I don't want to be an interpretation
I just want to be understood.

Cynical vs. Perceptive

I love my little friend Veronica. She sweet and smart and very wise all packed in a small little size. She's like me when I was younger. Basically the same thing even. But I wonder if she pities me. I'm always giving her advice and making her meals and part of me loves being able to pass wisdom on from life since she's still young and well...i guess I'm still young in the grand scheme of things, but from 19 to 23 thats actually a big age gap. She still pining over her high school boyfriend who treated her like krap and she's still living at home. I want to protect her from mistakes and bad decisions, I give her advice on things because I want her to skip the bad shit and go right to the good stuff.

But she always leaves in the same way she comes. Quickly and without any notice. I'm always like 'hey give me a hug or come say bye first you loser. Maybe I'm too sappy but I always want to end any night whether it's with a friend or family with a hug. I feel like its a lasting reminder of love to keep them going until the next time we meet. And who knows how long that'll ever be, so it's gotta last.

"Oh yeah," she begrudgingly comes back and gives me a light side squeeze. Yupp it's official, I am old and uncool now. Like a lonely parent who wants to give their child a kiss before dropping them off at school but they turn their cheek.

I try not to think this, because we honestly do have alot of fun together and its awesome having a friend again who's up for going to concerts, or talking about boys, or eating snacks at 11pm. I don't know though...it's very difficult for me to tell anymore whether people truly care or want to be friends. Or whether they see in you opportunities or things they can get from you, ways to improve their situation through being your friend.

Am I being too cynical, or just too perceptive?

Who knows...

All I know is, it get's lonely having to think all the time.

I finally told

I finally told.
I was molested as child by my father.

I told my step mom. Probably should have told her face to face but I did it over the phone.
Big mistake.
It gave him a chance to spin it as I'm crazy, delusional, and ultimately a liar. Whatever he could to make the blame stick to me.
I really thought she would give me the benefit of the doubt but she never called back. It's obvious where her beliefs lie.

I know it was him. I remember the room, the night, the cheap plastic stars on the ceiling, and the absolute terror I've felt. I say it is present tense because it still affects me. I don't need a therapist to decode why I have trust issues, or falling asleep issues, or even sex issues. They all come back to that night.
It explains so much.
Like why I never feel safe enough or trust I'm protected enough to fall asleep at night.
Like why I never feel completely okay when a man takes off my pants, even when I want him to.
Like why my father has never hugged me properly, it's always just a side pat when he will happily throw his arms around my sisters.

I thought telling someone would set me free. But they did what they always do. They told me it was my fault, that I'm crazy, that I'm a liar.

Even my wounds are my fault?

Maybe I've ruined my relationship with my father for good. But honestly was it ever really there? I think I really wanted it to. To have a mentor and hero, even if it meant stashing away the past. For anyone out there who is blamed or shamed or maimed by someone, you are not wrong. You are not the bad guy. You are not a liar. You are loved and worthy and worth being heard. And I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that it had to happen to you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Hee Hee Hee

I don't know what it is, but I've found my tatoo.
It's going to say, "Is Love anything other than a song?"
Boom. Seriously boom my mouth did like a fish mouth saying that...
Breanne's gonna love this. She's going to be like, "ahaha that girl who still has my book looks funny on facebook bhahaha."
ps. Breanne do you still want that shit back?
ugh stop trying to be "clever tina." Mattie's the only one who reads this anyways. MATTIE: if you're reading this I love you but you annoy the shit out of me :P
I love how nerdy I've sounded in this passage. Yupp folks that's all it took, "I got high enough to become myself" Hee hee. Hee

Compacted Self

"Dude I got like a stern glare from like three cops!" squeaks some curly haired frat boy.
Oh no not the stern glare!
It's becoming clear that I'm getting too old for partying.
Already becoming the weird loner who looks through a strangers album covers on the couch alone when people are playing a very rowdy game of harsh beer pong in the next room.
It's funny but I'm just kind of satiracal when I go to house partys.
I mean it ridiculous how once the call out of "COPS" used to have me running and giggling with fear and excitment like I was being bad and getting away with it. Like I was really rebellious, I mean I've had like 1 1/2 beers yo!
Now as I see the underage pipsqueak flee from the scene like an overturned hive, I pull out a cigarette and smoke it on the side street. In fact when I'm around cops at these times, I'm more scared of how badly I want to either finger em or moon em. Maybe both? I mean whats more awesome than out running a cop during the Donald duck half waddle as you pull your pants back up.

"Dude I was so looking forward to getting my dick wet tonight." Veronica loudly laments on the bus ride home. I half choke, half snort. I think even granny in the back heard that one
She's like me. Blunt to point of unnerving. Well at least to anyone who isn't like us.

