#30daysofwords

[klowee]

know where everything you have comes from. ideas don’t just come to you — they’re influenced — you are shaped by others. people who may seem insignificant will alter your perception and context of things. never forget that. people always matter. your happiness, your grief, your reactions — they can all point back to a something or someone.

been mourning a friendship that ended in heartbreak. my father was distraught I was sad — “you gotta get over it,” he tried. when I explained it wasn’t that easy and I can just decide I am over it because though I may not want to maintain the connection, I’m still hurt by the loss, he did better: “I just don’t want this to eat you up. you care so much about other people and normal people don’t.”

and I thought the saddest thing about that was that he was right. most people don’t. this is the curse of a long memory, of a sentimental nature, of a pisces empath.

sometimes you have to end toxic relationships — but it doesn’t mean that you don’t love them. it still stings as it all scabs over.

[klowee]

I like my tuesday nights. the days are busy with quality editorial, the evening filled with ball hockey games (drinks and eats with my strange, wonderful team following) — and the nights are filled with hot showers, beagle cuddles and introvert recharge time.

have done zero Christmas shopping (minus the secret santas that have already passed for 2019) — leave for Mexico next week and am busy vacation prepping at work. of course this is the time I decide to pitch/propose a new concept (during content planning and assigning, sigh). but I have a new passion project and that fills me with joy.

resisting the SAD and to be honest, have been way too busy with big and little tasks to really indulge in feelings. but that potential to emotionally implode haunts — like it could jump out and get me at anytime. I told anxiety I didn’t want to hang out until the new year, new decade. told her I was trying to marie kondo toxic friendships. as usual, she doesn’t listen.

[klowee]

tonight I mourn a once was. I let light feelings sit in the dark; bathe in a sentimental soak (eau de nostalgia). I think of people I once held dear and celebrate those moments I promised never to forget (there were quite a few of those, it seems). but I haven’t broken that promise. I take nights like these and make room for everything and everyone that has helped bump me to this now. my context.

[klowee]

commuting is a nightmare — it showcases the worst of humanity. grown ass men with overstuffed backpacks just sharp turn around and take you down while they twist to — what? change a song on Spotify? what do they even have in there? interlocking bricks JUST IN CASE? people on their phones create a bubble and lack any kind of situational awareness — they block the flow of traffic. and here’s the thing: no one apologizes. they aren’t sorry for not even trying and adding challenges to everyone’s mornings. JUST. TRY.

which brings me to the heart of my rant: it’s as if people just have zero cares. folks are complacent and OK with it. they just elbow their way through life with very little regard for those around them. they don’t help — they don’t even try. can’t people just PRETEND to care? in the age of self-care, it’s important to also still give a shit about others. if you’re going to coexist — why not just try a little so everyone’s day is a bit better. everyone just longs for a bit of understanding — connection — sympathy. and I feel for everyone — life is hard. but why make it harder? that little bit of effort goes a really long way. JUST TRY.

even in service. if I walk in and the barista or retailer doesn’t greet me and is, instead, on their phone — I leave. I’m not someone who shops online — I crave human interaction and live for quality ones. I also genuinely believe that bit of effort helps with jobs. people need jobs. never forget: I spent ten plus years in the service industry — branded myself an emotional hooker and lived off pocket change. sometimes coworkers would complain they didn’t make as much as me — and I’d just say, “maybe they would have left you more if you paid attention to them instead of texting that boyfriend you’re going to break up with in three months?”

like, how do you feel entitled to more money for doing the bare minimum? I just don’t get how people can get upset for less compensation when they’re not trying. I remember firing this chick and she cried — after THREE warnings. she acted as though she was blindsided. how do you fuck up over and over with proper feedback following each ball dropped and wonder why you got canned when you never even tried picking up all the balls you left on the floor? stop working jobs you’re bad at. if you need a job you’re not good at, don’t half-ass it. you’re always a part of a team — maybe don’t let them down. prioritize. figure it out.

I’ve been bad at jobs and worked at places that were for sure not the right fit. I bow out gracefully — without scorching bridges. I just don’t get how people think this world works. and then it’s these exact people who don’t even try who play the victim. it’s exhausting.

anyway, people on transit are the worst. the end.

[klowee]

my home life is stable, I love my job, I’m in a healthy routine. I’m bored. this is what I begged for when my life was chaotic and all I wanted was to start my career. I’m pleased with that aspect of my big picture but honestly I am so nostalgic for all those rich, disaster decisions I used to make. the stories I used to generate. I did a lot of stuff. tried a lot of things. the craving is back. I miss intensity.

the good news is at least I’m starting to feel things again.

[klowee]

Venus is in my first house. I have an appreciation for beauty, gravitate towards my ideal aesthetics. this is also my family’s culture — to care and be concerned with appearance.

Factoring attractiveness was a norm within my community growing up. My grandfathers owned restaurants and bars, my aunts model and taught fitness classes, my own mother went to beauty school. It was a thing, it mattered. Though my resistant heart tried to break the cycle, I fell into similar patterns: was a cam girl, worked at hooters, turned tricks as a cocktail waitress — now I run a lifestyle publication, with a beauty section.

Between many moons and lovers, I’ve come to realize not everyone views the world in this way — that some people who “pretend to not care” — actually don’t give a shit about the way they look — or the way others do. I want to respect them, aspire to be like them — but it challenges everything inside of me.

Once, as an assignment to myself, I tried to fuck a chick who wasn’t my ideal beauty — but was a really good person. I struggled through the whole experience. I want to be the kind of person who can look beyond the exterior — I want to be the kind of person who spiritually connects so deeply that a shell of a being is insignificant. I want to love like that.

I tried to think sexy thoughts — ran a montage of kindness in my brain, reminded myself why this person was so amazing and why I respected her so much — I struggled. and after? I threw up. Ended things before I’d have to go into why I couldn’t get it up on the regular.

How do you rewire your brain to reprioritize things like this? How do I trick myself into genuinely believing what I know is right to?

My neurotic brain is a problem. It’s a problem because I think it’s one of the reasons why I can’t seem to commit to anyone. I like pretty girls who make my heart bleed and I’m too old for this. I’ve been trying to outgrow it for years and I can’t. Professional therapists have tried.

And of course, I’m getting older too. I’m not nearly as cute as I once was and I fear my horrible programming has earned this sad comeuppance.

For today’s daily writing challenge, I share something I’m ashamed of — something I hate about myself.

[klowee]

burned a joint and attached the leash to the beagle (he said it was time for my walk, with ears and ceiling eyes) — together, we took the wet, snowy streets. always wondered what my mid-thirties would look like — not nearly as dramatic as ally mcbeal suggested and I don’t even qualify to be a sitcom mom (they’re all my age). tried to justify my timeline to someone questioning it the other day: “it’s different when you’re queer,” I tried.

it’s monday evening and I have a media preview in the morning (8:30am sharp!) and I’m sad, rewatching the l word and secretly wishing I was fucking normal.

[klowee]

my mind has been eerily quiet this evening. sipping on thoughts at a slow, easy pace. condensation irritates my fingertips — but I’m feeling more ready for the week.

and though I’ve done nothing productive at all today, it’s been a sunday well spent.