Veggie Placenta?!

Today I decided it might be nice to spruce myself up in preparation for my birthday. 

(Naturally) I’m not going anywhere, doing anything (interesting), or seeing anyone (unless my cat counts), BUT I will have to look at myself at some point tomorrow.

Therefore, I figured it’d be best to look half decent for my own amusement. “Hobo chic” totally works for me most days, buuut I guess it won’t hurt to put forth minimal effort one day a year.

As part of my restoration project, I dug through one of my bathroom vanity drawers in search of a face mask. I quite like K-beauty products as a whole, but Korean face masks… those are my entire world. Besides, when I put them on I look like Jason Voorhees— it’s kinda creepy. 

Well, I mean, I look like Jason Voorhees if he wore poorly matching pajama pants and embarrassingly oversized shirts during his workday. I guess in that light, it isn’t so much creepy as it is sad. I really should think about changing my household attire.

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When Karma Comes A-Knockin’

 

Knock knock!

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Hi, my name is Karma. 

I can see that you’ve been startled,

But I ne’er meant to alarm ya.

 

Truth be told, I’m most polite on any other day

I’d call you up ‘fore visiting if I could have my way

However, duty calls me to the job that I must do

I’ve come to bring harsh judgment

The recipient is you. 

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Daydream

I dream of you often, dear fragment of my imagination. I long for you still, so I’m burdened by this hopeful frustration. 

God, please grant me more patience.

There’s no fear here at all. I’m ready and willing; I’ve prepped for the fall.

Are two hearts really two hearts? Are we lonely, feeling outcast til the love starts? 

Two souls meeting here in the black dark. Emerge as one in the bright light.

You’re there hoping that you’re wrong. I’m here praying that I’m right. Reality hurts us both, so I’m closing my eyes. What a beautiful sight…

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It Finally Showed Up. Now What?

I seriously can’t even believe this.

Today I received an unusually wrapped item in mail. I stared at it for the first few moments as though I’d never before laid eyes on such a thing. This certainly isn’t the case, but I was shocked nonetheless. You see, I had gone online to request a postgraduate admissions catalogue from one of the schools I was interested in. It was supposed to arrive within ten business days, so I excitedly ran to check the mail every single day. To my disappointment, it never showed up. 

That was four months ago.

Much has happened in the last four months. Things have changed at a rapid pace. My goals, my career path, me. The notion of pursuing my Masters (much less a PhD) has managed to slip to the very back of my mind without me noticing or even caring. I’ve been so caught up with my new plans and aspirations, so enveloped in a blanket of newfound passion and positive expectation, that I had once again convinced myself that my grad school dreams weren’t important.

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Today.

Today started like any other day.

The cat temporarily lost her mind and began fussing at the crack of dawn. Muttering under her breath, she squeezed herself between my body and the edge of the bed. As usual, I could feel her curious green eyes boring holes through my head. I opened my left eye ever so slightly. Sure enough, her sweet little face was a mere inch or two away from my nose. She was watching my unmoving face, praying that her presence would be enough to wake me. 

Is she awake? I hope she’s awake. I think she should be awake. I want her to be awake. Now.

In an act of self-preservation, I shielded my face with my arm. Right on cue, she pawed at my bare forearm and mewed. I pretended to be asleep, but when she continued to bat at various body parts, I had to maneuver in order to avoid losing an eye… or two. Her nails pricked me several times, so with great regret, I greeted her with a friendly pat on her head. Of course, I had blown my cover, so it was then mandatory for me to get up and let her out of the bedroom. 

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San Diego (Part 1): Single, Sad and Sorry

The biggest gag about having moved to San Diego is that I never wanted to move there in the first place.

Yes, yes, I totally realize that I may sound like a complete weirdo for having felt this way. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in San Diego? The sun, the surf, the sand… San Diego is one of the many locales that people dream of moving to.

But just in case you’ve never seen the real estate prices for the area, a dream is often all that comes from their desires. The fact that I had the opportunity to move into a brand new apartment (with an attached private garage!) in one of the city’s most sought after neighborhoods is hard for me to comprehend even now.

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What The $#!+*@?- A Breakup Story

It seems as though 2007 came and went without any written record of my whereabouts.

Though I am confident that I would have scribbled my feelings into a notebook from time to time, I have been unable to locate such an article. If a diary from this period of my life ever surfaces, I will have to skim it for particularly telling tidbits of information. But until that day, the explanations that follow will have to suffice.

Adam and I broke up soon after the New Year. When I say “break up” I actually mean detonated.

By this point in time, I had just quit my job in preparation for my move to San Diego. Up until our demise, we had still planned to move in together. However, I had a swift change of heart about two weeks before signing the lease. Something in my spirit told me that moving in with him would prove to be the biggest mistake of my life, so I ended up planning to move down there on my own. As I’m sure you could guess, Adam wasn’t the slightest bit blessed by my decision.

The actual breakup was rather dramatic and abrupt. I remember trying to reach him by phone quite late one evening. When my calls went unanswered for several hours, I grew worried about his whereabouts. By the time he finally answered, I was met by all manners of noise in the background. His salutation was slurred and sloppy— he was undeniably intoxicated. I knew how the call would end the moment I heard his voice. I had had enough of his buffoonery.

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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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Only Chicken Scratch: A Disclaimer

When I was a small child growing up in Southern California I would ride in the backseat of my parents’ car.

Quite often we’d drive the 50-60 miles through the valley to visit my grandparents in the LA suburbs. All along the way I’d press my bored little nose up against my window with “Are we there yet?” on my mind, but pure vapor on my lips.

On and on we’d drive, whizzing past buildings, signs, cars and towns. It was all so dull to me then. I mean, if you’ve seen one scraggly palm tree, you’ve seen a dozen. Though I loved visiting my grandparents, I greatly disliked having to seemingly trek halfway across the galaxy to reach them. If it weren’t for the graffiti scribbled across the trains, I don’t know what I would have done.

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Super Humiliating Proof Of My Childhood

My mother has been rifling through some of her prehistoric belongings lately.

Old birthday cards. Old Valentine’s Day cards. Old Mother’s Day cards. Old Christmas cards.

From overpriced Hallmark Signature greeting cards to good ole’ fashioned handmade masterpieces, that woman has somehow managed to keep every single thing I’ve ever given her since I first learned that it was socially unacceptable to ignore your parents on holidays. So, she’s been harboring a lot of junk for a really, really LONG time.

I have no idea how she’s managed it. Her closet is like an extension of the Smithsonian, only instead of it being full of valuable relics of the past, it is full of complete garbage that her only child gave her: Me. You are most welcome, Mom.

Well, today she ever so graciously passed along two bits of antiquity that I gave her back in 1994. She thought I would find them “funny”. I then decided to share it with you guys, but please do not judge what you are about to witness. It’s sincerely a crime against humanity, but what’s done is done.

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