

i'll get a coffee and the paper, have my own conversations

with the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection

the mask i polish in the evening by the morning looks like shit

and i know you have a heavy heart, i can feel it when we kiss

so many men strongs than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it

but me i'm not a gamble, you can count on me to split

the love i sell you in the evening by the morning won't exist

you're looking skinny like a model with your eyes all painted black

just keep going to the bathroom, always say you'll be right back

well, it takes one to know one, kid, i think you've got it bad

but what's so easy in the evening by the morning's such a drag

i got a flask inside my pocket, we can share it on the train

and if you promise to stay conscious i will try and do the same

we might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain

but what was normal in the evening by the morning seems insane

and i'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this

the reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did

it's not something i would recommend, but it is one way to live

cause what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is

it was so simple in the moonlight now it's so complicated

it was so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight

so simple in the moonlight...

away for good

2009-04-01T22:39:00.000-07:00

i suppose i have to admit, i've been missing golden-era voldemort, a little. which is really a bad idea, because forgetting all those bad decisions i made would be a mistake. maybe having any sort of positive attitude about him is the first sign of healing and forgiving myself for the mistakes i made.

i guess i don't really care if i've forgiven him or not, because it's ourselves we have to answer to in the end. he doesn't need to ask me for forgiveness, he needs to forgive himself for the mistakes he made. but that's not what's on my mind right now.

i'm listening to a song with the rapper common singing back-up phrases like 'huh' and 'uuuh' and 'ah' and 'yea.' the bassline, the beat, the pace, the voice timbre all sounds like those few moments when voldemort was a person i enjoyed, before things got out of control. it reminds me of how i felt, those vibrations i felt. sometimes i wonder if that's the deepest i've ever connected with another person - if that was the one person who made me feel less alone in the world. but i would need to deny that, as to cover that vulnerability.

i especially need to resist the urge to reconnect - to learn to put things away for good.

that's how ib is, since you asked

2009-03-31T23:19:00.000-07:00

it's windy as al hell outside; any day that isn't incredibly tepid here is few and far between. upsetting. i've come to realize how the seasons enter and exit through your fingers and toes. it turned springish here a few days ago, but that dampness just won't leave your hands, you get these pruney wet fingers and they're impossible to warm up - which necessitates a near scalding bath. then you get out, dry off, get in your jammies and get in bed - and you get that chill again because you've gone to bed with a wet head of hair.

it reminds me of taking swimming lessons as a little kid - they were in the evening, and after class my mom would get me in my pjs and we'd go home and i'd get in bed all shivery cause i got a wet head of hair. hm, that's a random memory - one of my favorite side effects of standing out against the cold spring air for a few tokes.

see, now i suppose i can tell you what my conversation with ib was about. chatted w/ him on fb and i say 'hey, how's it going?' etc, he's doing alright. first thing he asks me: 'how are you?' second thing he asks me 'how's c'? are you still in contact?' i said 'yea.' and he asked when you and i were going to return to hz...

no maybe i don't want to tell it... maybe this message is for me, in its own way.

... ib asked when you and i would return to hz, i said something like 'probably never' at least not together, because i just can't see myself returning there, ever. it's just something i want to continually move away from. but i told ib that you had just mentioned returning there today. ib said 'nah you and c should come back together and give it another go!' i told ib that you, well more like i would never be that idol of worship, that i would never be the chinese princess j is to you, c. i'd never reach a pedestal that high, i don't think. anyways, that's what i told ib. he replied 'ah you and c should give it another go, you're so good together.' everyone could see the chemistry, verbose and pushy. but i was talking to ib, so i said 'c and i? oh that was years ago.'

these are the dramas of our lives

2009-03-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

now i'm having these annoying images presented to me regarding c and his recent break-up. similar to how i was constantly thinking of voldemort whenever i got stoned, even though i consciously resisted those thoughts. these days i get stoned and the first messages that want to pop up are about c's break-up, of which i'm growing tired. tonight's image, and i've seen it before, is c's ex as a chinese princess, him as a valiant white knight, in multi-layered meanings of the word, which he would be sure to include with the poetic vows he writes for his beloved fucking chinese princess. c likes to talk about the ideas of nobility, honour, what is righteous and the like. with his princess, there he stands in glory as the good guy finally taking his rightful place in the winner's circle.

well, maybe these are the ideas i'm projecting onto the situation. projecting my insecurities, mocking... i think this may have something to do with the need to win. just because i passed on that opportunity, something inside me wants to make sure he couldn't do better than me. which is all kinds of 'wrong' and jealous, and human.

these are the dramas of our lives.

these days i'm closing another chapter of my life, reviewing my existential status, approaching my return into the abyss of opportunity. i can hold my own out there, i'm just trying to figure out my best conversation strategy. finding the best way to hit the ground running.

it would serve me better to spend more time thinking about that, rather than c and his chinese princess. so he found his better option. just as i'm sure mine doesn't exist.

do you ever notice after smoking for a period of time, not all thoughts are happy ones? ones like i could never return to china, because that feels like drowning. i have an idea of what i might want to do with myself in the overall scheme, but i'm trying to figure out my hesitation.

shakespeare; stoned.

