December 1st

When people ask me what I do, it’s sad that writer has grown more and more distant from my identity in the past few years.

I’ve been stuck. I have been so stuck. Writing is such an extension of yourself. To put your mind garble into words and publish it takes a good amount of knowing yourself. A sureness in what you’re saying. Well, I’m starting to realize that I’m not sure if I know what my point is anymore. I’ve lost that sureness within myself.

And how unfortunate. You can’t just get it back. I can’t read over my past writings and hit a resurgence. That’s a version of me stuck in time. We don’t relate anymore. I can’t borrow old confidence. I have to find new confidence in who I am now. But like…where?

I’ve come a long way as far as character development over the past few years. I used to be very closed off from people, the world, and my own emotions. And today has become one of those times where I’m reminded of a big catalyst of that development for me. Today, December 1st, marks the day one of my best friends died two years ago. He meant more to me than I completely understood until I lost him. And without that friendship, I’m not sure when I would have shed my defenses. It’s possible I’d be that same hurting, boarded-up-heart to this day.

I like the person I’ve come into. I wouldn’t wish to go back to who I was before. But, this is where I find my thoughts at odds. Lost in between 1.) being proud of the progress I’ve made in love, managing and expressing emotions, sympathizing and empathizing with others, and 2.) setting myself up to be constantly hurt and disappointed because the world functions on another selfish, inconsiderate, and hostile axis. I feel like I was happier being an asshole. People didn’t take my kindness for weakness. There was little to no risk of losing people and things because I poured very little of myself into anything. I considered friends more like human resources for whatever worth I gave them, and they were dispensable. I was comfortable. I was in control, but it was so empty.

Now here I am in all my personal growth from that emptiness, trying to love unconditionally in a cancel culture. To put it simply, I’m facing some serious discouragement and defeat right now. I posted about it before, how 2018 felt hopeless and miserable because the progress I was making was more loss and clearing my life of things that weren’t good for me, and fewer gains. I felt 2019 was a big turn around. I thought I was finally seeing my future coming into place and I was getting excited to step into it. Now I’m hitting some changes that have killed that excitement and left me in the same small, crushed, and questioning state I was in two years ago.

My friend Mateo was such a dynamic individual, I struggle a little sometimes thinking y’know, I wish we traded fates because he would’ve done so much more with this time than I have.

I know that’s no way to think. I’m trying to not let that be the stopping point in my streams of consciousness. So what is next?

I first heard this song on an airplane heading from Morocco to France for a layover before heading home. Anderson .Paak wrote it as a tribute to Mac Miller, who’s death occured within the same year I was mouring Mateo’s death. The moment just stuck with me as I was looking out of the window from the sky and hearing the lyrics,

I’m workin’ on a world premiere
And I could see the world from here
They ask me where I’m going from here
Shit, anywhere long as the runway is clear

It was so fitting. I had it on repeat for the whole flight. And I’ve gotta realign my mind to think like that, I’m working on a world premiere. And I’m rebuilding that confidence to share it, even when I’m shaky on the delivery.




Are You Ready For Some Garbage???


It’s happened enough times where I shouldn’t even bother explaining myself. I keep failing to get on this site and write. And I’m all out of excuses, because my mind is literally exploding with things to tell you and has been for quite some time.

So let’s not get into the plethora of why’s and just keep it pushing. But REALLY pushing.

I’m not talking like a cat slowly pushing a glass off a table.

I’m not talking like you push an old lady along to the other side of the street.

Nah, we’re pushing out BABIES.

We’re pushing ENVELOPES.

What am I even talking about? I already lost my damn point…

Well that kinda is my point, actually. In that, this pushing along means I am going to seriously commit to writing more often.

All of my mentors throughout the years have advised me to write every single day. Whether or not I feel like it, whether or not I have anything to write about. The advice didn’t even come exclusively from writers. So it’s just some general knowledge thing that I’ve ignored for years I guess.

Well, I got the message, finally. So here’s the deal. I am going to be writing more posts.

They may be short. They may be all over the place. They may end abruptly. They may be garbage. Many will most likely be garbage.

But I will be writing and getting my thoughts out without letting my worries keep me from publishing. That’s what’s been keeping me silent. I don’t know how to close in an article, or I feel like I’ve been really serious lately and want to wait to post when I have something comical to say.

Nope, fuck that. If I thought it, and wanted to share it, it’s getting shared. For better or for worse.

So brace yourselves and I apologize in advance.