Hello again, blank page.

Freewrite begin now. This is Monday. I am awake. It is 3:18am. I'm awake because I was asleep and then you woke me up to tuck me in. And now I'm awake. Usually when people are getting tucked in, they are being prompted to go to sleep. Of course, my body chooses to resist. Had another vision last night. These visions, only in the darkness of your room, are fun, magical, little adventures. 

Last night's vision-venture started here on Earth. Where I was pulled from where I lay, through the roof, and into the sky. Above the house, the town, the county, the region, the state, the country, and eventually the globe then out into the vast black and colorful space. Here patterns danced. Patterns of rhythm and melody bounced along this astral plane as I soared with them. Red, green, gold, squares, triangles, stars.

I had a great English teacher. She made us sit and free-write for 15 minutes at the beginning of every class. Just sit and write. "Keep writing" she would say. We weren't supposed to stop.

Wtf... I want to sleep.

My mother taught me not to talk about issues at home to other people. I used to think of it as some form of respect for the family. Now, as a young man, I reflect on what my mother taught me as a young child.

It seems we've always had money issues. One after the next. A constant mountain of bills building higher and higher. Less income than outcome. She was a single mom, after all. There's only so much one soul can do.. She gave up much for Azhara and I. More than I know, of that I am sure.

I remember nights in San Francisco when she would paint in the kitchen. The darkly lit room accompanied by moody music and warmth. She would lay paints out for me and I would paint, too.

I remember being knee height and getting lost at the mall.

I remember all of my scoldings. She'd spank us if we misbehaved. She'd use her hands or a belt. I recall the use of a wire hanger as well.

Wrought by family dysfunction, Azhara and I were raised to be independent.

I have a lot on my mind. I bet my girlfriend is sick of that phrase. I've got a lot to say but, my lips are usually zipped shut. To me, talking is all about timing. Lately, I haven't found the time to really talk about what's going on. So, I'm reverting to writing again. A friend told me, "I don't like reading your blog because it's so depressing." Well cheer up, buttercup. Life isn't always a hand basket of flowers. So what's really going on.. I'm twenty-two. I share a bedroom with my sister. I supervise the stockroom of a glorified furniture store. I've been out of school for 5 years now..
When I was a child, I knew what I wanted to be. "I want to be a rocket scientist!" I would exclaim. Then I had no idea for a long time. Then I wanted to be a musician. Though I poses some musical ability, it seems the rock star life will have to be put on the back burner. It's turned into something dark. My mother encourages my talents but, I can tell she secretly resents it. I feel like my girlfriend does the same. I can't blame them.. I put so much time into something so surreal that I forget to care of myself and the people around me. Frankly I'm embarrassed. I've made a joke out of myself... I made it so clear that music was the only gift I could give. The sounds, the feelings, the enchantment, and the mystery of music. It's like black-magic. But it doesn't work on everybody... "I'm not giving up." I have to remind myself. Life has to happen.
I have a lot on my mind... I'm learning who I am whilst the girl I love is learning who she is. I'm learning of who I am to her. We've known each other for 2 whole years now and we're seeing the each other for who we really are. I haven't been impressed with myself so, why should she feel any different. I lack something that she craves.. a smile or a sense of humor. I used to laugh a lot. I still do. She wants a silly guy. I haven't shown her how silly I can be. She wants someone to protect her. I look like a matchstick. She wants me to talk with her openly, discuss what's on my mind when it's on my mind. But I look at her and lock up. I can't stand it and niether can she. We have communication issues. I read in this fucking "Sextrology" book that a characteristic of Sagittarius woman is that once they learn you have issues, you're forever a loser in their book. It said she seeks a self-made man, or an athlete, or some thing like a librarian with a huge dictionary... She told me she didn't think I'd fight for her if she was ever in the position of leaving. I told her she doesn't understand me at all. Sometimes she gets this look of... disappointment? Frustration? I don't know.. but she rolls her eyes all over me. Like nothing I say could make it right. I throw in some smooth gestures and tell her she's beautiful but, it's like she doesn't believe me. I tell her I don't care about the make up on her face, it's her I want. She's such a beautiful girl, I'm trying to keep it together before some man or woman sweeps her away. Since she's bisexual, I feel like I have to work twice as hard to give her what she needs; the strength of a man, and the compassion of a woman. She needs some sort of satisfaction that I don't understand.. I notice. Sometimes, it drives me up the fucking wall. Somedays, it's the only thing I think about. We have a communication problem. If it's not spoken, it will remain broken.
I have a lot on my mind. My mother has been asking me for money. I feel like shit because I haven't seriously helped out with finances. I've been watching her struggle.. Indulging myself. I feel like such a greedy, selfish child. My sister and I argued out how selfish of a person I was just a couple of weeks ago. Yelling, shouting, cursing at each other as we drove up to the sad apartment. This reminded me of the most recent Christmas where my mother, my sister, and I spent half the morning arguing and crying. Not exactly the Christmas cheer I had in mind but, oh well.. This is the hand I've been dealt. Where there is a lack of tradition there is an abundance of disappointment. My goal was once to play music, get famous, and buy a house for my mom. Now I don't know anymore.. I don't know what I'm doing or what I'm going to do. I've been spending my time trying to make other people happy.. So much that I forget to make myself happy. And if you're reading this and you're not happy, do what you need to do to get happy. Even if it means closing your browser and discontinuing to read my sad little blog. If singing makes you happen, do it. If dancing makes you happy do it. If stripping makes you happy, do it. If fucking all night makes you happy, be safe. If being miserable makes you happy... you might have a chemical deficiency or something.
I'm going to play my guitar. I'm going to sing in front of strangers. I'm gonna dance off and on rhythm. I'm gonna flirt. I'm going to pay everyone back. I'm going to go to school. I'm going to talk about shit that makes me angry. I'm going to punch a bunch of random shit when I'm angry. I'm not going to take any bullshit from any bullshitter. I'm not gonna let some douche bag call my girlfriend a "dumb bitch." I'm not going to let go even if you tell me to.
Today is a new day. I can start this triumphant pivot toward being a better me when ever I want. Truth is, it's started. I've fucked up soo much but, that's ok. Can't have the good stuff without the bad stuff. 