2009-03-29T22:57:00.000-07:00

maybe we shouldn't trust google.

i can see this 1984-ish future when i'm middle aged and we're all living in a police state that finds its origins in google as a collector of personal information on everyone, it blows up to a point where it follows you almost all the time.

oh how big brother-ish of me. how grossly unoriginal. weed may make one a better story teller, not necessarily a more accurate one.

before i left to get a glass of juice, i had this grand idea of food. that when people ate food made directly from the ingredients available, they were healthy. now that we're changing the chemical nature of natural foods, then we're playing god, and we don't know what we're doing.

wow, that sounded extremely uppity. now wonder i don't think it's such a great idea now that i've got my glass of juice and returned to my computer. at least i focused on what modern foods are really made of for a while, which would probably a good idea for most of us in the world.

but i am certainly not here to preach about food. oh hell no.

i was writing a leter, and i quoted shakespeare:

lady, by yonder blessed moon i swear

that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

o, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

that monthly changes in her circled orb,

lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

what shall i swear by?...

...do not swear at all;

or, if thou wilt, swear by the gracious self, and i'll believe thee.

i've never read shakespeare stoned before, sounds pretty nice.

i miss being woken by church bells

2009-03-28T21:38:00.001-07:00

i have a hunch c will wake up to exactly that when it becomes morning there. where he is. which is not here.

i have significant swings in opinion about how i feel about c. from time to time, i think of all kinds of wonderful, gaining excitement. but other times i take a step back and look at myself. am i really doing this? am i correctly answering a trick question?

those other times when i'm not all kinds of wonderful, my feelings towards c are pretty ambivalent.

life is a game; we're all playing.

i'm feeling isolated and even my stream of universal news is running quiet, slow. i try to fill myself with the music. the weed allows me to study my thoughts in peace. i think this is only a phase or brief era. i might not really have any alone time once i do create my tribe, if that is indeed what i choose to do. then i might not get many moments alone!

to reach for those far corners

2009-03-28T20:55:00.000-07:00

i just called my electrical outlet a slut because nothing i plug into it stays in.

i am finding this characterization hilarious right now.

i came in from the park and was going to write some poem based on the sensation of winter cold clinging, resisting spring, a strengthening film wrapped on the ends of my fingers. a cold, wet film. but the first thing i think before i start writing is 'hobag' because my electrical cords don't stay plugged in.

how's that for poetry.

i was seeing bizarre things in the park this evening, right at dusk. right when the light plays tricks on your eyes, so they say. i thought i was watching someone wearing a yellow-gold jacket and black pants. i thought they were walking across the open play field. but the person seemed to pause for times, moving further away, or was it towards me. i suspected i was tripping out. but i didn't feel anxious, and everything else seemed normal. i was just as though i was really physically seeing some manifestation. maybe this is how it's being introduced. instead of one day seeing a spirit would be much to startling for me. maybe it'll advance from a far over a period of time.

i can certainly see the so much real people out and about. usually they make some sort of noise in combination with their movement - footsteps, dog-tags jingling. hm, now the word jingling is making me think of chinese people, learning english, as though i were their teacher. me as an english teacher in china? been there, done that.

i just remembered to change my headphones from my ipod to my laptop, so i don't have that confusion over where the controls were. classic.

i'm listening to the lykke li album for the first time. i'm falling in love. it's a great quirky, mash-up harmony of so many classic but eclectic styles. she makes it all so lovely.

my love, it burns it burns

my love will come, my love will come

for you i wait, for you i wait, my love

it sounds so inspiring, as i feel it spiraling down my eardrums, over my breath and into my core.

i'd do that over any crowed venue, any saturday night. what's more to love than toking up, way way up, and putting on a new record i've never heard. putting on my headphones, turning up the volume. lean back, relaxed arms, simply breathing deeply and listening. the privilege of the experience. the purity of the moment, how the weed aids in focusing, the total absorption of the moment. really reaching towards perfection. so close to completely letting go. it feels good to stretch out that far.

sonic sensations

2009-03-27T19:56:00.001-07:00

the bass string line of 'time to send someone away' by jose gonzales reminds me of the beat of a drum from a past life. the low, thick bounces make some core muscle in my body vibrate. that's the great thing about listening to music stoned - you get to experience the music in your body as a new sensation.

