And There Goes 26 Ladies and Gentlemen

As I review the fact that myself and the age of 26 only have a few more days together, I have only began to realize how much older I really am feeling.  Not in the sense of being afraid of the age I am becoming but instead being very satisfied with my progress as a human being. There were years were I was not happy with myself and there were years where I loathed myself and now the years are only full of appreciation and love for who I am and what I have been through, survived and come out better from.  It's as if each year I walk through a fire only to get to the other side a little bit brighter and stronger instead of burnt and destroyed.  

I find myself now getting excited about the strangest things.  Complimentary champagne at hotels, bamboo wood floors in my apartment, finding the perfect winter coat.  There are still those childish pieces of me but they are not pettiness or jealousy, they are only positive lingerings of my youth - creativity, imagination, refusal to be told that I am not able to do something I wish to do.  I am turning new leaves where I look at decisions I have made and I am able to be proud of them, even if I regretted them.  I am able to brush things off and truly mean that they have not harmed me, instead of the destruction I used to allow to myself.  When things hurt me now, my perspective is to just continue - not to revel in the pain and suffering.  I no longer admire any sadness or darkness.  I only admire strength and courage and truth.  

Lies no longer pour out of my mouth.  Twists and turns and omissions and falsities don't even enter my brain matter anymore, let alone escape from my lips.  I used to lie as not to hurt anyone and now I realize that all I did was hurt those I was trying to protect.  It was no way to be and at times I feel ashamed that the lesson did not reach me sooner.  But coming from a Father who only lied, it was a hard habit to break.  As evil as it sounds to my ears, I would much rather now bring pain to someone I love through honesty than to cover it up and pretend it is not there.  

It is remarkable to me how much of ourselves we change and how much of us, at the root of it all stays the same.  Even if it's different versions of the same. I recognize so much of my younger and former self in my current state but I know that I have been shaped into something that that younger and former self would not believe to be me.  There are so many bits and pieces of ourselves that we leave along the way, traits and aspects you thought you would never shed that were dropped long ago, with or without realization.  Growth is so wonderful and amazing and even at the times that it pains and pricks and aches like nothing else, it is still the only reason to live.  

As they always say, you are the one that you have to live with - there is no point trying to love or do or be anything if you do not love yourself.  And when I die alone, the only thing I hope I have is love for who I was.  And for everyone and every moment that made it possible.  

Scales of Change

There are certain times in my life where I have felt like this before.  It is not a déjà vu, it is not a likely reoccurrence.  It is something far too familiar, although never exactly the same.
It is a shedding of ones skin, a metamorphosis of unmeasurable growth.  Painful growth.  I don't know anything about snakes.  I don't know how it feels for them when their skin slowly detaches from their scales, when they slide slowly out and away from the shell that once harbored their body.  I'll never know how it feels for them, for I cannot ask.  If I ever could, I wouldn't hesitate to.
I do know, however, how it feels for me.  It is a mixture; satisfying and debliatating.  Parts of me want to grab it and rip it from me, careless of what might by lost in the process.  While the other parts of me wish to hold on, as long as possible to the skin that I came to feel so uncomfortably comfortable in.  It doesn't make sense, yet it exists still - a desire that is hard to overcome.   If I were a snake, it is almost as if I would want to pick up my shredded skin, fold it up and put it in a safe and sound place, where I could come back and visit it from time to time. To tell it that I didn't mean to shed it, that I just had to.  That, that's just the way it is.  The way it had to be.  But that is not the way it works.  Eventually, the skin degrades.  It disappears into the soil.  It vanishes from all tanigability.  How could I ever find it again?  Would I want to?
Again, this familiar feeling.  The stretching, the pulling.  Flashback to my nine year old self, sitting awake in bed; knees and ankles aching from the growth.  The bones strengthening, hardening, moving.  Teeth falling out only for new ones to break through.  First hair cuts, first scars, first sprains.  Everything so new.  And here I am, forever later on - feeling the same.  This time, nothing new.  Only similar.  Only comparative.  I've been here thousands of times but never before.  Closing my eyes wishing for relief and only finding more.  Some would scream for it all to stop, to halt, to cease and yet, I welcome it - like a nightmare that bares gifts.  Like a horror story with a happy end.

