Invictus

 Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul. 

 

                                     --William Ernest Henley

I Never Liked Anything Temporary

Unemployed, no longer, am I!

Chipotle was gracious enough to hire me and give me a shot. One that I really am grateful for, so I accepted it. I do need money. It does make the world go round. It is the root of all evil. Yet, sadly we all need it to "survive"*. I digress.    But money, essentially, cannot buy happiness. So when I find myself so disheartened at the amount that I'm getting, I feel like "one of them". The sort of person that runs their life on ranking, style or class. Instead of the type of person that allows love, peace and unity to run their life--which I know I am.

I suppose it's simply the backpedaling. That has something to do with it for sure. Although, it isn't as if I wasn't prepared to take that on. I guess once the realization latched on and set in, I looked around myself and saw a reality I didn't enjoy. A subtle, but very constant urge to throw my face into the fryer. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed or regretting my decision, I'm just pessimistically hopeful.

When I think about the pay cut I'm taking and the lack of independence I have, I wanna backflip into a concrete wall. And I don't even know how to backflip! It makes me wanna learn how to backflip, perfect it, seek out the sturdiest concrete wall, measure the diameter, and then backflip into it.

But there are children making twenty-five cents an hour in some factory elsewhere. The gentle Buddhist in me keeps telling myself that. In addition to the friends back home that make me feel better and reminds me that this is only temporary.

KENNETH: You look yourself in the face dammit and tell yourself that you are the master of your fate and the captain of your soul!**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHRIS: Keep working hard and good things will come. I'm trying to be more positive, maybe I can borrow some from you, but I still think about killing people almost daily. People suck everyday. I might just sell 10-12 guitars and just leave: aimlessly.

YOURS TRULY:  I have plenty of positivity to spare. Got some "back-up generators" set for the collapse of my patience.

I'm doing what I got to, to do what I want to...


It's as simple as that.







*Because that's how humans made it thousands of years, right?
**The next entry will be the poem he was referencing to. ^^The one above this one.

No Time But The Present

Being unemployed and having extra time on my hands has gotten me a-thinking about stuff. How is it that back in high school, when I was doing homework, projects, working a part-time job, having a boyfriend, cutting classes and being an insomniac, did I have the time to be artistic?* I find that pretty funny because now that I have all the time in the world, it seems like I have no time to let my creative mind flow. I used to be broke and inspired. Now--well I'm still broke, only uninspired. Maybe it was knowing that I had my entire life ahead of me that encouraged me to try to execute my dreams. And it's not that I don't still have an entire lifetime before me, I just mean, my motivation to actually do has shot down tremendously. Maybe not being challenged by my peers, or not having the means to bring these dreams of mine to life is what began my slow but steady journey to Lazy-Assville. Meh. Maybe not. Plenty of people, with much less, have succeeded in being fruitful with their attempts to make their dreams come true. It's just about trying. Or as Master Yoda would say, "Do or do not."

I must say, I've been doing an awful lot of  "do not-ing" for a shitload of years**. Living my life and being led around on a leash by my heart, sure, but maybe all of that was material for me to use later. Now, later!*** I'm gonna get back on top of this. I really am. Starting by retyping and editing my script, "Sex, Drugs & Cartoons". Here I go. I'm going off to do it.





*I guess the being an insomniac part took care of that wonder.
**4 years to be exact.
**Shout out to Now-&-Laters' for being so godamn delicious.

Two Weeks Outta The Valley

So it's been a little bit since my last update. Just trying to get settled in over on the good ole' West Coast. I must say things are going tremendously well. I'm a little surprised at the reactions to things going tremendously well, from people back home. I don't wanna say I think they were hoping things would fall apart. Definitely don't wanna say or think that. I just feel as though a lot of folks are simply so damn cynical, that maybe they thought, 'How could it possibly work out?' 

Maybe I've restored some hope in people. I'd like to think so. Hell, it's even restored a touch of faith in myself! I've always been a follow your heart kinda gal, and that takes some percentage of faith and hope, but never in a hundred years would I have imagined it could be this good. Or it would've been only that, just my imagination.

With that said, being away from my love has surely been an exercise of the heart. I've come back to Philly per request of my former employer. Two weeks of working and saying new hello's and new goodbye's. I must say I didn't expect to return home so quickly, but I'm happy that I have. I put out a few fires here and there, while being an ear to listen and a shoulder to literally cry on. Makes me feel useful. Not that I don't feel useful in my new life on "the best coast"*, I just feel like my absence has made people realize what a good commodity I am. Therefore, my latest return is greeted with anticipation and genuine affections. 

I must say, it's certainly a mind trip. I haven't been gone for very long, and yet, I feel like a sort of visitor. Familiar-being and a stranger all at the same time. Almost as if I'm a ghost just floating around my old hang outs, snickering and fluttering about. Retelling the same stories, answering the same questions, flashing the same smile. 

I know it may seem somewhat odd, but I find myself excited to go back... home?** My heart is there. My love is there. It's where I've decided to invest my future. Although, I have many many memories here and a bunch of people that could retain my attention, I'm afraid they've all lost to the mustache totin', D&D playin', Sigur Ros lovin', cartoon cell buyin' man that I've fallen head over feet for. 

He's simply the greatest.

*says who?! 

**It is where I lay my hat, afterall.

Eh, ya know--I'm outta here.

Last shindig before I depart. ::sniffle sniffle::

I'm The Green Pea

Not one single gram of fuck shall be given today.

I can't really pin point what's going on with me today. Maybe it's the snow or how incredibly grey it is outside. Maybe it's just Monday. Maybe it's my anxious loins screaming to be unleashed. Or just a heavy case of the "fuck its" in general.

