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Okay, before I talk about anything crazy or critical I want to first write about everything I'm thankful for. I am thankful for the people around me who make everyday more fun. I am thankful for a cute tiktok (downloaded video, not url) I received this morning of an ai baby saying encouraging words in Cantonese. I am thankful for the coworker who bought me a "welcome back milk tea" today and then got mad when I sent her a venmo for it. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for having a career I like. I am thankful for my roommate always doing helpful things for me and the happiness that comes from doing helpful things for her in return. Overall, things around me are good, and that's all I want to acknowledge and appreciate here. There are really good people around me.
So now, what is the crazy and critical stuff I thought about today...
I have put so much energy into relationships, if not on my own relationships, then time spent talking with other women about their relationships. I find it taxing, as most of this used up time is riddled with more stress than anything else. When I imagine what I could do with myself if I just reclaimed that time, I’m filled with excitement.
The happiest times in my life are almost always the short windows of time I spent single. These times are also when I feel most comfortable to do what I want with my body. I got my tattoo when I was single, because I knew there would be no one judging or policing what I put in my own skin (This was a real thought process I had the day I got a tattoo, “Get this now before you are in a relationship again and someone says it’s stupid and you can’t.”) I get the haircuts I like most when I’m single, without worrying whether or not a slight change will push someone to lose attraction towards me. Up until recently, (and even still it sometimes happens) traveling made me anxious because I feel like it gives my partner an easy opportunity to cheat or feel “neglected” by me. These feelings however, may be partially tied to controlling and negative relationships I have had in the past. I definitely like how when single, I have time to invest in my personal interests, work and goals. When alone, I feel free.
So why can’t I just be alone? Why have I for the past year and a half felt the need to constantly rehash a relationship which ultimately and constantly harms me? I read diary entries from when we were together, see photos of myself when we were together, and I look like a disaster. I think there are a few reasons I keep going back. The main reason is that I feel in love with him. I am also in close daily proximity to this person, enjoy his company, care about him, and imagine a future with him. It is easy to constantly rekindle under these conditions. Some of the things I imagine doing together are crazy fantasies. I find it interesting because often the things he and I fantasize about overlap. He fantasized about spending just one night together alone, even just in a hotel or someplace we can be unbothered and in a private place. I thought of that one so much before that I even looked at the rooms and costs of hotels in our city, out of curiosity and a desire to satiate and visualize something that only exists in the privacy of my own imagination. (I am a little crazy sometimes, I know) My visions of the future in general, core values, things I would like to do with him, they overlap too. I want to grow together, do daily things together, do hobby things together, learn together. I want to support each other and integrate our lives more. The main issue is that these feelings and fantasies do not match the reality, and the reality of our current relationship is not something I am happy with or willing to accept. Even still, I dream of it changing someday having a healthy and positive relationship. Am I buying into a dream that does not exist? Not just with him, but with anyone at all. Do I ask for too much despite requiring pretty little? Women are statistically happier alone, and I have experienced for myself being happy alone, I have not experienced a stable relationship, so am I a part of that statistic? I ask myself a lot if the type of relationship I want is nothing but a fantasy, which is a little bit depressing because again, I don’t feel I ask for much, I am in love with someone, and as a person I feel socially programmed to have faith in romantic love. To answer my own question finally, it’s so hard for me to just be single and leave him alone because daily I am close to someone I care about and enjoy spending time with, in turn holding onto ideas and fantasies about a potential future. I also have terrible self control.
I need to work on my self control. It’s like I have the cognizance to recognize what’s right and wrong but the inability to actually follow through with it. I fail so miserably all the time at making the right choices that I don’t even have faith in myself anymore. Not to mention, I am brought down by my own choices and the person I have chosen to be. I have been an affair partner, a side piece, I have cheated, I have destroyed someone’s relationship, I have legally endangered someone, I have hurt people, I’m selfish, I say I am going to do one thing but do the other because I am an idiot who can’t control myself. My stupidity has transformed me into a cruel and sometimes insufferable person. I have fucked myself up so bad that sometimes I don’t even feel like myself anymore. Or was I always this stupid and cruel, just never realized it? Sometimes I don’t know if I can forgive myself or trust in myself, but I think I need to in order to move forward and make the right choices for the future.
I don’t mean to write in a way that speaks so negatively about myself, but these are things that I need to consider and work past.
I have read online that the best way to treat addiction is through habit building, and I think it’s best I treat the issue of constantly rehashing this relationship as an addiction. Even if I have now in some ways relapsed, I still cannot give up addressing the problem. The more I say no and the more I resist temptation, the more natural it will become over time (or so I hope.)
If I am going to be alone, I want to actually enjoy it as I have in the past, and moping about something that I cannot have is not enjoying myself. Feeling stuck in a situation I don’t want to be in is not enjoying myself. I need to build habits, reclaim my time, and reframe how I see myself. I need to do little things in order to become more proactive in reclaiming my time and being the kind of person I want to be. I need to continue thinking positively and appreciating the nice things around me.
Next week, I will set up some actual exercise classes after work so that I am forced to leave the office on time to do something useful and good for myself. I will also follow through on the boundaries I set with him. When I get an impulse to do something “bad,” I would like to learn how to strongly ignore it. Over the weekend I can also set some time aside to actually get a start on cleaning my room, which is still an absolute disaster after having just moved. I have a fully free day Saturday, as well as a (likely) free late afternoon/night on Sunday, so setting up some type of pomodoro timer at some point this weekend, forcing myself to clean, should not be an issue. I will also continue my efforts of eating regularly and getting to work on time. I know these things sound kind of simple, but I really think they are a good start for me in making healthy choices.
Anytime someone tells me I have a high sex drive, that I'm horny, that I'm needy, that I'm flirty, I like to deny it. Why do I deny it so much when most of these things are often true? Maybe it is because I don't want those traits to define me, that I know my attitudes towards relationships do not rest on a foundation of pure desire. I know honestly in my heart that the relationships I have chosen are not for the sake of sex, in fact I have even chosen relationships that make sex greatly inconvenient and near impossible. I know that I am a generally loyal person, I am okay with being told no, I am uninterested in promiscuity. Although having a high sex drive is not synonymous with letting a high sex drive control your life and decisions, I try hard to firmly make clear that I am not the latter, thus my denial.
Although sex drive is bound to fluctuate with life changes, hormones, adulthood, etc, and it certainly has for me, I still think I have always leaned towards being more sexual than most.
Today I thought back to when I was in middle school, sleeping over at my cousins house. Why was I always such a menace about the bad stuff I saw on the internet? I was the one who told her what anal sex was, and she thought I was making stuff up so I told her what gay porn was. I was always like this as a kid. I wasn't actually doing anything sexual, just interested and telling people about it. As a celibate adult now I guess I'm back at square one, not doing anything sexual just interested in thinking and telling people about it all the time.
