convo

My sister.  She told me that I had a core of awesomeness that I haven't even touched.  I have everything going for me, I just need to stop being a coward and tap into it and be great.  I see her that way.  Only I see that she is tapping into it.  I love her.  We are so similar.  I love our honest, loving connection.

I'm currently obsessed with this song:

Where life is perfect.

Go to Marz

Not so good.  Poor tests.  Poor bread count.  Scraping bottom and I don't want to know what's underneath.  Not so good.  Today.
New. Venlafaxine.  So far really good.  Good placebo.  Placebo effect.  Effective.  New spark.  New.

So carry on.

As for everything else.  I forgot what I wanted to say.  House clean, except for the papers.  The papers that have been there since six years ago.  Or something.
"But you didn't have to cut me off."  Stuck in my head.  Great song.  I don't want to get used to this certain kind of sadness.  Not the end, not always the end.
"Hold me like your money."

What if I had fallen in?

What do you get when you ask Angry Angela to tell her sister Hysterical Hillary to inform Fatty Felicia that she cannot have Jack in the Box tonight?  They are triplets, just turned 15 years old, it's that time of month.  Yeah, welcome to my head.
I slept in until way too late and then did homework like a marathon runner with brief water and pee breaks.
Jump to me at the gym and trying.
Take out the recycling.
I was in a daze all day today and still feel like it.  While I was at the gym, I thought about just accepting that the daze was the new life.  I hope not.  I don't like it.
I do like the silk robe.  But it's about too hot these days.  Grr.  I'm over the Phoenix summer.

Easter passed over

He woke up, 7:30 bright and early.  It was a new thing for him, to wake up so early; early since just a few weeks earlier crawling out of bed before 9 was a feat of greatest proportions.  Immediately thoughts of the movie the previous night played in his mind's eye: Catniss' expression when Peeta didn't want to pretend, his look into her eyes on the train home after The Games.
Shower.
Clean up some clutter.  Still not the desk.  Never the desk.  Last place on earth to get organized.  Cleaning merely meant putting the piles of paper elsewhere in the room, on a seat, floor, anywhere but on the glass desk top.
Oatmeal, coffee.  Not in that order.
Watch a movie of Argentine origin.  Let's call it Plan B.  The movie was great, good-ish.  Okay, he liked it.  He liked how there was a lot of "thinking time" in the movie.  Lots to think about.  People don't just rush in.  Some do, but they are fools.  These characters thought a lot about where they were going.  Or so it seemed.  Maybe it was just a weekend.  Weekend.  That show was amazing.  He was still in a daze over it.  Well done.  They tried, kind of, but tried still.  Kind of.  But they did entertain the thought of trying.  They grew.  One grew.  They both may have grown.  He grew: it allowed a few precious tear drops to fall from his dry eyes.  He wishes he could cry more.  He feels like he has sobs that are yearning to come out.  But they cannot.  He doesn't suppress them, they just don't come.  Sobs feel good.  Releasing the emotion feels good.  He likes to cry but cannot so instead listens to lots of sad songs.  These sad movies are a new venture.  He's watched more movies in the past four days than he has in the previous four months.
A phone call with a dear friend who was celebrating graduating pharmacy school and her new tattoos in honor of her achievement.  She's got issues but he was only all too happy to talk to her, and express his issues too.  But hers are more interesting for him.  They involve scandal in a benign sense of the word.  Not much more than any other stressed mother about to graduate a doctorate program.  Good for her.
Not much else.  Kramer vs. Kramer. A movie he's been meaning to get through.  Good show.  Safeway and run into an attractive older man, attractive friend.  Attractive and partnered friend.  Run into him at Safeway in front of the chocolate.  Attractive Friend looked good, he always does.  He keeps up appearances well.  Damn you chocolate aisle.

