External power outage day: Reasons to keep trying

This morning I woke up early to the sound of the rain.

I was inspired.

I was hopeful.

I was ready to take on the day full force… but only after I wrote here first.

I wrote a bit.

I read a bit.

For awhile, it was on Twitter… quoting lines from one of the comics I got this weekend while out and about on Free Comic Book day.

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And then, nearly almost exactly after I finished my earlier post today… well something else happened.

Silence.

The power went out.

I was so busy with my own distractions that I didn’t even notice.

How many other things do we miss because we are too busy with distractions?

I shrugged it off.  I took the dog out.  I’d read for a bit and write for a bit… the old fashioned way and kill some time contemplating and reflecting about life.

This weekend there had been a discussion about how the world “just needs a day to shut the fuck up.”  That sometimes (read: often) people just talk too damn much.  I thought about that a lot today… in the silence.

I really do talk too damn much sometimes.

I walked the dog.  I’m currently dog sitting for a friend of a friend.  One constant through my recent travels through the city has been the presence of dogs in most places where I’ve laid my head… and felt comfortable.

Perhaps this isn’t a coincidence.  I mean… there are too many damn cat fanatics out there.  Strange strange creatures that they are… on the interwebz.

On my walk I would find out an expiration date: the power would be out until 8:30pm tonight.  There were “too many other emergencies” that the LADWP simply couldn’t keep up.  I looked online on my phone.  I saw the mass amounts of orange dots on the grid.  I should have taken a screenshot.  It was pretty brutal.

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The aftermath of the Revenge of the 6th Power Outage in Los Angeles

Well Los Angeles, I guess this is your chance to shut the fuck up for a few minutes.  What are you going to do with your life?

I started to read.  I laughed as I thought about the power being dead on my Kindle.  About how despite the convenience of technology, how much I was still thankful for books.

For piles of analog transmissions and thumbed pages.

Of that new book smell.

Of that old book smell.

Of the joy of turning a page in anticipation of the next.

It’s these simple things that make me smile.  But the day wasn’t over just yet.

“I have a secret anger and rage for every beautiful flower.”

And I did too.  In secret.  In not so secret.

But the rains poured on.

Dogs all over the neighborhood were furious- barking constantly as if maybe that would restore the power.

Neighbors complained that they were stuck.  Technology had failed them.  They couldn’t get out of their parking garages.  After all, those were electric too.  Oh the convenience of technology.

Machines in the apartment blipped and beeped incessantly begging for power.

Begging for purpose.

Cars outside honked.  Impatience surrounded the neighborhood.  Everyone seemed to want to escape.

Everyone refused to shut the fuck up.

Everyone, it seemed, for once, except me.

I conserved what little power I had left on my phone.  I turned to books.  I turned to words.  I was going to sit there and face my demons in that silence.  In that quiet… oh in that quiet…

I’ve found myself missing pieces of my past quite a bit lately.  Yes yes I know, move forward, not backwards.  But something about this last time was different.  Something about this last one changed my life.

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Before it rained, it was like something in me knew.  I sent out a message to the world.  To you, the person I really hoped would be reading.

“It’s in the quiet that I miss you most.”

So there it was… the gift of quiet.  I sat there.. in the “dark” and thought about life.  I thought about pain.  I thought about love.  I thought about success.  I thought about failure.  I thought about…

“The manic equivalent of looking in a mirror and unplugging an appliance.”

And in the silence I just.. broke down.. but not how I thought I would.

In the simplest of terms and bits and “sound bytes”… these are not all the reasons but they are the ones I will share with the rest of the world right now.

I am tired of the pain.

I am tired of the anger.

I miss the passion.

I miss the love.

I miss the vibrancy and light that exuded from us both whenever we looked at each other.

I miss your silly Barney Rubble laugh.

It was quiet.  I grabbed a pen.  The words flowed like water.  It was a downpour of inspiration.  Rain seems to have that effect on me.

And then it happened.

Someone, somewhere not too far away started playing a piano.  Beauty came from the silence.  In a world where fingers and thoughts might have been too busy to notice otherwise there was… magic.

I smiled, still quiet, in the company of notes.  Because even if I was alone I didn’t feel alone.  It made me remember the simplicity of it all.  About how far we’ve all come from it.  About how far I’d come from it.

And myself.

“It’s in the quiet… when I miss you… when I miss me… that I find all the answers.  Of all the simple beauty.  Of why I keep trying.”