To be honest, I have not struggled with issues of insatiability for nearly two years. Sure, I have felt horniness but nothing unmanageable. I think having a sexual relationship with someone I really liked and was generally happy with kept any crazy desires at bay. Of anything I have had to worry about in the last few years, sex was honestly not an area of my life that worried or concerned me. Knowing myself, I think having a healthy and fulfilling sexual relationship with a partner would be enough to keep me happy in this area.
What's wrong with me lately? Just 52 days without sex and I'm losing my mind. I looked at porn today, not for the sake of watching it but for the sake of imagining myself in the same positions I saw in videos. Laying down on my back with the guy over me on his knees, pushing his dick into my mouth. I think about how I would enjoy the female pov of seeing a guy up close, dick in hand. The guy moves down to fuck her and hold her, I imagine how that feels too. They do it with her legs in a lot of positions in missionary, on the side too, and from the back. I like watching videos where the guy grabs both her wrists while he fucks her from behind. I like watching videos of girls on top when they look really into it too. I would be into it if I had the opportunity.
See how bad I am right now? I'm literally transcribing porn for my blog and fawning over it.
I have these crazy urges for the person I used to be with. It almost feels worse than ever before. I know that our relationship was not built on a foundation of lust, I didn't start out feeling this crazy, but I struggle with certain urges and being in his proximity while neither of us are having sex and still want each other, it's hard for me. I need to be on "good behavior" but my imagination is running wild and I hate to admit that I don't even know the next time I will find myself in one of these pornographic positions I'm fantasizing over.
I read through advice on a Christian subreddit. I guess I can work out more apparently, stay away from porn more apparently (and pray.) I can think about negative things in relation to sexually transmitted diseases, my issues towards men in this society, the cons to my last relationship, and see if those thoughts drown out my desire for sex. At the same time, I don't feel great about this tactic because I'm trying to be a more positive person lately. The most logical thing to do is nothing crazy, and then try to see if eventually these feelings pass or just get easier to manage on their own. I think they will, because that's life.
I can't believe I spent so long writing about this. I got this! I will make it manageable.
I had a nightmare that we started to argue in front of my mom. You were nearing legal divorce, and lived separately from your wife, in another unit in the same apartment building. I was at your house with my mom, and she started to embarrassingly say a lot of mean stuff about you and your wife. It wasn’t actually that mean? It wasn’t about anybody’s character, or relationship, she was just generically making fun of people’s looks and the apartment building. It seemed a bit annoying but on brand for her.
There was another subsection of the dream too where I had met your parents, but I had a weird retainer thing in my mouth that was filled with your blood. I was scared the retainer might break, and your blood might ooze out. I was also scared they would notice the retainer in my mouth, and couldn’t really say much to them. I remember feeling as if they really didn’t like me.
Back to the apartment, you then started to tell me you can’t handle being alone, and you wished you still lived with your wife to make certain domestic tasks easy. This escalated somehow to the point of me throwing things at you, and threatening to leave your stuff on your wife’s doorstep because you’re “her problem.” My mom for whatever reason was still in the room the whole time and I felt embarrassed. You then told me in front of my mom that you do indeed still have romantic feelings for your wife, and you just lied in order to keep me around. You thought if you told the truth I might leave and want nothing to do with you. I was fuming so bad and left the scene before I did anything crazier.
Eventually, you found me and we started to have a one on one conversation. I said that if you had lied to me about this, I don’t know what else you are lying about. There was a big smile on your face the entire time and I kept asking why. I asked if you were sleeping together, and you said “I won’t post about it on my blog but last night we definitely…”
Then I woke up, crazy, like people wake up in horror movies. I jerked up out of bed, breathing heavy. It took a long time after to even regulate my breathing. This was such a nightmare…
I didn't know florida was so cold and rainy... this is kind of making me miss sunny summer California. After making some type of crazy comment about how my cousin gets privacy because she has a boyfriend, and I don't because I am always single (mostly every relationship I haver ever had is with someone who has either been embarassed to be with me or, for whatever reason cannot admit to our relationship and keeps me a secret. My family does not know me as ever having a relationship.) They arranged me to have a private room for the next few days. It is really nice lol... but the method I used to get it makes me feel a little shitty.
I decided after spending the whole morning cold and sad in my rainy fancy suite, that I should try and socialize. I spent a long time trying to connect with my dad and get his attention, since we barely speak after he moved away to Japan. I even showed him the ipod website I built, after deleting the url out the search bar so he couldn't stalk me later. He seemed fairly unimpressed and unsurprised but my stepmom liked it. He basically walked away from me mid conversation. I decided that in order to "enjoy myself," I should drink a lot of alcohol and go in the pool. (which I did) Everybody complimented my swimsuit, and I floated around making silly jokes for a long time. My guy cousins then decided they wanted to take a buggy car to the beach, and feeling drunk, lonely, ignored, and down for anything I agreed. Eventually all my other cousins agreed too and came along. I sat for a long time touching the sand, which is white and fine as flour. I feel out of place a lot of times. Coming from a mixed/multicultural background is weird, because I don't feel like I belong or fit in anywhere. I guess that's another story. Seeing my cousins in my age range on both sides of my family all have serious relationships is weird, because why is it that anyone I date is either abusive, ashamed or married? Why am I seemingly the only unloveable one? This is just my insecurity speaking. I do like myself, and don't think it's inherently bad I'm always single.
This vacation is far colder than expected, but just as isolating as I thought it would be. I miss home already? As I type this now, I am alone with a beer in my suite. Perhaps I will just enjoy this luxurious solitude while I can. I can't actually complain.
I miss the guy who is not my boyfriend that I can't be with. Sometimes I think about all the things I want to share with him. Sometimes I imagine his face, and I imagine kissing him, touching him. I am such a helpless romantic it's a little bit insane. I really like the bling ring for all the same reasons he did. It is a good vibe of LA from a certain era, and just a good movie to chill to. The bad American accent is also funny. A wax for me would usually last 2 weeks, or slightly less, which is a pretty long time for hair growth. I used to actually never shave, until I got a multitude of snarky comments from ex partners. Eventually I actually became more comfortable with shorter hair, because it feels better on a day to day basis. When long, it sometimes gets stuck in my underwear and doesn't feel good. This being said, waxing is still not a big priority for me. I enjoy the landing strip style, as it has a porn addict fashion to it, and I don't find the act of getting it done to be painful. It is mostly just a money thing for me, as to why I don't do it regularly. Part of me wants to share and hear everything with him.
After awhile of living in Japan, the intonations in my dad's voice sound so Japanese, it's interesting. Also, I lost my phone for about 6 hours but when I found it again it had 0 messages and 0 anything to check. What did I expect? I fixed the date. I frequently watch his real time blog updates, and it provides me some semblence of comfort because we don't talk. I recognize the words he frequently spells wrong. I imagine him typing as I watch. My dad asked me about 20 minutes into reuniting if we still work together. I think he was just making conversation, and I looked too deeply into why he was asking. I miss you so much and always.