i was having a problem a moment ago. i am listening to my headphones, so i tried to adjust the volume on my computer. but nothing changed. i tried to mute it, but nothing. i looked down to realize my headphones are plugged into my ipod, not my laptop. such a typical stoner mistake.

especially when i tried to skip to the next song by looking at itunes on my screen. but itunes wasn't running on my laptop then. where was my music coming from?

oh yea, i pod. i'm too busy feeling the music in my core, some soothing beats lengthen, quicker paced bouncy melodies massage out the knots.

boleros are pretty sexy. the song, not the fashion.

post-modern love song here.

i would definitely never wear eye glasses

2009-03-22T20:33:00.000-07:00

i would have to go with contacts but would really prefer laser eye surgery.

can kids get laser eye surgery? what if i had a kid that needed glasses? for some reason, i'm feeling very 'no, no i do not want eye glasses' even though with advancing time and extensive screen reading time this will be the case eventually. man, getting laser eye surgery done on your kid -- what the hell.

we're all inside, learning how to operate these minds, bodies, and emotions

2009-03-21T22:35:00.000-07:00

time doesn't necessarily happen the way we as a conscious humanity define it does. conscious humanity sees time as a line, one point adjacent to one point, adjacent to one point, to infinity. conscious humanity only views time as proceeding forward, and can only imagine time moving backwards, but not perpendicular. existence is an infinite number of parallel lines. one you jump from one line to another, without having to worry about landing perfectly perpendicular in order to not fall back and overlap in time. actually, the old tv show quantum leap wasn't that for off the mark. the exception is that most of us aren't being flung around mid-life cycle. but we are all a soul, an essence, and each incarnation is this new moniker, an identity, a code for a new program. we're all inside, learning how to operate these minds, bodies, and emotions. we all have our own personal sam, and some of us can communicate directly while most others just passively receive intuition and choose to deal with that in their own way.

i was out at the park, smoking and thinking of what i would say in a social situation in which i met c's friends. for some obvious reason, i was thinking it was out in a smoking section of a pub and his friends had weed so i walk over very confidently and say, 'gentlemen, hello. i'd like to introduce myself -- your new friend. is that weed you're smoking, new friend?' charming smile. i would be c's cool stoner friend from . they'd love me - they'd tell him he shouldn't let me slip away.

doubt any of that would happen.

i know where this song comes from. it has the pace and harmony of native american music. golden long grasses, soft rolling hills. it's in our nature. the spring clash of boisterous winds pressing on the charcoal dregs of winter; rumblings. those moments before the gathering of clouds for a tornado. when the winds stop traveling and started circling - i know that feeling. those quiet prairie turns of air. that tension, the gathering of tribes, circling before clash. the golden grains and charcoal clouds, that's the origin of those beats, the drama of the harmonies.

now i'm seeing something i had seen in a past life regression/meditation. i saw my perspective of a woman, an adult. i'm dressed up as though i'm on the frontier, a contemporary of laura ingles wilder. i'm on the frontier, but dressed like a civilized urbanite. i hear my name as elizabeth, or something very common of the time - possibly virginia, or something close. i'm in a sort of dug-out house, on the side of a mild hill. like the little house on the prairie series, yes, i suppose it was called a dugout house. yes, google confirms this - i'm seeing myself in this other lifetime: i'm a grown woman of respectable status out on the prairie in a dugout house, like the one in little house on the prairie. my name or an important relevant name is elizabeth, and a man around my age named michael is also in the dugout house. the walls are all brown, it hasn't been whitewashed like in the l.i.w. book. michael has brown hair and is sat down on the stool, forearms on his lap, looking downwards, and i cannot see his face. it reminds me of michaelangelo from school of athens. [i wonder if michaelangelo wasn't necessarily gay as it is believed, but maybe just asexual because he so obviously has a clear passion he was able to execute in his time.]

this woman i am, on the prairie, i'm not extremely thrilled to be there, it feel like nebraska or kansas, late summer. windy. i'm looking at a pocket watch i have, i'm waiting for someone. i'm waiting for sarah. she's a sister or sister-like bond in that lifetime. i walk out of the dugout and around up the hill above the home. a few dozen yards away there's a wagon train passing, there is a pretty regular stream of traffic, relatively. it's like i'm keeping my eyes on the road for my approaching person named sarah. that's all i could gather from that past life regression/meditation. elizabeth, michael and sarah.

i've been read as having michael the archangel around me - instructed to direct myself towards him when i seek guidance. i've been read as having a female spirit guide, sort of a grandma owl spirit, who's my main teacher. but i don't know her name.

i need to get on my spiritual horn

2009-03-18T22:06:00.001-07:00

that's like a phone. i'd like to dial 411 for information, please.

