life’s too short to even care at all….

But in a way, I do care.  It just seems that my mind is lost in this constant fog of desire.  It isn’t a desire of love, but a quiet desperate desire of wanting to be with someone. 

It all goes back to this, and I think I am getting to the point where I am just a little pathetic.  I’m just a little pathetic lost puppy wanting to be found.

It has to stop.  It just needs to stop.

All of this attention given to girls that aren’t interested.  Why?

Why am I like that?  Sure there is the attention that I give and the little that I receive, but is that all?  Or is there something different?  It seems that all I’m approaching are the girls that I have no chance with or know that it isn’t going to work out.  They are too young. 

Their life just barely beginning.

Why am I just silently, willingly torturing myself?  Why?

It just needs to stop.  I think it is this, this this, that is just making me sick. 

My body is fatigued.  I am tired.  My tired body is rebelling against me. 

There is something wrong with me.

*    *    *

I’m tired. 

My body.  Is. Tired.

I haven’t been this tired in a long time.  This is out of the ordinary.  This is not normal.

There might be something wrong with me and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

There’s a part of me that thinks I’m just out of shape.  I just need to start working out again, getting my body into shape, my stamina up.  I just need to work out to get more energy.

Another part of me thinks that my dear old friend is back again.  But I don’t know.  This doesn’t feel like the deep dark depression that I am familiar with.  I don’t even want to call it a depression, because for the most part, I do feel fine.  It’s not even the blah of the blahness ennui that strikes me from time to time. 

Emotionally, I do feel fine.

I feel fine.

Yet, there is the part of me that is very soft and sensitive.  Thoughts of dad just tighten my heart.  It pulls at the strings and I miss him even more, pulling the tears from my eyes.  I miss the man.

But my body is screaming.  It is tired.

There might be something seriously wrong with me.  It could just be a nerve thing from sitting on the ball.  I don’t know. 

I’ll just do some simple tests.  No more ball. 

That’s the only thing I change in my normal day to day.  Instead of my chair, I have been using the ball. 

That must go and I’ll see where my body stands. 

Even with out the ball, the important thing is that I need to get some exercise.  I need to get back into shape.

I shall run at night.

I shall stretch in the morning.

I shall just be more active.

I shall just be.

*    *    *

I find it funny that I’ve been saying that to myself for quite some time now.  It still hasn’t happened.

Hopefully, it’ll start soon. 

I just need to stop focusing on things that are out of my control.  Girls.

I need to just focus on things that I can control.  My health.  My projects.  My writing.  My photography.

I just need to focus on me. 

What happened to my yearning to be a little more distant and away from people this year?  What happened to that?

Will I be able to get back on track and be a little more antisocial than I need to be? 

I have already been a bit social with B5 and the Blox.  Am I going to start with the Non-Artist?

What am I to do? 

There are times that I think these are things that I just need to go through.  These are just things that happen in life.  Living it.  Experiencing it.  Being with people.  Being around people.  Interacting with people.

Is it?

Didn’t I kind of do that with the D?  Didn’t I?  I would like to think I did, but what came out of that?  Nothing.

Just a dwindling friendship of my undoing and just people who know us trying to get us together. 

Out of everything, I think that is the funniest part. 

The other people trying to get us together.  Whether it is a simple recommendation of her being single thrown out by her boss or a simple thought of playing matchmaker. 

Just Funny with a capital F. 

Funny. 

*    *    *

Change.

I say it takes time and I am smart enough to know that it does take time.

But it also needs to start.  That small snowball that will eventually turn into a avalanche will need to start sometime.

When is that time? 

Will it be tonight?  Will it be here.  Now.  As I stake my claim to make this change in myself.  To just be. To just avoid.  To just live my life and be okay with it.  To just…just. 

It is time.

I know I have said this many times before.  This may be a part of that growing collection of false starts, but I will keep starting and starting.

Here.

Now.

I’m starting.

It’s time for that CHANGE.

Let it simply….begin.

That daunting whiteness stumps many writers and I am no different. 

It stares back at me, taunting me to type, to ruin its perfect whiteness with letters, words, paragraphs.  It taunts me to write the story, but I don’t know what is holding me back.  Something is holding me back.

Is it the empty thoughts that cloud my mind?

Is it the thought of B5 feeding me wontons or the times that we hung out together?  Is it the separation from Ms. D that I’m feeling?  We are there, but not always there?

What is it?

Or is it just the fear of what all writers go through?  I need to just write it out, conquer it.  Just write. 

I’m trying a different trick, focusing my mind on something else until the story chisels its way out of my mind and onto the page.  I’m just looking for that one thread that will tie everything together, and right now, I have nothing to tie together.

Maybe that is my problem, as my mind has been a little preoccupied as of late. 