I just want to be happy. I just want, for once, to be in a relationship that is not full of shame and problems. I want more.
I watched this stupid video about 15 times and it made me emotional. Because why do I feel confined to just one piece of steak? lol. And why do I feel like one piece of steak is all I'm worth having?
I'm not hating on him. I understand him. I just feel emotional, as always and for my own personal reasons.
I was always so unjealous of my ex, but sometimes I wonder if it's because I didn't actually want him for myself. I did however care for him and want him to be happy. Is that toxic and posessive? I don't actually know. Otherwise, I am fairly jealous. Is it situation based? Is it cultural? I don't know, but probably a mix.
My family is currently making more Italian sausage and pasta, while I drink alone. I should really go spend time with them, maybe out of obligation, and maybe to enjoy the current moment. I apologize in advance if what I am saying sounds crazy, I am about 5 drinks in typing rapidly. Will probably update more later.
The food I ate was so Italian American. I read before online that Italian American food is the way it is, salty, large in portion, garlicky, and full of meat, because this is the way Italian immigrants perceived the food of the wealthy Northern Italians to be like, a perception of the cuisine that was easier to obtain in America where meat and large portions were more affordable. It is weird for me sometimes carrying an Italian name and face, with a connection to the culture that only lasts about one week per year if I'm lucky.
This day has been crazy and I believe I only slept about 3.5 hours. I was in the process of finishing up my move after a workday, while also preparing to for a flight at 8:40am the next morning. This time was filled with way too many detours than necessary, and has overall been a bit stressful and a bit fun.
I decided I wanted to go for a professional bikini waxing, because I will be on the beach, in swimsuits, and it will look much smoother/no risk of accidentally cutting myself and getting crazy stubble if I do it professionally as opposed to shaving alone. These waxing places usually try to guilt you into going regularly, about once a month, but I don’t really like doing it like that because it feels like a waste of money. I will however go incidentally when I feel like getting a new and stylish haircut (lol) or if I have some type of occasion (like a swimsuit vacation) where waxing will help me to be more comfortable.
They kind of remind me of dentists. You open wide for them and then they guilt you for not coming to their office enough. The lady yesterday though would not stop talking about how my pubes are dehydrated…? And insisting I drink more water. I thought it was maybe a sales tactic to make me buy a hydrating lotion they have, but after further consideration, my own personal internet research, feeling my own parched mouth, I do think she has a point, I’m probably dehydrated, and my pubic region is probably suffering as a result. I found that there are a lot of lotions people use down there, as well as a very high rated $50 pubic hair oil. I realized I don’t need to buy anything and can just use my own unscented and gentle moisturizer that I already use for my face. Although it feels like a dumb experiment I would do in middle school, putting conditioner on my pubes or something, I genuinely want to see if lotion and drinking more water makes the hair softer? I also read online that the softer and more hydrated your pubic hair is the more comfortable it feels in your underwear. It’s a little outrageous, but I’m going to take it on as an experiment, pubic hydration lol.
Anyways, that was pretty fast and went smoothly (pun haha, because my skin is smooth now) and then right by the waxing store I noticed a store with lingerie and sex toys, and I really wanted to go in to see the lingerie… I know! So many of the thoughts and activities coming from my brain this week and even last are so nsfw, I don’t know why!
I wasted about 30 minutes in this store. There were about 3 outfits I tried on too, a nude and floral lingerie set (I hated it,) a red latex-y dress with an exposed and strappy back with boobs almost fully exposed, (I liked this, I just thought it was expensive,) and a black and pink transparent floral lingerie set with crotchless underwear. (this I also liked but didn’t love, crotchless underwear is kind of an interesting look though.) I also found a couple sex objects in the store I had never seen before that caught my eye. I saw a dick cloning kit, where not only do you create a copy of a dick and turn it into a dildo, (pretty cool) you also turn the mold into a vibrator that takes AA batteries. I really like this lol. Mostly, I was just curious on how the vibrator portion works! Do you wire the dick mold? What does the inside look like? I was trying to read instructions but still did not find the answers I wanted. I should find a video online of someone trying it. The other thing that caught my interest was a mouth spray that is supposed to desensitize your gag reflex. Part of me doubts this even works at all, but the thought of having no gag reflex sounds really fun. Anyways… enough about this stuff!
When I finally got home, I went to heat up some frozen food, pack, and most importantly chug water. At a certain point while packing, I ended up accidentally falling asleep for 2 hours. So much time wasting! I really underestimated as well just how much I had left to move out to our new apartment. It wasn’t until late night and a lot of packing and washing that I finally loaded up my car and took a trip out to the new place to bring my stuff. My mom said I could swing by her on my way back, and pick up a swimsuit I wanted for my trip.
Because once again I am a boomer allergic to gps sometimes, I decided to take a route from my own memory that I liked. I drove down Monterey in South Pas, just because earlier that day me and him were looking at a map of LA together, and talking about that street. Obviously, having grown up so close to that area, this was one of many times that I had driven this route. However, it was fun to drive after having just spoken about it, and through the lens that someone I care about grew up around here. It was interesting to think that off this main street I have been dozens of times, wide and flat and covered in green, there are hills and residential areas I have never seen in my life, so close by. It was a good drive, and a calming night drive.
By the time I made it to my mom she was wasted. She was with my sister, who was sober, blank eyes facing straight forward and silent while my mom slurred her words and rambled. They were smoking cigarettes looking annoyed at each other. I figured they had probably been fighting a lot tonight, my sister was probably over her drunkenness, and my mom was probably upset over her rudeness. Whatever the case, I figured I was missing a lot of context. It took awhile to get my mom to even give me the swimsuit, and eventually my sister even went to bed. My mom followed me out to the car, where the real ramble starts. She begins to tell me that she had gone through her ex husband’s night stand at his bedside and it was packed with condoms and birthdays letters from girls he was hooking up with as well as photos of me. He also had an important financial document of mine that had gone missing from her safety deposit box. Although I don’t feel surprised he did something weird like this, and I don’t understand the motive, whether perverse or manipulative or both, it feels really creepy to me. He goes away for the weekend a lot, to fuck random girls in different cities and leave my mom with his kids and no money. She currently has $0 in the bank and she asked him for $40, just for her and my brother to eat for the weekend, and he refused to send it, all while he drinks and parties in another state and essentially pays to get laid. My mom continues this slurred ramble for a long time, and out of nowhere she brings up my coworker who I was with.
“Do you know {his name}?” she asks me.
“Yes, I definitely know who that is.”
She says something like:
“Well you know… you know you have a lot of pain… you are attached to someone you can’t be with so thats hard. You worry a lot… I’m sure… what he’s doing… even if he’s not yours you… you can’t be together.”
