02/01 Direct Link
It's hard to work with her face everyday. I don't want to see it. Insult to injury, she gripped down the laterals on her head with cornrows, leaving a gleaming geri curl mohawk that snakes front-to-back down her skull. On top of strange and inappropriate gestures to match her expressions, I see more crazy than ever. Also, the in-your-face butch walk and talk; more masculine than a wife beater. This rug muncher is too much for me to handle. It defies nature to see this struggle for identification. Oh don't judge me. You're judging me too.
02/02 Direct Link
Listening to my songs through the laptop's speakers, low quality audio, it somehow cuts through me, bringing me back. A time when I didn't have much to worry about. My most prized possessions were electronics that contained memorable coins, some of more value than other, none the less, little treasures. This movie I saw about a Hawaiian princess, she kept shells, attaching a memory to each one. That's how I kept my memories. In a song that fit the moment, and I could create a portioned timelines, life soundtracks, by a simple playlist. I'd relive a lifetime in my room.
02/03 Direct Link
They fired her. I should've seen that coming, knowing the name she created for herself, but it caught me off guard. I called to get her side of the story and though clearly guilty of what she was accused of, she denies wrongdoing. What a disappointment. Sometimes we want to keep the cleanest version of what we hope a person to be and they just stain themselves red. I'm relieved she's gone, even though she was beneficial to the role I play. No more mood wings, crazy lady, parrot hair, spanish attitude, and hatred. Man was she angry. At someone.
02/04 Direct Link
A day to myself. The television was my scapegoat for my invalid days. Today I'm healthier, so that brain-thief stays off. The opportunity to take care of my home. Whereas I would've preferred hard core workouts or nature trails in the sun, those activities are no longer an option. I took a nap that was demanded of my bones. I multitask with mundane laundry duty, watching videos of the Denver International Airport mural videos, organizing the pantry, and documenting a few things on here that are trivial, yet a component to tie in the new chronicles of my days.
02/05 Direct Link
My mother is in Puerto Rico right now, hopefully exploring El Yunque. I cannot believe I passed that up . Why? Guilt of leaving behind my husband in a stressful working environment. Like dealing with strictly smelly and dirty men, sitting for 40 hours a day, taking orders from the arrogant elite, punching monkey numbers into a computer while my connective tissue dies, isn't hazardous to my health? What have I done? I could've been under a canopy of misty greens, free jungle creatures, eating platanos! I think I just may have to take dad up on the invitation to El Salvador.
02/06 Direct Link
Anonymous: original, I know. At this point, it's a relief to be unknown. I start over a lot if there's an opportunity. I used to reset the button all the time. Now I have the same life no matter what and on bad days like this, I find it sacred to have my secret and that no one can look in. I wish my body would get sucked outside in, into the void of a black hole. To not exist or at least be surrounded by emptiness where nothing necessarily matters because in comparison, it's as good as it gets.
02/07 Direct Link
I feel, even though I haven't given a shred of distinction regarding who I am, other than a clue of emptiness in which could be anyone at any given moment, that someone could read right through my transparent words. It's a bit of despair, defeat, a sliver of hope, surrender. You know what I'm talking about. Maybe you're of a brighter disposition but we all hit rock bottom a few times in our life, some more than others. Those strange to these depths must freak out in this kind of darkness. I'm so used to it my now I'm numb.
02/08 Direct Link
In my bathroom, I can't hear him. The light and fan switch on simultaneously. I sit on the toilet eating my bowl of butternut squash. Damn, I left my phone on the counter. The water works threaten. The muscles begin to scrunch up, but mind over matter, he's not towering over me right now. Only the walls and the cats know what he's so belligerent about. All I hear is the otherwise annoying muffle of the motor. The high-pitched mute it creates sounds pretty good now. When my shoulders relax, I walk out. Dry... somehow with eyes still swollen.
02/09 Direct Link
I've read multiple personalities are created, generally, during childhood, when a little one uses their mind to escape the unpleasant traumatic situation. I can imagine how that development sets in. When your stress levels are consistently extreme, eventually you learn coping mechanism. However, it's still a form of duress that requires technique. It feels like your eyes are rolling up and behind your skull, but their not. It as if the light in your vision grows so bright that it dims out. A weightlessness begins to spread and suddenly... being there is no different than a day at the beach.
02/10 Direct Link
Ms. Brownrose assigned the whole class a creative freestyle poem. I cocked my head and thought thoroughly. Channeling a rhythym and cadence in my mind, I excitedly wrote down lines...Something that is this, something that is that...each line beginning with "something" and then a description. This was the first time I was shot down, ever. She said it needed to be like all the roses are red dumbass papers coming in. Being top of the class, I was shocked. Disliking rejecting, I cowered, not knowing there's a world of people who fight naysayers. It was downhill from there.
