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11/01 Direct Link
I'm highly unprepared to rejoin. I always start these on a whim, and not intentionally. I miss the romance of not just writing a little notes to my future self, some voyeuristic stranger, or reading what all the other wanderlusts are up to. Even now, I don't know that I can continue this or that I will. The desire is there, but much like my desire to quit sugar is a pipe dream, I do like to dream. This go round I have the time, all the time in the world, but who has the money to have a life?
11/02 Direct Link
Something happened yesterday. Something fabulous. It's what made me think of 100words. I wanted to record this spark, capture it in virtual ink, because it wasn't something you can photograph or even explain to a very distracted husband. Anyway, it wasn't for him. It was just for me. I have a journal on the left nightstand for big things that just can't wait. Not writing religiously in it has helped me keep an account of the things that truly matter, not a daily drudgery of banal accounts. But my God! What did I want to remember so badly? Think, think.
11/03 Direct Link
You can do anything if you put your mind to it, they say. The ventilation is going, hospital grade gloves, and a raver's face mask on to where I barely see the canvas and palette. Still, somehow, the metals and minerals in the paint find a way to seep into my blood and find their favorite weakening organ. I acquired myself a modest little scholarship to train, paint, and start my business, only to find I am also averse to this passion. You go out and live your life, your dreams. I will be here, attempting failed pursuit number #18.
11/04 Direct Link
You lent your favorite obscure movie, you dumb do-gooder. The other one, your favorite rockstar autobiography. Why do I keep giving up my favorite things knowing too well that people don't return shit? All I have to do is pick up the phone. Pick up the phone, dipstick. Call them, tell them you're coming by to confiscate your shit. Your shit! Not theirs. Schedule the 20 minute drive or less out of your lazy ass life and go get it, girl. But no. Instead, let's talk about it, write about it, waste time obsessing. Everything but retrieving my shit.
11/05 Direct Link
Those stinking Cubans, the community I grew up around. Everything was a weakness, mentally physically. One old elder would retell the story of a man who fretted about cancer for years. Fretted and fretted. Down the line, he eventually got diagnosed with the big C. "He fretted himself to cancer." Could it possibly be, wise ass, that he was just right? Maybe if you hadn't told him it was all in his head he could've addressed the problem before it was a fatal disease. To be PC, I finally understand the Cubans. They have to front. It keeps them going.
11/06 Direct Link
I'm not flipping out about the spreading aches and weird symptoms because I don't really think it's cancer. I'll find out soon enough, but if it happens to be there, alive and thriving, my mind doesn't know that, so my mind could be direction the nervous system to go about as usual sending hormones and charges of electricity where they belong. Business as usual until further notice. I feel pretty strong and resilient for the moment and I don't think that could happen if it was rotting already. Alternatively, the mind is a powerful thing, capable of many self deceptions.
11/07 Direct Link
This is the most difficult password to recall, yet it's the one I know best. I've requested to relearn it so many times and it doesn't have to be changed every time we get our assigned keyword via email. It's so nice that one password in this whole digital lifestyle we lead, one thing can remain. I love it. I've become attached to the meaningless words and random number juxtaposition. I look forward to typing it in, without referring to my usually misplaced notepad with the cryptic scribbles, and suddenly gaining access to, not bills, not government websites, but words.
11/08 Direct Link
Follow your dreams is shit. What if you're sick or you're sold into a trafficking ring? If you got money, what about health? Can't go running, bones don't work. Can't lunch with husband, he's busy providing. Even if we did have the time, we need to order during happy hour or Monday Madness discount. Never get appetizers or the seafood. So I let my Sims have fun. Treat them with a beach side house. When they have too much fun, I display dominance and aggression toward them by shaking the iPad and making them vomit. Someone's got to teach them.
11/09 Direct Link
Getting nails done feels frivolous and morally wrong. I come from a subservient people. It pains me to have someone hold my hands, feet, and service them. So much I want to release my leg, kick the poor Vietnamese in the face, yell, "Get off," and do it myself. Granted, I don't have their skill. Husband likes French manicure that will be washed off in the next dish washing session when I get home. Fancy fingernails wouldn't match my gift card acquired Target brand purse and the flats would hide my toes. Do they have a color named Cinderella Ash?
11/10 Direct Link
My inspiration and epiphanies are directly related to the sunshine versus chill factor in the day. Closer to the equator, we have very few zenith vibe days where the perfect congruence of weather to create an ambiance of creativity. You're usually trying not to dehydrate, avoid heat stroke, or slapping mosquitoes in a perfectly beautiful lawn, which you avoid sitting. But today, right now is that moment. And I feel like I can do anything. It will go away very, very soon, but I must come up with something very fast before I start avoiding life and social situations again.
11/11 Direct Link
I continue going back to my earliest memory. My pining for New York City grows every day, but the reality of being remotely financially viable in that elite city is further than it could ever be imagined. I sat in the backseat, maybe in a car seat, maybe not. Regulations might have been different. Immigrant mom and dad were discussing being lost just outside of Manhattan. I could almost feel the same worried eyes and facial tension I get when I have fear. My parents. They couldn't get me back home. Could my parents be trusted in a foreign land?
11/12 Direct Link
Rage is not a foreign emotion for me. Despair, vengeance, bitterness, remorse. All those disregulated feelings that could spiral you into madness, I could experience and observe them without submitting to them, almost mindfully. But a blinding rage toward the one who is attacking my husband, as the kids say, I'm shook. I don't know how to live in it, but it's causing my blood to boil and bones to rattle. I don't feel out of control. No. I feel like I could harness that darkness and unleash my worst. If you do not desist, I will destroy your soul.