Separate thought:
My heart drops, it aches, it flows, it breaks.  I sigh, I cry, I smile and repeat.  It's as if you want the cycle to end, to come to a stable and solid conclusion - but, do you?  Do I?  The back and forth and up and down and side to side, who would I be without it?  A straight line?  A flat line?  That's sounds miserable.

My friend recently told me "27 is a game changer".  I'm not 27 just yet but I will be approaching it soon.  Before I didn't believe her.  I figured, oh, that's probably all relative - that's just your experience.  But here I am, getting closer and feeling the changes.  This game of mine, although tedious and treterous is in fact changing.  Into what?  I am not 100% sure but I am getting a pretty good idea.

Shed skin.  Shed.

The Ill, The Illest, The Illness

I feel physically sick today. I'm not sure what or why or how but my body does not like it and I can feel it whispering death wishes into my ears.  I haven't been sick for over 3 years, I haven't called out or stayed home from work in over 4 years.  It just doesn't happen.  Money, my constant motivation - what would I do without you?

I'm not actually sick.  I have no cold, no symptoms, no nothing.  But my stomach twists and turns with pain - it feels like there are little bubbles playing dodgeball with my insides.  Some sort of boxing match that I didn't facilitate.  I didn't eat anything out of the ordinary, I didn't drink anything out of the ordinary, so who knows.  It subsides for a few hours and then comes back to remind me that my stomach has never been a very happy place.  Poor stomach.  Poor me.  And now my bottom left wisdom tooth is back at it again this week - growing in more and more, slowly and painfully.  "Get it out", everyone says.  "Fuck off", I say.  I will not give up food for a week if I don't have to.  I won't even do it for the Vicodin.  So there's that.

I saw this quote on Twitter this week.  Actually, I don't even know if it is a quote or something that this very beautiful Mexican stripper from Las Vegas actually came up with.  Don't ask, she followed me from Tumblr.  Regardless...

"You never know how strong you are until strong is your only choice".

Talk about my life summed up by a stripper.  There has never been any choice except strong.  It doesn't matter what comes my way, weakness is never an option.  Doubt, regret, remorse - yes of course but weakness, never.  Weakness is a dark hole that many never crawl out of.  If you let yourself sit there too long, you don't know up from down, left from right.  It's a pitiful existence - one's life is too much of a miracle to sit in weakness, to drip of darkness and sorrow. Pull your fucking self together and figure your shit out - not for God's sake.  Fuck him.  For your own sake.

And in this moment, I am the strongest I have ever been - despite all of my downsides right now.  Despite hemorrhaging confusion and doubt.  Despite my cold insides, despite my anger, despite my sadness - my heart still beats and my brain still pushes to move forward with more strength than should be capable in my small body.  I could lift a car off a human being, I could fight an army with no weapons, I could swim across an ocean but I cannot detangle my neurons, I cannot untwist my distortions, I cannot.  Not right now.

Yet, you never know what I might be capable of - eventually, in time.  Because all my life is, is a consistant growth - a benign tumor on this world that will fade away as quickly as I came to be about.  Growing hurts and it pains and it wounds and it scars - it leaves marks and it leaves memories but there is no way to stop.  There is no way to move anywhere but forward.  Fools think they can change what has happened when in reality all one has any ability of changing is what is ahead and how you want to approach - with caution or with haste.

If you fight life, it fights you right back.  It's all about rolling with the punches.  Every time you get knocked down, keep going - don't try and knock life down.. you will never.  Nor should you.

No it ain't my style, no it ain't my style.

Dear Los Angeles, 

My city of angels, my city of nightmares.  You know how much I love you, right? You have helped to make me into the person that I am. I am rough and tough, like your prostitutes, gang members and police shoot outs.  I am soft and serene, like your beaches and breeze.  

My heart is made up of palm trees, power lines, sunsets and dirty streets. My veins are made up of freeway lanes; the 90 to the 405 to the 10, to the 110, to the 101.  My white blood cells are headlights, my red blood cells are brake lights; stuck in traffic morning, afternoon and night. When I smile, it is your sunshine and glamour.  When you cut me, I bleed purple and gold.  

