Writer's block

I ain't sayin i have it, much less that i'm a writer, but i'm tryin to break through these interminable breaks that's been plaguing my communication with unspecified and undisclosed audience. so i think i'm a gonna try writing about random thoughts that my eyes freeze upon in the day.

today while i was using the conditioner that resides in my shower, who's possession it is is not quite clear to me, i noticed it said "For professionals" or something like that. I wonder what that means? Like professional conditioners? Like you can use these viscous substance to condition the condition that arrest us like extreme rendition? Anyways whatever it's for i wonder if i should ask my roommate whether i can use it... naw.

a second thought i had was i've been having a lot of good questioning of myself, intentions, desires and destinations and one thing i realized is i want to be involved in happiness. Not an irresponsible happiness that comes spontaneously, wantonly and at times injuriously, but a happiness that comes from the smiles of others. from the sugar smiles of others that spread sweet tingles throughout the body and warm vibrations through the soul. whatever that means i'm going to strive for it and hopefully being more intentional about seeing things every day will get me there...

Inadequacy

I've been having this brooding feeling that's been pulling at my shoelaces, bringing me closer to tripping over than whatever odds already were expectantly waiting for me to flop. It's a vague feeling of fear, of inadequacy, that i've wasted opportunity after opportunity to become something worthy, something that tiptoes the thin line of something extraordinary, something that i'm not and something i wish i was.

In some ways, i feel blessed to be surrounded by so many amazing people and experiences, that challenge me, the way i think, the way i exist, but at the same time that sinking feeling that's constantly brewing inside, fogging my confidence and boiling my fear, isn't exactly the most pleasant feeling i like to rest my head on when i transition to sleep. coincidentally and perhaps symbolically, i have now been more than 6 weeks without a pillow because it is in the garage of someone who is traveling and i am too cheap to buy one. oh how i miss those pillow covered days.

I guess I just need to use this as motivation to maintain focused on self betterment. i just read something that said just the ability to spot your weaknesses, your inadequacies are in someways a gift, a positive that will push you forward.

and so, alas, another weekend passes away, my room still messy, many thoughts unwritten, inspirations un-pursued and feelings unprocessed. i have not yet had a week, where i feel ready to be immersed into it, where confidence maintains a thin layer of protection letting me sway carelessly to the different currents that find me, but i think i'm getting closer... hopefully. regardless i just need to remember how blessed i am to be here, for the opportunities that i've had and will have and just remain patient with myself to fail but also to succeed.

Poetry

Poetry.

Poetry.

Poe tree.
Poet Tree.

Let the feelings blow through my leaves.
Sounding rustles as our breath heaves
Weightless thoughts
Sinking into 1000 pounds of withheld tears.

Let the branches embrace the air,
the sky, the souls the green and the blues.
Emptiness becomes nothing
Sewed into universe's blanket

Let the roots tap into the struggle
Glinting unwavering eyes
Searing through lies
Smoothing greed's ugly wrinkle
a shackle on our ankle

Let me be that tree.
Let me beat in that tree.
Let me be, to beat in the rhythm that be, but a tree.

Tired of being afraid

I'm tired of being afraid of things that don't even exist. if only i could control my imaginations, and wear possibility colored shoes and fearless shaped socks, i could dance the beauty that is now, and not lie pathetically on the sofa of fear of unknowns. here's a short story of what i mean.

Last night an ant came into my ear.

She asked "May i enter your ear?"
I said "I guess..."

I could not deny entry as i'm not adverse to sharing. if i have space that will fulfill your needs then please occupy, encamp and unload your burden. My humble frame is but a brick to sculpt pills that heal.

The ant waltzed his way forward, time moving in thirds, until she reached four stumps. She rested her bag of sadness on the first stump. She placed a loaf of bread on the second. Then she carefully brushed the pink surface of the third stump with one of her feet while using another to wipe away the pungent yet strangely agreeable ear wax with ant sized tissue. She pulled a dandelion pillow out of her bag, fluffed it rhythmically and then tossed it upon the fourth stump. Then she lay her arm on top of her pillow and then she crowned the pillow with her head.

That night was already a weird night, the kind where the silence of the night collides with the city's snores, creating a feathery current that tickles your core. In that uneasy sleep, I woke up to the hushed vibrations the ant's snoring caused. Her inaudible voice sending sounds to my brain directly. It yanked me in and out of sleep until the morning came and i found bits and pieces of the forgotten night memories lodged into my finger's prints. Her carcass but a crude reminder of my uncertainty in myself.

That morning my semi-psychic friend told me to worry about a girl named Amber, her dream foretelling of an unfortunate outcome.

I don't really understand what's going on. And i feel like i'm uneasily balancing on two swively chairs while my hand frisks a cabinet my eyes cannot reach, feeling out for something lacking, but unsure of its texture as it runs amuck while my feet tremble to stay afloat.

Blog Blast

right when you thought it was over! it's the sunday blog blast you all~

i've been at a lost as of what to write about for a while. but when i allow myself to bathe in that which keeps me smiling ideas start flowing. i think i've been trying re-figure out who i am and i've kind of been at a loss. but i think i'll stop looking and start being.