My mind has been filled with little thoughts of this and that and it accounts for nothing.  They are just fleeting thoughts that have no lasting impression.

They are nothing but mere musings of the heart, of the soul, of just playful teases to keep my mind busy and on something else.

I’m in a state of mind of that is not conducive for creativity. 

Am I in it again?  Another visit from this old long lost familiar friend of mine? 

It doesn’t feel like it, but it is something different, something I haven’t been able to shake.

I don’t know what it is, but it is definitely something.

*    *    *

When will it be over?  How long will this friend of mine stay this time?

I’m blocked.

I know I shouldn’t be looking toward this as a creative endeavor but more as work, as a assignment like I am making this little post of mine.  It is a assignment and I have no problems putting my thoughts into words here.

Why make the other any different?

It is the same.  Thoughts on paper.  Thoughts into words. 

Just do it.

Write.

Think.

Create.

Flow.

Stream the singsong streams of shoes and traveling.

They should be perfect for you; the inner wanderlust should be able to write it without any problems. 

Tap it.  Tap that inner soul of yours, that little child that I know you to be and just write you motherfucker.  Write!

Create.

This is it.

This is what you want to do.  Ever since the thought of writing came into your fingers, to your soul, it is what you’ve always wanted to do.  Write.

And now you should do it.  Just write.

Fucking write.

No need to brainstorm, no need to think.  Just let your fingers do the work.  Your mind and your fingers are one.  One thought.  One stream of consciousness that flows.

Words appear and soon a story of little shoes.

WRITE.

Words.

Sentences.

Paragraphs.

WRITE.

My thoughts slowly drift away and all that is left is a nothingness that is welcome.

No more screams. No more tears. No more fears.

There’s just an emptiness of tranquility.

That is what I am embodying in my current state of mind.

That is what I am here to doing, a mental meditation to get me in the game, to get me into the right mind state to do what it is that I need to do.

Maybe this will last till my dying days, running away from any distractions that might come my way.

Will this peaceful mental stability last?

I don’t know as I ramble on incoherently in this welcomed state of mind.

* * *

Closed Diary.

That is what I was coined last night as my friends had to pull information that I was more than willing to volunteer to them.

It just never came up.

They brought up the question on when will I find me someone and it was then that I let them know what my current situation is.

With all of my hangout sessions with B5 to the cop out of Ms. D. Everything.

It’s not that I am a Closed Diary, which I can totally see people thinking that I am, it’s just that you have to ask about it.

I guess in a way, I do put out the total private vibe, but it’s just weird that I totally never see myself that way.

Weird indeed.

Did you touch her?

That was one of the funnier questions of the night as they were trying to get more details on how I am with B5. I am openly flirtatious with her.

Then Partner Partner opened up about how I am all handsy, especially with the waitress, letting on that I have more game than he is. I totally don’t even remember that happened, but I guess it did, ’cause I do tend to get a little handsy from time to time.

Just funny.

* * *

Keeping myself busy.

Ever since the beginning of the year, I’ve just been trying to occupy myself creatively.

Working on the current projects with Scott, thinking about the rewrite of my current script and trying to get into more prose writing.

As I get my new camera, there will be other creative projects.

Maybe new video shorts and maybe Lego stop motion shorts.

I just need to stop fucking around and just do stuff.

* * *

Writing is becoming tougher and tougher on here.

My mind, these juices, these thought vomits aren’t becoming easier and easier.

Nothing hangs on my mind, but everything is on my mind.

Maybe I just need a break from certain things, from these heart spillings and brain meltings.

I just need to step back and just focus on other things, like a kid’s shoes walking over town, seeing things that it has never seen before.

Maybe, just maybe.

….and that is what it should be.

It shouldn’t be the be all end all of all things that everyone makes it out to be. It shouldn’t be at all.

It should just be this. No pressure, no commitment. Just two people, two souls, being together, here now, just hanging. Just being.

Just enjoying each other’s company.

There shouldn’t be any pressure to make it more than it is. Take all those pretensions aside, all of those expectations and throw them out the window.

Just be…in that moment, in that time. Just be.

That’s how it should be. That’s what I am seeing more and more. That’s the way that I’m going.

* * *

I guess it is finally happening. That one part of me that is on the precipice of keeping that innocence or swaying and plunging into my usual jaded cynicism is making its decision. It is finally getting to the point and falling in line with what I truly am, a bitter, jaded, cynic fool.

The Hopeless Romantic in me is growing up. Finally?

Maybe.

Here’s to hoping, right?

* * *

So for some reason or another, I’ve been hanging out with B5 afterhours. It’s nice.

I do genuinely enjoy her company. She’s cute, independent, funny, and she’s just good peeps.

I rambled on and on about her from time to time on this little thing of mine.

