Tired.

Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally.

Tuesday was a rough day for me. Microsoft. That one word, that one company says it all.

Microsoft.

I almost quit that day. Not really, but I so wanted to so I don’t have to deal with Microsoft anymore.

They disabled a feature that we were using without letting us know. I don’t know who had an issue with that problem, but we didn’t and now we have to figure out a workaround to do what we were able to do before.

I was angry. I was upset.

I realized I had anger management issues. I internalized that.

I don’t want to be that person.

I don’t want to be angry.

I don’t want to be the fucking asshole that takes out his frustrations out on people who are just doing their jobs.

I don’t want to be an asshole.

But man, Microsoft. They fucked me over.

Growing pains.

Learning my lessons.

Hopefully, it teaches me a lesson and I evolve and become a better person. I’m fucking hoping.

Let’s hope, shall we.

* * *

Quiet.

My weekends.

Quiet.

I don’t do much in the weekends. I talk to those that I have to interact with, which are mostly customer service people as I run my errands, but for the most part, I don’t interact much with anymore.

No friends to hang out with.

No neighbors that I have that type of relationship with.

Just my pets.

I fuck with them a lot.

Not much interaction.

Not much of a life outside of work and that’s a choice.

My choice and I’m okay with it.

It’s my time to recharge, rest, energize myself to face the forthcoming week.

Life is a matter of balance.

I get my socializing all at work and when I get home and on the weekends, I need time to myself to recharge.

It’s my time to think, write notes, and work on whatever project that I’m working on.

I’m brainstorming on my current movie idea.

I jot down my notes, come up with more ideas, work on the story, work on the logic, and then one day, it’ll come time to write.

That FADE IN:

That will come.

Soon? Who knows?

* * *

The Christmas Romance.

How romantic will it be?

Who knows?

How Christmassy will it be?

No idea.

Bah humbug.

I got an idea for the story; I just need to figure out the structure, the conflict, and all of the characters.

Once I figure out an overall structure and arc, I think I’ll be ready. I won’t tie myself to the structure, but just enough to guide my way, to help with an end goal and a direction.

Soon, my entries here will become more and more sparse, and few and far between.

That’ll be my focus.

I haven’t written a script in years and creatively in who the fuck knows when. I’m excited though.

I miss it. I miss those creative juices, the splurge of ideas and constant finger tappings.

I miss it.

Hopefully I can get back to it.

Hopefully I won’t get distracted.

Then what? Maybe back to some prose, my little story ideas, or maybe even that short story or novella or maybe even the novel that I want to write.

I just want something.

I don’t care if I’m successful.

All I want is to finish and to publish.

* * *

Vacation.

I need to start thinking about when I’m going back to Washington.

I need to know when and where I’m going to work and I should plan around that. Well, maybe, maybe not.

I should just fucking plan it.

I just booked a short weekend trip out to Bishop with Pickles for Memorial Day Weekend, which is next weekend.

I don’t plan on much hiking, but just exploring the land with Pickles. We’ll do some hikes, but nothing really hardcore. I’m worried he won’t be able to keep up, but I’m sure he’ll be excited about it.

We’ll take it easy and find a nice easy stroll. We won’t be there for too long. I expect it to be more of a quick road trip where we’ll spend a lot of time in the car and find some scenic drives and such.

We shall see.

I still would like to do Sedona this year too. Not sure when, maybe later, in the fall or end of the summer. Maybe after I get back from Washington?

Should I do late July through early August again? Maybe. That seemed like a good time last time.

We shall see.

I have a lot of time to use. There’s not much use of saving days now that I get four weeks.

Spain next year will only be about two weeks.

Vacations.

Let’s do it.

No point in saving money.

Fuck it.

Spend.

Trips.

Vacations.

Get the fuck away.

Let’s just get away.

Here’s to getting away.

I think I used that one before as a title, but I’m sure I reused quite a few in the past 13 years or so.

Tired.

So tired.

I’m sick again.

Cold.

Not sure if it relates to the cold that I had about a week ago, but here I am again.

Coughing. Sniffling. Sneezing. Body Aching.

Fun times.

Fun times, indeed.

Tired.

Fatigued.

Blah.

* * *

It’s cloudy today.

Gray.

Home.

It’s a nice day to cuddle up at home and not do anything. That’s the plan. That’s how I imagine my day going.

Nothing.

No work.

No thinking.

Just watching whatever movies or shows that I want to watch.

Nothing.

Just nothing.

I don’t want to think.

I don’t want to work.

Nothing.

Nothing.

* * *

It’s time to visit the regions again.

Atlanta will be the first one and I will not participate.

I won’t be back into the office until they need me there, so I won’t have to go.