pose questions, free base answers. ok.

ok, will i see c before graduation? looks like yea, could be, i could see him in the later part of my travels. i'm seeing something like nylons, flesh covered nylons, and there's a cement brick pulling it down, stretching the nylons. it's a metaphor for c, he's as stable as nylon hose and feels as though he has a massive brick in his stomach.

i know that deep gut dragging, that boulder weighing you down. yea, c's pretty fragile right now.

and now i'm thinking that it's funny that people believe in sound waves and electricity, but don't believe in magic. electricity is magic, and so are lots of other things. we can only rationalize so many kinds of magic for the time being -- otherwise we just don't have the capacity or the time to understand these 'magical things.' things about existence and the universe. taking a few steps back and looking at the human race on the planet earth, it's a great place to learn, but it's no place to really be spiritually. we figure out other aspects of existence while here, but in the reality of spirit and the universe, this place is quite old fashioned.

things could be better, but things could be much worse.

i'm now thinking of something amusing: in these incarnations as humans, as people, we live in a world where we find 'evidence' of 'pre-historic' lizzards, dinosaurs. it's like the preserved garbage of just another time and place in the universe, another world, where things we can hardly imagined have happened. there is a broad range of 'other worlds' here and everywhere, but cannot see its remains from our current perspective.

i think in the grand show of eras and civilizations, our culture will look like the crazy runaway carriage that did incredible things but for the worst reasons. the giant built without a foundation will fall, eventually. this could be the beginning of a huge change in world culture and relations. but of course, every moment is a beginning, middle and end.

hm, how bizarre.

why am i so obsessed with him?

2009-03-18T20:42:00.000-07:00

why aren't i obsessed with me?

that sounds pretty self-centered, i must concede. but why am i so obsessed with him? the him isn't even significant, it's all hims. i spend so much time trying to understand why he did whatever it was he did. so i started thinking 'why do i spend so much time obsessing over him? why aren't i obsessed with me? why aren't i more concerned about my own damn feelings?

i then thought to myself, 'well, isn't wondering why he whatever because i'm reacting to my feelings, that are apparently caused by him?' but no, that's not correct.

instead of trying to think of ways to somehow control his actions, i should instead focus on circumnavigating him all together and continuing on with my life. maybe i can't move mountains after all. i can't make him care about me.

i can care about me all the time. i should, actually. most of us should generally treat ourselves with more respect in an infinite number of ways.

after i get stoned i like to

2009-03-15T23:23:00.000-07:00

lay down, listen to music and write. that's what i love to do. that's my number one thing even over mediocre sex. but no, not number one over best fuck of my life. making the best connections is the highest achievement possible. spiritually. finding the best solution to the equation.

i am so high right now that i feel as though i'm feeling 'present'^3, presence cubed. it's as though i'm the interior of an opera house - my bangs and hair look like the curtains, my hands and the keyboards the parquet floor of the auditorium (wow, i've never thought of the word 'auditorium' as an 'audio-imporium' even though that's exactly what it means), my screen is the stage and sets.

i miss theatre. i haven't attended anything resembling entertainment since an arena concert and chick flick since last summer! unfortunately things with c seem to be shaping up rather nicely. i use the word 'unfortunately' as some sort of self punishment for getting my hopes up. i guess i'm judging myself for repeating what looks a bad decision i have made in the past. the audience is not yet sure whether my narration of the action is the reality of it. another voice has yet to enter the narrative, and when it does it will set the record straight.

what a cliffhanger!

so typical, so typically dramatic. but i'm telling you, all my little superstitions i accommodate are giving me the thumbs up here. i don't want to foolishly walk into a disaster zone that i had so confidently thought i had cleaned up. it's tough work being the fool because you have to keep at it. voldemort was good at that - he was game to lead and lead and lead while i fooled myself over and again. we know each other's precise weak spot and know how to pinch and twist it. there's some clause there that indicates when you see an extremely intimate part of someone's spiritual existence, the liability is that they'll also know the way to irritate you the most. hm, that sounds kind of weird. well, when the stakes are high...

explosion of success / bottomless gap of failure

2009-03-10T21:59:00.000-07:00

i've been thinking about what my life is really about all day today. i keep thinking of what i need to declare upon finishing the current quickly ending chapter of my life. what will be my declaration once i cross this threshold? now i'm trying to make myself decide if c is another opportunity to take, or am i acting like a blind fool. it's the trick question at the end of the quiz. yes, i suppose there's something about c that makes me want to give it a go because he presents lots of 'trick questions' throughout life. it could be a great way to keep things alive, keep me on my toes, maintaining a certain buzz of excitement. on the other hand, maybe i could not find intimate trust with someone who constantly digs at my confidence, that unstable balance of life and love always in the limbo.

