I screamed,

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Behind a closed door. The blood and scale of it all done behind my back. Each pin prick, cut and dull scissor snip a total mystery, all for my vivid imagination to fill.  

"Ow, ow, ow," I screamed countless times as my doctor was numbing the area to be operated on. It was so much more than a minor prick of a needle. The blasted benign clump that had been resting on a nerve on my spine had been with me all my life. It only brought pain, especially when friends would embrace me. It was gosh darn awful to get a hug, and I love hugs. But I'll hug through the pain, any day.

The pain. I describe it as if stabbing a starfish in the gut. All the pain shoots out the legs (across my back, everywhere). I stop breathing for a few seconds, hold, gather myself, and then proceed on like nothing happened.  

I yelped to the doctor, "barn yard animals," because in the past she would squawk a myriad of barn yard animals to distract from the needle/pain. But this time it didn't work, the pain had enwrapped me like a fiend, hellbent on revenge, outraged that it was losing its home. And as I felt the dull, but most probably sharp blades tear away the clump from my body, I listened quietly to the scissors, it sounded like scissors, cutting away the past.

How much was I bleeding... I don't know? Not too much?

And as she stitching me up, I hadn't a single thought to contemplate. I only looked around the room as far as my eyes could search, looking for anything familiar to ease the bits of anxiety within me. 

I asked her if she had a patient after me.

"Yes," she replied, still stitching away.

I laughed, imaging what someone or anyone could be thinking as they hard me cry "Ow, ow, ow," outside the door. A door that faces a long hallway where many people travel across. And, man, I was loud. I couldn't stifle it in little weeps. I actually intercut the OWs with laughter, struck at how much it actually hurt.

Laugh or cry... Laugh I always say. Laugh. 

After it was over, out of the operating room, and back out onto the street with chocolate milk in hand, chocolate milk to cure the wooziness of it all, I sat for some minutes. The wind was chilly, but not cold, and the back entrance of the hospital alive as ever with the rush of people, many sharing a battle with illness. Life must go on, despite of it all. Despite the twisted road and the unseen challenges we, as people, collectively face. Battles and challenges never seem to discriminate, just like stray bullets. Stray bullets don't have a name attached to them.

So now back to healing. Healing and writing.

Gosh, these stitches are itchy.     

Freakin' Pain

Been taking it super easy. Walking like a snail, if snails could walk. Upping my pace for a few seconds, then easing down. That dull awesome pain that creeps up the back, the stabby pinch under the right buttock, the other stabby pinch in the right hip, all reminders that I am not a super hero, and that the invincible delusion of youth does flutter away when seasons are coming to an end.

Freakin tragic.

Thus I write and watch/listen to hours of people sputtering of the times we're living in. It's kinda gross right now, what's out there. I think it's always been gross, but with the advent of cyberville (which sounds so ancient), this communal vast space we all share, whether silent observers, world criers, or the angry lunatic, we just have more access to the ugliness, and thus the ugly have a more difficult time hiding.

The only good thing, the only silver lining, is that I'm writing. It's starting slow. The characters are pretty much formed, but they also grow and reveal more about themselves as the pages mount. I need to streamline more, not go off track, keep motives in tact, and not lose sight of the main story.

And given this lack of mobility, which confines me in this tragic way, not feeling free to go about for fears of sudden unbearable pain whilst in a very populated area, I keep my tracks close to home and spend less hours outdoors. Believe me, my jeans are getting snug. A girls' worst nightmare realized. Vanity sucks.

I've been trying to fill time watching films with a large ensemble cast, one with many storylines running through. Just watched August Osage. It was great, performance wise, but story wise...what was the story about truly? I may stick to a few favs like: Hanna and her Sisters, and Parenthood. I'm watching and re-watching because my script also has many storylines. One family, many storylines, but the family is the glue.

And there isn't much on television and in film these days, been avoiding it for a while. Like, why so much bloodletting? When I was younger it wasn't an issue, or maybe there wasn't so much then, maybe now the options are growing slim.  

So until my back procedure, and until this pain decreases by 40% I will reroute and continue to restore.

Pain pain go away. Come back never.

For Now

It's been very, super-very long since I last posted.

I've been working like the devil without a clue. A man without a mission. A hitchhiker with no where to go. I've been feeling like this for a gosh darn long time, almost like a light switch where some days I'm off (no idea, just going with the flow), and others days on (very brief moments of clarity where loss and semi-depression settles from lack of light).  

side note: I'm leaving my work for a time: Back injury and surgery.

Oh the trails of being a mere human and not a super hero with infinite capabilities. Than again, who wants all that responsibility? Not me.  

So what will I do in these months of recovery and forced relaxation...

Write.

Something completely new. Like, a timeline of a person's life...must not give too much away. I want it to be brutal, gritty, honest, forgiving, painful, artful, and beautiful. Also laden with dark humor.

That's the plan, for now.