02/11 Direct Link
Gone are the days where I carelessly enjoyed my sandwich cookies, not having a clue about hydrogenated oils, trans fats, and preservatives. My stubby nubbin fingers would submerge my precious cookies in whole milk, wetting my fingers while the wafer swelled up into a sopping sponge, vulnerable to breakage if I didn't hastily cram the whole chip into my mouth. Creamy sugariness enveloped each taste bud, sending messages that I now know are either addictions or delicate neurotoxins becoming overexcited. I sure was an anxious kid afterward. As an adult, if I want to skinny dip, no more chunky dunk.
02/12 Direct Link
My teenage boy cat, once a playful little kitten, recently developed neurotic behavior. A true scaredy cat. He scared himself shitless, hurting himself, and yanking off a few of his claws in the process. He hid in the closet for a week, not the least curious to sniff at the treats we used as lures. His distrust dissolved with extra attention. It struck me, how much louder I used to laugh and leave the house without second thought. I just need someone to tell me its all over and scratch me behind the ears before I walk out confidently again.
02/13 Direct Link
I actually wish I had more angst, so I could write with more passion. My emotions, although strong, not intense enough to turn into cadence. But I won't stop writing. My thoughts often get blocked, backing up my streaming consciousness. Once linear, the words hit a wall and they start jumbling up, stacking sky-bound, falling all over each other, losing all structure. Once that plug is pulled, I don't back to reorganize. I just keep moving forward. I've learned it's not necessary to file documentation that hasn't been touched in months. If it was important enough, it'll come back.
02/14 Direct Link
I'm a dreamer. If this job will occupy my cerebrum for the full eight hours, I will find another. I need time in between to listen and record the phrases that pop into my head. I need a few minutes a day to play with my thoughts. Every day calls for something whimsical, something purposely imagined, something accidentally conjured by our second-hand desires. We need to listen to the left side of the brain while the right side is working hard. But this company just mutes all noise, all the voices I have. Life is too short. Moving on.
02/15 Direct Link
Red Hot Chili Peppers has a new song, after 5 years of musical celibacy, of public silence. I have a new muse coming and she's blasting out my speakers this very second. The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie, a reminiscing of LSD, sadly, a twist from a replaced guitarist, and added dynamics from Flea's piano lessons. These guys are beautiful creatures, at least from my limited point of view, but they are obviously favored by another dimension and have been given the key to being able to transpose it to our ears. Their talent, combined, has always felt otherwordly, sublime.
02/16 Direct Link
It's Florida. A swamp. Every year our hard working parents would manage to fund a trip for us three kids to Disney World. The skies, without fail, would descend unto us; we learned on the first expedition. Most other tourists, with American parents or from China, would buy the trademark green ponchos with a Mickey or Goofy character on the back. We bought our ponchos beforehand at the discount store, and with acrylic bottled paints from the craft shop, we painted our own world famous cartoon on it. I wish we had kept the rain gear with the disfigured drawings.
02/17 Direct Link
It seems that every time I mention out loud that something in particular is going well, that blessing is jinxed and immediately targeted. If I tell my sister, "I've lost four pounds", the next day I've gained five in inflammation. If I'm handling stress like a champ, the next day I break down in a cookie binge. If I tell mom how much he's grown lately, it won't be 24 hours before he's peeling out in the parking lot. So, I'm keeping silent and outwardly stoic. Let the universe guess what pleases me and it can attack me at random.
02/18 Direct Link
My memory is slippery lately. I worked hard to learn thousands of words to bring my imagination to paper. I see a bank of letters float past my brain, like an advertising belt lit with tiny bulbs, but I can't catch any of them. They're either going to fast or not speedily blurry. But they're there, just beyond my grasp. I can't even feel the emotion of the word once I do remember it. As if its stripped of wholeness and purpose. I fear for what has happened to my employment of vocabulary, but mostly my passionate life-like memories.
02/19 Direct Link
Even now, married, I still have the same MO with new male attention. Initially, the attention is perceived as positive. Responding favorably, I giggle and banter back a bit. Respectfully though. I don't give indication of further interest, especially the older men. But eventually their flattery turns into flirting. It's cloying and suffocating and my smile barely seeps through a clenched jaw. There is no audible laugh and I'm suddenly intensely consumed in my tedious work. Yea, I know they like to have a female around and that I could please, but it gets old. Fast. Give it up guys.
