later san diego

[ esca | 5:19 PM | ]

 

dreams

I remember a time back in the seemingly good old days when Kien and I would rampage through downtown not really giving a shit. It was fun times. I remember, once I had mistakenly let slip to a few girls that were kind enough to give us a ride, that Kien was an aspiring doctor. To which one of the girls said, "Yeah, riiight. Hey, its good to have dreams."

Of course Kien was being, and really just is most of the time, about as non-doctorish in mannerisms as possible. He's loud, he's rude, he's uncouth, but he can utter more inordinately long multi-syllabic strings of compounds than you and I simple peons can even begin to imagine. Unless you are also an aspiring doctor, then maybe you could imagine.

Anyways, off of Kien, it was really the dreams thing I wanted to talk about. About living dreams. Dreams can feed you and nourish you, and keep you alive during those cold winters. But does there come a time when you simply need to wake up? Say enough is enough? For instance, not everyone can be a doctor. Hell, most people can't be a doctor. There's no shame in that...at least I hope. Every path in life has its rough spots and bumps, but with our limited vision into the future, when is it time to finally wake up and admit that we missed our exit? That its time to turn around? Its hard to give up when there's still a chance, but sometimes you just have to.

Me? I've traveled down this path of mine for so long that I don't want to turn back. Its like flying a plane across the ocean, but not knowing if there's enough in the tank to make it. Maybe I like that feeling, that chaotic uncertainty. Except in my case, I know the answer, and I know I'm not going to make it. Doesn't matter really, there's no where else to go but down at this point, either that or some desert island. Double down and go for broke. You think I would have clued in by now, that the house always wins.

I still adore you.

[ esca | 2:36 PM | ]

 

My life is in shambles. I am exhausted from work. I don't think anyone understands. In the past month, I've worked 230 hrs. The average person works 160. How does this happen? Well, you can start by working weekends, you can start work at 6, and you can start by getting off work at 8. You can go days on end without ever seeing the sun. Total eclipse, total darkness. Dark like the color of my heart. I can tell by the callous insensitivity in your voice that you don't have a fucking clue what I'm talking about. Just keep nodding that head.

My mind is very fragile right now, fueled by deprivation and withdrawal. Of people and of things. Do yourself a favor and just stay out of my way.

[ esca | 8:20 AM | ]

 

Tonight a strange thing happened to me, I had a dream that was so life like that it resembled real life. I was sitting in the dingy corner of some bar, the sounds of shrieking excitement, and bottled containers of joy throughout. Birthdays, celebrations, renewals. Why does this seem so surreal?

Mirrors aligned the walls and gave the illusion of space. The room, the size of a small restaurant, was packed with raven haired girls with flushed complexions that covered the paleness of their skin. You could close your eyes to shut out the world, but the sounds would still be there. The smells, of cigarettes, where only in Korean run institutions do the by laws of the state need not apply. I could probably scream at the top of my lungs and be unnoticed here. I was being unnoticed.

Play it in reverse, play forward times two. The scene shifts outside and I can see myself standing, but its not me. I can feel my legs moving but its not me. A strange sense of deja vu passes over me as my literary senses have already surmised the foreshadowed ending.

Then the critical moments hits, and suddenly, I wake up. From my walking day dream. My life is only a shattered dream.

[ esca | 3:47 AM | ]

 

Selective perceptions.

I think after a certain age in our lives, we cease to be absolutes. Or maybe, just complex absolutes. As in simple statements like, I never lie, I'm a good person, I am conservative...it really becomes a null statement after a certain amount of time. For instance, a certain someone who shall not be named was telling me about how she hates liars(perhaps not passionately, but as a clear negative attribute) with the implied air that she herself does not lie. But lovely girl, I said to her next, remember that time you neglected to reveal such and such information to your handsome ex? To which she giggled and laughed and replied oh yeah.

I don't consider her a liar, and give her a 2 sigma range(95%, or two standard deviations away from the mean) of brutal honesty. But my point is, even if someone is 95% of the time clean, statistically, once in a while, something will just naturally come up to mar that pristine cover. You can always find dirt on so and so, and you can always talk to someone who's convinced that any one person is the second coming of the dark devil.

Like Arnold, who's quickly become my new favorite politician. Is it a completely unrealistic expectation to want perfect behavior over the course of his entire lifetime? The answer of course is, it depends, but I think its important to remember the overall viewpoint sometimes.

In anycase, the only perfect people are children. In that there is no history of good or bad to live up. I could be anything I want. If I wanted to be a badass, I could tell you a true story of all the bad things I've done. If I wanted to be the next crusader of good, I could also tell you a true story of all the feel good things I've done. I'm torn and split, the line that divides our common battlegrounds is drawn right down the center of me. And I feel weird.

I don't know how I really feel anymore, other than I’m too confused to understand. Like any good procrastinator, I go to sleep and hope that the answer appears in my mind when I wake up, but it never does. I think maybe if I work long enough then, the answer will appear at the end of the day. I still don't know.

I adore you.

[ esca | 7:59 AM | ]

 

thoughts...

How can you tell the difference between caring and controlling? The nuances between lust and affection? Love is pure, love is uncompromising, love is selfless. I have a friend whom I've showered with cloying words of adoration for years, although with a deep down knowledge that my proclaimed love was childish and immature. Foolish and without true clarity of feeling. Nothing but a selfish desire to own. If only I could give her own happiness.

I think its difficult to truly understand one's own feelings, to distinguish between what is real and what is contrived. Yet in that moment which I have long been preparing myself, to watch her kiss that other person, sickened me to my stomach like no other. I felt angry, I felt tired, I felt remorse. Yet this was all to my own choosing. I need to see this.

Stick your hand into the fire enough times and soon enough the skin will begin to callous and harden. Scars, with all their imperfections and ugliness serve a purpose in this life. To deaden, to weaken, to dull. To slowly bring the volume down until it is hardly a whisper.

So I whisper

...sad...

[ esca | 9:03 AM | ]