Time flashes by, feels like I blinked twice and it's October. Time flashes fast yet feels slow at the same time. I think the last time I posted might be a few weeks before I went to L.A. Los Angeles was great, I went there only to visit family. They're all doing well, that's as much as I can share. I love them so much, and they all live so far away. I would love to see them as much as I can. 

I stayed in KTown, went to this Starbucks on Pico and Rimpau every morning for coffee and to write. I felt human again (what was I before), like pieces of my old self that I had completely forgotten about stared to cling back to me. It made me sad yet joyful.

I more or less still feel sad'ish these days. I know why in a few definites, but then I'm numb or lost in others thoughts. This fog will soon lift, I hope.

I was speaking with someone from my writing group yesterday about how being a creative person is hard. She agrees. There's never a true fit for us, unless surrounded by other creative types doing what you love, but that's never easy to find. Like, find and be paid.

Can't fake it for too long. I think the more you fake, the more of yourself gets lost. But this making money thing...kills everything. It truly is dirty. We need it to survive: eat, sleep, procreate. But then the thought of no money, paper money, a tangible currency... that's way more terrifying.

Sorry, went off track a bit.

Lift fog, lift.

Killer Time

Is it possible to get so busy that Time becomes nothing? "Nothing" to the point that you can't address it, look at it, schedule it, or think of it?

TIME has been killing me lately. A fully self-aware choke hold, it took me down. Work took me down. And in the next few months I'm afraid (not even gonna think it) TIME could become more of a ghost.

When I tell people what I do for paying the bills, it sounds interesting, kinda fun. The brands I work with are "cool". Too bad it wasn't bands, like an awesome rock band. Like Jack White or something. Go on our with Jack White and be a apart of his wardrobe team. I have no issue with shining shoes. Yeah, but my real job... it is the equivalent of shining shoes, accompanied by a revolving door of verbal interruptions, lifting heavy things, and taking glamour shots of clothes.

And as Time has been bullying me, pushing me around, causing me to go through mini rambling fits; like, have you ever done that... rambled a mini rant to yourself, just to get the crap out of your head? I do it often. I sometimes have to look around, totally forgetting I'm in public view. A true Blue Jasmine moment. The stress of TIME can feel crushing.

Solution...

A plane ride away, somewhere, somewhere far away. Where nothing 'here' exists over there. I haven't had a vacay in years.  

And I am going someplace, far, but not too far away. I don't have any expectations other than for my eyes to see something new, to hug and hold family, write in a coffee shop (zero time to do it here, at home), and see what God has in mind. I like surprises, especially the good kind.

I need to laugh, like a lot. I do, here, kinda, pending the company around me. Some people are hard to laugh with. Just too serious. See, I think Seriousity (let's pretend it's a word) killed the cat. Curiosity is awesome. It's nice when someone is curious about your life, that is within healthy boundaries. Like, just recently, this beanstalk of a young bird, very cute, but he was just too up close and personal.

I'm just days away. Days away from take off.

Circles Fit Where?

I need a getaway. To run away from the drab. Forget the everyday.

I want some quiet with an ocean view. A pad of paper and endless ink.

My breaking point is drawing near. A few steps behind reason. Miles apart from patience.

Do you ever have days like this? Where everything seems kinda wrong. Like somewhere down the gravel path you made a terribly wrong turn. Rear tire spinning, stuck in a ditch.

I've felt like this for far too long. Head butting against an invisible wall.

All I can do is search for things to laugh about in the meantime. Laugh with co-workers, strangers and friends. We all share similar bewilderments.

You see, when you're a kid, no one ever tells you how sucky life will be. Adults lie to children from the getgo. Reading them endless fairy tales. And it's easy to buy into. Like, what do you know - you're just a kid.

I'm starting to see it more. A tinge of pain in the eyes of many. The loss of dreams, the endless want and climb for what fairy tales once promised to an innocent heart.

But how long can a heart hold on?

My dear friends wonder, looking above to a vast, endless sky. Their heart still searching for another to hold, or for the right line of work to finally come along.

"I give up..." they turn away, unable to face everything.

I hear this too often. I sympathize. I can be there in a heartbeat. 

In all truths, curiosity didn't kill the cat. Creativity did. Most, if not all of my friends are creative people. All Circles. No Squares.

I will break away in July. Hopefully.

Tick Tock

My space is a mess. Absolute chaos. My mind is not so much a mess.

I tidy what people mess. I build and construct. More to mess.

My mind wanders, hands working on auto-pilot. Voices speak. "Mmm?' I answer, on auto-pilot.

"I'm not who you're looking for."

I prayed today. I pray everyday. Mostly for myself. And for others when I remember. Lists help to avoid this selfishness.

The sun feels nice. It changes everything. Lifts everything. The cold concrete not so gray.

My friend is visiting in September (she wrote me). Always September. We're alike in many ways.

I hope to travel, but this world is ugly. Ugly people wander about doing horrible ugly things to fellow humans. The blood of the innocent cries out.

