better

This has been a very good week in terms of just focusing on my "stuff" and there has been a string of great dates.

I'm back in counseling now (as a client) and I'm learning a lot and ultimately realizing how hard I am on myself. Not that this pattern will cease to exist, because I think being hard on myself makes me strive for more. But I think I'll be more aware when being hard on myself becomes toxic and unhealthy.

I'm going to a dragon boat festival tomorrow and I hope to see a lot of Asians and colorful boats on Lady Bird Lake.

Regression

Fun, spirited night last night which really should've been at most mediocre due to the lack of planning or direction. My roommate, and another friend took the bus downtown and just drank at a bunch of douchey places that I wouldn't normally hang out. But of course, that became the modus operandi that entire night: if it looked like a dumb place, let's go in, get a drink and "dance."

I did something mildly annoying and stupid which was drunkenly text my friend who I frequently sleep with. I immediately regretted the decision as I was coming to the realization that I'm not moving on from whatever "relationship" we had and falling back to these intense feelings I had for her. Worse yet, I got into an argument with my roommate about this situation and threatened to "beat the shit out of him." This argument started because, first and foremost, I was feeling very vulnerable and just embarrassed for myself. And then came feelings of inadequacy and frustration about the "dating" life that I've become accustomed to. So, when looking for some consolation or some sort of empathy, I was especially sensitive to sarcasm and the "I told you so" faux-wisdom. Fortunately, I was able to see my mistake and apologize for the immature outburst.

Sometimes I feel like I overromanticize romantic relationships as being this cure-all ailment for my own short-comings. And this sort of delusion can only lead me on an unforgiving track towards the unhealthy, yet comfortable women that I always fight for the approval of.

As weird as it sounds, reading some Cornel West helped out a lot even during a hungover, self-hating haze. I guess this is the time more than ever, to put my initializing pedal to my philosophical metal.

Also, bitches ain't shit.

shattered dreams.

I was with a client a few days ago who's all over the place. She claims to only have bi polar disorder, but I think there's a few more screws loose that she likes to downplay. Well that's not really fair to say because she's been through a pretty intensive domestic violence situation that she's still trying to move on from. But she's the type of person where EVERY crazy thing happens to her (which usually ends up being exaggerated in my experiences, because really, what are the chances?) She was telling me about a story where this morning people tried to kidnap her.
My first initial reaction was one of horror, but then she proceeded to tell her story and it turns out she noticed a car that may have been following her and may have stopped abruptly a block away, and then drove away. Not to make light of this situation, but she's someone hard to kidnap. Let's just say, she's a bigggg girl. A package that would take at least 2 trips, naw i mean?

I then drove her to a used car dealership where she wanted to shop around and I was greeted with a hilariously stereotypical car dealership with men with couch like suits, short sleeve dress shirts and creepy smiles. The salesman that helped my client out was a fairly young looking dude. He was college aged, but could he have still been in school? Maybe dropped out? Many questions ran through my head as my empathy simmered for this young chap who couldn't have been a year older than me. What were his dreams? How long has he been here?

My client has some sass, so she was asking questions anybody not wanting to get fucked over asked. I could tell the salesman was getting nervous and eventually looked defeated. As my client chuckled, "I've been burned before! No way someone's gonna screw me again!" The salesman, fittingly replied "Trust me I wanna sell you a car way more than you wanna buy one."

As this defeated young man went to another room to crunch some imaginary figures determined by "in house credit bureaus" that will determine how much bullshit money she has to put down for a bullshit, tore up car, another man came into this room looking for a stapler. For a second I should describe this room: yellow paint, chips and scuff marks everywhere, and a window is covered up by one of those science fair boards...not the display side, but the ass of it where its cardboard and letters. Anywho, this guy comes in and he is fairly young as well, but reeks of douchebaggery. He's got that "I'm going to get pussy tonight" stripey shirts and stinks of cheap cologne. To top this image off with a cherry on this asshole sundae, he had the BIGGEST black eye I've seen in a long time. From just looks alone, I can safely assume that he deserved it.

Needless to say, the client didn't get a car and was frustrated by all the ordeals of that day. Watching her struggle with all the cartalk jargon and her supposed run-in with kidnappers, I couldn't help but notice the stark differences between our worlds. I don't have to struggle with these predators she faces on a fairly constant basis. Student loans, car loans, shady guys etc.

Maybe she isn't paranoid afterall. Maybe I'm the one who's naive.

