i was reading past journal entries today and stumbled upon some good stuff.
…
i feel like there are some things that i need help being remind of – in regards to her.
like how it is beyond me to try to resolve her scarring of abandonment, and that i don't need to please her and give her what she wants to not upset / anger / hurt her.
that actually might feed her more power to manipulate my emotions.
she uses guilt as a weapon.
it is okay to be cautious around her.
it is okay to upset her expectations and be honest with what i want, because this really is not about her, even if she is taking it so personally. (it's really not about you.)
she needs to work on her baggage, and that stuff is beyond me.
(NOT my responsibility to make you not insecure.)
…
so i got injured again.
he got mad at me a few days ago.
his eyes were red with anger, his voice was sharp as knives, his heart fuming on his sleeve.
what??
one of the few times that i see him care about anything –
and it's anger,
and it's because of his microwave.
he comes back into the room later,
and starts small-talking with me –
as if talking is something he normally does with me –
attempting to diffuse the situation.
as if the status quo is that we're friends or something.
"i'm not mad anymore"
– he told me, with everything he didn't say.
"its too late."
– i responded in kind.
bro, fuck your microwave.
doesn't matter anymore. damage is done.
i didn't sleep well that night.
i usually take my guard down when i get home. but maybe, now i can't.
time to invest me a good emotional bodyguard. no. personal defense weapons.
i need to build my own arsenal and learn to fight back. fend for myself.
the case for moving out is closed.
…
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Thursday, August 1, 2019
lonesome birthday
i'm turning 24 tomorrow.
i was so excited to get that japanese chef knife, that fellow ekg matte white kettle,
- so excited to buy my own birthday gift this year.
mom calls me a few days later and asks, "so what do you want for your birthday?"
oh yeah, thanks mom. i send her the chef knife amazon link.
then today, i finally decide to go to the fellow store and drop 150 on the kettle, until i get messages from my coworkers that they want me to come over. just for a little bit.
and i'm like nah this is my day off i'm not even supposed to be texting you i'm spending the day by my lonesome.
i knew they had dropped hella hints earlier but i just doubted that they would do such a thing for me. we're just coworkers right? fellow kettles are expensive.
so i go back and forth and decide to cross the bridge anyways, like so long mofos its my day off, yall can cash me at fellow sf 820 Valencia St, San Francisco, CA 94110.
so i'm like driving on the bridge and texting them "oops i'm already in the city sorry" acting dumb and they get all frustrated, thinking the surprise is ruined blablabla.
then i get all insecure and hard on myself, like why do you make it soo difficult on other people to be friends with you? why can't you just let them buy the kettle?
why can't you just let them in????
and now i feel guilty. like i burned down the bay bridge.
"Just Don't Buy Anything Okay", my coworker texts me.
"Oh. Okay."
yeah they got the kettle.
who woulda thought that birthdays could be like this. why must i must ponder loneliness on my birthday.
i guess i had gotten so used to living life on my lonesome that i wasn't expecting anything from anyone. just so ready to buy myself my own birthday gift. blowing candles by my lonesome.
time to make friends.
…
i was so excited to get that japanese chef knife, that fellow ekg matte white kettle,
- so excited to buy my own birthday gift this year.
mom calls me a few days later and asks, "so what do you want for your birthday?"
oh yeah, thanks mom. i send her the chef knife amazon link.
then today, i finally decide to go to the fellow store and drop 150 on the kettle, until i get messages from my coworkers that they want me to come over. just for a little bit.
and i'm like nah this is my day off i'm not even supposed to be texting you i'm spending the day by my lonesome.
i knew they had dropped hella hints earlier but i just doubted that they would do such a thing for me. we're just coworkers right? fellow kettles are expensive.
so i go back and forth and decide to cross the bridge anyways, like so long mofos its my day off, yall can cash me at fellow sf 820 Valencia St, San Francisco, CA 94110.
so i'm like driving on the bridge and texting them "oops i'm already in the city sorry" acting dumb and they get all frustrated, thinking the surprise is ruined blablabla.
then i get all insecure and hard on myself, like why do you make it soo difficult on other people to be friends with you? why can't you just let them buy the kettle?
why can't you just let them in????
and now i feel guilty. like i burned down the bay bridge.
"Just Don't Buy Anything Okay", my coworker texts me.
"Oh. Okay."
yeah they got the kettle.
who woulda thought that birthdays could be like this. why must i must ponder loneliness on my birthday.
i guess i had gotten so used to living life on my lonesome that i wasn't expecting anything from anyone. just so ready to buy myself my own birthday gift. blowing candles by my lonesome.
time to make friends.
