Or...is it the other way around? Fuck it, I cant be bothered, nyahh.

You know what I find absolutely amusing? Is that I find myself staying up way past my normal bedtime (around one in the morning or so) and just watching the strange things that come on during the wee hours of the morn. Oh sure, you've got your recycled Adult Swim stuff that just goes on and on until about four in the morning until G Gundam or some shit comes on, but every once in a while you get something good, nostalgic, or just plain fascinating. What always intrigues me is how eight years later I still watch a show I despise, if only for remembering happier times when being a kid was the best thing anyone could ask for. Rocket Power, one of the most baneful displays of my generation, comes on Nicktoons every morning at about two thirty in the morning. Now I'm sure you're wondering just how on earth such a revoltingly discriminate, racist, and stereotypical piece of shitty ass programming manages to keep my attention, but trust me, it's stupidity is what makes it so entertaining. The sad thing is, the animation is superb and a lost standard in today's children's cartoons, but I can't help but think that this only barely saves a ship that was destined to sink. It's supposedly about friendship and getting off your ass and into the sun, but apparently it's also about how being darker skinned, speaking in nineteen sixties ear drum splitting lingo, and shunning anyone who cant snowboard skateboard surf and play hockey at the same fucking time, always seems to be the ticket in the cool crowd. WOW, I NEVER KNEW THE REAL WORLD WAS LIKE THAT, SHAME ON ME. Nevertheless, it does take me back to a time where I remember everybody watching this show, yet everyone hated it. I mean, if you can induce such feelings of liking and revulsion at the same time, I guess they obviously have some kind of talent.

As for my good report on day three, I spent the majority of the last twelve hours of daylight jogging, reading, redoing my resume and cover letter, eating cereal and watching movies with the nephew, bitching at my brother to stop being a neglectful black man, and searching for a suitable apartment with a nice low rent. I'm surprised how many beautiful studios they're selling for like, five hundred bucks a month including utilities, close to all downtown restaurants and stores, and only one bedroom, but in turn an exercise room, a breakfast nook, a huge ass kitchen, and an sweet living room. So spacious! I cant exactly hone in on these things because number one I still have some business to attend to (such as finding another job, lulz). To sum up this relaxing and calmingly productive day, it's cold but beautiful outside, my dog is a sleepy panda, and I feel like making some hot chocolate and falling asleep, letting it spill all over my lap and burning my thighs bright red.

First, this.


I went out clothes shopping and sushi with a friend and ended up spending about a hundred dollars. Now I'm not proud of the splurging, but the things that came with it are much appreciated. Pity I just shat out the digested dinner but I guess that's the circle of life. I spent the majority of today just chilling and being a happy camper about last night. I mean, nothing good happened last night and I feel awful about my friend's car, but I'm finding it a lot easier to laugh at shit lately, even when it by no means is really supposed to be amusing. Laughter is always the best medicine, and if the psychiatrists ever find that out they'll start making us pay for that too, so shush. The pants I bought are for guys and funnily enough may be too small for my waist (sigh...time to get back on the treadmille), but I may exchange them, or just get used to these and stretch them out with my chubby hubby tummy. French music is beautiful, and I don't give a good goddamn what any humorless asshole thinks; Aqua Teen Hungerforce is fucking hilarious and nothing anyone says changes that. I mean...come ON. Carl getting raped by hand banana? Whoever doesn't laugh at that can just...I don't even know, dude, I don't even know.

I Ka Barra. <3

1. Post about something that made you happy today even if it's just a small thing.
2. Do this everyday for eight days without fail.
3. Tag eight of your friends to do the same. (Haha, nah, fuck that)

Eight days? Well alright, I'll try and keep up.

So I was feeling absolutely dreadful. Sometimes I get so down on myself that I end up shutting everyone out, and I realize this, and I shall work on it (possibly even bring certain people into that world, to prepare them for a long haul with the ever insufferable me. (Kylie, seriously. Do you realize what you're getting into with me? Just kidding, I love you with all my heart. Bear with me, I know I'm not an easy nut to crack and I'm sorry for that). But either way, my mentality was so far indrawn that I think the walls starting melting as I slid deeper into a self induced insanity, and then my friend Myra called. She immediately sensed the shitbomb in my voice, which isn't hard to do seeing as I wear my heart pretty loosely on my sleeve, so she took matters into her own hands and picked me up, right then and there. I sat in the passenger's seat like a dirty used douche, zombie-like and tear smattered, until we parked outside our favorite cafe and near the best hookah bar in town. We had a deep long talk about all this shit that keeps running through my mind and poisoning my chakras, and she told me that I need to fall as hard as possible before you can get back up, and that I need to accept that life is shit and laugh about it. And I thought about it: accept that life is shit and laugh about it? Haha, this...is why our friendship didn't end for good. So I thought about that, and I decided to laugh more at the funniness of my life, how shitty it is, because if I laugh at it, eventually everything shitty will be far more bearable. Not that I want to become one of those people who think that life is one big joke (like them starving kids in Africa...though the multicolor flies around their mouths add such plentiful texture. Yeah, see what I did there), but I'm at a point in my life where I need to stop avoiding the deep issues and let the shit hit my face while I keep walking uphill, blinded by giant brown dreck.