Stood up

So I was supposed to go out on a (1st) date today, but apparently she was devastated after learning that she will be laid off from her job. She was there for 8 years. I feel bad for her... although I don't know her very well, she seems like someone who thrives on being busy. Of course I will sound like an asshole for saying this, but I preface this empathy with the hesitant assumption of honestly. My gut says that she is being honest and wants to hang out again, but I will watch basketball and make breakfast tacos in the meantime.

On another entirely different note, the prospect of Donald Trump running for President is frightening. Although he fits very familiar prerequisites: white, rich, maniacal, and outright imperialistic... there's another quality that makes especially sad if he continues this bid. If he gets a nomination or even a "good" run at the thing, we will reach a point of "no return" where manufactured entertainment controls nearly every aspect of our lives. We already see the immense influence it has on our culture, social interactions, and the economy and we will soon witness the political power of star appeal and incessant visibility. Never mind his DIRECT call to invade Libya for oil or his history of displacing poor, working folks from their housing or calling Obama an African Muslim (he doesn't like ANY shade of brown, does he?), most white politicians probably don't disagree with him off-the record, but what he has clearly demonstrated is that our political system is not just broken, it's a fucking joke. It's a playground for the rich and mentally ill.
But of course, despite the overwhelming pessimism of today's times, the real work always comes from the bottom. You keep your ear to the street and you might hear the train comin'. If not, build the train, right?

blalskjdr

I'm kinda drunk right now and feel pretty great. My roommate is watching Univision where they are talking about sharks and gators. I caught up with a good friend and had nice conversations that involved maintaining our collective momentum to better ourselves. Although we have similar sorts of energies and enthusiasm, I believe we want to guide them in different directions, which is not a problem, but just interesting to notice. Then I had sex with her.

I hung out with a co-worker and her roommate who is very cute, and we had tacos and poboys at a nearby coffeehouse. I feel as if we had fun, but sometimes I think people find me gross or obnoxious. Oh well.

I will have another beer while I wait for my laundry to finish.

Living and loving

I love getting inspired. I love that feeling when prospective days seems like a series opportunities rather than a repetitive pattern of rusty links attached to a giant, meaningless shackle.... choking, repressing, oppressing. I've been getting inspired by the things I'm reading and the things I'm listening to. But specifically, I'm floating into the stratosphere after making significant dents in Cornel West's memoir, "Living and Loving Out Loud." That brother has no "off" switch and wouldn't have it in any other way. It makes me want to do more... help more, serve humankind with earnest love. It also inspires me to participate in some sort of meaningful activism or engagement and help, in some way, to break the cycle of being meaningless cogs in a faceless machine.
I want to live like the great minds of the worlds who live to learn, live to teach, live to discuss. I have these fantasies of Marx scribbling some thoughts in a London cafe, or Sartre enchanting a young woman about the state of affairs.

I want to harness this energy and of course be productive, but guide it for creative activities, be more engaged, I guess more human. The key thing is starting.

Dating Hobby

I've been going on a lot of dates the past few months.... well ever since I got to Austin. It's kind of cool because I never thought of myself to be a guy that would go on A DATE versus going on several a week. It should be said, I'm still not getting laid that much. A lot of the dates are "one and dones" and the process almost becomes like a 2nd job trying to manage all of these different days.
I used to talk about my hobbies, my dreams, anything about myself on the early dates. Those were my good ones.

What do I talk about now? Nothing... it's not that I don't have anything to say, but it's because DATING BECAME A HOBBY. This is what I do for "fun" now. So much of my free time is spent messaging girls and trying to weasel a date out of them, that it's become part of my routine, my daily ritual, my way of interacting with the world, my personal, unestranged (not a word) labor as Marx would put it.
"So what do you do for fun or on your spare time?"
(honest cliff): "Well I spend about an hour a day messaging girls on an online dating site and try my best to portray myself as an equal mix of seemingly mutually exclusive, yet intriguing personalities such as, 'urbane gentleman' and 'carefree spirit' along with 'pop culture blogger' and 'aloof literary academic.' Another tricky juggle is the ' mature adult who is comfortable with little means' and 'guy that doesn't look poor.' One of these fascinating dichotomous pairings is
a reason why you decided to risk being killed and/or raped to meet me on this lovely coffee date."
And sadly, no one wants to talk too much about dating on first dates.

I'm whining a little too much but I am enjoying the female attention.... the next step would be keeping the interest going enough to eventually have a horrible break up.

Cheers.