And I think it is with her that I’m starting to get it. Things should just be, exist, just being together, not expecting anything.

I am just genuinely enjoying her company. No big grand gestures, no long term thinking, no expectations.

Nothing has happened per se and I don’t expect anything to.

If something happens, great. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter. I get to hang out with her, just doing something and I am enjoying it.

It’s nice.

* * *

Just let go and let it flow.

Let it slide away, melt away. Just let it go.

There’s nothing you can do but just learn to forgive, if it is what it is that I need to do.

Just forgive and let go.

It’s over and you have no choice or say in the situation.

It is what it is.

Just let go, and give him a chance.

Is that it? Is that right?

Is that what needs to be done?

Just let it go. Let it be.

* * *

…and from her lips she drew you hallelujah

It’s just time. It’s time for honesty. I have to.

Things have been pestering away at me for a while now. Things have just been in my head.

I feel like a dick. I feel like a asshole, but you know, I think it is something that I need to see through. I have to.

I am just going on information that I have gathered, information that I have seen and mulling things over, I’m doing the right thing. Right?

…it’s a cold and a broken hallelujah

It has to be. I need this. I need to be free, I need the catharsis of not having my heart strings pulled and tangled into this mess of mine. I just need it.

There are times when things are just crystal clear and there are many where things are just a muddled pool of muddy waters.

I don’t know.

Why can’t communication just be clear? Why can’t things just be honest and straightforward instead of these little games that we have to play? I have no idea what is happening.

Maybe it is like that epic literary rom-com of Pride & Prejudice; you are my Lizzy Bennett and I am your Mr. Darcy.

Maybe. Just maybe.

But alas, I don’t know. I don’t see.

Sitting at my usual spot just people watching with my new found long lost younger sibling from another mother, I see you. I notice you. It’s hard not to. You were there, and my gaze is just naturally drawn to you. You make your way over, but you don’t say anything…and sadly, nor do I.

It was a stalemate, a Mexican standoff of who will cave first, the first to acknowledge the other. I tried, but I got no response.

As you look over my fellow sister, my partner of people-watching, giving her the up and down, what are you thinking?

Ugh.

The confusion in my head, the cloudy thoughts of just not knowing for sure.

As I consult others, the unreliable source, my little sister who knows about the situation, they all say the same. Move on.

Move on.

And so I did. I am. I’m doing.

I need to. I need this.

I made the effort. I made the reach out. I did it.

But things just fell flat. What is it?

Maybe you were busy and couldn’t make it. Maybe you did exactly what I thought you did, scheduling it with another. It was an out of hanging without the actual hanging or the pressure of my intentions.

I don’t know what it is, but my spidey senses, my intuition, my gut is telling me, screaming at me…it’s never meant to be.

* * *

What’s that look in your face? What is it that you are thinking? What is it that you are feeling as I sit there?

Our are thoughts the same? That you think The Blox is my sig-ig? Is that what you are thinking as you look at her, checking her out, doing your little calculations in your head, comparing her to you?

Is that it?

I don’t know.

My gut could be wrong. Many times, it is.

But I don’t know.

What is it?

Is it a sign of disappointment that things didn’t happen afterwards, as we gave our final hug goodbye, you saying that we’ll see each other?

Is that what you mean? I have no idea.

None.

Ugh.

* * *

So, now, here we are.

There’s a radio silence between us. The only communication are the thoughts in our head, spewing out things that we wish the others would say, or at least that is what I’m hoping.

That means that there might be something there, that there might be a chance, but I don’t know anymore.

I don’t know much of anything anymore.

You know me. You know my habits. If I’m not there, it means something and you can ask. We can talk. We can be honest.

You know where I am. You know my number. You know my addy. You know.

But you don’t reach out. Not at all. Maybe that is it. Maybe that is the concrete thing that I need to finally realize and take in and embrace.

You never reached out.

* * *

…i need you like a heart needs a beat but it’s nothing new

Sorry.

It must be done.

It has to be done.

She was disappointed.

She was just surprised by you.

You are not my type at all, and that was something that she expected.

You are different from the mold that my heart has an affinity for.

You are different.

It is the you that I fell for. It is the girlish charms that you possess that makes these heart strings strum.

It is the inner you that my heart beats for.

It is you.

But no more.

It stopped.

Slowly, the beat dies down, not because can’t beat on any longer, but that it must. It must stop beating for you.

Stop.

Over.

Flatline.

Declared.

That is how it is. That is what it is. That is what it must do, because honestly, I can’t see a way out of this if it goes on and on and one.

My heart just can’t take it anymore.

My heart is just done as a plaything.

So, I’m hunkering down for the long haul, until this thing of mine is over and done with. Until my heart seals and becomes whole again.

I’m done and gone. Gone and done.

Done.