Lost my phone on the Bart. Rather, I left my phone on the Bart. That was two days ago. Today and right now I'm sitting on Tali's floor listening to a CD I made from Omar's music library for Laura and I to enjoy. However, Laura is at work and is not enjoying it with me. I have a smoke and alcohol hang over from last night. Not to mention that stuffy and nauseating feeling you get when you sleep too long. My shoulders are a little tense and my neck is stiff. This is all right now. Present life.

Everything we do, as people, effects the way we think, speak, and live.  I don't want to write like I'm teaching a lesson or writing this out for someone. This feeling of someone "looking over my shoulder" has made it hard to write, think, or do anything without feeling judged. But why should I care? I'm judged every day in every way. Whether it be my girlfriend or my peers. Someone is creating there own summary of my being on a daily basis. I also can create and deal judgement.

With growth comes transition. I'm facing a time of reflection. In everything I do I see two faces. I reflect on this. I feel selfish most of the time and it haunts me. A ghost hanging over my head. I feel guilt. I feel shame. And I turn to the mirrors of life on Earth and reflect, "that's life."

This is what happens when you're alive. You face the foundation of self which you have made and judge every decision you've made, every face you've spoken to, every word you said. This can turn on you or it can work in your favor. However you use it is yours to choose.

I've been living like I'm dead. But there's a difference between dead and dying. Live everyday like there's no tomorrow... Words I could benefit from. Is it wrong to believe that there will be a tomorrow? We could never know for sure. There could be no today. It could be a constant "then." Maybe there is no "now." We live in universes of our own. These universes are influences of other universes bumping into one another each constantly growing outward or shriveling inward. Often one's universe will push and pull to the limits of one's psyche but, our forever expanding and capable minds were designed to overcome such obstacles with a sense of ease. It's not easy being human. It's not easy dealing with other humans either.

Art makes me happy. Music makes me sad. I try to find a balance. Love makes me lust. Lust makes me love. Positive makes me negative and negative makes me positive. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger. We're all actors here playing our part. We are mirrors bouncing off of one another. We are all children still starry eyed and innocent. We are prisoners guilty of original sin. We are advanced machines. So advanced, so curious, and so bored that we have to create little machines to keep us entertained. It's said we only use 10% of our brain. Who knows what the percentage has dropped to now that memory is something built into a microchip. My brain can distinguish shapes, colors, sounds, smells, and textures. This is wrought through an intricate systematic web of sensors called "nerves." These nerves tell me that I'm feeling pain or ecstasy.  These sensors are built into my human skin and are protected. My brain knows the name of hundreds of people know and people I never met. Celebrities, dead historical figures, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, friends of friends. My brain can count, add, subtract, multiply, and divide numbers. My brain can sequence, pattern, and algorithm. My brain is sequence, pattern, and algorithm. The universe is sequence, pattern, and algorithm. Instead of saying that you can't or that you're not good enough say that you can and that you're overqualified. You'll never know until you try. The brain is a tool. A privilege. A gift. The ultimate computer. It only works if you let it work. So much time is spent preventing things from happening that nothing ever happens. Use your brain in ways that you've never thought you could. The thought alone bring new original ideas to mind that only you have control over. This is 100% yours. Unique. No copyright needed. It's yours. Take this. Run with it. Create a colony of people, beings, monsters, that know the true value of the mind and the acrobatics that it combats daily. Beings that can use the brain the manipulate the world around them. Being that are aware of the ultimate tools; brain, body, mind, and hands. With these tools you are naturally equipped to take on any endeavor. All you have to do is apply yourself. Say yes. Say no. Say what ever you want. It's your life, bend it.

Happy Holidays from the Santa Claus Food Face!

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Up on the Bus

The caption reads "The Future is Calling.." My first tag on a bus. I did it with chalk to be nice to the hardworking folks on Oaklands public tranportation team.

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couch at the bus stop

I was hoping for a bench, instead i got a couch : D

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Reflect on this
image.
Somewhere out there another
you.
Twice you see your face in the
mirror.

Life through a window
Curving the street
with your eyes
Brake lights blurring by
streaked like brush strokes in the night.

Reflect on this
what you're searching for
you have become.
Inevitably
everything was backwards
at first.
Now it's all the same.
Different sometimes
through the glass of the window.

Dreamy Clouds

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Happy Holidays Bong

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Red and White at Fuddruckers

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