I had a dream where I saw my father. I touched him, I smelt him and I hugged him. Even in the dream, somehow I knew he was gone but it didn't matter. He was there and he looked great. He wasn't the sick old man I saw resting in his coffin. He looked great.

I woke up missing him and hating myself for waking up.

It's a wonderful saturday and it couldn't have come sooner. As I wind down with "Naked Gun" in my charlie brown boxers, I soak in the rest and healing that my self-esteem has been craving for some time. The first week of work was incredibly frustrating and really made me re-consider the choices I've made career wise. However, it is my first few days of working after being gone for a month, so I should cut myself some slack. It felt like it was my first week of work again, except this time around I'm expected to know this and know that and do this and correct that. If I weren't gone from work due to tragic circumstances, I'd imagine these things would be duties I'd take on, but they seem to just cut deep into my old fears of inadequacy. I know things will get better and I know I'll start doing "better" which will make me feel smarter...but for now, I'm loving being curled up on the couch.

Hot for the teachherrr

Oh boy I've skipped a couple of days of this daily journal. I feel guilty, but I'll try not to harp on it.

Last night, I had a date with a special education teacher who seems very passionate about what she does, seems smart, is very pretty, and appears to be amused by my diarrhea of thoughts and observations that I like to re-package as "wit." She said she had a good time, and I actually believe her. I hope we get to hang out soon and go on a cute date... like ice cream or a fair. I also want to cook for her eventually as I think that is a romantic gesture that is often neglected. And of course, I think I rock the kitchen like a geologist on crack. I got a knife sharpener too... about god damn time.

Growth

Sometimes, flying feels too godlike to be attained by man. Sometimes, the world from above seems too beautiful, too wonderful, too distant for human eyes to see . . .
-Charles Lindbergh

Yea I get it... flying is amazing. But god damn I hate flying. I get sorta nauseous, a little anxious, and my butt gets sore from the seats.

Interestingly, I saw something vaguely familiar in both the Ft. Lauderdale and Austin airport: Reese's Puffs cereal. You're thinking, "Whatever tough guy. I can go to the grocery store and see Reese's cereal.... big whoop. You're a fag."

I know you're thinking that. You must be thinking, "It's impossible to know what others are thinking." Oh yea smart guy? Then how did I know you were thinking that? Touche motherfucker.

Anywho, I saw Reese's Puffs in two distinct forms.
1st: I was in the Ft. Lauderdale airport juking past carry-ons and baby carriages and foolishly carrying 2 bags whilst holding a scalding, hot dunkin donuts coffee.
And then I saw this brown tasty morsel...except it was on a old cuban woman's face in the form of a nasty ass mustache mole.

2nd: Arrived in Austin, but with no more coffee, just the two bags and a sore, achey butt. And then I saw it.... this time this chocolatey, peanut buttery morsel showed itself as a girl's ear ring. I'm assuming it was an earring, but it could've been another version of that nasty ass mustache mole.

I need some cereal.

Today I went to a sub place that I've been to the past 5 years... everyone was where I expected them to be. There was fat guido with chinstrap facial hair manning the meat slicer, ebony and ivory duo constructing the sandwiches, and bored, cute blonde at the register.

They looked exactly the same. It's like they've been frozen in time but perpetually working and remaining in their roles.

A few days ago, went to a Chinese restaurant I've been to for the past 10 years and the same jolly, bordering on obese chinese man with yellowing teeth was waiting the tables next to me. Same hair, same yellowing teeth (which for some reason makes the least sense to me...you'd think a few would be missing by now), same goofy laugh and the same glasses. Once again, there like he was for the past 10 years or so.

Another restaurant, this time a Korean/Chinese place, was a place we went to for at least 20 years. I saw the same waitress I've seen since I was a tubby little Korean shit eating too many fried wontons. Upon eating those same fried wontons, I noticed how little she's changed: same hair, same apron, same thick chinese accent, and still running around serving and taking orders from pushy, elderly koreans.

Seeing them is comforting to a degree, but still leaves me uneasy. It makes me re-evaluate my childhood hypothesis that everything around me is just a VERY long movie. It doesn't seem so silly anymore.

Martin

4/1/2011

I am thankful this is not an April Fool's Joke, but this is my 7th morning in a row where I watch 3 episodes of Martin back to back.

I think I used to laugh at the show when I was a little kid because I probably thought black people were just funny.

Gina and Martin's relationship is surprisingly sweet.

Tommy and Cole are my favorite characters.