It happened.

It finally happened.

Retired.

Mom retired.

She signed up for the voluntary layoff and will start collecting her pension.

All of this before her 61st birthday.

Tired.

Sore.

Lazy.

Her words, not mine.

I feel the same and I look forward to the day where I can.

Someday.

Long haul.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

It’s not even a marathon. It’s the way of life.

It’s life now and I need to make changes to it.

I need to adapt.

I need to settle into a routine or some semblance of one.

We’re not going back to the office until next year and even then that will be drastically different.

This is what life IS now.

I need to make changes.

I decided to settle and work on a schedule.

I’m re-implementing or continuing Movie Night Mondays again.

I’ll put aside any shows I’m watching until the other days and watch movies on Mondays.

They don’t necessarily have to be movies that are released in “theaters” but something I haven’t seen before.

That’s an ever-growing list, so I’m sure that I won’t run out of movies to watch.

New routines.

Old routines.

Things to keep me busy.

Things to keep my mind off of this new fucked up normal that is life.

Fuck Trump.

Fuck China.

Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve declared my Fuck to them.

Fuck ‘em.

Being locked in isn’t any fun.

My Old Friend is back. Not as strong and the same strangeness. He lingers enough to let me know I’m not right.

He lingers enough to let me know that I’m not okay.

He lingers enough to let me know that I’ll survive.

It’s okay to acknowledge it.

It’s healthy to.

We all should be able to feel how we feel and not be afraid of it.

Sigh.

Back to it.

Back to my thought.

I feel like I should be writing again.

I want to explore my options of creativity.

I want to get my juices going.

Words.

Drawing.

Music.

I want it all.

I need any outlet.

This drive only comes when my Old Friend pays me a visit and this is no different.

Music.

That’s something that I really do want to explore.

Maybe from a little Garageband or just anything to play around with. It won’t be good, but I don’t care.

I just want to create.

I just want to focus on something else.

Feel productive.

Produce.

Something.

I should start.

I will start.

Poetry.

Words.

I want to create it all.

I will create it all and that’ll be my future.

I’ll be a Renaissance Man.

Let’s do it.

Fear. The empty page.

Everything jumbles. Words. Phrases. Sentences.

Thoughts.

Jumble.

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to write.

I always face this issue.

I start.

It never ends up what I want or even close to what it used to be.

I lost the gift.

I lost that drive.

Time off.

Interests fade.

The little Joyce-ian stream of consciousness diatribes that I was so great at back in the day are no more.

They don’t come.

Jumble.

I don’t know what it is.

I don’t know.

Day after day.

Everything is the same.

My thoughts. My lack of motivation and lack of inspiration.

Same.

Gone.

No more.

I don’t even know what life is anymore.

It’s another cycle of the day before.

Nothing new.

Nothing changes.

I need to settle in.

It’ll be for the long haul ‘cause there is no end in sight.

None.

I think as time drags on, second by second, in this horrible joke called Eternal Quarantine I’ll succumb to the mind numbing of it and will start to create again.

From the ashes, life rises.

I need to write again.

Creative writing.

Stories.

Scripts.

I miss it.

I need to dig through my notes and see where I left off.

I need to do so many things.

No motivation.

No inspiration.

None.

Sigh.

Life.

It’s a general unease of anxiety as our future is uncertain.

What will happen?

The election?

No ONE knows.

No one.

I’m a man. Struggling. Alone.

Aren’t we all.

Alone.

What is?

Sigh.

I don’t know what to write but I do know that I want to write something. I just don’t know what to put down.

It’s been a little over a month since my last one and since then, there really much going on in my life.

What the fuck is happening?

Nothing?

Nothing is happening in my life as we all are still in quarantine with no end in sight.

We are on day 148 of quarantine.

148 days.

Four months. Almost five.

Stuck at home.

Sigh.

Normal?

Definitely not normal, but it is the new new normal.

Sigh.

Hahaha.

What is life anymore?

What is normal?

Something different…I was kind of sexually harassed today.

It’s not offensive and it was a joke, but it felt good.

Some human interaction with a total stranger.

Something that is missing in my life at the moment as we’re quarantined from everyone.

I was leaving Vons and I about to leave the store and stopped and told the lady in front of me to go first. She said I can go first….” I like to watch them leave”..or something along those lines.

Hahaha. It was cheesy. It was stupid, but I don’t care.

I thanked her.

I laughed.

It was something.

It was different.

Along a similar vein. I’ve been seeing a meme that has been going around.

Men are so starved for attention that a single compliment. can from a girl can make the guy like the girl or the person giving the compliment.

It’s true.

I don’t think it necessary applies to me, but I think the point that I am trying to make is that we don’t get complimented that much.

We are starved.

For just something genuine.

Well, at least I am.

Yes. I am aware. I do know that my life, my seclusion is my own doing.

I’m a hermit.

Sue me.

Sigh.

New normal.

New normal.

Sigh.

The world is falling apart.

Chaos.

The Apocalypse.

Trumpocalypse.

The Orange One.

Fuck China.

Our world is regressing and its sad.

Very sad.

I can feel it.

That feeling.

My Old Friend is back again.

That weird tingy feeling.

It’s not the same feeling that I felt when I was younger, but this new adult friend feeling.

It’s different but the same.

Different but the same.

It is what it is

Fuck Trump.

Sigh.

I’m lost.

I don’t know where to go and what to do.

I don’t know what to write anymore.

Overall.

I’m not okay.

But I’m OKAY.

I’m a survivor and I’m okay.