Thank you LA DWP for this forced moment of silence.  It was exactly what I needed today.

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Per request-

Mia: Don’t you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don’t know. That’s a good question.
Mia: That’s when you know you’ve found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.

That, my dears, was my weekend.  But you’re going to have to wait to hear that tale.

With that, the sound begins again.

I know that it has been awhile since I’ve done this.  So much has been going on.  But don’t fret.

I have not stopped writing- I just changed mediums for awhile.

I have not stopped dating.

I have not stopped smiling.

(Non sequitor.)

I have not died.

(Well, that part is only partially true.)

I still exist.

I guess part of what happened is, as generic as it may sound…

life.

I was walking through the art supply store yesterday waiting for my friend to be free to cut me some canvas.  I can’t remember the last time I painted.  I was inspired and felt it was time.

My weekend had been a blur.  A punch drunk fury of hours come and gone like a gust of wind.  Perhaps the rain this week washed away more than just a few dirty streets.

I think I know what I’m going to paint.

My best had to help a customer.  I found myself lost in shelves lined with magic.  I called the one person who I knew was a combination of both worlds.

“Grandma what are you doing home?  You’re supposed to be in Dwight enjoying your childhood memories.”

“Next weekend.”

“I want to have sand in my paint but I forgot what I need for that…”

“To thicken it up you need a medium.  Or you can just use oils because its thicker.”

You see, and this should not come as much of a surprise, but my grandmother… is an artist.

“Grandma I had… All I want to do right now is paint.  I want to hike and paint and watch sunrises and sunsets over the city and paint for awhile.  It’s been too long.  I have a lot on my mind.”

“I think thats wonderful.  Do you still have those brushes your aunt and I bought you years ago?”

“I do.  I’m going to have to dig them out.  I’m buying a couple of artist pallates.  I want to go to the beach and paint so I want something that if I lose I won’t be super upset about losing.”

“Buy a plastic one or get paper ones for that.  Best bet would be plastic. It’d be easy to clean.”

“Grandma, tell me about how it was to date in your time  What was that like for you.”

“I don’t talk about that.  I did date before your grandpa but I’m a very private person.”

Oh what she doesn’t know…

We walked around and talked about life.

“Why as a society are we brought up and told “Be honest. Be yourself.  Be open.” but then when you actually are, people crucify you for it… because there’s something about them that they can’t fully express and they’re envious… because you are the colorful painting and they are stuck in black and white.”

“Because people are hypocrites!” She said with a laugh.

I guess that’s part of why I took a pause.  My scrawlings, despite being vague and relatively ananomous nature have been both uplifting and the knife of the final move of my demise.  Despite my openness about this blog before I ever even enter into anything, men seem to become entransed by the words and then… when the plot really thickens and the soufle is in the oven… well, they fall short.

“Choose your words wisely.  They make or break you.”

I am not broken anymore.

I may not be that black and white picture all of the time but…

Life has been busy.  I have eased into a semi normal lifestyle believe it or not.  I have slept some wonderful nights and I have also tossed and turned with dreams of a ghost.

But those tales shall come later.

Know that I have been to hell and beyond and… it’s good to be back.  We have a lot of catching up to do my friends.  And thank you for the messages telling  me to get back to this.

More later.  But for now?  I have to get dressed.  Someone got a normal 9-5 office job downtown.  Mind boggling huh?

Cheers,

j.

Gold stars for you: Moving is more than moving

I haven’t talked to her in a few months.  We’d said that we were going to talk more.  We used to be best friends.  You know, back before he happened.

I introduced her to her boyfriend- a guy I knew from a website around the same I started to date Big.  While we all know what happened with him, her relationship, though cross country not only lasted but she arrived in New York this week to take up residence to be near him.

Her sheer amount of patience through the struggle of being away from the person she loved for so long is admirable.  I envy her in a way.  It is not something that I think I could have done.

Her cross country love story- from Alaska all the way out East, gives me a bit of hope.

Everything is possible if you add heart and push yourself.

So while I push harder than ever to get through some of the things going on here, my bag is a carry on tote.   These cranes will continue to be folded.  And perhaps wishes and dreams really can come true… but only if you give yourself entirely to the goal.

Here’s to fighting to making that move… everyday closer to that one bit of manifest destiny that resides within each and every one of us.

And with that, I have to go back to work.

Gold stars to you my former best friend.  I miss you.  Congrats on making it home.

Rise and shine.