This short has been everywhere and it hit me again today (Madonna's facebook page posted it):

This morning I left my head in bed and had a Dr's appt, went to the gym and did a few errands.  My head still feels like I haven't quite woken up.  So with that light I looked at my PoF account.  And since I'm not thinking clearly I looked at SG's profile.  He is the one that I allowed myself to like too much too quickly.  And two weeks (yeah, two weeks) I was into him and he told me that he only felt friendship, that he couldn't offer more than that and wasn't attracted to me sexually.  For some reason I got the crazy notion in my head that if I got my butt to the gym then over a few months he'd see that he does indeed need me, and is attracted to me, blah blah blah.
So he's been on that dating site within the past week and I knew it was going to sit and ache in my stomach when I saw that.  He's just moving on with his life.  Good for him.  I'm stuck right now, but going to the gym is going to be good for me.  I am still trying to focus on myself, stop this silly relationship lusting and busting and just be myself for a few months.
And then I see the movie like the one above and my heart feels a bit heavy again, longing for a guy to like me back.  WaWaWa...
So, strong face forward and take that step:

Can you tell I've just found out that I can add youtube videos?  sweet.

Classes start today so here goes the final didactic semester.  Yay!

I'm nearing the end of my first 3-week get-in-better-health program thingy.  So far, not so bueno.  But still bueno because I at least have made it to the gym 3-4 times a week for the past three weeks, in spite of those damned holidays!  I also attempted for a cool beard, with the inspiration being:

Mine never even got close to that.  Probably because I was hoping the beard would give me that full head of hair and the toned, defined shoulders/pecs.  Also while we're walking down pipe-dream lane, the beard would take a few years off me.  But as most people told me, I looked older.  I guess beards do that normally.  Looking at his eyes, the area around the eyes, he probably is in early to mid 20s?  I wonder if he's single and will love me... hahahaha.

But the next three weeks my goal is to lift at least 4 times a week, only 20 mins of lifting and to do some sort of cardio/fat burn for at least 30 mins five times a week, which equals 150mins of c/fb.  Or I guess as long as I get the 150 mins in, i.e. 20 mins one day and 40 another.  Also, I know I am soooo bad at eating healthy.  I love, love, love, love to eat late at night.  Trying to break that carnal pleasure is going to have to probably require an alteration in my DNA.  But necessary.  

Not sure

I feel like I'm stumbling while holding something precious in my arms.  Yet I don't know what it is.  And I don't know why I'm stumbling.  I wonder if it's an introspective picture representation of how I'm feeling about my life.  Have I really grown?  Have I developed myself, my life.  How do I do that.  Concentric thoughts mar my conversation; I don't know how to not talk about me.
I'm hoping, wishing, waiting, willing to learn to break out of myself.  I need to focus on others, I need to serve others.  I'm not religious but I feel moved to pray for this.

I'll take the stairs

There is always something to prove.  The second I become complacent in my surroundings I have lost.  I lose the game, I lose the battle.  The constant struggle between what I am and what I know I can be.  I must keep the mindset that there is always something I can do to better myself.  I cannot stop reaching for the top.  Learning to enjoy the journey and be content with my never-ending evolution to become better but not becoming complacent and stalling.  I will never reach the summit, but the summits will reveal to be plateaus and clearings that present a further uphill climb.  Stopping on that plateau will only cause me to become lazy and though I don't intend, I begin to descend.  If I'm not going up, I'm going down.
I severely lack will power, and the thought of climbing can be overwhelming.  But it's not judged by the summits  I have reached, but the steps taken to get me there.  I can take even but just one step up every day.

Writing a letter to you

So we're supposed to be mature about this?  Though thinking about your words, the jr.high school boy wants to point fingers and accuse your words of making circles and containing no reason or message except to lose touch.

Like I'm in the front row of a movie theater featuring your words and I get to run them over the seats of the empty theater, barely seating myself and certainly no reason.

But I'm not mad at you and really not your words now that I have boiled them down to what they really wanted to say.  I get it, all's fair in love and war, and front-rows of movie theaters.  You said let's hang out again, but not make an effort to actually hang out.  I will wait for you to move your pawn first in this game, though I walk miles away from the board.  You know how to reach me.

Remove myself from all line of sight.  In the illusion but not of it.  Bend the light, emotions, feelings, molecules' paths, not consistent with the geography of others' thoughts but in my own plane my own space.

don't forget me

I can't help but return to last night.  He said I was great, there was a connection, but there was nothing more and he wanted to be with me, but as a friend only.  I knew it was coming but was still a blow to my ego.  I am taking to mean that I am not physically attractive enough for him.  I did like him, I was ready to try and date him.  I spoke candidly with him.  I was able to be myself.
Speculation: He may want someone younger, he's only 25.  He called me handsome in emails before meeting.  I'm sure like all other gay men, he wants to date a 6-pack, and fall in love with a strong chest, and of course a tight ass.
He said he didn't want to lose touch but also said new friends are a matter of convenience and not really with whom to make definite plans.  So I resolved to just let him go.  I am walking away and will let it all rest on him. Life still has to happen, and now mine won't include or make efforts.