I don’t mind going. I really don’t, I would rather go by myself.

It’s just that the main help desk guy that goes isn’t too great and he volunteered himself to go and since I can’t go, it leaves the other main system guy to go.

They don’t get along well, so someone will have a talking to and another guy will go.

He’s good. I like him and I think he’ll do great.

He can troubleshoot and problem solve and act quickly without much help.

I’m curious on how it’ll go, but I think it’ll be fine.

Dallas will be the next one. That’s a whole office move to a new location.

That’ll be a bitch.

It’ll be good though. They won’t get robbed again.

It’s been an interesting year this year, to say the least.

Work is winding down where it is manageable, but there’s fucking problems.

Of course there’s fucking problems.

Always fucking problems.

Microsoft. SharePoint.

Slow at intermittent times and there’s rhyme or reason as to why. Fucking ass. They’re help desk isn’t helpful.

There’s so much pressure for this to succeed and we are blind and clueless as to what the problem is.

No insights from anyone.

None.

* * *

I was home Thursday.

Sick.

It was May 10.

The dreaded day.

I only realized the day while I was walking Pickles.

Thankfully I was so out of it that day I didn’t think too much of it.

I slept most of the day.

I was tired.

But, it’s May.

It’s the dreaded month.

I think I’m okay.

I think I’m well.

I’ll survive.

I’ve been doing it.

* * *

I’m over it today.

I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain…

Saying Yes.

Participating.

This gets easier. This gets easier with age.

The pressure or the awkwardness wares off and eventually I learn to enjoy myself.

Sure, it’s not all perfect and always fun, but I make an effort.

Yes.

I’ll participate.

I’ll show up.

But I won’t necessary mingle.

I’m still the passive observer, outside of the crowd, looking in, watching, searching, looking, absorbing.

I’m still the loner on the fringe finding a connection.

My introversion defines me, but it doesn’t dictate my life.

I’ve learned that it’s a love hate thing, especially when it comes to me and socializing.

All elements have to line up before I feel comfortable.

What we are doing? Who’s there? Whom am I chatting with?

So much depends on atmosphere and my comfort.

But I participate.

I say yes.

It gets easier.

Life.

Socializing.

39.

I’m on my way to adulting and its decisions like these that help.

Socializing.

It’s a bitch.

* * *

Body.

Tired.

I haven’t felt this way in years and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

My knees hurt.

My joints hurt.

My legs hurt.

Sore.

Is it age?

Something else?

No idea, but I will persevere. I will survive and I’ll figure it out.

I think my muscles are tighter and I need to stretch.

I walk on average 11 miles a day while at work. That’s a big gradual uptick from the same time last year.

That could be the reason.

My legs need a rest.

I need a stretch.

Yoga.

Health.

I need to make a better effort to better my life, to be healthier.

I’m definitely not getting any younger.

Definitely not.

* * *

You blanked.

Blacked out.

Forgot that we chatted a bit at the shindig.

You asked me how it was. You say you saw me, but you don’t remembered what happened at The King’s Head.

You saw me, we said our Hi’s as I introduced myself to the people around you.

I hate you!, you proclaimed.

But you really don’t. The grin on your face, the twinkle in your eye betrays your words.

You say again, I hate you!

I nod, agreeing, okay.

I shook my head.

No you don’t.

You shook your head. No I don’t.

You didn’t remember any of this.

You forgot.

Blacked out.

Then you stuck your finger in my mouth.

THAT took me by surprise.

Wasn’t expecting it. The people around us weren’t expecting it either.

You laughed, smiled, as you left it there, me confused, then pulled it out.

That was that. No explanation. No comment.

Nothing.

I left it.

I left you.

That was it.

That was all.

Throughout the night, we’ll catch each other’s glances, exchange our mean faces and that was all.

But you didn’t remember.

I recounted what happened between us to you a few days ago, refreshing your memory, but you didn’t remember.

I left out a few bit parts.

You said you hated me.

You felt bad. Horrible.

You apologize for being mean.

For sticking your finger in your mouth.

I let you in on the little information that I purposely left out. I knew you didn’t hate me.

You told me to fuck off.

So easy.

Pushing buttons.

Your buttons.

Easy.

Time flies.

As did my little #specialweekend trip I did this year.

For the most part, the trip was great, besides some little hiccups at the beginning, but it added to the experience and the adventure of it all.

Again, the plan was Muir Woods National Monument for some hiking and then Napa for the rest of the weekend.

The drive up was an adventure in itself. I thought I would drive up to the Bay Area as I normally would, up 5 and then the regular route to San Francisco, but Google Maps had a different idea.

It directed me to drive around the whole bay instead, which was good and bad.