We smoked hookah for a while, which was enjoyable (I picked the flavor 'panda's milk'. I feel like going to China and sucking on a bear tit now; if that was just the shisha, imagine how euphoric the REAL THING will taste :D), and then we drove home, only to find that Colorado's shitty global warming chaos weather struck again, and the roads were super icy. As in...we were slipping and sliding all over the place; what did we expect a two ton vehicle to do? So we slid and slid and slid and BAM her wheel hit the curb and bent the axel completely, sending me into the window and giving me some interesting whiplash that I'm already feeling boiling somewhere in my upper vertebrae. So after some frantic phone calling (Myra with her grandparents and me trying to call my mom, which she didn't answer because of a fight we had earlier in the evening, HAHA cant wait to pull that on her tomorrow morning XD). So, minor car crash, and we spent the next ten minutes in the middle of the intersection with people steering all over fucking creation trying not to hit us, until this grungy ass guy who was probably an angel sent to help us came and pushed the damn thing all way over into the parking lot of a nearby seven eleven. So then we preceded to waste gas with the heat on and listen to Men at Work, giggling to ourselves about how much of a fucked up night the entire thing was, and how hilarious it struck us as. We waited inside the store for her grandfather, bought some donuts and a hotdog, and then watched as her car got towed as he drove us back in his awesome ass truck with his blinker on more or less the entire way, haha.

So basically, the good thing that happened to me today was the fact that I was in my first car accident and was able to laugh about it. Ding dong the car got wrecked, the car got wrecked, the car got wrecked. Ding dong Myra's car got wreeeeecked. Only thing I'm worried about is how she's going to get to school and work. Will she have to ride the piss-floor bus and sit next to a hobo? Find out next time at Mystery Bullshit Theater: Myra and Tasha get into some more interesting predicaments! :DDDDDDDDDDD

+ What is your solution to being uninspired? I've been a dead horse when it comes to writing for a long time now, and no matter how long I wait for it to return it just gets worse and worse. In the back of my head I worry that it's because I'm not meant to be a writer, but I don't want to dwell on that. What's your cure ...for chronic writer's block?

replies:

- Music the mood it puts me in and the imagery that it brings to mind but that might just work for me and my poetry

- Paint

- Read a really exciting book?

- I pray and meditate in a candle-lit room. Sounds kinda corny, but it has always helped me out of the fog. I hate foggy minds and that's where I loose clairvoyance and reason- if the two could really ever go together... BUT you dear, You can do anything you like in this life and do it well. I couldn't imagine any other best sellers topping you ... See More because your writing is so amazing. Perhaps all you need is a new adventure, even one inside your mind would do. I say let your good feelings control you for one day. See if that at least helps the numbness, or where takes you.

I just realized, my lj layout looks like Valentines Day vomit. v_v

I've reached that point where talking about it doesn't help a long, long time ago.

I cant really write anymore.

It's not a huge concern, I mean I'm not freaking out and pulling my hair screaming to myself omg I cant write. I just...don't have anything to say in that way. Nothing to express in the written word. I sing, draw, manipulate, get out my tablet and draw some photogenic eyeballs. But not write. I find I don't need to.

But maybe I'm a little put off. The things I have brewing in my mind could be considered angry, yes. More bitter, actually. But at the same time, big big plans for world peace. I listen to songs about world peace. I'm considering never harming another living creature. I'm preparing myself to love every human being that I meet. To love a world like this so devoutly like I picture in my head? It's overwhelming, and seemingly impossible. I do feel obligated to the world, yes, but thats really not why I want to do it. I just feel like its what will bring me peace. I've always liked doing good, saying good, whether or not its always perceived as such. I don't want to be a saint, or even a martyr, but I know that suffering will make me strong yet flexible. I've always been an emotionally volatile, as well as resourceful person, pondering, feeling like none other, stirring up emotions inside of me again and again until they've run out of smoke, and trust me in someone like myself, it takes a long time for the fire of past wounds to go out. But eventually they do, and it's so...peaceful.