Although sure I do agree, and I found this comment sympathetic in a way, I wasn’t sure how it related to anything. I hope she wasn’t comparing my relationship to the one she has with her ex. I started to feel that same old unsettling emotion, and resentment towards my mom. How could she be with someone so fucking creepy and disgusting? If I get married, am I going to blindly be with someone creepy and disgusting too? Am I generationally cursed for abuse and divorce? Am I going to end up just like my mother somehow?
I left and went back to pack more. It was so late. My roommate kept telling me all day to relax, and that if I had anything I wanted her to help with she could help. If I wanted to leave boxes and bags at the door for her to move later on, I could. I kept refusing her offer, but eventually I accepted, and I’m happy I did. I went to bed around 4:30am and woke up at 6am. My roommate saw me wake up to start cleaning more, still working on the move, and told me to just stop. She said to just get to the airport and make my flight, and she would take care of the rest. I explained all the stuff I had left to do, that it’s too much to leave to her, and she kept interrupting me and saying it’s not that much, (I guess it’s not) to go relax, and everything will be okay. This put me at ease. I appreciate her treating me this way, it means a lot to be helped out and cared for and I’d like to treat her the same in return.
My uber driver to the airport reminded me a lot of my grandfather who passed away earlier this year. They had the same name, same glasses, an immaculately clean automobile, and a passion for music. It was interesting. But he got me to the airport promptly.
I actually bought airport food, which while overpriced seemed like my only option since my home refrigerator is cleaned out and I have a 12 hour travel day ahead of me. After finishing up my bland breakfast burrito, I started boarding my first flight. This guy in my line was obnoxiously high, he was dressed almost as if he were wearing a hippy halloween costume and had a thick midwest accent. He starts rambling to another guy in front of me about “America” and “The system,” but started to get mad when that guy wasn’t really engaging with him. They practically got into an argument on our way to be seated on the plane. Mr. Hippy then hits his head so insanely hard on the overhead cabin when taking his seat, that nearly everyone is looking. He tries to play it cool, but I’m sure most of us know he is high out of his mind. Although it may have been entertaining, I felt a bit glad he wasn’t my seat partner. Instead, I was seated next to a guy with an infant. Initially, I felt a bit annoyed to sit next to a baby, but once I sat down, I noticed the baby’s gaze on me. She stared at me so curiously with her fat face and big eyes, it was adorable. I liked her. We started to talk a bit, (me and the dad) and I learned she was 7 months old and very smiley. I thought about what it must be like to have your own child look up at you, curious, soft, fat, and fresh to the world. The feeling of looking at your own child must be an insane one. The baby and dad were traveling with the family, his wife and two other young kids. Traveling or probably doing anything with three young kids sounds exhausting, and they looked tired, but honestly all their kids were very well behaved.
My layover is in St. Louis, the capital city of chess! I looked at my google maps, and I am less than 30 minutes away from the chess museum. Between the chess hall of fame, free zoo, and iconic arch, I would be really interested in spending a full weekend in St. Louis, if even just a day or two. They are also famous for a couple fat foods, like fried ravioli and gooey butter cake, which I would enjoy simply trying once for the sake of trying. In my mind, I just see it as a fun short trip which sounds worth doing one day. However, I am currently just stuck hungry in the airport.
On my flight to Florida, I got the entire row to myself and slept the entire time.
So when I got here I found out there was a problem with the house my family rented, that it had been double booked all along, and so the rental company in order to compensate let us take a house 3x the size (or more??) It is genuinely insane. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this big before? Especially in LA where nice houses tend to lean towards high quality in neighborhood or architecture rather than size. There is a ping pong table and a pool table and a projector “movie theater” room (which I have already thoroughly investigated the setup.) For whatever reason there are also tvs on random walls playing funny stock footage of seahorses? It’s a lot of stuff I would like to share with him because I think he would find it funny too. Another funny thing is, even though the house is massive, I will be sharing a room with my cousins that has two sets of triple stacked bunk beds. My cousin who is the same age as me, who I would usually hang out with by default, I haven’t been talking to much as she is now in a relationship and her boyfriend will be here, so I guess they get their own room and I will be hostel mode with the younger ones. I'm sure it will be fun but 0 privacy for a week lol. I have been mostly spending time with my dad, stepmom, and grandma, saying “this house is crazy” about 100x. My two guy cousins are pretty muscly and really excited my dad brought souvenirs of their favorite japanese candy. Everybody is in a lively mood eating italian sausage but I am getting pretty sleepy…
Most of my family tans pretty quickly and dark, but I'm not sure if I do since I rarely go outside in the summer. I said "I wonder if I'll tan this week," and my family says "Probably since you're Cuban."
Turns out my own family thought I was half Cuban all these years?!?!?
It’s a weird feeling when the person you want to be with feels so close yet so far. I want to be honest, don’t want a scandal, I don’t want to face judgement, I just want to be with this person in a normal and straightforward way, a way that adequately reflects the feeling between us. I am learning and trying to just stop thinking about this stuff all the time, because it’s useless to long for and agonize over constantly, but it still passes through my mind. I’m at a point where I just want so bad for things to be normal. I want to freely share my life and grow with this person, but this is not in the cards now, what do I do?
I had a dream about zombies, and it was super silly. This was my first time in so long having a silly dream, unrelated to real life stress or relationships.
I was fighting zombies in the beginning of the apocalypse. The vibe was like a mix of that House of the Dead video game they have in arcades and movie theaters, along with a silly movie with funny cgi and sound effects.
So I accidentally created “brainrot zombie.” Some guy died and I decided to kill him before he turned into a zombie. I didn’t have a lot of weapons on hand, so i just dropped a heavy microwave on his head. However, this didn’t work because the zombie still came to life, except he had a funny ultra thin, cg looking flat head. Baby nursery music played and wobbly sound effects were heard as the zombie pulled out his phone to watch tiktok. The zombies fingers didnt work to use his phone :( so he starts crying. For whatever reason, I knew he had 69 days to live and had to spend them staring at a screen he couldn’t even touch. He asked me to put him out of his misery and I comedically kept attempting to kill him but nothing worked. I even gave him a tongue piercing, and wished him luck on his 69 days.
Also some zombies had funny weapons like cerated bread knives that they did silly tricks with, and most of the zombies could talk. Some of them were kind of horny? And were like “suck me offf pleeeease” (I didn’t) They were also very strong and knew how to knock down doors.
I saw a regular fat orange tabby cat, but the arms didn’t match his body, and were super long, skinny light grey arms. The cat’s stature was super funny. I felt kind of bad about killing a cat, so I refrained from attacking, but then the cat keeps trying to slap me with funny sound effects so I keep running away.
So fun… maybe I’ll remember more as the day goes on…
I decided not to shower last night. I don’t have my normal clothes on hand, so I put on a pajama dress that I usually don’t wear, and it clung to my body uniquely. It is white and somewhat short, with lacey spaghetti straps and a green bow in the center. I stared at my own figure wearing this in the bathroom mirror listlessly. I feel a little silly writing these entries because I feel like I do the same dumb stuff. Always writing about how I zone out in the mirror, or always writing that I jerk off, but I guess I’m being honest about what I do alone.