I avoided tolls.

Great.

It took forever.

Not so great.

There was a freak rainstorm that day also. It dropped one month’s worth of rain in the bay area in a single afternoon.

I didn’t do much that day after I got to the hotel. I didn’t plan much anyway, even though I planned to get there a few hours earlier.

It was raining, so, I was whatever.

I found a place to eat and then did some research on the hikes that were available at Muir Woods.

While researching, I realized that to get into the park, one needs either a parking reservation or a shuttle reservation.

I have neither, so I got a shuttle reservation bright and early the next day.

The day of the planned hike. The only hiccup of the trip. They closed the park.

Muir Woods was fucking closed.

There were mudslides over the road that goes to Muir Woods and Stinson Beach. They were the two things that I planned to explore that weekend.

I got to the shuttle and they reported closing the road, then they closed the whole park.

The rain fucked everything.

Everything.

I had to figure out what to do for the day. I didn’t want to go into San Fran and I wanted to hike.

I called the Ranger Station at Mount Tamalpais State Park to see if it was open. It was and made my plans.

Driving through the state park, I found a paid parking lot that had a trail that lead into Muir Woods. It was a 3-mile hike.

By happenstance, I found my plan for the day and I didn’t have to change much of it.

The hike was good. It was quiet besides the raging stream of water next to the trail.

The rain made it come alive, raging and mad.

I didn’t know what to expect at the National Monument. I had an idea, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

It was small.

I understood why it would need reservations to get in. It’ll be hard to control the crowds in such a small place.

I wandered peacefully through the small park, taking in my surroundings and the tall trees. I traversed the well-manicured boardwalks and paths as I hiked pass the small groups of hikers that had the same idea that I did.

It was peaceful.

It was quiet.

It was nearly empty.

I hiked. I explored. I followed the well-beaten path and paths not taken.

I came to the realization how out of shape I was.

I still did about 9 miles in 3 hours, which is commendable, but I was tired.

My legs hurt, still not 100% after Yosemite.

My knees, especially my right knee, still fucked.

I may need to see a doctor for it or layoff it for a while.

It wasn’t until I hiked out and back to my car that I found a trail that lead all the way down to Stinson Beach.

I had planned to do that, but opted not to after seeing that it’ll be an 8-mile roundtrip hike. It wouldn’t be a problem; it’ll be a 17-mile hike day possibly more.

I was hurting after 9 already and I didn’t know how strenuous that hike was. How much uphill or downhill.

I went back to the hotel.

I got some ice cream and chilled before heading out to downtown Sausalito for dinner.

Sausalito is small. Quaint.

I walked around trying to figure out dinner then settled on an Italian restaurant.

It was all right. It was serviceable.

I got some gelato then called it a night.

* * *

Napa.

Bright and early, I headed to Napa.

California 1 to Stinson Beach was still closed, so I made my way to Napa instead.

Why not?

It took me a little under an hour to get there. I found my hotel, parked near there, then explored a little bit.

I got some coffee at one of their roasters and chilled for a bit while doing some research and reading.

When it came to Napa, I really didn’t have anything planned.

I wanted to take things slow, relax, chill and not rush anything and overall, that’s what I did.

I grabbed a quick and early lunch at Bouchon then I walked around Yountville for a few hours, taking my time, exploring.

I found a tasting room down the main road and started my wine adventure.

This was my first experience at a room where you can sit, relax, and just take your time tasting. There’s no standing at the counter chitchatting about the wine as you drink. You take your time.

I enjoy that type of experience better. I prefer it more.

You don’t get drunk that way. Take your time.

Slow it down.

Next, I went to their museum and they had a great Julia Child exhibit that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Close to the museum was the Chandon Winery and it was another winery that offered a tasting where you can take the sample with you and let you sip and enjoy it at your leisure. I was there for a few hours, reading, people watching, and researching places to eat.

It was also the first place where I bought my first bottle for the trip. A red. Cab.

Of course.

I drove back to the hotel, checked-in, took a quick shower and got dressed for my dinner reservation in Yountville, at Redd.

I made a reservation through OpenTabe and they showed that the only times were at 5:30pm and the next time wasn’t until 8:40pm.

The shit thing was when I got there at 5:30, the restaurant was empty. It just opened. I left close to 7 and it was still almost empty.

I don’t understand where all the reservations were.

Disappointing.

Nevertheless, the food was great.

The best thing I had there was the diver scallop dish with the motherfucking cauliflower puree.

That shit was amazing. Where has it been all my life?

Motherfucking cauliflower puree!

I drove back to the hotel and decided to explore the town at night all the while trekking to the closes rite-aid to get some Advil.