i was outside, at the park, thinking about the letters i receive from c. thinking about telling him things like how much i like his writing, and that i really appreciate the correspondence as it's a welcome distraction from anxiety-producing academia. i would tell him 'yea, isn't it funny how i tend to seek support from distance sources, instead of using what i have around me?' yea, isn't it funny how i'm repeating the pattern. i feel like my running engine is stuttering out. driven into a dead end. i'm on a motorcycle, going through a maze, and now i've come to this dead end. i'm waiting to see if this is it, i've made it to the designated end, or if it is indeed a failure. this is that moment, right before, this is the last conscious moment before the explosion of success, or the bottomless gasp of failure.

or next time i see c, i'll realize it's all be in my head because i potentially realize i'm not attracted to him in a sense i thought i was. yes, that's pretty shady. which is why i'm laughing now. life has some shady business, and the universe has a great capacity for dark, so we really do need to watch ourselves for not dipping too deeply into the bad stuff.

hmmm, well, i asked the source about my impending future, and i got a flashing outline of what looked like a boomerang, but turned out to be japan. me going there, and i asking 'why would i go to japan?' i was shown maybe some contact from london, or someone british (who i don't know yet) will need an assistant while working in japan, asking me to go along. and i can see myself asking if i'll receive any compensation for moving/living abroad, et cetera. looks like a 6 month contact, from winter to summer, so the first half of some year. maybe 2010? i dunno. sounds pretty random to me.

yea, i see c in 2010 reading, studying, the years 2011 and 2012 come up. c will be in school for a while? and then something in 2015, something will occur then, but i have no idea what it is, and whether it's a good or not good thing.

ceasing to sound

2009-03-09T20:41:00.000-07:00

oh god, what if i lost the use of my legs? are you kidding? that would be awful.

i'm experiencing severe lower back and hip pain, out from no where. have no idea what brought it on. i'm having paranoia about the pain, such as thinking it's my body's way of debilitating itself.

scary.

did i just hear someone say hola? sometimes when i'm high i hear things as clear audio, but the moment i realize i'm hearing something form the universe, it stops. my consciousness acknowledges the sound and it reacts by ceasing to sound.

limitless freedom

2009-03-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

i love the song 'white winter hymnal.' i feel in love with that song while sitting on a sunny deck of a ferry boat. the song's beat matched the rhythm of the pulsating breeze dominating the atmosphere. the beat, the sun, the wind, the harmonies all felt like freedom.

i'm in the mood for limitless freedom. i'm in the mood for a sprint. i wanna 'shake shake shake.'

i had such great plans for last summer; i wanted to buy an old record player and go thrifty for lps. that's one of those great cliches. i also decided to institute a cocktail hours following work, preceding dinner. three seasons later i'm wondering what happened to those plans. those dreams.

we can smoke a big bowl

2009-03-07T22:19:00.000-08:00

and then screeeeeeew. i was standing out in the park, thinking of a guy i knew for a month, just about four years ago. looks like he's the stud du jour. de jour? if only i had been stoned that one chance i had where he made the blunted move ever, then i probably could have had the screwing of a lifetime. movie star muscles, hometown attitude. i could have eaten him right off the cob. for some reason he's dancing around in my head.

you know, smoking weed and feeling high is pretty great. in moderation.

moderation, kids.

i feel like my increasingly sore hip muscle is like an alarm going off, my body reacting to something in my life that's 'pinching' me, emotionally, spiritually. but what is it? my visit to a place beloved, have i fallen under the same spell again? will i be able to see clearly this time?

yadda yadda yadda. blah blah blah.

sometimes when i wonder about voldemort, or i wonder about pills, i usually just put the two together. i wonder which ones he took? i wonder if this is how he felt. we had such an identical upbringing. we're a bizarre transcription of each other, in a way. i just never think of him when i'm sober, but i think that i'm thinking about him all the time that i'm stoned. you know, maybe we were supposed to be stoner buddies but turned into this manipulative saga instead. maybe we were supposed to be stoner buddies in a basement in london for a while. but he is really into unhappy girls because he's learned 'unhappy' from his mom, and he derives the best social pleasure out of making women happy. not necessarily because it's his sentiment, but just for the ego rush of 'because he can.'

wow, who needs crack cocaine when you have cocoa crispies? i love the latter.

haha, now i'm thinking about twin girls in my junior high school. they hated each other, and for some reason, they came to mind. i remember realizing there were two 'of them' considering there were 800 kids in my class. i asked one 'do you have a twin sister?' she said, 'no, but i have a dog.' ugh. i then realized the twin was in my other class, and i asked her if she had a twin or at least a sister, and she said 'no, but i have a dog.' wow, they can't even come up with individual insults. they hate each other so much, and it's the biggest public display of self-loathing ever. haha, now that's even funnier.