You are a tragically wonderful concrete jungle.  You make my heart melt and then you make it break.  When my heart cracks, sand falls to the floor. When my skin cracks, salt water pours.  Your sun makes my skin bronze and my hair blonder. You make us all beautiful by association.  You sparkle and gleam and blind me with your allure.  All the while, you suck me dry -- like a vampire always thirsty for more. 

We have had this love/hate affair for so long.  Too long.  We have done this destructive dance of drugs, drinking and rock n'roll.  Of distractions and momentary motivations that pass as quickly by as the cars speeding to get anywhere, as quickly as possible. We have stayed up for days together, we have not slept, not rested.  We have had adventures unmeasurable, that have turned into experiences and opportunities that I can never forget.  You have taught me lessons of incomparable value, shown me things that exist no where else.

And you have tried to break me, destroy me, tie me up so I will never leave you.  You have convinced me I am nothing without you.  Every time I have escaped your clutches, you have lured me back with our outstanding moments, your one of a kind qualities, your culture and diversity. Whenever I get far enough from you, your waves grow hands and find me, to pull me back into your sea.  You drown me then breathe life back into me.  You abuse me only to console me.  Your lights, your buildings, your streets, they always scream for me to come back.  Your sadly blue, brown, grey sky tells me it will be bluer upon my return.  Your rains cry my name whenever I leave, your rivers run dry. 

It's going to be different this time, my love.  This time, when I leave, you will not haunt me.  You will be able to scream as loudly as you wish but my ears will be deaf to your pleas.  You might be my first love, my only true love but I am ready to end this dance of ours and free myself once and for all.  I will be back, from time to time. I will think of you often and dearly.  I will cry for you like you cry for me but I will not come crawling back like all these times before.  I will hold it down for you, I will represent you, I will take your teachings and make you proud. 

Yet, it's time for you to let me go.  I am a drifter that goes where life takes me.  For now it will be Portland again, who you will have to share me with.  Portland and it's serenity, beauty and kindness.  With it's ease, it will take me in and hold me tight. Portland picks up the pieces that I always lose to you.  Portland completes me.  From there, who knows where I will go; bigger cities, smaller cities, East Coast cities, other countries - we will never know.

What I do want you to know is that you will always be my #1.  I will always be back to see you, I will always thank you, I will always have you inked into my skin. Will you please always be there when I need you? Will you please stay the same? Will you please understand when I need to leave you again? Until then: Stay Golden, LA. 

I will miss you.  

Nothingness

I am a writer, who doesn't write as much as I wish to.
I am a dancer, who now only dances alone.
I am a worker, who works too much.
I am a dreamer, who is stuck in a perpetual dream.
I am a sinner, who doesn't believe in sin.
I am a poet, who feels more pain than happiness.
I am a friend, who puts others before myself.
I am a counselor, who tells people what they need to hear.
I am a student, who is constantly learning.
I am a believer, who believes anything is possible.
I am a moderator, who is always trying to find balance.
I am an observer, who sees everything.
I am a giver, who often gives too much.
I am a listener, who may or may not always listen.
I am a saint, who is capable of good.
I am an artist, who creates art through living.
I am a scientist, who questions everything.
I am an explorer, who is always in pursuit.
I am a teacher, who has many lessons to share.
I am a force of nature, not to be reckoned with.

I am a girl, who has too many feelings.
I am a girl, who doesn't care enough.
I am a mess, who can't always clean it up.
I am a wreck, who never knows what has happened.
I am a bitch, who never thinks before speaking.
I am a coward, who does not always take action.
I am a person, who makes mistakes.

I am a human, who is a contradiction.
I am a human, who contains multitudes.
I am a human, who makes wrong decisions.
I am a human, who can judge unfairly.
I am a human, who is capable of evil.
I am a human, who holds hate in their heart.

I am a human, who is not perfect.
I am a human.

And as a human, I am capable of being both powerful and pitiful.

