Cardboard boxes

I’ve done this once too many times. Go through clothes that hold the most memories and give them away. This misfit shirt I used to wear to all of the bars on Capitol Hill. Black ripped jeans that I’d pair with everything. Misses doesn’t-take-life-too-serious, is finally getting serious. I wish I didn’t hurt the people that were there — and I wish I didn’t run into the people that hurt me — but I guess that’s how I learned.

That’s how I earned a living. Those were the days and odd hours of the nights.

I’ll always miss him. In fact, I may return.. or maybe…I’ll keep riding the train until I hit every spot.

Goodbye old bedroom door, you used to open in the middle of the night by the force of nature.

Good bye old rug, you constantly reminded someone about how young I am. How young I was…

Goodbye old painting. You will always hold a place in my heart — a love that was like gold — one that I couldn’t buy.

Goodbye old bath tub, you let me soak in you, smoke in you and write in you.

They say letting go of old things before a new year will give you a good push of luck for the next.

My memories have found new homes in cardboard boxes…

however…

It seems..

that the ones that hold no mass are the hardest to pack up and leave behind.

Pay attention to your dreams

I’m beginning to wonder if any of the people around me take the dreams they have seriously?

Some of mine are so detailed and well constructed that I remember them for years.

When I was younger I always had dreams of escaping into unknown lands. Beautifully enchanted and empty.

When I was 8 years old, I had this dream that was located in the woods. I rolled down a hill by stumbling. Upon my accidental arrival to the bottom, I found a beautiful land of water with white sand. I’d fantasize about this place until I saw it in real life.

Shelter Island, New York August 2017

I was hiking with my partner and suddenly I began to have symptoms of deja vu. How did I know this place so well? It was my first time physically being there. I announced my thoughts to him. He didn’t react much, in fact, knowing him the way I do now, he probably put it in his “she’s nuts” category.

I do believe dreams play an important role in our daily lives. There are psychotherapists that encourage their clients to write down their dreams first thing in the morning. When it’s time for their therapy session, both the therapist and the patient begin to transcribe its meaning.

Eventually, after many therapy sessions the client becomes connected with a level of awareness that heals them. Our dreams play a significant role in interpreting our emotions and current states.

More recently, my dreams have become poetic puzzles. I had one two weeks ago where the crowd asked my partner and I to get molds of our bodies together. I wanted to break out of mine. A few days after that dream, I began to attempt to destroy that relationship. Interestingly enough, the molds represented everyone else’s idea of perfect. However, the true nature of our relationship (at the time) was far from it.

I’m sure I haven’t discovered anything new. I may have more time than the average person to dive deep into these subjects.

My mother used to tell me: “don’t tell people about your dreams, especially the bad ones.”

She feared that if I spoke of them, they’d happen. Maybe there is truth to that. Instead, I’d like to think that when we discuss our dreams to our lovers, friends and family we can gain insight into what happens in their subconscious.

If my mother was reading this, she’d definitely tell me to stop writing publicly about my dreams. It’s none of their business. That’s what she’d say. Haha.

Sky dive

I haven’t been updating much — and when I do it’s something melancholic. Truth be told, I’m okay. I’ve had two readers reach out to me and say they’ve missed my presence on this blog.

The thing is, I’ve dedicated most of my time to writing in my journals. One journal is dedicated to morning pages and the other one is for this screenplay. The third one is for notes and poems. I’m learning that practice is where it starts.

I always looked at the people around me and thought they were so amazing for picking up a craft or starting a business. I never thought I could do it. And I’m sort of doing it. It feels so new to me. For a long time I lived as if I was in the shadows of everyone else’s dreams.

Slowly but surely the walls around me are breaking down. The very ones that blocked my views. Things seem clearer. All the while, I’m having difficulty with maintaining my mood. A simple fix is a 4-6 hour psychiatric assessment and a golden pill that makes me “normal” like everyone else.

I’m afraid to try it but I’ve done more terrible things in life than try something that might help.

When I think things through, I realize that I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships. All my life I found humans with internal complexities so beautiful until I became one. My mind has been a living hell — justified by the moments of bliss.

It’s another phase in a life that’s not guaranteed. I’m jumping out of an airplane tomorrow. Hopefully the wind can knock some sense into me before I get involved with modern medicine.

6:28

I’m happy to be living but I also can’t wait to die.

A dark cloud has entered my forecast and it’s slowly destroying everything in sight.

Here it is… the life-death-life cycle. The ‘create-maintain-destroy’ … why am I like this?

I’m in the passenger seat. I’m trying to convince myself that I am the driver.

Why can’t I just be normal and not run on e(motion) like everyone else?

What has this life turned in to?

I remember as a teenager I’d cast spells. I didn’t have much and I wasn’t allowed to experience anything. I’d sit in my room and I’d come up with times and dates that something great would happen.

I came upon the numbers 628.

So far, it has meant absolutely nothing. Years have gone by and the numbers still sticks out. At one point they represents hope … and now… well… now they represent the loss of.

I hope I am doing the right thing.

No’s, hoes and bros.

I’m working against a lot of the “no’s” I’ve heard in life.

Specifically the ‘no… you can’t do this.”

The number of rejected powers have been inherited by a long line of ancestral oppression.

I’m learning that the power of meditation is something I can no longer neglect of I want to posses the power of self.

It’s Thursday night. I am trying to make progress by highlighting words that I can’t define in magazine articles. I continue to re-read the article over and over again until it become engraved.

A lot is going on in the world today. Women are continuing to stand against abusers and their sympathizers. A war with many battles.

My mind races from one thought to another. Ultimately it gets constricted into my typical final thought: “what is all of this telling me? — what is my purpose?”

Do I run free and into the wind — find God, discover talents of healing and other aspects of the journey to enlightenment?

Do I join those in the battle and push to fight a fight that may or may not open doors for those who have also heard so many “no’s” in their lives?

Do I display images and words to a wide audience to help them understand these narratives of our world?

What do I do? I feel the utter confusion and emptiness that Sylvia Plath consistently projected in her existential writings.

I do not blame women like Melania Trump — giving up and settling for the perfect pair of Christian Loubitons seems more simple than fussing over what the right thing to do is… unfortunately for her… she has to face herself through the eyes of a man that reflects her own greed. And he’s not pretty…

The last option I have is to ‘just get a job and stay out of it.’ I could have a flock of children and hopefully raise them to be stronger and smarter than I.

The human condition… one that has no right answer… just a bunch of people telling us what we can or can not do.

The ‘no’s’ in life. How much power am I giving them? Perhaps… it’s just my own fear giving it power. Hm.

You know how to make money but you don’t know how to make love. Your houses look like museums or hotels, not homes.

I read a quote the other day that said: “He gave you $20 and I gave you $10. He had $100 and I only had $10.”

Within the past few weeks I’ve felt a clearing coming on. Many people that I gave my all to have doubted me. One being a friend who was secretly in love with me and another being a man that kept loving me a secret.

I’ve gained clarity by dumping my vices and building myself. Signing up for classes…now that I have the time.

Connecting with friends and meeting my neighbors.

Create my routine and planning trips.

I’ve decided to go back to work and rely only on myself.

It’s not easy. But I have to survive.

It’s funny because the whole time I was looking up to pray, he was right above me.

I’m just hoping he’s more than a lesson this time.