There's something about waiting or being in limbo that simply drives me nuts. Just wishing things could begin already. I'd like to consider myself a pretty patient person, but with nine toes out the door already,  I'm finding it rather difficult to hang on to my attention span with simple projects. Or anything for that matter. I've been more and more content with being left alone, often preferring it.

Sexually speaking, I feel like I could crush an 8-ball with my vagina. It's been a rather frustrating winter, with the person I love so many miles away, it's difficult pleasing the other the way we both would like. But soon that'll all change! And my green indifferent ways will become perky and yellow like a fully happy person should be*.

Just running a little thin currently is all.






*Metaphorically speaking, that is. 

East Moves West

So in my decision to relocate to sunny California, I've encountered some rather different opinions on the transition. I wanted to share a few of those comments and some I've discovered online. The who's who, what's what, stereotypes, Blue vs Red State and the all around differences of East and West Coasters.

So bring on the offensive and defensive, shall we...

"This coastal rivalry is far more than just Atlantic vs. Pacific. It’s Celtics vs. Lakers, Broadway vs. Hollywood. Biggie vs. Pac. And there’s no straddling the continental divide. You either face west towards the sunset or east towards the sunrise." -- Jascha Kaykaswolff

"I was born and raised in California. Started a business there in 1991. I moved east in 2010 and yes the differences are startling. Rugged individualism and laidback attitudes are not the norm by a long shot. Color inside the lines and everybody stay in uniform. The uniform is black by the way nobody wears color. But its all good. I may stand out at times but isn't that the point." -- C.L.

" I'm in NYC, and when I think of West Coasters (specifically California folk), I think of: blondes, "health food" diet trends, avocados and other "weird" food, fake boobs, fake tans, plastic surgery. Basically that "West Coasters" are all about the superficial, as opposed to "us New Yorkers" who are not. --thepinksuperhero

What's weird about avocados? --faintofbutt

I don't think it's the avocado that's perceived as weird, it's the quantity and frequency in which they appear in Californian cuisine. It seems true to me, but that's probably because I always ordered food with avocados when I was in California. Because they are awesome. --mullacc

A friend from CA actually described how some of his friends describe West Coasters as "avocado"- and then, when NYC friends move to CA, they'll rag on them for "going avocado"." --thepinksuperhero Message Boarders on ask.metafilter.com

"I have a West Coast friend who is constantly annoyed by us uptight, snobby, anal, fun-hating East Coasters. Stereotypes of West Coasters are the same as ThePinkSuperhero said, with the addition that West Coasters are more liberal, more environmentally friendly, more hippie-crunchy-granola types, and more gay. So much more gay."

"East coast - pushy, rude, grumpy, but hard working and always on the go
West coast - laid back, kind, but sleep until noon"

"My favorite stereotype is that West Coasters walk more slowly than people from the northeast. Put someone from the northeast in a sitaution where he has to walk behind Californians and he'll tear his hair out."*

"I grew up in Southern California but went to school in Boston and lived in Manhattan for a few years..so..

The main difference, culturally, is that East coasters are much more class-conscious. This is reflected in the way they dress and their ambitions. There are a lot more "private clubs" and other social stratifications than on the West coast. You "know" when someone is wealther than you. Here on the West coast, the billionaire could be the guy in sandals eating across from you at the funky Thai food place.

East coasters walk fast (as mentioned above) They are always in a hurry. They are also straight with you - that is, if they don't like you, they'll tell you. Some might interpret this as rude, but personally I adore this frankness. West coasters are "nicer" on the surface but this can lead to a sort of passive-agressiveness and even hypocrisy in their dealings with others.
East coasters are much more neurotic in general. Almost any Woody Allen movie is soooo East coast to watch. His movies were incomprehensible to me as a young southern californian. When I moved to the East coast, I finally understood..

West coasters are much more New-Agey - embracing all sorts of health food trends. Yoga first caught hold over here. Massage therapists abound.

The West generally leads the nation in what's termed "informal culture." Movies are made here. Surfer-speak and Valley-girl speak started here and moved East.

The East leads the nation in "formal culture." Upscale designers live over there. The best literature, newspapers etc. all seem to be from the East coast."



"I've lived on the west coast my whole life. Living on the east coast scares me because the people seem so blunt and rude (rather than fake and backstabbing like in LA)."


 "There's too much sun already here in Philadelphia. I can only imagine how badly California's sun would rip at my soul." -- late, great Sunshine

...hmm

All in all it seems like a lot of things I've already assumed and/or experienced while out in sunny California. Nothing I can't take on. I like to think I spend a lot of time in my own little world anyhow, so Cali shouldn't be too distracting. I'm such a blend of personalities already, what with the best pro-components of my Philadelphian blood, the sarcasm I've adopted over my years and the care-free living & compassion that Californians will agree with. Maybe I'll land on the scene and create a beautiful ripple effect, righting all the wrong stereotypes that East Coasters have misrepresented. Then again--a lot of what I've read wasn't too far off. I suppose I just never warmed up to rudeness, though, being frank and direct can be mistaken for that. Hmm.. interesting. 

I guess this one will just have to play out. Much like everything in life, we won't know the good or the bad until we get there. Though, I must say, I am VERY aware of the good**.. ;)

Whatever-the-case, here's to heading out West and not being stabbed by the Cholos*** or sinking with California!








*That would be me. I can't stand walking behind a slow Philadelphian, let alone the "walking dead" that will take place in Cali. I will break away. I will.

**

***A cholo is a term implying a Hispanic male that typically dresses in chinos (khahki pants), a wifebeater sleeveless tshirt or a flannel shirt with only the top buttoned, a hairnet, or with a bandana around the forehead, usually halfway down over the eyes. Cholos often have black ink tattoos, commonly involving Catholic imagery, or calligraphy messages or family names.  Cholos often drive low riders.