02/20 Direct Link
Before I used to see it as no cheese, no dairy, no ice cream. Disciplined and determined, I practiced veganism thoroughly, but I wanted those saturated fats. This time around, it's not a been-there-done-that attitude because we will always get hungry again and the brain will request familiar foods that once stimulated our pleasure center. But it certainly has been too many times where I scarfed down on a hankering until I detested all oils, butters, and myself. Now chickpeas, beans, broccoli and carrots are the new mouth-watering triggers. Clean meals leave me peaceful and satisfied.
02/21 Direct Link
Hibiscus tea has healing powers in the physical (and apparently the spiritual realm according to new age hippies). While too many teas throw my ph balance and incite an acidity that burns, this one is cooling and refreshing, even as a hot drink. It's brilliant red hue is that of rich blood and I imagine it just assimilates in my veins and flows freely, breaking up all those toxins that ail me. I feel the inflammation quell and new cells breathe. The pectins and binding fibers of this tonic make me feel rejuvenated and beautiful. God bless this medicinal flower.
02/22 Direct Link
My capacities wax and wane quickly. I get bursts of energy before I've realized I reorganized the whole place. After weeks of not reading a book, I find I cannot use my verbal motor skills to explain simple functions without stops and stutters, constantly searching to the right with my eyeballs to trigger memories of my once flowing speech. Days have gone by, more than I've given notice to. I've been a zombie. I don't pine for the girl I used to be, but wrack my head wondering who will this limited woman become? I'm not panicking yet. Soon maybe.
02/23 Direct Link
I started writing these posts under a new pen name in July. Some dark times. Time evolved in my favor; in our favor. Physically, I would say there's been an undertow slowly leaching away at my vitality. But I don't feel as old as I am. I'm stronger and prettier than I've ever been. I'm at peace with so much more. Generally, I'm content; happy even. But unseen hidden chemicals rust my organs, the economic disaster we live in has taken toll with many people, the government will collapse. There is a fine balance between internal peace and external chaos.
02/24 Direct Link
I eat my overpriced chocolate chip gluten free vegan cookies and curl up with a book about a traveling circus. Two major indulgences; one considering this economy, and the latter because sustaining any position is unsustainable and my eyes don't produce natural moisture well. I am excited by helping others with health problems with simple solutions they never knew. Making homemade coconut and almond butters and soups is now my butter; I can't eat bread. Budget permitting, I try an exciting health foodie recipe. I am ill, but I won't be crying about it anymore. It's sad, yes; but doable.
02/25 Direct Link
Flavio died. Did it really happen? I promise to think of him everyday. We're the ones left behind to suffer. He's fine now. The concern goes to his wife and little children. Grandma died when I was young. It hurt differently; she was sick already. I already feared death with all my mortality. I d say goodbye to everyone like it was our last time together. Morbid child, I was. I said, I can't live with this irrational fear. It'll distort life's true passion.

But that joke about being prematurely hit by a truck.... now a rational fear.
02/26 Direct Link
I should write more often. About anything. That's how I dispel the excess rubbish, rediscover myself, ground the heightened, color the gray, listen to the unheard portion that needs listening. I mean, writing with a pen on yellowish almost-white paper. It sounds nicer when lead scratches, but it looks better in the glistening black ink as it dries matte. Writing is also a good indicator of the need to read more, to explore new shops, buy bolder pieces, call or dump certain friends. It's a place where I never feel abandoned. Irrelevant, maybe..until I get on a roll.
02/27 Direct Link
Driving in forested winding roads, that was acoustic. The sound waves traveled out of the car windows and into the trees and they swayed or weeped to melody. The energy vibed back inside and I felt such a sweet melancholy, whether I was happy or sad. Back then I was more distressed than content. Which I could send some waves out to space, make them travel backwards a trillion light years per second, and reach me at twelve years old and tell me everything I needed to know so that tonight I wouldn't cry over plucked strings on a guitar.
02/28 Direct Link
What do I know? With each day, experience adds more perspective. The older I get, the less I know. Do unto others. All life is suffering. Some days, trivia is truly trivial. Sometimes, the most useless piece of dusty old brain matter saves the day. On a most productive day, it can all seem bane. When there is cause to celebrate, you hear of a young teen who was crushed by an SUV. We strive to achieve balance, but there that line is unsteady. We elevate ourselves to higher realms of spirituality and some earthly pang kicks us back down.
02/29 Direct Link
I'm a cookie monster. A cheese monster. I'm slave to the foods I eat and don't eat. I'd be more validated if my demon was wine or cocaine. But no, a slice of a pie. Cookie pie. Chocolate pie. Pizza pie. For God's sake, I was the one who started the Beauty Detox Solution phenomenon in this area. All the girls took off with their green smoothies and their fermented veggies and pink Himalayan salt. And here I close the shades, gobbling, slobbering, grunting over my pizza in the dark, where only my cats know the true horror. Fuck me.