I fell asleep quickly, and actually don’t even remember falling asleep. I had one dream where I was not myself, but I was his girlfriend in an alternate universe. That dream was okay. When I woke up, I hit snooze so many times that I stayed in bed forever, I think I hate the sense of urgency to wake up for morning shift. I thought about my current feelings and situations and tasks for the day and curled up into a ball, the night gown making minimal effort to cover my body, but it doesn’t matter because nobody is looking and I’m bundled in a giant comforter anyways. I want to stay this way. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to think.
I don’t feel too keen on facing the day, but I guess it’s time to do so anyways. Today will probably be spent on training and meetings while he does his own work apart from me somewhere else in the same building. Today will probably hold an attempt to go home at a reasonable time through traffic hour. I wish I could come in at 11 like he does… I just want a little more time to mentally prepare for everything, and less traffic.
I was 20 minutes late to work again. On the drive I sung along to music and thought about random times in the past. I thought about the time I made enchiladas, the ones you fry on the stovetop not the oven ones. He said he wanted a second serving, and when I offered to prepare it for him, he declined and insisted he could try it out himself. He made a valiant effort, even though his tortilla ripped in half, he made his own. He had a big smile on his face and ate it all anyways. I really liked watching him try it out, and maybe I like that he told me to stay sitting down and finish eating my own food before helping him.
I thought about when we were at ikea together. Who goes to ikea together knowing they have mutual interest in each other and can't be together? I guess we did. I enjoyed the whole day together until I told the guy I was dating about it, and suddenly felt guilty as if I had cheated or done something wrong in spending that time with my coworker. Even still, the day was a good memory for me.
I didn't eat breakfast and I forgot to bring lunch and I'm definitely in a weird mood. Not sure if coffee will make me feel better or worse but it's worth a try. I'm worried that my mood will get worse. I'm worried that my life is going to spin out of control again. I'm worried about my feelings. My heart and mind are at a constant war.
I tried pouring myself coffee and hot light brown mildly soapy water came out instead, it was kind of comedic to me. I am going to feel dead by 2pm having no food in my system. I know my body.
When he brought food to work, it made me so happy and saved me from hunger fatigue.
I learned today that I really like the original art of labubu, drawings by Kasing Lung. I want to put one in my apartment.
When I worked 3pm-12am and he worked 11am-8pm, he would often stay past his shift and spend time with me. I often wondered if our schedules had been reversed, would I have done the same for him? I think I now have my answer, and that answer is yes.
Anyways, I am not sure how to describe my emotions for the day. There were many moments throughout that I enjoyed a lot. I feel happy but sometimes I feel weird. I feel good but I feel trapped. I feel like I'm doing my best, but feel my best is not enough. I want to let it all out by writing it, but at the same time don't feel like writing and don't know how I feel.
It sucks that I have barely had much income since March. I keep getting insufficient fund notices posted on my accounts, and thinking about things I need to buy. My car has a pricey service code popping up these days and I don't feel like handling it yet. Just life stuff I guess. I look forward to getting regular paychecks again in the near future. I don't know what I would have done these past few months if I wasn't a person who chronically saves money. I am grateful for that, and will continue to be smart with money. Another thing on my mind is the fact I need to move out of my house completely within just the next few days. Although most of my stuff is already out, there is not much left to do, it's a big thing to think about. I should probably take care of that after work tomorrow and Friday.
I was telling a friend (out loud) recently that I think floral printed and transparent lingerie is really cute. It's happy and fun in the way that it has flowers, but sexy and mysterious in the way that it's only partially concealing your body under various patterns. I guess lace is mysterious in this same way too though, where it covers but doesn't really cover, which is an appealing concept. Anyways.. now I keep getting floral lingerie recommended to me online?? I'm not complaining, and the marketing might be working because I keep looking at the ads (omg I just said I need to 'keep being smart with money') but I find these recommendations super weird and way too specific. I also wrote on here last week about the fact I have floral underwear, are they reading my blog?
Speaking of plants, I just walked past the avocado tree I'm growing and it looks amazing! The leaves are a pretty color, and it's getting so big.
I do want to see the new movie of the materialists. It looks like such an easy watch, I would love to disconnect from reality and check that one out.
Speaking of disconnecting and watching something, I want to watch a Network Chuck video on synology after my shower, called "You need a NAS RIGHT NOW!!" He will probably just self promo his coffee, make crazy expressions, and provide nothing but surface level info, but at least I can zone out and think about getting a nas.
Still feel so lazy.
My mom texted to ask if I am seeing him again for the first time today. I told her I already saw him again yesterday. She put a double exclamation point reaction on my text message and then asked how it went. I kept my answer short and said it's weird to see each other in person again but everything is fine. She thumbs up reacted and said "I bet!" She wants me to help with her resume. Her friend told her about chat gpt. I told her not to copy paste directly from chat gpt.
I think about when I did see him again for the first time yesterday. It felt like my heart was expanding and opening, widening across my chest. I can see how the Chinese word for happy is literally "open heart." LOL... That's literally the best way I can describe it, like my heart was opening up and eating me alive.
I am so obsessive.
I want to use Apache Guacamole just because I like the name.
I went to take my "break" by going to the bathroom and reheating my leftover chicken. In the bathroom, I zoned out and stared at my own face for a little too long. I sent my mom a mirror selfie and she gave me an emoji of a cat with heart eyes. She then starts going on about how I'm working in "chamuco land," that this building is scary, and to quote: "that bitch is haunted!" She also keeps asking about when I am going to clean and sanitize the new apartment. Because I'm in the process of moving, and displaced my rice + rice cooker, I couldn't cook any rice last night. The chicken tastes alright, and is tender, coming off the bone easily, but I really wish I had rice!
My body has more odor today than usual, which is funny because it's the one day I showered in the morning.
I was stopped by a coworker I haven't seen in a while. He stopped me to have a conversation about "circadian rhythm and photons." I didn't like the way he was looking at me, and so I refrained from looking him in the eyes. I haven't always felt that way about him. He lifts his arms and I notice no underwear band under his jeans, weird, and he yawns backwards crazily, blonde hair blending into his white skin. When I ended the conversation he stuttered something unintelligable, and it felt pretty awkward walking away
.-.-. .-.-. .-.-. .-.-. .-.-. .-.-. .-.-. .-.-
/ / \ \ / / \ \ / / \ \ / / \ \ / / \ \ / / \ \ / / \ \ / / \
`-' `-`-' `-`-' `-`-' `-`-' `-`-' `-`-' `-`-'
I feel better when he is honest with me... infinitely better. Sure, things come up which make me feel bad, but I prefer that over listening to lies and cover ups all day. I would rather see him objectively as an individual, and spend time together where he's being real with me, rather than pretend I don't see things, and that everything is something that it's not.