11/13 Direct Link
I am allergic to watercolor. Who is allergic to watercolors? Nobody else. Just me. It started with peppers and tomatoes. Then followed the gluten. Then eventually the rices and legumes and grains went. Sugar was always there. Aspartame should've been a given, even the FDA knows that, but what do they care? Red Dye #40, Yellow 5%? I can live without. No one needs sodium benzoate or MSG. No adolescent child or adult could ever have any need for any of these things. Then I lost the temperature, the hot, brilliant beautiful sun. I'm losing my air. I can't breathe.
11/14 Direct Link
New York. I have so much to tell you. A lifetime really. I was taken from you too early, against my will. That's when the voids started. Regardless, our connection is alive and well. Maybe we can make this a life quarterly visit so you can see where I'm at. I'm afraid I won't recognize you. Of course, you'll have changed, but I'm afraid your song and dance and rhythm will be unfamiliar. the subway will smell different, the crisp autumn air will feel foreign. But change is inevitable. I have someone to introduce you to. Hope he likes you.
11/15 Direct Link
I'm here because this is the most logical conclusion my brain can conclude, not fanaticism. As a matter of fact, a Jesus freak will freak the daylights out of me. I'm not one for zealots in the least. This includes the hyper-patriotic devoutness this ridiculous country expresses (as other countries do). Are you really going to criticize me for not voting Tweedledum or Tweedledee? Do you really think they will improve the common struggle of having to choosing between a quarter tank of fuel or a $3 used shirt at Goodwill until payday? Human governments: 0. God's Kingdom: 1.
11/16 Direct Link
Are bugs really more powerful at taking over the world than humans? Women hide at the wet dusk here in swamp land. One mosquito bite and their future is ruined, their legacy. My uncle, one blood sucking pest made his heart explode. The ticks, one fateful latching on and a person is maimed per life. Senseless parasites and bacteria and more destructive than the world powers at play. Did you know the human body is more bug than anything? Our DNA is largely foreign creatures. It might not be mankind that will take us down. It is an unseen army.
11/17 Direct Link
Even husband will remark he doesn't know how I endure this elite enslaved existence without medications. News flash babe: I don't. This brave new girl is losing her mind facing the ever bitter realities. He had seen the glimmer of madness. I try to disguise it as impassioned, uncontrollable wildness that I cannot contain. But how can I laugh and shrug off the demise of humankind? The bombs, the human trafficking, the cancer, the new breed of microcephaly babies and their heart-torn mothers. The searing pain of being alive is blinding. I secretly just crave a soma induced sleep.
11/18 Direct Link
Covered in latex blue, I massaged her flaky scaly, bed-ridden legs. Effleurage from the arthritic knees to the sore calves, to the cramped ankles. She emitted little moans of relief from being positioned so awkwardly for what seemed in eternity. She didn't remember me. I told her that's okay. I know she knows who I am. Her daughter was knocked out in the hospital pull out chair, her own ailing body wearing down. How sobering when mortality slaps you in the face. There's no bills, no news feed, no noise. Just life and death staring at all of us.
11/19 Direct Link
I'm going to see my home state again. Start spreading the news. I was prematurely yanked from a place where I believe I would've thrived. Exposed to an earlier death, maybe, but it has the electric buzz that could've kept me alive and flourishing. When I go back, I'm told I walk like I know where I'm going. It wakes up my dormant dreams and turns my blue's rosy. I've claimed that I don't believe in all that magic nonsense, but I also haven't been there long enough to let it completely possess me. I should conveniently get lost there.
11/20 Direct Link
I'm in the middle of transcribing. Of course, per agreement, I won't share any details. Most of the jobs I grab are about higher education. Apparently, there's many great hopes and aspirations in the country. For the most part, all I hear are obstacles, low pay, inequality, broken systems. It makes you want to be that Disney movie and break the odds, come out the winning end, and make a difference. The ones that are making a difference, they're just trying to get paid and working around more inefficiencies. There's an idyllic scholar lifestyle, and then there's the real one.
11/21 Direct Link
I swear my brain can smell and taste the memory of already ingested whisky, absorbed in blood and already wreaking havoc. It's just an adolescent memory. A confabulation of the many lustful and alcohol soaked escapades we used to have. But the flavor has come alive again and I wonder what triggered my veins to tell my mind to bring up the memories. It seems oh so glorious now, but in the recreation of the bubbled up thoughts we erase the shame, the headache, the guilt. Oh my, here it comes. Yes. The drunk dials, the mistaken kisses, the wandering.
11/22 Direct Link
I want to recount what happened with him: the ex. The last lunar phase that he re-entered my life. His sister passing. The talk. What it did to me. What it made me to do my body. What we lost all over again and who we lost. But I won't. I exorcised my love from him. Any last romantic fantasy that was never played out and doomed to my dreams. Extinguished. There is to need to relive any more. He lost his chance forever. I know what I have now. I know what I gained. Let the spell break.
11/23 Direct Link
Back on the pinks. It makes everything a little more rosy colored. I feel true feelings and the blurry vision dies down. My heart is intact and self-control comes a little easier. The difference today is experience and limitation. I was once unhindered and everything was possible. I was solely responsible for my upbuilding or crumbling down. Now I'm aware of others and the effect I have on them. They say if it doesn't hurt anyone, go ahead and do it. But anyone can justify anything by that reasoning. I certainly could bring down the universe with that logic.
11/24 Direct Link
By the rivers of Babylon
Where he sat down
And there he wept when he remembered Zion