…
lonesome
funny how after you say to yourself,
"i have no friends",
4-5 friends visit you at work within the next week.
okay maybe i have friends(?). but we're not close anyways. just coming to visit, then dropping out of my life again.
okay bye.
yeah i know some people.
but are they friends? do they know me?
it was nice to have them visit me but in the grand scope of things, they seem so fleeting and short-lived. reunion with a friend i was once only casual and awkward at best with.
which is okay.
it's not superficial, but just short-lived. one-time feeling.
and then they go home, wherever they come from.
after all that, after summer break ends, who is left for me? who is actually in my life, here, and for the long run?
people may have heard of me, caught faint glimpses. people know that name.
victoria even says they like me.
but who knows me?
who is my friend?
…
"i have no friends",
4-5 friends visit you at work within the next week.
okay maybe i have friends(?). but we're not close anyways. just coming to visit, then dropping out of my life again.
okay bye.
yeah i know some people.
but are they friends? do they know me?
it was nice to have them visit me but in the grand scope of things, they seem so fleeting and short-lived. reunion with a friend i was once only casual and awkward at best with.
which is okay.
it's not superficial, but just short-lived. one-time feeling.
and then they go home, wherever they come from.
after all that, after summer break ends, who is left for me? who is actually in my life, here, and for the long run?
people may have heard of me, caught faint glimpses. people know that name.
victoria even says they like me.
but who knows me?
who is my friend?
…
Saturday, July 13, 2019
qotd ermagerd
"no don't say that... there has to be a way."
…
"but like, anything could happen."
"yeah, i guess so. anything could happen. but i'm not counting on it."
her heart was yearning for me, in place of my own.
…
"why do you look so sad? you're living the dream!"
"oh. really?"
"don't you think you're living the dream?"
"um. i don't really know.
do you know??"
".... yea i think i am living the dream."
"oh. that's good."
…
"funny how your dream city can turn on you and kill your dreams.
it was weird. i usually know what to say but this day, i had no answer for him."
…
"what are your goals?? tell me your goals, short and long term."
"i.. hmm. i'm not sure."
"you don't know?"
"short term.. i mean, i moved into a new place so that's good, right?"
"yeah you right, that's a big thing that you should be proud of and we're all happy for you."
"long term.. i don't know. i guess i didnt really plan much after this. i just want to make it through the year, ya know?"
"that is okay. not knowing."
"i think i just want a friend. that's all i can really think of."
...
"so what are your dreams?"
"what?"
"what are your dreams? your life goals?"
"uhm. i'm not sure how to answer that."
"okay, tell me your realistic life goal, and then your scary, brave, big dream."
"hmm. realistic dream, i guess i'm kinda doing it right now. making a career in coffee and what not."
"okay, tell me your big dream."
...
"you've just been thinking about survival."
"yeah. you're right."
...
"so what's one thing that you think you could give up right now to follow that dream?"
"uhm. idk, i guess i could not do laundry."
lol.
"i can't really afford to follow my dream nowadays."
"no, dont say that... there has to be a way."
her heart was yearning for me, in place of my own.
"anything could happen."
"yeah, anything can happen, but im not counting on it."
"just.. don't give up just yet. there has to be a way."
...
"later, i find out that she wants to be a doctor. it was a dream that she, too, lost hope in, but decided to believe in again very recently.
she's going to pick up classes soon.
ah. i see."
...
"is that okay? is it okay to be just normal?"
...
these were all snippets of things i've heard in the last week and the majority of them happened yesterday. it's kind of weird. 5-6 different conversations with different people, all about the same thing.
i think this will become a story some time soon. like a story not on this blogspot but in my actual blog or something.
dream smol, friends.
baggage
we looked into each other's eyes, our faces close to touching. it was an intimate moment.
she scanned my face, examining in every detail.
after a minute, she asked me,
"can i pluck your eyebrows?? they're so thick."
i raised one at her.
"no."
i turned away, detaching eye contact.
"no one gets to pluck my eyebrows."
"okay."
"no one."
…
she scanned my face, examining in every detail.
after a minute, she asked me,
"can i pluck your eyebrows?? they're so thick."
i raised one at her.
"no."
i turned away, detaching eye contact.
"no one gets to pluck my eyebrows."
"okay."
"no one."
…
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
smol group
i can probably count the number of times i been to church this year with the fingers on my hands.
but it be like that sometimes. barista life is hard.
i went to smol group last night at eric's church and damn, baggage is real.
i remember the last time i tried going to a new church all my myself and it was not pretty. i had to reckon with my past demons, the ones i thought i put down long time ago. i knew i was shy, but this was something else.
social anxiety is a mofo.
i felt powerless. small.
when i showed up to small group last night, it was a constant and active effort not to sink back into that same place of self-pity –and in this christianese version – self-excommunication.
it was conscious battle of wits – with myself – for myself. to avoid sinking back into that hole of isolation and disillusioned comfort inside of myself. to keep myself from picking up the same baggage, one more time.