I want him to know that I like him best this way. Maybe it is the fact we are not in a "relationship" anymore that I am able to be more objective. But I like to imagine that under a healthy scenario and circumstances, I would also prefer him to be this way. However as of now, I do admit certain words or actions are easier to stomach now that they no longer impact me directly.
Why did I spew out my entire relationship history semi-randomly and like a crazy person? Probably for a few reasons. First of all, it's something I have considered internally a lot in the recent past. Second of all, maybe I want to provide context for better or for worse on what my experiences are, providing insight as to why I can react or feel certain ways. Third of all, maybe I want assurance he would still like me even when knowing negative things about me. Fourth of all and probably most important, maybe I want to prove that I am not hiding anything and encourage him to treat me the same.
It's still important to recognize, that I need to take the proper space. I just wanted to hug him today, and then suddenly I was doing way too much, running my hands along him and pressing my face to his neck. We were just talking, and then suddenly I am at work 4 hours past my shift. In order to respect myself and the wishes of those around me, I cannot make this a habit.
I was receiving texts from my mom asking why I was still at work. I didn't reply, because I hate lying, and I didn't want to have a conversation about the truth. I went to my house, picked up the mattress I ordered, and drove it out to my new apartment, carting it up the stairs alone. Then my roommate texts me in a whatsapp group with my mom, "___ where are you????" Great, now I had them both confused and worried, and honestly probably thinking I had gone out with my "ex" somewhere to do who knows what. I told them I brought the mattress to the apartment and they were both shocked and kind of mad. They said I should ask for help instead of lifting huge stuff up stairs alone in the middle of the night. They have a point and I promised to ask for help when I order my headboard. I already know though, I have this bad habit of running off to do my own thing without telling anyone, and bad habit of not asking for help. I guess I was also slightly ashamed about what I did for four hours past my shift time.
Checking it out now, a full size bed feels almost perfect for me. I unpacked it while cooking rice and quickly the entire apartment smelled like rice. I don't have a rice scooper with me and had to cook it by eye, but it turned out good. I will let the mattress expand, and go back to my old house tonight. I'm getting tired.
I got home later than anticipated because a freeway ramp was closed, and rather than find a detour on gps, I found a detour home by memory like a boomer. I drove through the industrial part of East LA and Vernon, and there was something relaxing about the trains, trucks, smoke, and graffiti covered machines on a quiet night. I spent a lot of time thinking. I wondered if he got into an argument with his wife tonight, and what their conversation was like while I was driving. I felt bad for worrying my mom and friend. I feel like I need to just do my job and keep my promises and stop playing with fire.
I notice through his blog that they really were arguing, I don't feel surprised but I sometimes feel bad. There are so many different types of conflictions in wanting to be with someone you can't. It's so hard having to see each other again, but I'm the one who made this choice-- the choice of returning to my old job, the choice of furthering my career, the choice of making significantly more money. I knew that as a result, things would not be so simple and clean where I wanted them to be. I need to accept responsibility for the choice I made, and make good subsequent daily decisions. I don't only feel that I owe it to myself, or that I owe it to him, but to his wife when I promised to stay away from her husband, and to my mom who watched me heartbroken and unable to move or keep food down.
Maybe I am delusional or an escapist, but I would like to dream about him tonight, and I would like to dream about us doing something normal or happy together, without any stress or nightmare elements.
It is another late night without showering. I am still deciding whether to do it now or later... but I can't take too long to choose because I should go to bed, my eyes are getting heavy. I didn't expect this to be such a late night.
If you are by any chance seeing what I write as I write it, I want to tell you, I hope you have a good night, I appreciate you and care for you and hope you're able to get some rest.
Last night after I had finished cleaning up the kitchen, I laid in bed and touched myself with my eyes closed. Doing it made me extremely sleepy, and after finishing I passed out completely. I woke up about 4 hours later in the middle of the night, realizing I was still in my house clothes, still wearing a bra, never showered, never brushed my teeth. Instead of getting up to actually do those things, I chugged a massive glass of water, set my alarm to go off a bit earlier than usual, and went back to bed.
Having to shower in the morning was interesting, and cold. My shower head is so silly that water only comes out fully from ½ of the spouts. To visualize how it looks and feels, imagine you cut a line down the middle of the showerhead, water would only come out one half of the circle. Anyways, I showered my body like this, put on lotion, and brushed my hair (which desperately needs a wash) with coconut oil. Curiously I wondered about people who have sex in the morning and then rush to work. This is not something I have much practical experience with, for two reasons. The first reason being that I have almost always worked the night shift and rarely have anywhere to rush to in the morning, and the second reason being that the experience on it’s own of waking up with someone is a bit foreign to me, something which I experience only occasionally, that was not commonplace in any of my past relationships. The last time I woke up in someone’s arms was one time about a year ago, and the last time before that was another year and a half before then. Even still, I see it happen in movies, I hear horny pop songs about sex in the morning, I hear my roommates do it when they wake up before work. And although there is something appealing about the idea, I think about how easily I fell asleep last night and wonder if doing it would make me too sleepy to wake up and go where I need to be.
Regardless of my sleep situation, the morning was not excruciating. I may have been 20 minutes late… but my mood was fine and it’s not like I have much to do at work anyways. On the drive, I cross compare how love exists in Japan and Latin America. I am no expert by any means on these places, but this is what I have observed through having family in Japan and family from Latin America, with various experiences and exposures to those cultures.
Japan’s culture towards marriage and relationships has never appealed to me, and in many ways feels foreign and opposite towards what I would want for myself. I have had some short discussions with my stepmom about it, when she asks me if I would date a Japanese guy. In Japan, marriage for the sake of pure romantic love is not typical, as most couples operate as a team more than anything. It’s not to say they pick partners they don’t like, but convenience and the opinions of society seem to take precedence before anything else. They hold down a household and maintain appearances with their parents and society, even if under the surface they are unhappy and cheating all the time. I think it’s common for couples to keep appearances not only with the society around them but between each other, to behave happy towards one another while ignoring the cheating or other discontent. Cheating is so common, despite the fact it is not spoken about much it is usually just accepted due to the fact it happens all the time. Obviously I am not saying every Japanese couple is like this, but from my understanding it’s an extremely common dynamic. I'm talking about Japan specifically because it's what I know, but maybe it is like this for other Asian countries as well? I think so? Although I understand that culturally this dynamic works for some people, it sounds so isolating, dishonest, and like my personal hell.