mmm even more crack cocoa crispies.

it's usually not about love. the main themes of peoples' lives aren't necessarily love related, although a strong majority believe so. now i'm thinking that when you die and 'go to heaven' or just get back in touch with those who have also passed, you don't necessarily spend all your time with your spouse of your previous incarnation. your friends on a spiritual plane together, got to encounter each other in this incarnation, did whatever they had to do, and eventually passed back into the spiritual realm. i do believe that we pick the major players in our lives before we incarnate -- you're both working on certain lessons and have agreed to meet while alive and do who knows what. i think we pick both the dear old friends, and the fresh nemeses.

damn, the 8 ball won't give me answers anymore. i asked my question and then turn the answer panel up, but the message thing in the middle never comes up to the surface anymore. i need important answers. i just don't want to see c and think ' here we go again.'

it's meta!

2009-03-06T22:03:00.000-08:00

oh god, have i forgot it already? uuuuuuh, oh right. my life, or anyone's life, is like a movie, and they're the star. you have people in your life, who are also other actors playing a part, and then you have your behind-the-sceens group, the producers and directors, the ones guiding the story. getting stoned is like taking a break from the set and hanging out with the production crew. i guess your producer / stage manager is your main guide? your real life friends are your peers who are also stars in movies about themselves.

yea, i was outside, looking at the high cloudy sky sky, and it looked like a chalk drawing on a chalkboard, a cartoon picture of c's head, the brain. and the animation showed simple gears, some sort of jam -- the image progressed to 'a change in gears.' either he's gonna or he's got to change mental gears. i don't know if that's in relation to his break-up, or professional, or life goals? either he will or he needs to change the 'gears' in his mind. yea it's like he stalled out in the wrong gear. doesn't know how it got there, sort of confusion? he was so blind and high on his ego for snagging this girl that he was so close to meeting his insane expectations that he just couldn't see anything other than things playing out perfectly. i mean, it seems like he's shocked, like he thought he was doing really well, and was stunned to fail. but he's experienced failure before, so as surprised as he was, once it 'clicked' in he sort of thought 'oh... right.' i mean, it's sad, but that's life. i've felt the same way in a similar situation.

so it's like i'm in this odd drama with c, and in the middle of the action, i'm pausing and stepping out to talk to the production team. i want to know what happens next, right now! and they're like 'oh would you shush, it's not that much longer.' the action isn't that far away. i really think the girl that dumped him was putting on a show, making it seem more emotional for her than it was. yea, really stagnant communication in that relationship. like, they're so scared of each other in a way, they're walking on egg shells around each other, trying to not offend, or give away anything. they're both a bit weak in that way.

i guess it's not a balance, the yin and yang, they're both the yin... well no, yang. yang is the masculine, straight and orderly one? yin is the emotional and crazy female... one? oh yea, i bet they're both yang, both uptight. she felt sort of cornered or badgered by him, but sort of subconsciously. maybe she didn't know how to dump him? or she did form an attachment and bond, there is love there, but it's probably not on the passionate side.

i think c and i have a balance -- he's by the book, i'm the dreaded free spirit. while opposites balance, it doesn't necessarily together, they can balance each other from far ends of the spectrum. like there's a big gap between the two, that can happen.

but i'm already crazy enough, so i don't believe i should be with a yin kind of guy. it doesn't matter what kind of guy i think i should be with, i'm certainly not on the market. this is like the longest intro ever, if my life were a romantic comedy film. 'here's what was happening just before the soulmates met. let's take a look!' and then it flips over to me, smoking weed every night, gossiping about c, or the information i intercept.

i'm sitting here, trying to relax as much as possible and let the flow of knowledge come to me. so i pick up a stream and it's like i'm trying to translate and transcribe the message as best as i can. i feel like i'm in translation school, with typing speed on the side.

now, i'm remembering a reading i had with a medium within the last year or two. she... yea it was just a year ago, i asked her about my developing abilities and i saw a very bright light slide over my vision, forever and in no time at all. i just thought that someone with their headlights drove by, but it was daytime and her front door wasn't on a street, no cars. i realized that's my guide's... light. ha, ha, ha, my 'guide(ing) light.' i've since seen twinkles, and one other flash in deep meditation. i don't really hear things, they're more in my mental ear, not physical. same with physical sensation, it's a mental representation, i don't actually feel anything on my body directly. the descriptions, the way that information is conveyed, always captures the essence of the meaning. the animation of c's 'mental gear shift' was a chalkboard, which is usually found in an educational setting. yes, he's aware that he's chosen the 'pain = learning' formula, which is kind of a... garden variety way of dealing with it. ah, what a great description, 'garden variety.' yea, he's kind of a 'garden variety' of characteristics, an even keel of various generally 'good' aspects.