It’s quiet there at night. Very quiet.

It was a Sunday night.

Quiet.

The next day was a slow day too.

I woke up and went to Starbucks to do some writing and then I do what I do best, explored downtown. I walked and walked the city, trying to find a place for lunch.

I guess I could have gone and got some breakfast, but I’m not a breakfast guy.

I explored the city, their little market, and even inquired about the Wine Train. Expensive.

That day was a full day of wine.

Most restaurants didn’t open until close to 11:30 or noon, and surprisingly, many tasting rooms don’t open until 11.

I found one that just opened and had a good chat with the person that ran the place. I chilled at a table and we just chatted.

Bottle number 2.

Then lunch.

Tapas.

It was pretty fucking good too.

Next. All wine.

Tastings and tastings. These were more traditional tastings of standing at the counter.

I went to my go to, Clos du Val. Still fucking great. Solid.

Bottle number 3.

Then I went to another one down the street, recommended by the person at Clos du Val, Pine Ridge Wines.

It was all right.

Then I went to another recommendation, but apparently, it was by reservation only.

So, for the final one, I went to Jacuzzi.

Bottle number 4.

I got some olive oil and balsamic vinegar there too.

It was definitely a weekend of splurging.

I’m okay with that.

For dinner, I walked over to the market and had a rotisserie duck and a big ass taco.

Good.

* * *

Overall, it was a great trip. It was a great time by myself, exploring, and learning to take things a little slower.

It was a great experiencing of not planning and just figuring things out was I go.

I know that usually do that to begin with, but it’s good to actually take my time and not rush things.

Slowly, I learn. Slowly, I grow.

It was an expensive trip, with all the food and wine and expenses, but it was worth it.

Treat yourself.

You live only once.

Celebrate your life, the way you want to celebrate it.

Celebrate you.

And that’s what I did.

I enjoyed my time.

I pampered myself the only way I know how.

Do it.

Morning morning.

It’s a quiet morning here in quiet Napa.

I’m out and about, sitting outside as the sun rises higher and higher, heating up the day.

I sit outside, as I try to put my thoughts into words, or try to come up with some thoughts.

I sit, looking at my screen with my face reflected back at me from the screen. It’s a little distracting.

The day is long and I don’t have much planned, so I’m here, doing my little finger tappings a little early.

I know I won’t finish this today and it’ll continue this weekend, but here I am and here we go.

By the time this publishes, I’ll be another year older, another year wiser.

By the time I post this, hopefully whatever shitty year that came with 38 will end and fade away and it’ll start new.

Where to begin?

* * *

38.

38.

38.

What was that number?

38.

I dubbed it The Year of Bad Decisions a few months ago and it seemed that way.

I’m trying to decide when it actually started, when I picked Chutney up from the wildlife refuge or when I picked him up and brought him home from Roswell.

I don’t know, but it was a decision based on what I felt was right, from guilt, and me trying to give back to the universe and do something nice.

Everything before that was fine. Everything else before that was just work and decisions to do thing that benefited the agency.

Besides, those things happened before 38.

I know there was a lot of decisions I’ve made at work, creating things and projects that were questionable, but I’m not going to blame that. Those weren’t bad decisions. Those were necessary decisions.

The bad decisions were how I handled stress.

The drinking.

I don’t handle stress well.

I felt the pressure and there was a lot of pressure to succeed in all the work that I’ve done.

I don’t want to fail. I don’t mind it, if it is just, but when I do something, I want to put my best into it.

I guess that could be a decision, but again, work related.

….I’ve lost my way…let’s try again.

* * *

Bad decisions.

Let’s get this out of the way.

The drinking.

That’s how I handle stress.

I drink.

Whiskey.

Neat.

Rocks.

Stress.

It numbs it.

I don’t want to think about the pressure from work.

I drink.

I don’t want to think about the shitty thing that happened with Relish because my decision to bring a new dog into the house.

I drink.

My decisions affected others.

Thankfully, Relish is in a good place and is back to normal and Chutney has found a good place with Carel.

In the end, it all ended well, with all parties involved.

38.

It was the most stressful year ever.

No control.

I didn’t have any control over anything.

I had no control over my pets. I could only do what I can, which was try to rehome Chutney and throw money at the vet to fix Relish. However much it took.

Stress.

Drinking.

I haven’t drank so much in my life.

I havne’t thrown up so much due to drinking in my life.

Bad decisions.

I know better.

I know that I shouldn’t over do it.

I know my limits, but I went over.

Inhibitions were down the more I drank and the higher the stress level.

Stress.

Alcohol.

Not a good mix, but that’s how I deal.

I didn’t want to think about the lack of control anymore.