There is a huge difference in Latin America. Most relationships are built from romantic love or passion, rather than social appearance. In many countries, like Mexico and Peru for example, it is common to fall in love young and passionately and stay together for the rest of your life. Unhappy people don’t fake smiles, they just argue all the time. (Even some happy people argue all the time) The cheating culture is also very different. It is with good reason that Latinas are known for being jealous, good at playing detective, and always in their man’s business. Because of this, sometimes men won’t even bother cheating because they know they’ll just get caught, and maybe even fear what their girlfriends/wives will do to them as vengeance. Usually cheating results in confrontation, argument, yelling, violence, elaborate plans to cause damage or pain as revenge, even if the partner’s cheating is chronic. This to me is a stark difference to what I talked about earlier, how in Japan many people just ignore cheating and pretend they are happy. I think most Latinos are also pretty emotionally open, loving, and passionate towards their partners. However, sometimes it can even be a bit over the top. Some may argue constant emotional expression can cause certain things to lose weight and value. Brazilians are known for treating one night stands and short term relationships with so much passion that it can cause foreigners to get confused. They even have a word for it in Portuguese, “ficante,” which is like a passionate short term lover. Obviously Latinos all have their own unique things varying from culture to culture, but this is my general knowledge and overview.
I remember my stepmom in Japan telling me that if a family member tells another family member that they love them, it sounds weird, even perverted. Mentally, I cross compare with the words I say to my grandma on a regular basis. “Te quiero cien mil universos.” I love you in a hundred thousand universes. The words have flown off my tongue for close to 20 years now, and although I feel I mean them and feel that they are taken in by her with appreciation, there is no weight when I say them.
I wonder about my own values. How does my family’s culture affect me? How does American culture affect me? How does my personal experience affect me? I think I lean towards being expressive more than anything. Life is short, and I want to give my all to those I care about.
It’s pretty unrelated but I think the fact I enjoy the concept of “privacy” and being on my own so much, the fact I am always resisting codependency is super American. However, I think I can hold these values while not being entirely individualistic.
Anyways, interesting thoughts, even if they don’t hold entirely accurate.
I rang the doorbell with a plastic carton of fruit in my hands, and a girl with long blonde hair answered it, her expression shocked.
“Hi,” I said introducing myself. “Nice to meet you, I’m _____. It’s my first day.”
She laughed and put in a request for me to get a new keycard. We started to chat and catch up. Your name was one of the first few things she mentioned…
“He must be so excited you’re back.”
My mind races. What is that supposed to mean? Is she implying something about our relationship? How does he feel about me being back? What do I even say? I say something dumb like, “Yeah.”
Her comment was probably never that deep, I’m probably the only one overthinking it and I know that, but it happens.
More and more familiar faces pass by and I introduce myself like it’s our first time meeting, just for the funnies. I wash the apricots I brought and start offering them to everyone I meet. Even the one guy in this company who I genuinely don’t like, I reintroduced myself and offered an apricot. He didn’t even look me in my face and declined it, oh well! I guess he was too busy getting ready to visit Golpy, and find random girls attractive. The person who seemed happiest to see me back was actually your spirit animal. He gave me a one arm hug and joyfully grabbed a fruit. I even overheard him throughout the day telling people “Did you see who’s back??”
By the time I got to my old seat at the engineering loft, the vibe was chill but slightly awkward and grumpy. My ex-manager (kind of?) said nothing to me besides hi, and stayed glued to his computer exhaling. The girl who is supposed to train me was mostly just complaining about her job and talking about personal stuff, but I expect nothing less, and it isn’t totally her fault since she had no tickets available to show me and I still don't have access to important logins. We talked for a little while about languages, how Caribbean dialects differ from their American counterparts in both English and Spanish. She tries convincing me of the fact it’s imperative I get my dual citizenship with another country, and while that would be cool I tell her I just barely fall shy of the requirements for my Mexican and Italian passports. She tells me to look into it again. Maybe I actually will, but it’s a lot of work and I have no sense of urgency to do that.
Sitting next to your laptop, I can watch what you are doing. I see you pull up a window to do IO and struggle with Aspera Connect for a while… what? Why are you doing that!? I also watch you resize the window a few times in the process, a characteristic feature of how you operate a screen. If you put 3 PCs next to me being remoted into by 3 different users with no context, I think I could figure out which one was you. (as long as you are not purposefully trying to trick me) I don’t want to be creepy, or obsessive, but I think I missed just watching you use a computer, and there is something comforting in knowing you control the monitor in front of me.
I keep imagining you again, talking to you, seeing you in the flesh, and though I hate to admit it, touching you again. To put my arms around you, to run my hands over your arms or through your hair, even to hold and kiss your face. I won’t do these things obviously, but almost compulsively they come to mind and make me nervous, excited and happy.
I look behind me whenever I hear footsteps, even though I know they don’t belong to you.
Once the girl training me leaves our room, my ex-manager strikes up a conversation. We mostly talk about South Park and let's plays. He brings you up, and mentions that he would love to switch schedules with you. This comes as a bit of a surprise. Still as he’s talking about you, I feel this unique sense of longing and anticipation. Once he becomes burnt out on casual conversation, I just sit in silence. I’m sitting awkwardly now between two very different IT people who look uniquely bored to death.
I eat one of my own apricots and a wrap that I bought this morning from trader joes. Checking your website like usual, I notice you mention it’s highly likely you will stop by. The anticipation increases. I briefly wonder if my hair looks okay, but quickly realize it doesn’t matter. I feel my hands getting clammy. I want to try and think of something else, research something interesting maybe while I have this free time on my computer. Lately I have been interested in r/homelab, and have some crazy ideas I would like to refine and build out for my new apartment. Lifestyle creep I guess…
I met the new boss of our company, he seems to be well liked around here. My heart accelerates each time a white car passes by. For whatever reason since my move, I have noticed a lot of cars which look like yours on the street of my new apartment. I excitedly scan the license plates with my eyes each time, but then ask myself “Why would he even be driving along my street? That doesn’t even make sense, it can’t be him.” This is different though, because I know you might be coming here. I try not to get consumed in waiting, but it’s hard not to.
I read the r/homelab wiki. You send me a message that you’re coming by and you’re nervous. I already know, and I’m nervous too.
When I finally see you, it feels surreal. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that you look even better than I remember. We hug, and I don’t want to let go. I try my best to keep my cool. As you’re talking, you move your hands a lot, look at the floor, the wall, but I am totally still and can’t take my gaze off your face. I notice my own body language, my own stares, how I’m sitting, and realize I can’t make myself any more obvious in my attraction. I am genuinely excited and confused by the fact you bought an Alpaka Metro backpack… my favorite of all your backpack picking options! When I look at you, I feel like crying. Not because I’m sad, or because I’m happy, I just feel so overwhelmed with emotion.
Even still, I get occasional waves of sadness passing back through my mind. I know that I made the right decisions, and no matter what my feelings, there can be no falling backwards into the same old cycles. There is a sad thought for me about you, which although not new, has been cycling through my mind a lot today. I won’t delve into it because I don’t want to make you or myself upset, but basically I become sad when I know that whatever you are interested in, or passionate about, I don’t always get to know or hear anymore, instead those things are heard and shared by someone else who wants to stay with you, someone else who you are in a relationship with.
