Professional Fuck-Up

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Creating and putting out into the world any kind of meaningful material is more difficult now than it ever was at age 20.

See, back then, I was awash in angst and I could take on any challenge given the single, powerful notion of youthful invincibility (thanks, mania) and an adequate supply of coffee.  Most of the things I accomplished at that age, I only pursued because I saw someone else doing it and figured I could do whatever it was being done just as well, if not better.  That’s why I started writing poetry as a teen, and ultimately why I started making video blogs (oh, vlogging) on YouTube as a young adult.

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Tune Out

I’m sitting outside in my old chair, the chair I used to sit in when I smoked cigarettes.

It’s dark, quiet, and chilly, and I can hear the low hum of the highway in the distance.  Things are peaceful out here, away from people, away from the TV, away from political conversations.  I’m spending the night at my parents house, and while I love them with all of my heart, I’m a bit tired of hearing about this election.  I just want to get it over with.

Life has taken a positive, growth-oriented turn in the last few months.  I’ve talked some of the changes here; I’m taking my medications, cutting out recreational substances, and throwing myself into projects that I’m passionate about.  I’ve given dating and fucking a much needed break in favor of focusing on myself.

That shit gets lonely, though.  I miss components of relationships: the hand holding, the feelings of intimacy, and, well, sex.

I can’t be bothered to do the “dating” part.  I don’t have the energy to participate in the song and dance involved in getting to know someone.  Not only is it exhausting, it’s just disingenuous.  The first few dates require a fair amount of self-marketing; you basically have to trump up your best qualities and most interesting interests in hopes that you’ve said all the right things to warrant another date.

So being single will have to do for the time being.  And that’s quite alright by me.

I’m going to take a bath, unwind, and rest up.  Tomorrow is going to be crazy.

A Haunting in Baltimore

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You know why you run?

You run because you need to get away.  You run because you need to escape the place you’ve found yourself in.  You run because you’re afraid.  You run because it’s what you know to do, what you have always done, and what you will continue to do.  You run in hopes to leave behind the things that will always, always catch up to you.

That’s why you ran away to Baltimore, right?  The city, with its bright lights and roadways outstretched like arms, was waiting to take you in and embrace you, so you could feel its rumble of a heartbeat as it held you close.   But the sense of security that the city gave you was accompanied by an understanding that the things you have run away from will always find their way back.

Consider The Hurricane, for example.

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NaBloPoMo – A Late Start

Hello, November!

Once again, I’ve made the impulsive decision to participate in NaBloPoMo and write every day.  It’s an ambitious goal, but I think it’s one that I can accomplish.  Unfortunately, I’m getting off to a late start.  Time to play a little bit of catch up.

I’ve been feeling very naked on this blog as of late, and there is reason for that.  I’ve been baring my soul recently, digging deep and talking about a lot of stuff that really hurts.  I’m dredging up a lot of painful, embarrassing, and sad moments, and writing about them on this blog for the ultimate purpose of healing myself (For those of you curious, you can check out the ongoing emotional purge series conveniently linked here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6).

So it’s been an exercise in self-flagellation thus far.  I feel like I’m resolving a lot of things from my past that have been plaguing me for years.  But there’s more work to be done.  So, dammit, I’m going to do it.

In other news, life is going well enough.  I focus on work, I come home, and I either draw or write before bed.  It’s simple, and to be completely honest, I’m enjoying how uncomplicated life is right now.  I’m not actively dating, nor am I hooking up.  I’m just living, trying new things and seeking out meaningful experiences.  I’ve been going to paint nites with my best friend recently.  I honestly didn’t think I’d get much out of them, but they’ve been fun.  Here’s my most recent creation!

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It’s about 1 AM and I’m going to retire for the evening.  Luckily I have tomorrow off and I can sleep in.  Goodnight, folks.  Sweet dreams.

[6.] The First “First”

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[This is part 6 in a series about shitty things I’ve done to people.  You can read the original post here.]

To The First Guy Who Lost His Virginity To Me:

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for pursuing you for the wrong reasons.  When our mutual friend told me you had some interest in me, I stopped throwing myself at him and shifted my focus to you, not because I had a reciprocal interest in you, but because you were there.  With most men at that age, I was a huntress, always on the prowl, stalking my prey, and jumping at the first sign of vulnerability.  But you didn’t want to be hunted. Instead, you were there, at my mercy, waiting to be devoured.

I’m sorry for being so insensitive.  When you admitted your feelings to me, I laughed and told you that you were wrong, or you were mistaken, or you were lying.  I shouldn’t have fucked with your heart.  I shouldn’t have been so close to your heart in the first place.

I’m sorry for being visibly frustrated after the 20 seconds of sex that we had.  You didn’t need that.  I remember the face my first partner made after we had sex.  I truly hope you don’t remember mine.

I’m sorry for continuing to have sex with you.  I wanted to get laid, you wanted to be close to me.  I thought I was doing you some service by teaching you how to fuck.  I knew it was wrong then, but I continued to do it.

I’m sorry for abandoning you.  I abruptly and emotionlessly called it quits with you because I was unsatisfied.  After that, we didn’t see each other for about a year.  When we finally ran into each other at our mutual friend’s house, we awkwardly caught up.  You were going through a hard time, and I knew it, but I didn’t acknowledge it.

I’m sorry for ruining our friendship.  That’s on me.  Not you.

– L

Trigger.

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I realized after writing my last post that I needed a break from the emotional purge series. Constant focus on my negative traits brought my mood down greatly.  This exercise, identifying my “sins,” was meant to make me feel better.  The blog became a confessional.  But after the last entry, I only felt worse.

This next installment, the part 2 of my last post, is especially difficult for me to write because this is mostly about how badly May hurt me, and how I reacted in response.  It was the first time that someone had ever told me “I don’t love you,” and even now, it’s still difficult to think about.  It hurt to the core at the time, but the pain has since dulled.  I still remember what it felt like, though.  Like having a tooth pulled and feeling the cavity where the tooth once stood once it’s healed.

I don’t feel very renewed or restored after the last few days.  These things, the shitty acts I’ve committed against people, I need to talk about them in order to get them out of my system in hopes that I won’t be haunted by them again, or realistically, not haunted by them as much or as frequently.

The project started after I stopped daily consumption of drugs and alcohol and started taking my medications as prescribed.  After three weeks of not taking anything recreational, I ultimately feel better.  But when I write about some of this stuff, I feel nervous and ill at ease with myself and all I want to do is smoke a joint and make this feeling go away.  I need to learn how to not feel that way.

Let’s hope I learn soon.

Just Friends.

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My ex and I have been amicable since our separation in February.  In fact, I regard him as one of my best friends.  He knows me better than most people, and as a result, I still involve him in my decision-making processes when I’m faced with tough life stuff.  He’s been very vocal in our ongoing conversation about my career change, and I appreciate him for that.

Life has been kind of hectic since he started working downtown.  His commute eats up his day and his job eats up most of his energy, and we have been talking less and less over the last week weeks.  Last night, realizing I’d be able to close the shop up on-time, I asked him if he’d like to meet up for dinner.  He agreed.  It had been too long between visits.

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