The Ramblings of Daily Life

Words stuck at the tip of my tongue. Anger, anguish, fear. Struck is the whipped cream on a cocktail of emotional pain. I am a popped balloon. You compared the two of us. Your sister’s eyes said so much. Deep down I knew.  Deep down I knew. I wanted to be righteous. I waited, I chased, I fought to the acerbic end. Ripped to shreds, waiting For a scrap of pity from you. Eyes glued shut with yesterday's tears. I wanted to appease you, So I could hate you properly. Violent voices sprung at the ring of my phone.   Cowered into A corner, I leapt up and ran. I threw things.  I tore away. I vowed never again, never again. History I can’t rewind. I see myself in you, baby. I had so much to learn. It's going to hurt like hell. Solitude, rugged individualism, A wall so high no heart could climb, My antidote. Let's stop the doors from closing off. You're worthy, you're worthy. You must be kind.  Grow humbly, with bright eye...

When I was younger, I used to play The Sims to escape reality.   I would create my characters, build them houses, get them married and have kids.   To what should be nobody's surprise, after a couple of days, months, years in Sim time, I would get tired of the family and move on to a new one.   The fun part was the creation, the newness, the God like powers afforded to you in the interactive simulation game.   I spent many of my weekends engaged in this universe, safe and removed from reality.   During this time, the PC was conduit for me to escape.   Later came MySpace, Discussion Forums.   I think most of us had our favorites.   I used to watch American Idol religiously, and I would participate in Idolforums (I think they had 18,000 users).   We had our own culture and way of conversing.   I even taught myself how to make "blendies" and "avatars" in Adobe Photoshop (is that what they still call them?).   At the time, these dis...

Growing up in the Information age, discovering my newfound sexuality, and going through all of the normal craziness that most teenagers do, I spent many years trying to project myself outwardly as "someone".   The problem was, this was hardly a genuine projection.   It was essentially a mask I wore for external validation, a façade to please others in spite of myself.   Most of my childhood, I was extremely introverted, and I ate whatever I wanted.   Food, social media, and computer games were drugs I used to deal with my feelings of loneliness or dejection.   I also didn't care much about what I looked like.   Once I started putting a little more energy into what I was eating, I was able to lose some weight.   To no surprise, some people started to pay more attention to me.     In college, I used to eat a s'mores pop-tart and drink coffee every morning.   I fell in love with the selfie and stopped using my DSLR.   Also...

Feeling asleep from the honeycomb Peeling the crust from my eyes each day. Coffee like a mud pit, waking slowly. Each day is a little experiment. We are taught that nothing good lasts. I spend each day spinning, wrestling Meaning to confront a few things. Deciding what means what to me. Wrapping myself up I see, can I appreciate these curves I have matured into.   Leaping into a well of uncertainty.   Resisting the urge to comply with your standards.   Sinking myself into a puddle of wanting, showing off, pedantically searching for meaning. Ridding myself of little things and exchanging them for currency.   Making time to write down the tiny nightmares and inconsistencies.   Wondering how it may feel to embrace you, to have one thing I have not. Wondering if and when I’d be ready.   Indulging In the thoughts of you.   Emotions radiating from my touch while they fall on deaf ears.

We all need convictions.  We can’t recall the past correctly, so we fill in the gaps.  We can’t predict the future, so we imagine.  I would never give up my imagination for anything.   The fact that I still have the ability to dream is the biggest blessing.   However, I must not confuse dream with prophecy. I vacillated back and forth among various living situations in the last several years.   I rented by myself, with roommates, in high-end communities, low end communities, lived at home.   Changing my environment was one way in which I reset myself for a fresh beginning.   Every time I thought about purchasing a home, I could not make up my mind about what I wanted.   A nice townhome in the city, a fixer upper in the burbs, a house in the country?   I let everyone else’s opinions shift my attitude towards what I wanted back and forth.   I toured a bunch of different places, but I seemed to always find an issue so...

I am writing this after having gourmet steak tacos and homemade banana pudding cooked in front of my eyes by my roommate, Jacob.   Seriously, the three medium rare steak tacos, with skillet cooked fresh salsa bathing in cilantro and lime juice and homemade lime crema on a fluffy tortilla bed was pretty delightful.   As I wait for my banana pudding to cool so I can enjoy the slightly soggy Nilla wafers among the delectable banana pudding, I am writing this entry. I’ve had a drama free roommate for the past year and it’s been fantastic.   Honestly, it was nothing like I expected.   When I first moved home after college, I was elated to get into my first apartment in the Southend, which was where the gays had polled was the homeland.   I am happy to report I couldn’t spend more than one year in a single apartment.   I even switched units in the same apartment to a smaller studio to address my insatiable desire for change (the unit was literally across th...

Sometimes, I am asked “how are you still single?”   Is it fantasy or is it fallacy?   My first reaction is always to recoil at being complimented in any way, shape or form.   At some point, I learned to brush away compliments (but that is another story).   I am definitely trying to un(re)-learn that behavior.   Accepting a compliment is affirmation.   What right do I have to deny myself of that?   I digress. Of course, this statement follows me around, mostly because I am keenly aware of the fact that I am single.   I feel like Hester Prynne walking around with the “S” label, but of course, this label is only in my head (purposely overstated).   In fact, I’ve probably felt this way for about, I don’t know, seven years.   That is how long it’s been since I’ve been in a “relationship”. I am cynical.   The first thing I feel when I see the constant gloating on social media from couples is to dismiss that as the “st...