"that is not me."
i have power. power to say hello, power to ask how you're doing, power to ask more about who you are.
i don't need to wait for you.
you don't think that of me.
i think that of myself, but it's probably not true.
stuff like this,
trying to think it into existence,
ringing in my head,
the entire time,
at small group.
that's the funny thing with inner demons. you may have moved on from them, buried them into the ground, but you can still resurrect them any time you want.
but it be like that sometimes. barista life is hard.
i went to smol group last night at eric's church and damn, baggage is real.
i remember the last time i tried going to a new church all my myself and it was not pretty. i had to reckon with my past demons, the ones i thought i put down long time ago. i knew i was shy, but this was something else.
social anxiety is a mofo.
i felt powerless. small.
when i showed up to small group last night, it was a constant and active effort not to sink back into that same place of self-pity –and in this christianese version – self-excommunication.
it was conscious battle of wits – with myself – for myself. to avoid sinking back into that hole of isolation and disillusioned comfort inside of myself. to keep myself from picking up the same baggage, one more time.
"that is not me."
i have power. power to say hello, power to ask how you're doing, power to ask more about who you are.
i don't need to wait for you.
you don't think that of me.
i think that of myself, but it's probably not true.
stuff like this,
trying to think it into existence,
ringing in my head,
the entire time,
at small group.
that's the funny thing with inner demons. you may have moved on from them, buried them into the ground, but you can still resurrect them any time you want.
Friday, July 5, 2019
fuck money
just posted my first thing and wow, it's so satisfying to just throw shit out there without looking back. no edits, proofreads, and anything. even in hs, i spent hours editing my trash blog posts lol.
i guess no one's looking anyways.
well i realized how much more i have to say whilst writing post_000001 so here i am again (i guess this is how these things work).
tbh i dunno if im supposed to be an artist anymore, because life (wupwup). there was once a time when i could do life and still create content, cultivate my creator self, blablabla but i realzie that there's this version of life called "student life" and how far apart it is from "real life".
when i'm not working, i just want to melt and anime because work is life and if i don't, i'll be broke and back to parent's home, and gg.
okay that's not entirely true, but there are a lot of other things that take the place of creating and writing stories. ie, laundry and people i care about.
then at that point, i'm done.
i work so hard just to barely afford my current apt and if i slack, i'll be not eating meals for a bit. so i feel like i need to conserve the little energy i have left from work to spend it on the most important things, ie. people and laundry.
maybe if i was a loner, i'd have time for art.
well i was sort of a loner in high school. hm.
the point is, i don't get how working young adults are supposed to make a living and do art at the same time. how do you afford to be an artist?
i guess some people just make hella bank but even if they do, they work 40+ hour weeks and they dont have time or energy for art. and if they do.. i don't know anyone who does. hm.
it doesn't help that i work as a barista, making minimum wage.
i'm starting to be okay with not making a career out of my art, but can i just do it for funs? because i care about it? because it's a part of who i am?
it seems i just have to suppress that part of myself for a while. i guess i can't afford to be myself.
wup wup.
welp review
feelin pretty inspired rn.
dreamville just dropped revenge iii, jaden just released erys, erys, erys (deluxe), and erys (deluxe),
and i just read through my friend isaac's high school blogspot.
i write storeis on my wordpress but i don't post much because i feel like there's this pressure to edit proofread, grammar check and curate content and polish and its this whole process that takes forever but sometimes, i just wanna put stuff out there. i just wanna drop 4 copies of the same album on spotify (which one am i supposed to listen to lol).
sometimes i don't post for like a good 9 months and fans be like when the album drop bro
tip hit me up with tweet, said "whatchu waitin on"
and i have plenty to say, just not enough time to go thru that whole creative process and bla (artists be broke tho, need that green). so hence this blogspot.
maybe i don't have what it takes to be a short-story writer, or the world just sucks and money is dum, but i can always write a hs ranty blog about my moody sadboi feels.
sometimes, life is just one big wup wup 2-star welp review, and you need some good lofi beats to study/relax to. you just need something to express your internal arm flailing and to quell your existential dread, etc.
so here's to ai-ya mood, and highschool blogger angst.
#wupwup
dreamville just dropped revenge iii, jaden just released erys, erys, erys (deluxe), and erys (deluxe),
and i just read through my friend isaac's high school blogspot.
i write storeis on my wordpress but i don't post much because i feel like there's this pressure to edit proofread, grammar check and curate content and polish and its this whole process that takes forever but sometimes, i just wanna put stuff out there. i just wanna drop 4 copies of the same album on spotify (which one am i supposed to listen to lol).
sometimes i don't post for like a good 9 months and fans be like when the album drop bro
tip hit me up with tweet, said "whatchu waitin on"
and i have plenty to say, just not enough time to go thru that whole creative process and bla (artists be broke tho, need that green). so hence this blogspot.
maybe i don't have what it takes to be a short-story writer, or the world just sucks and money is dum, but i can always write a hs ranty blog about my moody sadboi feels.
sometimes, life is just one big wup wup 2-star welp review, and you need some good lofi beats to study/relax to. you just need something to express your internal arm flailing and to quell your existential dread, etc.
so here's to ai-ya mood, and highschool blogger angst.
#wupwup
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