I wrote on a whiteboard I found in the kitchen many many things that I've read every morning since, and I think with repetition and reminders, I can hold onto love and never let it go. I lost love, and hope, all at once this year, completely and utterly, found it, and am struggling to keep it. In short intervals I can live without love, but without hope? I'm truly destitute. But...I'm trying. I really am.

“In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength."

I feel a delicate yet heavy weight on my lap. Looking down, two dark honey ambers stare up at me, loving, questioning. What's the matter mom, she's obviously saying.

All I do is smile sadly, gently touch her elongated canine face. "Hey hun." I whisper.

Almost always our conversations are nonverbal. Our communication consists of excited grunts and erratic blinks, soft gazes and loving hearty touches. But this time, I'm in the mood to talk. And thankfully, what with her being the hyperactive pup that she is, she's in the mood to listen.

"Mom's going away for a little while. Can you handle that?"

Perhaps, but I'll miss you. And I'll be a complete brat when you get back.

"I know that, but I can retrain you and things will be good again."

Are you going somewhere to get happy?

"Not necessarily."

You're so sad. In the mornings, while I'm licking the kitchen floor, you stare into the air like that's what makes you sad.

"I know. Sometimes I just think sad thoughts. That's why I'm going away for a little bit. So I don't have to be sad so much."

Doleful blink. My princess doesn't say anything for a while, just kind of looks to the side like she's distracted, and perhaps she is. But I like to think that I know my daughter better than that. I pet her again, this time scrunching up the wrinkly skin of her supple face and massaging her furry cheeks. This seems to get her in a better mood, because her long tail wags a few times but then stops. A giant pink tongue swishes out and catches me on the lips. Its gross, but I laugh and wipe it off with the back of my hand. She's grinning.

"I wont be long, sweetie. When I get back, the walks will be great, and the fetches even longer."

crater swallows sun

and then we're stuck

in the frozen rat traps

with Popsicle metal

springs.

 

Dog's like jesus

and the cat's like

god,

one's eyes like

baby Adin's

all soft and pure

mischievous yet

untainted

 

the other...

 

critical

and

judgmental

 

watching your

every move

like each step

may or may

not be your last.

 

Peeks up, the light

listless and dull

on another

cyst fest day

 

and here I wonder

what they'll say

 

when I reveal to them

just how far

the cookie jar

loony bin

noodle bag

 

has gone

during the last year

or so.

 

Told her, and told

him, he looked

rather blank and

perhaps

 

rather perplexed

 

but she...

 

she just looked sad

 

sad her baby girl

was all grown up

and experiencing

the world's

magma first hand.

 

It all must smell

of pretentious

gilds and sweet

nothings

 

she's that way.

 

Cliffs are high

but bottoms too

soft for this heart

of diamonds and

rubies, blood red

and so stained

with sickle beauty

 

ice chip doubloons,

soaked in

sanguine sick.

 

Floral fauna caked

in reverence

heard the birds

call of morning

and regretted

this imagery

 

this train

that goes and

goes

this bus that goes

and goes

 

keep pulling on the

thin plastic cord

but it never comes

to a stop.

 

What's it like

to roll up in

a protective

little ball, I want

to ask both of them.

 

I suppose I could

roll over,

perhaps smell

the roses and dip

my toes in butter

 

bathe them in those

animal tongues

 

Fetal position so

futile, only makes

me feel like a bears feast.

I feel really sick every time I feel that criticism welling up inside of me, but when I try to suppress it, try to accept that each person in the world is different and there are millions of paths to be tread upon...I just cant. I get angrier. Because there is so much injustice that goes unpunished, overlooked like it never happened in this world. I know for a fact that I'm not fit to judge another human being, but why is it that I can no longer forgive mistakes anymore. Not even my own. And boy, I never used to feel this much guilt.

A person who adores writing needs to accept one thing before they can truly excel in the written word. And that is some things simply cannot be expressed in words.

It was my own fault for thinking the aroma of coffee and long ass dreadlocks would put me in the mood to make myself feel cultured. I had already spent at least an hour trying to read The Left Hand of Darkness, and my brain was starting to swell uncomfortably. This book didn't make me feel anything. Didn't make me laugh, didn't make me cry, didn't even pique my interest. And why that is, I have no idea. Maybe it was because her words are too sparse and god damnit she should stop trying to be Earnest Hemingway, maybe it was because it treated the readers like idiots (or geniuses), or maybe...

( She was staring. AGAIN. )