I found a new normal as I nursed Relish back to health.

I found a new normal as I tried to find a new home for Chutney.

I found a new normal as I worked and developed things at work.

Finding a new normal.

I guess that can be another theme of 38.

A new normal.

* * *

Here again in my usual.

Getting back to this, Getting back to the mindless rumbling that I started earlier in the week.

Hopefully it’ll be focused and concise.

Hopefully, it’ll be something.

A New Normal.

A Year of Bad Decisions.

38.

It was a rough year.

As stated above.

The stress.

The drinking.

The decisions.

My coping mechanisms.

But, in the end, I came out stronger.

Life threw so many curve balls at me, but I managed to get a few hits off them and in the end, I came out in the end, a little better.

My life changed in the past year, as one would every year, but my 38th year reaffirmed what’s important to me.

It helped me realize my faults as a person and it did help me realize how strong I am. I didn’t give up.

I didn’t give up on Relish.

To me, she was important. I was willing to throw money at fixing her, to keep her in my life, to right what I did wrong.

That was important to me.

I know I’ve always have this righteous judgmental attitude on many things and this was no different.

I fucked up. I was in a tight spot and things went sour, but I had to right it. I had to do what must be done to make sure things are all right, at any cost.

Money isn’t important to me. This past year just reaffirmed that.

As long as I’m fiscally secure, I don’t care how much I make.

Money is important. It’s important to me and my family, but it’s not the be all end all of things.

My mental health is more important.

Maintaining my stress level and being calm and Zen.

That’s always been important and this past year had tested me on that. I failed.

I failed so hard, but I managed.

When things got rough, I adjusted. I saw the light and picked up a new normal. I adjusted to a new life.

In the end, things worked out and that’s all I can hope for.

There’s a new status quo and things are good.

There’s a new normal.

* * *

Going out. Socializing.

I’ve been on this whole Year of Yes kick for a while now. The whole point for me is to say yes to going out.

I know if I don’t, I won’t go anywhere. I won’t meet people. I won’t socialize and maybe ultimately, I won’t meet a girl.

That’s what it all comes down to, right, but in the end, it’s all about being a little more social, getting out of my comfort zone.

In the past few years, as I go out more and more, socializing had become a lot easier for me.

I don’t feel uncomfortable being in social situations.

There are times when I do get the feeling of What the fuck am I doing here? but they are few and far between.

I think the company and the type of event helps too.

These little social events are mainly happy hours with coworkers. Most of them are going away happy hours and what not, so they aren’t too taxing for me.

They aren’t like going out and clubbing or hanging out or anything. They are simple and more manageable.

Talking to people gets easier. Alcohol helps, too.

This past year was no different.

I’ve learned to go out and get drinks with my coworkers.

I learned to talk to people I normally wouldn’t talk to.

I know to many, this isn’t much growth, but to me it is.

I know to many, they already think I’m a social butterfly.

That comes with age and experience.

If they’ve seen me a few years ago, they would say something different.

If they’ve seen me 15 years ago, they’ll know how far I’ve came.

I’m on my way to becoming a full fledge adult.

* * *

38.

As I wind down my last years of my 30s and head into a new decade, I’ve decided to act my age.

Adulting.

38 was the last year that I grew out my hair for donation. That was my third time. After that, I’ve decided not to grow it out anymore.

Having a man bun or pigtails in your 40s isn’t my thing.

I don’t think I can pull it off.

I decided it was time for me to give adulting a shot.

38 was the last year that I could have done it.

39 will be the year that I’ll prepare myself and work on being an adult.

Sohail brought up an interesting idea that the last year of each decade, one tends to do something outrageous like running a marathon or what not to make you feel young again.

I don’t know what mine is. Definitely not a marathon.

Again, I don’t think my knees could handle it.

Deciding to start adulting was probably one of the better decisions I’ve made in my Year of Bad Decisions. Of course, it’s a little too early to tell.

Fuck, it could be one of the worse decisions I’ll ever make, but I won’t know until I get there.

Let’s hope not.

* * *

Old.

38.

It was a year when I finally feel how old I am.

My body hurts.

My body is always tired.

It could be that I’m not getting enough iron or vitamins in my body.

My body felt like it did a few years ago before I started taking iron supplements.

I stopped taking it for a few years because of my stomach issues, but I’m back and I still tired.

38.

Fucking old.

Body hurts.

Knee hurts.

I’m out of shape even though I walk on average 9-11 miles a days.

I stand most of the day.

It isn’t until I lay down after dinner when my body collapses and by 9, I’m ready for bed.

I still remember a few years ago it wasn’t until 10 pm.

Age.

Old.