She just recently broke up with her boyfriend Spencer, who from what little I knew about him, could figure he was a pussy. Straight up- "I don't feel like coming out to see you because my mom won't drive me," type of shit guy. Granted he's only 18, so I guess it's in the realm of normalcy or he can get a way with it pass,  but still- ever heard of public transit limpdick?
Poor girl knew her bus stops. Riding out all the way from Vancouver to Shit- i mean Pitt Meadows all the time to see him.
What gets me is he broke up with her.
I mean seriously?
Really?
This beautiful, smart, intelligent, frothy little soul who has so much to offer the world, and he breaks up with her?
And his reason- she didn't dress up enough from him.
Fucking serious.
I want to pound this guy until he's compacted into a frisbee shaped form which I will then throw at pigeons. And then feel more sorry for the pigeons.

"That why you gotta meet real morning after people. I mean you're going meet lots of party people and have crazy fun times and all that krap but then the next day you'll never hear from them again. It's the morning after-wanna-go-get-brunch-or just-chill-at-the beach type of people that are your real friends. The ones that actually last anyways. I mean that's something you'll learn."
She just bobs her head.
I feel old, like I'm preaching.
"I'm sorry I talk like this to you sometimes, it's just I've gone through alot of lame shit and I only want you to experience the good stuff."
She shakes her head, "No! No, man seriously. I like to listen."
I smile. I feel like for once what it must be like to be an older sibling. It feels nice to look out for someone. Have someone who depends on you.

"I just don't know how to meet cool people though."
"Well you're doing it. Visiting unfamiliar house parties. Or like Homeshake. Going to cool indie concerts. I mean if anything you'll have something in common right away.
"Yeah cause you both like the same music. That's a good way of putting it."
I like this girl. She's a smartie. No need to explain. We're both all about the music feels.
As in "if you wanna get with me, get with my music taste." Or at least share some of it.
I mean I'm almost so bias about that, like if you're not into the type of music I listen to, I'm like I don't really like you anymore.
Some say that's superficial.
I say when there are millions out there judging a partner in terms of a fucking very specific and very limited physical body type, income per year status, and trophy worthy showing- off-to-your-buddies looks, I'd say my small stipulation in like the lowest grade on the superficial grading scale.


Again walking home at night. The interspersed light coming from night lamps and the blue grey spotlight of the moon. My small phone speakers playing a soft electric guitar tune, echoing down a small road like it would down the grand canyon. It makes one feel small and large at the same time. I both love and feel sad about that feeling.
"There's a difference between being alone and being lonely," Josue told while we sipped warm lattes last week.

  He's the type of guy who hits spot on certain feelings or issues in life with a simple metaphor or little clever saying. It awesome because it's like wisdom + a little truffle of an image. I like him. I recognize him as a mentor. Or at least I hope he is. Not because I doubt his experience, but because I doubt whether I'm good enough to be his pupil.

  He has gone through so much its ridiculous. It should be a movie plot. He had an abusive drunk of a father who used to wail on his mom. When he hit teens he begged his mom to get away with him, search for a better life. She wanted to stay. She chose a beating alcoholic shell of a person over her only son. At 15 he was living on streets and sleeping in dorms with hookers and drug addicts. He managed to work enough to survive, get an education, and now works as an independant and modestly successful graphic designer and graphics teacher at a nearby college. When I think of what success means- I think of him.
      Not because of money or status or popularity as most define the idea of what it means to be successful. But because he lives his life as he wants to. He chooses his projects- and has the creative ability and independence to do it. He grows his own food, builds his own porch, and draws comics in his spare time. He is so infinitely his own person and he needs nothing more to be happy than a pen and sketchbook.
He said it quite simply- "You've just got to see who you and do an inventory. Here are my awesome qualities. And here are the bad ones. Then look over the bad ones and just see which ones you can do without or stop stressing over. I mean I can say to myself hey you know what I truly like myself. I mean I don't think I could ever say I love myself, I'm too fucked up for that- (heart breaking a little at that) but I can honestly say, 'yeah you know what Josue, you are pretty cool dude.' "
It may sound a little kooky, but really, how many people do you know who honestly can say they like themselves?
You'd be surprised how little.


In fact I noticed, even from random conversations with different people, people most often faced with that proposition 'Do I like who I am?' would answer with something negative first.
"I could be skinnier"
"I wish I was more disciplined or focused."
"I wish I was more ballsy or outgoing."
"I'm okay, but....
Notice there's always a 'but' or 'I wish'. Both regret or longing for something else. Stuck in past or the future. Self hate becomes so strong it's almost physical. For me, it becomes painful to even look in the mirror sometimes. Because I hate what I see. Even in my thoughts.