When Fun Becomes Sad

So, I've been watching a lot of LA Ink lately.  Mostly because I put it on out of boredom but it has slowly become something I thoroughly enjoy watching.   I used to not be a huge fan of Kat Von D.  When she first appeared on Miami Ink ages ago, I somewhat liked her humbleness and talent and rough exterior but once she left and came back to Hollywood, I lost a lot of respect for her.  Why?  I have no good reason at all.  I guess mostly because she quickly befriended Jeffree Star and I hate everything that involves him.  I mean seriously, fuck that dude.  Anyway, over the course of watching her show, I now have nothing but respect for her – despite her choices in men, friends, or what have you.  She has the best understanding of what a tattoo can mean to someone and how important a tattoo artist truly can be to someone who needs someone to mark their body with milestones.  Not everyone gets that – especially people who don’t like tattoos or don’t want them.  But seeing her love for tattoos and those close to her has melted my heart.

It seems as if I can’t get through an entire episode without tearing up about something.  It never has to do with Kat or her life but it always has to do with someone getting a memorial tattoo of someone important that they have lost, whether it be recently or years and years later.  I don’t care whether it’s a cat, dog, bird, Mom, Dad, baby, Brother, Sister, friend, wife, boyfriend, husband, girlfriend – it doesn't matter, it makes me cry. 

There has always been something about the fragility of life that has haunted me and comforted me at the same time.  It’s so precarious.  The fact that at any time, anyone can be taken from you or you can be taken from them is just so devastatingly unfair, yet beautiful.  It’s this delicate dance between never taking anything for granted yet, being human - often finding yourself taking things for granted unknowingly.  It’s impossible to go about your daily life while constantly reminding yourself that one day, one minute, one second, it could all be over.  To think that way would be paralyzing.  At least speaking for myself – which is what I always only ever do. 

Getting off track.  The reason I’m writing this is because of something someone said on LA Ink last night.  It was this man, who I guess owns Cord magazine who came in to get an addition to an already existing tattoo he had done by Kat many years earlier.  Originally, he had just gotten a portrait of his mother on his forearm and now he wanted to add a wolf next to her – I guess she liked wolves, I don’t know.  That part doesn't matter.  What mattered to me is that he started talking about when his Mom had died, before he came in for the portrait years ago.  All he said was, “when my Mother died, there was no one to call”.  It was the most simple of sentences but it meant so much to me.  I related to him instantly and heavily. 

Now, I still have some family left and many amazing friends by my side but absolutely nothing that compares to my Mom.  No relationship will ever be able to replace it, in any form or version.  I have no grandparents left, a Father that I don’t care to associate with often, a Sister who has her own wonderful family and two Aunts that are supportive but distant.   Whenever something is wrong, I call my Mom.  Whenever I’m having a bad day, I call my Mom.  Whenever I need advice, I call my Mom.  Whenever I need help, I call my Mom.  Whenever I feel like I don’t want to take one more breath of air, I call my Mom.  If I had an amazing day, I call my Mom.  If something hilarious happened during my day, I call my Mom.  I call her every single day, even if I have no reason at all. 

I call my Mom.

I talk to everyone.  I talk to my friends, I talk to my boyfriend, I talk to my sister, I talk to my co-workers.  But those connections will never measure.  When I thought about the fact that when the time comes for my Mom to no longer be here with me, I will not call anyone.  There will be no one to call.  There will be no one that will be able to talk me down from that loss.  There will be no one who’s words could help.  There will be nothing left but emptiness.  A void that will never be filled. 

And that thought alone, frightens me to death.  It brings tears to my eyes, even now.  I owe my entire life to that woman and one day, my life won’t feel right without her.  Insurmountable loss. 

The only thing that makes it okay is knowing that while she was here, I told her everything.  I never left anything out.  I never stayed mad.  I never got angry or had resentment.  I never went a day without telling her I loved her. I never went a day without letting her know about my life – how I am, who I am.  I’ll know that she knew me best and that she knew that I cherished her.  And that those thoughts alone will get me through the pain. 