god, i keep thinking i'm seeing a miniature david caruso standing on my book shelf. i think it's because there's some round yellow thing on the bookshelf that looks like a head in my peripheral vision, a mustardy yellow, just like david caruso, resident ginge' on csi: miami. god i hate that show, but i still watch it anyway! agree: y/y?

ugh, whenever i've been stoned lately, some hyper-critial little voice comes out, keeping an eye on what i'm eating. i bet the caffeine kept me going so long that after not eating for 6 hours just eating a little bit tidied me over. so i'm like 'whoa, what's with the critical intake-observation today, i've hardly eaten anything! i haven't even had dinner yet.

really tired of toast.

hm, i'm asking 'how will things be between c and i when i see him soon?' the image i'm getting is that he's looking at his watch, keeping an eye on the time, tapping his watch and saying 'time is ticking!' but about what? what's he so impatient about? he's anxious about something, something time related. pacing about, looking out the window. is he anxious to see me? is he anxious about seeing me? or is it something totally different? totally not about me? it's hard to receive the information because i'm trying to analyze it at the same time, which is just a no. write it out first, think about it second.

i think my judgement is clouding (i went with 'clowding' there originally) my receptiveness. how can i receive info about c, regarding me, objectively? wow, nice rhyme, universe.

when i'm stoned i can focus so well that the info comes quickly, densely. it's always a surprise because i'm so closed off when i'm sober that most things just bounce right off me, my ego is pretty assertive. when i'm sober i am barely open to receive information, so it's just a trickle. when i'm stoned it's a flashflood.

how do i feel about going to paris? that's what my guide is asking me, so it seems. how do i feel about going to paris? um, didn't see that one coming, but sure? summer time in france.

my co-conspirator

2009-03-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

oh right. so i'm having this fantasy that c and i become life partners and professional colleagues down the path. c receives accolades for his creation titled 'sensuous curvation' or something equally everything and it will be speculated that my curvation was the inspiration. what if the curves of my bottom, my hips, my belly, my thighs, my cheeks, my breasts. i found that very amusing, but now that i've spelled it out, i don't know if i would really appreciate that.

and now i find that really amusing.

acquired good news recently, so i took a walk to my meditation spot today to say thanks. i've gone to that spot when i've been in a great deal of pain, and i do feel better.

finding your soulmate feels like getting a vip pass for a one on one show with the best entertainer in the world. the one who excites you the most.

i think i've regained my interest in c recently, concerning his expression of what he desires to do with his life, as in his life work. his vision is something i'd happily support, as i agree with his choices and intentions. it's this expression of work that shows his spiritual connection to the universe. i had spent time trying to find his spiritual connection, as if rooting through the boot of his car, trying to find it, as he's standing behind me, trying to show me. i just haven't been paying attention to what he's been saying. i often try to lead him towards answering my questions, but i haven't been good about just listening to him saying whatever is on his mind. i need to listen to what is on his mind. i can't be pestering him about things all the time, he has his whole world of opinions, too. i need to stop trying to milk him for information. the same way i need to stop grasping at intuition for answers, instead of just seeing what messages come through.

writing is a great way to get the universal flow to come out of you. the conscience is forever being created and destroyed. every instant that passes is the newest and the oldest, the chic-est and fashion deprived-est.

i love the memories i get to see when i smoke. certain scents of burning wood in the air take me to different continents, eras, ways of existence, but everything is familiar. there's that clicking sound again that i often heard in my bedroom as a child. certain scents bring about the environment. the smell of my grape bath oil, smelled crude like the tangy fruit. smelled like potent red wine. like how that episode of 'i love lucy' where the girls stomp grapes at a winery --

I just paused, and thought of the future, being in a big 4 poster bed with c, the morning after an evening of wine, and looking at him and telling him how lucky and happy i feel. of how i didn't know life could be so good.

that is one hell of a stoner delusion. but if bad things were approaching, wouldn't i get paranoid?

see, i think i just got paranoid.

i've been so far removed from lovey feelings out of self protection and recuperation for the last long while that i'm stunned as i'm having these tingling happy fingers thinking about how sweet love can truly be. it's been so long.

yea, i am making a hustle, but it is taking a long time and i'm getting fatigued. i really have pushed through the toughest parts and am in the home stretch. i feel as though i could drop, but i need to let the universal pulse, the kinetic energy i've saved up propel me to the finish line. this is a tough chapter, and i'm thinking i'm being poetic and progressive in the way i'm executing it's creation: stoned blogging.