Dear diary,

Right now it seems more than ever I am being tested.  My demons of my past are surfacing.  My demons from the present are merging.  I am slaying dragons and am… still in the tower.  I am not the damsel in distress.  I’m fighting my way out.

On the horizon stands the most worthwhile prince this princess has ever encountered.  She fights not for the prince, but for herself.  She is the only one who can conquer them.  Weather the light at the end of the tunnel is joined by him, no one can be sure.  This is the real world and not a fairytale.  But wouldn’t it be grand if it ended up that way?

Last week, I entered a time machine.  It was a time I had nearly forgotten.  I reminisced down memory lane.  I strolled down the beach to gather myself once again.  This mermaid…

I contemplated life in the silence.  It used to bother me so.  It used to make my skin crawl.

Now?

There is far more music in the sound of nothingness than in anything else at all.  It is truly amazing.

And while its easy to find my way home to you… it’s not always easy to get there.  Sometimes I forget the way.  Sometimes I forget the days.  Sometimes, it seems that it’s easier to forget and walk away from those things that dare be unleashed once again.  It’s easier to pretend.  It’s easier…

But they’re still there when you turn around.

Home is the embodiment of the dance of emotion.

Of rise and shine to fall and shadow.

Demons within.  Demons around.  I am no longer afraid of you.

Diving Back in: Muse for Hire Goes Overdrive

I have a confession to make.

I have been focusing more on my web series project (one that bloomed out of its parent project) more than I have the documentary for quite some time now.

My computer hit the max and I needed to get another hard drive.

Between that and a litany of other things, the project was more or less put on hold until… go figure, I was feeling a bit more inspiration.

That happened (another awakening if you will) at Comic Con and further more as it continued past.  And while a lot of the video I got at the con may not likely make the doc, it was what happened afterward that actually reminded me “get back on your project, it’s important.”

I do not believe in forcing art.  I am a purist of so many forms.  I want genuine pieces that I can be proud of.

I took a time out… perhaps a lot of that should have been on film.  Perhaps it wasn’t meant to.  It was not a great time for me.

And then the card came.

Cranes and.... subtleties

Cranes and.... subtleties

At the time, I honestly couldn’t tell you how many cranes I was at.  I was slacking and, well, hadn’t folded in months either.  And while I have quite a bit more than the ones shown here, I still haven’t made the mark just yet.

I got this near the day I had originally intended to finish the project- my soft deadline of August 6th- the 64th anniversary of the bomb dropping on Hiroshima: Peace Day.  I had failed but maybe… not just yet.

It was a sign in it’s simplest form sent directly to my doorstop.  As did… other things later.

Nonetheless, it’s time.  It’s not quite time… but…

Wise words from another world echo in the background.  They speak volumes in one short sentence- not written on the back of this card.

They may have just as well have been.

Time will tell.

Time will tell.

Time.

Will…

For now, I shall reach out…

for that muse…

for that…

Well, a girl can’t give everything away.  But the answer may not be what you think.

In the Aftermath of Brutal Honesty

He came back on though.
Said he missed all of it.
That he wanted to be run over again.
So i put it in reverse and let ‘em have it.
He asked for it after all…

Me- are you sure you want me to? I won’t lie. It’s pretty brutal.
Him- yes I am…

[enter vaporizing dosage repeat]

Me- now I look like a bitch xs 2.
him- why?
Me- … I’m too nice.

—-

circa 8.17.7

—-

What’s odd about this particular entry, is that in the midst of trying to think of what to write for a blog today (as there was an overabundance of inspiration), I decided that I would write about it later, and post another bit of prose from my past. This particular piece having been inspired by ****** from the previous entry came to mind near immediately.

****

It was not until I copied it from my notebook that I noticed the date.

One year ago today.

Coincidence?

I don’t believe in coincidence.

I believe that timing is a funny funny thing, especially when it’s about a relationship.

We grow..

we change..

we remain the same.

Brutal

and honest.

Those words echo in my cerebellum.

I remember why I adored him back then.

I remember why I’ve missed him so.

Admirable traits…

from someone whom in many ways is sick and should not be viewed admirable.

Ah what a twisted world we live in.

Reminiscent

Paramount

Permeating seducing pheramones

Once again transcribed into my reality.

I stare at a blank canvas…

hoping that you will enter again

hoping that this time

perhaps you will stay.

And while I know that I don’t need you..  your presence is requested at table 3.

Party of 2

Will you meet me there?