I want to learn to like myself again. Even if it means maybe being alone for awhile. Or maybe learning to be contented to be alone for a long while. In fact it's the ones who can sit alone with themselves who are the bravest and coolest in the pack. Because they are compacted. They have all they need in themselves.

No more No's

Pushing boundaries. That is my lesson today.
Hermit life thus far has only served me in that I've watched way too many hours of tv.
Today I knew there was going to be a outdoor yoga class in the park, and though I hadn't literally been out of my house for a week, I felt the pull to stay in my sweats more fiercely than ever.
Not only was it strong but it felt natural to decline. But I felt I had to do this. Not only because it felt uncomfortable but because I realized when you are in a shlump (slum + shit dump) of a situation, you've got to push yourself out. Staying home would have been just digging deeper into the hole and that certainly won't get me out to the top.
So I went.
And it was awesome.

Not only physically challenging and tiring, but thoroughly mind diverting. I mean you can't really worry about how you're going to pay rent, what your life's mission is, or what to eat for dinner when you are in a pose that is basically throwing your legs over your head and your body is screaming in places you didn't know existed until that point. Basically by the end Savasana ( a convenient pose which is basically an excuse to be comatose on your back) I felt relaxed and limber.
The park marina was bathed in gold as the sun set and we sat in a group and ate our fruit offerings like kids, passing around strawberries and sucking on melon pieces.
I was going to head back home but a few guys a field over were playing night frisbee with a light up disc that looked freakishly awesome in the night, like a hovering alien spaceship floating directly at you. They asked if I wanted to join. Being shy I felt I should decline, but again why? Why is saying no my natural answer?
So I said yes.

And I played for a good while, running and diving for hard throws and squealing with delight when they caught my badly aimed ones. All with the ocean and the twinkling lights of lolling boats glimmering in glassy surface of the calm water behind me like this big beautiful backdrop.
I'm reminded how sometimes you have to take a chance, push yourself out of comfort, and sometimes literally throw off the sweats to really experience a good night.
Pushing boundaries. My new goal. Hope I can stick to it.
No more no's for me.

I'll Take What I Can Get

Faith. I've been hearing that word alot lately.
"You've got to have faith. The only thing keeping us from God is us."
I've noticed when you really listen to what people have to say, there's usually some pretty good wisdom in there that's usually pretty relevant to your situation at the time. Scary coincidence or intentional...I don't know. Maybe I have to even take that on faith.

I've been in quite a scary rut the past week. Getting up from my bed only to pee and occasionally to grab a cup of water. The rest is TV series marathons and adjusting the sheet over the window to block any sort of sunlight from disrupting my captivating man cave of wonder. Seriously I even say man cave because I have not shaved, showered, or eaten anything that isn't prepackaged in well..awhile. I'm seriously making caveman look well groomed.
All this to say I've pretty much lost faith in myself this year. And if you didn't notice God too.
Even the word faith is hard for me to hear. It's not that I want to have this strong aversion to it, but even saying the word is hard for me since it is such a delicate heartwarming flower concept that is so easily beaten, battered, and broken into shards by the vicious hammer of my pessimistic intellect.
The concept is so cliche: the heart vs. the mind, but sometimes I can literally hear two sides fighting within me.
"Get out of bed! Go enjoy the sunshine!"
"Fuck off who needs daylight hours. Sitting and watching the 100th episode of Friends is soooo much better"
"You know you won't amount to anything if you just sit here. You've got to put yourself into action! Get moving!"
"Okay. I'll move. I'm going to move to the living room so I can be closer to the fridge"
Yupp. That's the way my inner dialogue is going lately. Really riveting stuff eh?

I'm sarcastic about it because if I wasn't sarcastic I'd be slitting wrists instead.
It is scary how scared I've become of the outside world and how hopeless I feel.
I do not care about my future, who I could be, or what I have to offer the world anymore. I don't even care about washing my hair and that for a girl is kind of a big deal.
There I am making jokes again....

I guess what I'm getting at is since I'm no good at praying or meditating, maybe writing it can help.
So universe, God, Divine mother, if you hear me at all...please let me break down this wall in which I've built so carefully around myself.
The wall with a fort, a moat, and those spikey spears from Braveheart around myself. The one I use to hide from people, my family, the world, from you. From faith.
I don't want to die angry. I don't want to die young. Please bring me back to hope. Please guide me back to safety. To love. To feeling loved. Even if it's just a small voice inside my head that isn't such a bitch and maybe says things like:
"It'll be better today,"
I promise I'll take what I can get.