So my new lesson: to learn to love myself and carry on with out regard to the thoughts I think others have of me.

the end before the beginning

It kind of took the wind out of me.  One of those times when I just wanted to leave and not hear or pretend to be happy about it at all.  What a fool I was.  The signs were all there.  Once again I chose to ignore them.  Believing lies about myself that I tell myself is not a console right now, I can't sink into that line of thought.

Candidly typing: The numbness has set in.  I'm not going to feel for the rest of the night.  Still learning this lesson.

With all my Education

and just put words into poetry and have the goals accomplished and be done with it.  what I'd give to be at my peak for only just a moment, just to understand what I could be, and let the memory inspire me to climb higher.  my stumbling attempts are life.

Continue

My body and mind work in unison to prevent me from being productive.  Last night the party was a flashback to 2005: Pretty people avoiding carbs like the plague.  I think I was the only one who was eating bread.  But I home-made bread.  It was fantastic!  And the food processor was a cinch to use for it!  It whipped that dough into a sticky blob in no time!  Great first experience.
Back to the party.  I know that the Pretties were just as shy of my as I was of them.  They gloated nothing over me except what I allowed them to in my mind.  But speaking from a severe eye-candy point of view, they were pretty; all had tight (douche) shirts on showing off their big, defined arms and chests.  It was a glass menagerie of delectable douchi-ness.
          --> but let me qualify that I don't know them.  They may have been some of the sweetest guys out there who just so happened to look sweet in a tight-fitting shirt.  These are my perceptions of just the light bouncing off them onto my retina.

But I feel like a matured a teeny tiny bit since 2005 (wow, I hope so!).  I was able to relax and have fun.

On to something completely different, I LOVE the Florence + the Machine song "Shake it Out."  L.o.v.e. it.

Dreaming like a Ghost

I remember you.  You are an old friend.

I've changed my mind.

That was Chicago.  Now I'm on to this Phx thing.

The world changed today

Take a breath, and now play the part. 
Take your heavy, sad heart and place it on the shelf, in a box. 
Now remember to smile like you mean it. 
Place up the your defenses, hide your tears for the night. 
Don't let anyone in, don't let yourself out.

Hands together, don't show the trembling.
The crowd expects you to be perfect.
And perfection is what you give them.
Careful when it rains, it could strip off your mask.
And then what?  And then what?

But when it rains, it rains on my face,
On my skin, on my arms, on my chest.
I can feel life again, I can feel again.

But then you must walk away,
And return to what they want to see.
What they want you to be.
It will be alright.  Down the street
Walking down an empty street.

we run from the presence of the sun...

Beginning again.  I see you, I see myself in the mirror.  My friend and enemy.
I try to be, but so often drape cloths and linens over your eyes.  And mine.

angry, bitter, jaded, over it, mad, etc. venting thoughts

I'm so over this whole dating scene here in Phoenix.  I just can't anymore.  I want so much and feel like I can bring some to the table, but apparently I'm fated to just be alone.  I want to cry but there are no tears.  I can't express emotion that well anymore.  I need a good cry, I want to just scream and cry and pout and then scream and cry and pout more.  These are not times for the weak of heart.  I am raked-over coals.  I can't put myself back out there again.  I can't do it.  I can't pretend to care and be in a good mood anymore.  I thought I'd be in a different place right now and I fucking can't stand this anymore.  I am done, done, done.  I miss things I haven't ever even got to experience.  I don't want to be strong anymore.  I just am not going to care anymore.  I don't give a flying fuck anymore.  I lay down this torch.

Like the 90s but with cappuccino now

Simple concepts are like hors d'oeuvres.  But at times left untouched.  I prefer to fill my plate with the possibility of never reached filled-up.  Wide-eyed as ever but wearing sunglasses to keep from showing too much emotion.


I think I forgot who I was, and forget to remember who I am.  Caught up, but differently this time.  But still in what I cannot see.

My focus is out.  I dream but I can't live the dream anymore.  I need to ground myself and walk on.


Excuses.  Action.  ;)


Now to start getting me where I want... 

Welcome to the evolution (or continuation thereof really).