Non-humans belong in zoos. Animals don't belong in zoos.

My friend's birthday is in 5 days. Mine isn't too far after. Multi-minutes gone.

Tick tock.

Sleep is only for bedtime

No one's truly lucky in this one-life challenge.

What looks great, perfect and envied from one gaze can be the complete opposite of what is true. Assumptions dare the imagination. Perception is vague. Truth seldom trumps.

Am I getting too dark? Or too honest. Honesty is, at times, darkly perceived. Some people call me an idealist, but I consider myself a hard realist. 

I feel a bit lost these days, working in an insanely unsatisfying environment. Pulled by needs and a desperate lack of time. Age constantly creeps, without retreat, reminding me while in my misery that I'm so far from where I'd like to be, and there are some days, some moments, I don't even know where I want to be.

Thankfully I do have one constant: God. That'll never change.

But this world is... changing fast. See, beneath the thin sleepy veneer, distracted by subhuman television, really bad music, and really really bad fashion, a divisive goal is underway. Few are aware of this unforgiveable plan, many don't want to hear of it (as if it will go away), and most have no clue. Knowing isn't easy. Knowing just keeps you very sober.

If you've never heard of transhumanism, look it up. If you don't know what an rfid chip is. Also look it up. It'll sounds like fantasy, like a summer Hollywood Blockbuster. Fiction. But it's far from, and that's the unforgivable truth.

I tweeted a response to something a while back (the tweet actually disappeared - funny). Something like, "transhumanism is the death of conscience humanity and morality". Which it is. It's freaking crazy. And the rfid chip, just the same but more frightening: easily tracked, funds easily drained (not by you), freedom - (unplug you) Over. Don't be sold by the commercials where people are freely giving their freedom away, looking happy and shit. Cause it's just crap wrapped in pretty paper with pretty people selling you a life term prison sentence.

Easily hunted. Easily programmed. No escape.

If you are, don't roll your eyes (if you are). Just take some time to look it up. I've been wanting to write about this for a while. Share with the few that read my blog. Even though I don't know you, I care about you, and I especially care about what's left of this floating rock.


Never lose your freedom to speak. Never be afraid to ask questions. The truth is often buried beneath a stack of lies. But also, the truth is very simple.

Round Up

It's been long since I posted. Been inhumanly busy, a freak schedule, running my energy to the ground, and none of it for selfish gain. Sure I pocketed some green, but I lost time, a season of life - gone. Made a friend, then let the friendship go cause everything at one point must die.

For a while I've been running on a different track, searching, finding, hiding, questioning and getting angry with every dang turn. The world is a vast wilderness and I'm itsy bitsy, and thus feel lost but not on this deranged trail called 'your every waking existence' till you just don't wake up.

side note: It's truly a killer disappointment when someone you thought was cool turns out to be sooo not. I like people who are different, have quirks and their own rhythm and beat, but crazy-volcanic, uber-sensitive, uber-paranoid - yeah, this will never be my cup of tea. Ever.

Some people hide their demons well. But eventually they surface.

Better to laugh than cry, I always say.

Then there's this lost love thing. When you decide to let someone go. From every spatial corner of your utter being. That always sucks. When there's no one to even daydream about. Am I growing up or have I lost heart? I asked a friend. Actually commented that,
"getting older sucks". She laughed. Agrees. She's in her 50s but looks and acts like she's in her 30s. I love people who never give into societal standards. She also has the most wicked name, which I cannot reveal. There's probably only 2 people in the whole world that have it.

But I have to get back to me. Chuck some bullshit out of the way. Shoulda done it before the year started. Don't think too far ahead. Buy some pretty clothes. Dye my hair (tomorrow), and bake for my friends, and my neighbour.

I have a possible chance to visit Cali... It's on the shelf. I have an uncle who needs some prayer. I'd like to pray for him.

At least men in Cali approach women, unlike men in my city. My Cali cousins don't believe this truth. One asshole asked if my friends were ugly and fat (meaning why men never approach them), he's from Spain. I appreciate his bluntness. His bluntness suggests that he does approach women (which he does), or that he's just a douche. But he did also wonder why I'm still single/why men don't approach me. Correction. Why potential men don't approach me. Unlike the sweet but young 20 somethings, polyamorous charmers, chatty pervs, men looking for their mother, control stalking oafs and slick players.

And my friends are all very attractive. They just don't settle.

And for the longest time I've been adapting my novel into a script. It's taking some time. Hard to make time when I'm working 10 hours a day. Will try in March.

Aside from the above...I'm trying to see the light. Trying. Clicking on cute cat and dog videos, uplifting stories about people being kind, and trying new baking recipes. Cause aside from the crap and lies on the regular news feed, this vast world is getting increasingly small and our freedom stripped.

So many are still asleep. Occupied by bad television, OkStupid and tinder.

I may need to visit Cali after all. At least to tell my armfuls of family, " I love you".