My legs haven’t felt the same after the fiasco that was my Yosemite trip.

The cramping fucked up my legs.

My knees always hurt.

I know how my brother feels now.

Fucker.

Old.

Age.

Getting old sucks.

* * *

This entry isn’t going how I hoped.

It’s usually on the second day when I can pull my head out of my ass and write something.

Hopefully today will be no different.

Fuck it…let’s go.

38.

I’ve already documented my problems or touched upon the many issues that I had with the past number.

I’ve also hinted at the direction that I want to take my last year of my 30s, which has become my favorite decade of my existence to date.

In the past 10 years, I’ve found myself, grown comfortable in my skin and accepted my flaws and worked on so many issues that I had.

I’ve come a long way.

What’s next?

What else is there for me to work on in the coming decade? What’s there for me to do as I start adulting?

I want to take this last year to prep for that, for my next decade.

I hope that it’ll be better than this last one. I hope that it’ll be more growth and more self-discovery.

I can only hope.

This past number taught me a lot.

It taught me many lessons and failures and all I can do is to accept them, learn and grow.

It taught me that not all of my decisions are great ones.

It taught me that I don’t have to do everything that I think is right. I have the control.

I don’t have to cave into the decisions of the masses or other people.

All decisions are mine to make, but when I make a decision, I have to live by them and commit.

If things go wrong, I am liable. I am responsible. The decision was ultimately mine to make.

Own up to it.

I’ve been good on that part. Not blaming others for my mistakes.

I know that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, especially on things that are out of my control.

I didn’t know Chutney was so aggressive even though I had a feeling it might be the case. I knew, but I didn’t follow my gut.

I made the decision, things happened, and I had to take responsibility for it.

Do I regret what I did? In a way, no. I wanted to save the dog. I wanted to give the dog a chance at a life than being abandoned by people that couldn’t’ take care of it.

I was compelled by my heart and my conscience.

That part of me will always be with me. I’m compassionate.

I just need to learn there is a time and place for things, I don’t have to act on everything, and I can’t save everyone.

38.

It may not seem like it, but the Universe has a way of making wishes come true. It maybe not seem like it, but it does.

I handle stress like how many others do, and that’s by drinking.

I know that when I drink, I can get a little belligerent and in the long run, unsafe. I take many more risks than I normally would.

My health, especially my mental health, had been one of the things that I had been focusing on in the past year or so.

The pressures and stress from work brought to my attention how unhealthy my copying mechanism is.

I’m aware of it.

I’m not an alcoholic, but I do use it to unwind and decompress.

Spending money on food and restaurants is another way that I deal with stress. I’m not as concerned about this, but sometimes I can go all out.

Food comforts me.

Alcohol numbs me.

38.

The Universe in its strange way helped me realize my problem and I’m making an effort to be more responsible.

No over drinking.

No driving drunk.

Plan ahead.

I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be, but I’m aware. That’s number one. Being aware of the issue, so I can fix it.

Owning up to my faults and realizing that I want to change.

Fix it.

The Universe…it’s a love hate thing between the two of us.

Hopefully we’ll have a better understanding of each other in the future.

It works in mysterious ways.

* * *

As tough as I thought the last year was, there’s good that came out of it.

I’m learning to be more patient and learning to take care of my mental health.

I know there were many things that I need to do and be more on top of.

I can’t put so much pressure on myself, especially when it is out of my control.

I need to be easier on myself.

Life.

38.

Give myself a break.

Cut myself some slack.

Things will always get better.

There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.

See the light.

38.

You were rough.

In the end, it was a much-needed test of patience and lesson that I needed to learn.

It’ll be a number that I’ll look back and remember how I handle things. I survived it with wounds, but I stronger because of it.

39.

I welcome you.

It’s a blank slate, a white canvas waiting for my strokes.

The Universe, whatever you have in stored for me, bring it.

With this, it’s over.

39, let’s go.

…baby, I, dancing in the dark…

In just a little over a week this dreaded number will roll over one.

In just a little over a week the havoc that I associate with being 38 will be over.

In just a little over a week, things will change.

I hope.

I so fucking hope.

38.

It was a messed up year. There were a lot of good, but there were a lot of bad.

Stress.

Stress.

Stress.

Much of the downward spiral started around that time.

I went off without a care on my little yearly special weekend trip with a tacked on business related trip the same time last year. Then, I decided to get Chutney.

Things were fine until I got Chutney home.

38.

The year of bad decisions.

Hopefully, by turning a new number, things will get to a better place.

It already seems that way.

My big migration project is over. I don’t foresee me working on weekends much anymore unlike the end of last year till last week.

Social Bridge can officially retire and SharePoint establishes itself within our agency.