From wicked, carry us away from captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing king Alpha's song in a strange land?

So let the words of our mouth
And the meditations of our hearts
Be acceptable in thy sight
Override

By the rivers of Babylon
Where he sat down
And there he wept when he remembered Zion

Oh from wicked, carry us away from captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing king Alpha's song in a strange land?

11/25 Direct Link
I've always wanted to be inserted into the scenes in my head. I'll fantasize about them instead of trying to realize how to get there. Who has the means to achieve every wild aspiration? Also, I do not have weighty ambitions, accepting of my lot. But that descending purple dusk in a golden wheat meadow, where the glow of dancing fireflies come out to play, all I hear the is the creaking of old wood on a swaying country chair, inhaling the smoky chimney air and tasting the heat of the chamomile lavender tea. That one is still a possibility.
11/26 Direct Link
The guilt of consumption long consumed me before it was trendy to point out slave labor. No one had to teach me to see or sense injustice. I'm a part of this capitalist society and don't always know how to politely defect into my own world where new gadgets aren't necessary, matching every item and color is happiness, new outfits for occasions, grills and patio decks, cruises, jet skis ... It's just more than I can bare. Then I go buy myself a sexy set of heels to feel a little bit younger and I question everything. I don't know anything.
11/27 Direct Link
Well hello my little complaint department. I haven't been here in a while. I've been life jet-lagged. One catastrophe after the after. The storm is almost over and I'm starting to emerge to the surface, not exactly sure if the core of who I was is still intact, or if I would want it to be the same. I'm setting foot as a blurry soul, but you can see some definition. And I'm tired and beaten to death, but I'm coming out with a clean conscious. Not as dignified as I'd like but I'm excited about the new me.
11/28 Direct Link
I think I was raped. Something was always wrong about that night, but I blocked it out. And then more details came up that made me think otherwise. But if I put myself in that situation and drank like a sailor. Isn't that a biblical recreation of Dinah? Doesn't make it right, but there is no avoiding it when you have poor self-control and demand it of a lusting bull. What good would revisiting that dreadful evening do? I won't hunt him down. I wouldn't prosecute. My loved ones just shut themselves off anyway. Sometimes people just fuck up.
11/29 Direct Link
It was 15 years ago, maybe 20. God, that is a long time. Feels like yesterday. I would put gas in my car in the ghetto-ist of neighborhoods without dread. They hoodlums were of all ages and races, pants down to their ankles, grills, aimless. But I wasn't fearful. Not one bit. I had no beef with them and they had no beef with me. Everyone would scold me to be more careful. Whatever. Yesterday I went to an extremely well lit station, public everywhere, and some shady looking guys trying to make a living, and I felt fear.
11/30 Direct Link
Reasons Not to Reconnect:

1) If it ends badly, I am responsible for recreating our my broken heart scene.

2) If it ends well, I cannot act on it. I'd be fouling the consecrate. I'm married.

3) If he didn't feel the longing, even as remote as mine is, if he doesn't get the nightmares, if he doesn't hover over my phone number, I couldn't handle it.

4) I don't like danger anymore.

5) I don't make these poor mistakes, only wise decisions.

6) Life is not an Adele song.

7) God, how I'd like to fuck up a little.