This is the woman who tried for 6 years to have a child, had 2 miscarriages, had to go through many fertility treatments to have me.  And I stuck.  In Vitro.  This is the woman who put up with my Father through all his bullshit and raised me on a single Mother salary, with no help.  This is the woman who taught me to love myself and what it is to be a good, kind, balanced person.  This is the woman who, without, I would not be.  

Two Thousand Thirteen

I always do this. I always, always do this. Start a journal/blog. Write, write, write and then stop. Then months go by.  Then I realize that months have gone by.  Then I make excuses as to why I haven't written, which goes on for a few weeks and then, like today, I finally sit down slightly determined to write something that is worth writing about.

It's 2013. Can we just think about that for a minute? Yeah, that's fucking frightening. I know it's just another year, another 12 months, another 52 weeks and all that but shit man.  I was thinking today about how I didn't make a resolution for 2013 - not that resolutions are like important in any way but they have been fun and beneficial for me the last few years. I mean, who doesn't like accomplishing goals? Fun shit.

January 2008, I vowed to never do any habit-forming, addictive drugs ever again. Best decision of my life.

January 2009, I decided to right a lot of wrongs that I did in the past.  I wrote a few people letters, I cleaned up some things, I got back into school finally and did well, while I could stand it.  Almost got my degree
complete but ended up working at the hospital and that eventually took priority over school.  Which I still don't regret.  Someday I'll finish. Or maybe I won't.  Not tripping.

January 2010, I decided to stop smoking cigarettes. Now it's been 3 years and I can't even imagine why I ever smoked them in the first place. Sure, I spent the first 3 months of quitting being disastrously sick but that  only made accomplishing that goal even better.

January 2011, I decided to lease a car. It wasn't a very thought out plan.  In fact, I wish that I would have test driven more cars because turns out, a 2011 Honda Civic isn't really as great as the old Honda Civic's from the late 90s-early 2000s.  Who would have thought? I hate my gas mileage, I hate the way it drives but I do appreciate that it gets me from place to place and if it ever breaks down, I don't have to pay for it.  Sure, I might have to cough up a couple hundred dollars every month but shit, it's worth it. Overall, good decision - no matter how rushed. Now, 2 years later, I only have 1 more year and then I get to trade it in for something else! Anything else! I will never purchase a car ever again, in life. Lease, lease, lease!

January 2012, I decided to make myself exercise 3-4 times a week. This one seemed like a real LONG shot. Me and the word exercise had never really been used in the same sentence.  Sure, I'd done my fair share of home Pilates videos while my dog  looked at me like I was insane.  I also didn't count dancing around the house like an idiot as real exercise, although, I do that a lot.  I'd never done anything diligently or routinely or even remotely on the regular.  So I gave it a shot.  I started off trying to run in the
evenings, after work.  Key word, trying.  I'm not going to lie, I am the worst runner on this planet.  This bitch can't run.  After about five minutes of continuous running, I get a cramp, my legs get hot and itchy and my head starts hurting. Not my thing.  I can run during sports, I can run away from like a murderer or something but if no one is making me, I am not running.  So I took a hint from the Nike "do what works for you" commercials and I started walking.  Brisk walking. Started off with a mile, 4 times a week. Then, slowly, I really started to enjoy it.  I found different routes to take around my neighborhood, I started walking further and for longer and now, it's one of my favorite things that I do. I walk 3.5 miles, 3-4 times  a week.  I also made a deal with myself that before I can open a beer at night, I have to do 300 crunches.  Now THAT is what I call motivation.  So for 365 days, I have done 300 crunches - that's 109,500 crunches in 2012.
I call that a fucking accomplishment.

But 2013, what do I do? How do I make myself better? A few ideas have crossed my mind - think before I speak, stop letting other drivers piss me off so much, actually like learn how to cook, travel more? Sure, I'd love to do all those things but at the same time, I don't make resolutions that I can't guarantee in some way or form. So, I've decided that this year, my resolution is to make my life into what I really want it to be.  This involves many different facets, many different decisions, some major changes and many different  things to consider. All in all, my goal is to focus on what I want, make it happen and make myself the happiest I can be.

SO THERE 2013, LET'S FUCKING DO THIS.