It’s not without its push back or issues, but there’s some light as more and more people use it.

There’s a light at the end of this chaos.

38.

Year of bad decisions.

We shall see.

I’m sure I’ll do my deeper diver, my usual another year older, another year wiser reflection post after my little trip, but i just wanted to get some things out of the way as I tune my brain into it.

* * *

Food.

I’ve been thinking nonstop about food.

Dinner. What I’m going to cook and how I’m going to cook it.

Lunch.

Should I be getting lunch?

It’s been a thing of late that I’ll splurge and get lunch on the weekends because of the overtime that I put in. I use the overtime as an excuse to get lunch; it supplements my meal.

Now that I’m not working overtime anymore, I’m unsure if I should.

I know that there’s an expensive trip coming up to, in terms of food and such.

I don’t know.

Research.

I need to research places to eat and wineries for the trip.

Vacation mode.

That’s what I’m going to be in this coming week.

Not much will be done.

Food.

I’ve been craving McDonald’s for some reason. I don’t know why, but I am. I want a Big Mac.

Maybe it’s the disappointing dinner that I had last night. I don’t know, but eh.

Eh, indeed.

I’ll figure something out.

McDonald’s maybe cheap, but it’ll be expensive in the long run.

I’ll figure something out.

I’ll cave to my cravings.

I just need food.

I just don’t know what.

Food.

Pork belly with risotto.

Marinated with Asian flavors, pan seared, broiled, and then deep-fried.

Done.

Chinese food.

Hop Li.

Been craving that.

Birthday week.

Do it.

Lazy.

Let’s see how it goes.

Let’s see how it goes.

* * *

I think I’m done for a while.

Done. Done.

It’s my choice.

It’s a choice made from determination, conviction, and fear.

It’s a choice made from not wanting to make any changes.

I know my faults. I know my fundamental psychosis that prevents me from getting into relationships and the reason cuts deep.

Sure, a large part of it is fear. Not of rejection, although it does play a small part in it, no, it’s something larger.

I’ve written many posts on this, time and time again. It’s a common theme that comes up in my writing.

Father issues.

Fear.

Getting close, giving myself completely to someone and then having it just stripped away.

Fear.

Losing my independence, which I sacrificed so much for.

Independence. It was my final gift.

I cherish it.

The last thing I ever gave to my father that may have made him proud.

I know my issues.

I just don’t know when I’ll ever be ready to let them go.

No idea when or if I ever will.

Who knows?

* * *

I’m sensitive.

That’s what an intern said to me.

I’m a sensitive soul.

I put up a front.

Everyone sees through it.

I have my moments like everyone else.

Who doesn’t have their moments?

Things are changing. Time changes things.

Action changes things.

You have to want to change for it to happen.

Right now, my desire to change isn’t as strong as my desire to just be.

Until that happens, life will continue on this path that I’ve carved.

I have no problem with that.

I live.

I do what I need to do.

I enjoy my time, plan my little trips, and do my little thing that gets my mind off of work.

Even then, that’s getting a little tougher as I gain more and more responsibilities.

I take one day as a time.

That’s all I can do.

Time, it’s all I have and with each year, it becomes limited and the shit thing, we don’t know how much time we have.

No point in stressing about things that you have no control over.

There’s no point thinking about what could have been.

Enjoy what little time you have and live it and spend it however you want.

If it is alone, so be it.

It’s your choice.

It’s your lifestyle.

Live life.

Your life. Your rules.

* * *

I want to get back into screenwriting.

I want to get back to writing, creative writing and not this.

This has its place, but I want something more.

I need to get my creative juices back. They’ve been dormant for a long time.

Besides my photography from time to time, I haven’t done much creating and that’s a little disheartening.

I need to do more research on the Hallmark Channel Christmas movies.

I need to watch more of them.

It’s a little too….safe, sugary, and just blah happy for my taste, but for I find them fascinating.

Apparently for the 2018 Holiday season, Hallmark will release a record 34 Christmas movies.

THIRTY-FUCKING-FOUR HOLIDAY MOVIES.

How the living fuck?

Seriously?

How the living fuck?

Fascinated.

I thought I was losing my mind during last Christmas at Asensio, but no. Each day was a new Christmas movie.

Let’s do it.

Let’s think of a story and do it.

Writing project, 2018.

Do it.

* * *;

It’ll be a few weeks before my another year, another year wiser entry and turning another number.

The last year of my 30s.

To date, it’s been my favorite decade.

I’m hoping my last special weekend trip for my thirties will be fun.

I’m looking forward to it.

It’ll be a weekend of nature and wine.

Two of my favorite things.

Bring it.

I think I’m good at my job.