Los Angeleeeeeeessss

I'm here. I'm back. I'm happy and i think i might have received the most awesome hug of my life yesterday.

not that i wasn't happy before. i'm-a-always going to be happy, and even if sometimes i ain't, i'm gonna grab my leaf blower and blow that un-happiness away to my neighbor's lawn as if it was the autumn leaves that blanket the earth like a seasonal task. un-happiness, NIMBY is all i got to say to you.

but yeeees! i'm excited. i know inside them next six months different ian's are lurking and smirking waiting for the current ian to come upon them, interact, fight, love and transcend. as an organizer in training at the LCSC/BRU i think for the first time in my life i will be challenged to the point of doubting myself. i'll probably meet parts of myself that i don't want to see and don't want to be seen. i'll find buttons i never pushed and if i had known about them i would have been pushing it like the tempo on a sultry dance floor. 

i think i still don't understand the full extent of what LA means for me and what it can and will mean to me. but i do know that i love the people here. just the hugs i've received from people are enough to make me know that i embrace this place, and this place has embraced me in it's own raw way. this place has mad love to offer and all i want to do is soak it all in, left and right, until i become all soggy and bloated. but really, it's all good cause i'll just lay in the LA sun until i'm all fresh and spongy again to start it all over. love is what moves me and all i want to do is wake up with love in my eyes, receive all the love that people whisper to each other like weak signals of an overloaded wireless thingamjig. 

so if you see me better watch out cause i'm gonna go all blue tooth on ya love.

the beauty in struggle and the pain in beauty

for the past two weeks i've had the opportunity to work at a day care center for developmentally disabled kids, most of them autistic. a lot of times i feel like i use the word opportunity as a niceism cause it sounds nice and polite. but this experience was something really special. there were times when i really didn't want to go and times at the center where i felt like i was going to freak out. but not to idealize or glorify their conditions and the real challenges they face, i learned a lot, got inspired in ways i haven't before, and i just really appreciated the time i spent with them and the staff at the center. 

prior to working there i had a really weak understanding of what autism is, and it's still weak, but i guess autism is disorder where you process information differently, especially social ones. a lot of the symptoms i saw were, communication problems, repetitive behavior and just completely unique ways of interpretation and expression. also almost every kid had different symptoms so what works for one kid doesn't work for another.  

i think there were two things that stood out the most out of all that i garnered there. one was just how infinitely exotic and flamboyant everyone of us are, and how our perception really alters our state of love for others. the second was sorrow at just how hard it is to live with disabilities. i'm not sure whether this is justified, and i in no way intend to place values, and maybe this is more so in response to an unaccomodating society, but maybe this will get more clear as my thoughts sink into this page.

there was one friday where i was left with 3 kids all alone. one kid was hitting himself on his head and groaningly shouting words and noises i could not decipher, a kid smiling on the couch occasionally moaning plaintive appeals to the air and another kid digging his nails into my arm so he could sink his teeth into my flesh; i personally feel i'm not a complete stranger in the neighborhood of bites, but i've never experienced that sensation of what meat in cartoons must experience, the slow elastic tearing away of flesh that breaks off not because of the bite but because of the pull. the kid's seeming uncontrollable pent up feelings seemed to express what i felt, an overwhelming tumor of an emotion spreading through my mind and trying to vent but not translating into any coherent action. i felt paralyzed as if i was in the middle of a fire with a firefighter's uniform but without the gear or the training, or worse just boots, underwear and those weird shaped hats and maaaaaaybe an axe, but probably useless because of its overbearing weight.

later it became clear that the kid hitting his head didn't like certain sounds, and the kid smiling on the sofa knew that and so purposely made those sounds in his mischievous youthness, he also had a much milder case of autism and that was probably a source of other stresses in his life, and the other kid bites people when he feels stress, most likely caused by the noise the other two were creating.  it was a completely incomprehensible situation at the time, but totally coherent if you know them and their way of communicating. it might have been possible to resolve the situation by asking the sofa kid, or enticing him with a task, to go down stairs and away from the other two. the staff who so lovingly and understandingly explained this situation were really inspiring. in a place where probably so many people would rush to judgement and try to escape or avoid the situation, they truly tried to experience and understand the world through the eyes of the kids, which i ambushed by preconceptions failed miserably to do. but i think identify with what they feel. though our conditions are different don't we all bang our heads against walls that we don't see, thrashing out un-embraced emotions upon what is within hands reach, wanting unrequited desires, crying out lonesome thoughts that go unheard? isn't that what living and growing essentially is? at least to one degree...

and so at the end all i have is mad respect for the staff at the day care center, for the parents and for the kids. but i do feel pain at how hard it must be for the kids and parents, but obviously not pity. like others, their stories must be ones of victories, failures, misunderstandings and overcoming of that which alienates, not to mention neglect and prejudice by the government and society. though struggles may trigger more beauty it still is a source of more pain, and that thought of times when people break down under the weight of struggles that at times seem bigger than the fight they have in them makes my heart is pierced with a dose of poignancy. but when you see the smiles that exude extraordinary love, stories that reveal uncommonly generous compassion, sorrow is replaced with awe. it was a great learning experience, and i feel shamed that this experience was yet just another window in my landscape as i move on to other stories and struggles, but i feel extremely grateful for the time spent with them and i hope i will be able to incorporate their stories into the one i am slowly kneading with each step i take.