this chapter is mostly boring in mainstream appeal, but it's fascinating in some weird minor key psychological levels. i just feel more like myself when i'm stoned. i love that feeling. i really do love myself and i do love what i choose for my life, but there are so many things in the sober world that make self satisfaction pretty difficult. weed reminds me that i love myself, and it gives me time in the day to treat myself well. it helps me take care of myself, because i apparently have a hard time relaxing otherwise.

my major weakness is my inability to deal with stress in a healthy way. it's difficult for most people.

and now that i will be seeing c in a short while, i'm running around all love sick, just dying to repeat a really stupid pattern. that, or it's requited and then life completely changes. or everything is the same but now i have a co-conspirator.

that's probably the best descriptor for c: co-conspirator.

we are stoner the girls

2009-03-02T21:36:00.000-08:00

this song is a great lead in:

well it's been a long time, long time now

since i seen you smile

and i'll gamble away my fright

and i'll gamble away my time

and in a year so, a year or so

this will slip into the sea

well it's been a long time, long time now

since i've seen you smile

a great lead into the movie of my fictional life. the way i would screen write my life. here begins the story of my life as a depressed person girl who has drifted into weed addiction, completely lost. sitting at her laptop, headphones on, blogging all the things she thinks while high.

'i had some interesting company in the park this evening. someone strolled ever so slowly along the sidewalk, me standing 5 yards in towards the park's oval track. realized the slow was also smoking the gange. then realized the slow was female, and apparently on the young side.

"there's another one of me. there are legions of us: we are the stoner girls."'

i vein in my eyebrow is spazzing out and i have to press on it to stop it from jumping out of my face.

this is how the first time feeling high felt

2009-02-27T20:19:00.000-08:00

everything's tingling. i haven't felt this floaty light sensation in quite a while. feeling stoned hasn't felt like this in the last few months.

i had a small fall a few days ago, and since then my neck and shoulders have been hurting more each day. i got three bottles of pain medication from my doctor today.

one is naproxen, which is an anti-inflammatory, and i haven't taken any.

one is a muscle relaxant, i took one about an hour and a half ago. i waited an hour and none of my muscles felt any more relaxed than before. so i then took the last med.

the last one was tylenol 3, aka codeine. i took two of those half an hour ago, because i was impatient with the muscle relaxant. then i smoked a bowl.

closing the door once i came back inside, it felt as though it were back when i smoked with p. how tingly i always felt. but i'm hating the growing spring breezes because that's when p disconnected with me.

that's what i've been so upset about. i didn't like the feeling of approaching spring, but without reason. i now realize this is the first time i'm faced with this notion of spring, and of p leaving. i just wanted to spend the long, wet, lashing spring with p, the window opened...

somehow i drifted over to wikipedia, reading up on codeine, and found the wikipedia article on pms. the alternative views section is amusingly argumentative with itself.

My Stoner Life

quoth the raven

pursuit

a knotty little girl

if i want fireworks, then i shall *have* fireworks

shamanism

italics | babe

the new face of marijuana

if i don't feel inspired

confidence

legalize it

would i topple without my fix?

most violent fantasies

don't go for second best, baby

hotel california: a study in alcoholism

maybe he's always been my pet

weed for a reason

the kissing thing

new altitudes

he's reckless

let your disappointment be your inspiration

not having any of that

familiar / foreign

green / conformist

maybe i travel for the sensory benefits

faceplanting

feeling industrious

some constructive self-criticism

one down...?

even though...

acid cat lesbian

when stoned, my obsessions

skateboard philosopher

attracted to intimidation

new guy

their fo

maybe that's what intuitives do, we can see in the dark

my religion

it would be so easy writing scripts for kids cartoon shows high

root finding

this is why we, as humans, love buttered toast

intelligence // disrespected // relationships

a guy who's not a complete narcissistic d-bag.

identity: overdue

dear cc

p as a gladiator

food stoner

i got more drama than yo mama

swing batta' batta'

why am i holding it in? let it out

harassing... eh, so what

an exacting revenge scenario

when my muse is my nemesis

they called the cops on me

the political commentator

mano a mano

forking / john mayer / clue

for some reason i want to call it a culminax

accidentally slammed

another hostage situation

lion in a coma

not to be the success, but the inspiration of success

can you hold? i'm having a difficult life

not for taste, but for effect

so this is when i start smoking during the day

anxiety broke the disc in my back

i decline participation

hot chicks and douchebags

duet for guitars

you making me happier, now i am snappier

i don't need nerdy white boys and their thing with chinese chicks

yes no maybe, is all i need to hear from you

love letter to mary jane

i could become a canadiens fan

yea, you wouldn't wanna leg wrestle me

fewer cliche endings

dear sleep, where you at? i can't find you yo

making note of my discomfort

all of the integral parts

dirty barbecue / marital ice cream scoop / squirming away

if i want fireworks, then i shall have fireworks