My boss received an email from an associate on Friday praising me for providing solutions or answers to a problem, issue, or idea someone had.

It was simple. They wanted a way to have a centralized location for an Adobe File to live while it’s out collecting signatures.

I like to experiment and try out new things and see how things work. I’ve been seeing the Adobe Sign app on Teams and I see it on SharePoint and wanted to test it out.

So I did and it seems to work similar to how they wanted it to work and I sent the associate examples of it as an option.

It is what it is. I don’t think I do anything out of the ordinary or go out of my way to do anything. It’s my job.

Users come to me with an ask or an issue and I do my best to fix their issue or answer their questions.

Maybe it’s part of my upbringing being an immigrant or maybe it’s part of my Customer Service history.

It’s my job to help.

But it was kind of nice to hear that though.

It was too much, but nice.

* * *

Tired eyes and broken souls.

Work.

I got a late start in the day today and my morning errands took way too long. I haven’t done much work that I need to yet. I just sent out a few emails and set a few things off, but nothing like the usual of me starting to sit down and do some work between 8:30 – 9:30.

I probably just did about 30 minutes of work and I’ll take that onto the afternoon.

I have many more migrations to do and a bunch of errors that I need to finish and update Dash promos and what not.

Fun fun.

Whom am I kidding? Working over the weekend isn’t fun.

Sure, I don’t do much on the weekends anyway. This keeps me proactive and busy, but still, I wouldn’t mind just chilling and binge watching all of the shows that I’m behind on.

Not this weekend though. There are things that people need me to upload and if I’m not doing it, they won’t get it.

C’est la vie.

* * *

Mandatory Happy Hour!

There was a going away happy hour this past Wednesday and I was the only “mandatory” attendee and doing my due diligence of saying yes, I showed up and it was fine.

The organizer of course, was a no show.

Always.

But, it wasn’t bad.

It was my first liquor/whiskey since fucking January or the last time I went out with Anosa, but I did fine. I didn’t over extend myself. I didn’t overdo it. I think I had about three, maybe four, but I wasn’t even buzzing.

Jameson – rocks.

It’s not my usual neat, but I’m adulting and need to know my limits and take care of myself.

I was surprised I stayed so late, but overall, it was a good night.

It was a bad day for me too. I was feeling tired and it felt like I was coming down with something. Body, fatigued, dying, but I showed up.

Organizer didn’t.

Lame.

I got home close to 9pm and fucking crashed. My body welcomed the sleep. I felt better in the morning; the sickness was no longer there. The alcohol worked its magic and disinfected my body.

* * *

The LA Marathon is tomorrow.

I wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for Ms. David’s email.

Grant it I never do anything or go anywhere on the weekends anyway, plus I have to work, but there could have been something that came up or if I wanted to do something on the whim, but now, I know, I ain’t going anywhere tomorrow.

Definitely only doing my Volcano Tea and writing run and back home.

Good excuse to be a homebod.

* * *

There are times when I feel compelled to do something like running the marathon.

Honestly, I think if I trained, I could do it. I’m not out there to break any records and it’ll be my first, so I’ll be setting my own PR.

Then there are times when I think, fuck running. It’s the worse. My knees? Nope.

They’ll be gone.

Done.

Over.

Not worth it, but I commend those that set out to finish it or even attempt it.

I wish Ms. David the best of luck in the marathon.

She can do it.

* * *

Words.

They escape me.

My mind, blank and Zen. No words come to help with these finger-tappings of mine.

There is no direction. There is no subject.

Aimless.

Words.

They’ll flow into nonsense.

Nothing to say.

Nothing to write.

All settled into the status quo that is life.

All settled into the new normal that I have adapted to.

Words.

They’re gone.

* * *

I don’t need you. I’m so independent.

That’s me.

I don’t need anyone.

I’m so independent.

I’m in my element when I’m alone.

Being around people, being with people, gets easier and easier as I get older.

Socializing is easier. I can do it when I want, but that’s not often.

Meeting new people gets easier. Being in crowds gets easier.

Growth.

But…I don’t need anyone.

Never had and I don’t think I ever will.

I know this might all be an excuse to explain to myself why I’m single and alone and with no prospects of finding someone.

I know a large part of it are insecurity issues, but I do have to say that one of the biggest reasons is that I enjoy being on my own.

I’m independent.

I don’t want to give that up.

I don’t know what it means to be with someone and having them cramp my space.

I don’t know how to operate like that.

It’s foreign to me. So foreign.

Time will come. Things get easier.

With growth and knowledge and a shit ton of patience, all of this will change and who knows, I’ll be with someone.

All on my own terms.

I don’t need anyone. I’m independent.

* * *