It is really nothing new. I remember the day where I read through (only somewhat intentionally) the daily text messages between you and your wife. You told her you were so excited to tell her about something, that it was “a game changer,” and not only this, wanted to play geoguessr together when you got home. You then tell her that you are “busy with work” and will be home later.
You were indeed not busy with work, and instead came to spend time with me. You started to tell me in the most excited tone about this “game changer” you found. You were telling me about Notebook LM, and while I found it to be cool, I could not help but feel sad. I faked a few smiles while you spoke and was unable to share your excitement. Would you go home and repeat this whole narration to the woman you are in a real relationship with? I didn’t want to play geoguessr with you either, because I knew you would just repeat that later on with your real partner in the night too. When you asked what was wrong, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to keep you out late arguing, or make you feel I invaded your privacy, especially when it seemed you had clear plans to get home and share everything you shared with me with someone else. I have never been much of a jealous person, but with you I always felt a reason to be. These things may sound silly to get upset over, because of course in reality you should share things you enjoy with those around you, but in the context of a relationship, it felt dishonest. Maybe it is important to remember and not ignore these experiences, as a way to not fall back into the same painful cycles with you.
It is so easy to want you around, to talk to you, to work on things with you, to have discussions, to learn together. It is so easy to become lost in your eyes, your smile, your touch, to scan your entire body with my eyes. I try my hardest to look “respectfully,” which while I admit that I did have some crazy glances and impulsive thoughts, the important thing is the fact I didn’t act on any.
We hugged and talked much longer than we needed to, but I didn’t regret it at all. It was fun and funny to follow each other and chat on the freeway. It was nice to see you speaking and moving in the flesh, in front of me, and it felt good to hug you. I hope everything goes smoothly in picking up your dad from the airport, and that if you end up eating dinner with your mom that she complains minimally and enjoys herself too. It was interesting to hear on your blog about you considering your own values, individualistic vs. family values. I think about that stuff too, not in the context of China or playing Go… but I do think about that stuff as an individual from a highly individualistic country whose personal, family/ethnic culture is a bit less so.
I got home hungry and almost immediately when stepping inside the house, started cooking chicken with a method I have never tried before. I saw some girl do it on those Korean ASMR cooking videos I watch, except I’m basically trying it from memory of what I saw on youtube a few weeks ago and out of whatever I had in my fridge. Hah! (I hope it tastes okay…)
I guess I will start to wind down soon, but showering will be interesting since I already took my favorite showerhead to the new apartment, and have to use the old one tonight.
Thanks for hanging out today, it really was nice to see your face.
Writing has been making me feel better lately. I write a lot of things here, and also in private. Although I know there is one person I know reading this, I try not to write directly to him, although admittedly I find it hard not to occasionally. I also refrain from lacing in subliminal messages, since I think that's kind of inappropriate and not the purpose of my blog.
I have been working on something recently, and it's about 10 pages and still running. Due to it's personal nature, I am still deciding whether or not I will put it on my website. Essentially, I have decided to write about all of my experiences with romantic relationships since the day I was born, including what was examples were modeled for me, uncomfortable events from my childhood, shame from my teen years, and insecurities now. I am trying my best to write honestly and objectively about my own history, trying my best to recall how those things made me feel then, and how they affect me now. I don't want to write negative stuff or complain about my past, but look back and try to understand it so that maybe I can heal better. Especially now at a moment where I am single and plan to stay single intentionally, I want to look back and I want to learn what I should work on or heal from.
The experience of writing this has been kind of weird. Due to the fact I do have some issues with repressed memories, it takes a little more effort than usual to recall certain events that happened to me. In order to recall these things, I usually have to recover a certain train of thought, or look at old photos. I have been remembering a lot of things lately which are uncomfortable to recall, but I do think writing some down and working through these things objectively with what I know now is helpful.
I want to heal, and I want to be happy. For me, relationships have been a fairly consistent source of pain and anxiety throughout my entire life, if not the main one, and I feel like I need to understand why in order for it to stop. Again, I'm not sure if I will include this manuscript on my blog, as it will be massively long and somewhat intimate, and I'm not sure when I will ever be finished writing everything, but even still I feel the process of releasing and attempting to understand everything has been cathartic, interesting, uncomfortable, yet nice.
Last Thursday, I went with my friend to collect the keys for our new apartment. I brought my mom and brother along in my car too, since they wanted to see the new space. When we got there, we had to wait about 3 hours to go in since they were doing some last minute construction on the unit, and so we left to eat dinner and pass time at a marketplace with about 9 different restaurants under one roof. It was a really cute spot. The four of us chatted endlessly, the flow of conversation moving to Spanish and excluding my brother whenever the subject matter got too adult. Apparently he “doesn’t know Spanish,” but sometimes I don’t buy it. On occasion, I feel like he doesn’t care though, when we chatted in Spanish he just scrolled tik tok endlessly. Him and I split a plate of Filipino fried chicken with fried eggs and rice. Later on I also had a couple scoops of ice cream, “Taro” and “Indo Chocolate Pudding” that had a coconut waffle cookie on top called kue gapit… pretty good cookie…
Eventually we headed back to check out the new apartment. My mom who at first was pretty resistant towards my move, was actually overjoyed while we were driving around the area. She would not stop telling me endless stories from her childhood, various stories about friends and family, and giving me recommendations of places to go in the area. She is excited for me to move to this neighborhood, I think my whole family is, especially on the basis of it being closer to them and there are more things to do nearby. I actually felt pretty good about things, not necessarily on the basis of getting my mom’s approval, but rather how I felt in the space, neighborhood, and company I had. I looked out into the street through my future kitchen window, and felt an overarching sense of peacefulness. After being so anxious about this move, I realized I should just take a step back and enjoy it. It was nighttime by now, and when we were leaving the apartment my mom saw a bee outside. She was happy and said bees were signs of abundance. A day later, my friend and I saw the same bee dead on the porch. Remembering what my mom said, my immediate thought was that it was a bad sign the bee had died, but my friend just smiled and said “this means the abundance will stay with us forever.” Our trains of thought were completely different, and it made me feel grateful to have someone so optimistic close to me in life.
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Saturday was the official move-in day, and I woke up with no sense of urgency. Despite feeling more at ease with the move, I still felt tired and hesitant to take down the room that has been my entire life for a year. Waking up slowly, I organized my stuff a bit and took a few photos and videos of my home for the memories. After that, I started to pack everything up and move out. My friend started to blast cumbias while we loaded up. One thing I noticed when packing was the fact that I have so much interesting stuff in my room and closet that I never use, and tools for hobbies that I never even started. I felt vaguely inspired to use some of this stuff I had. Another thing I noticed is that I had about 4 boxes filled to the brim with random cables. My friend told me she saw a tik tok that said “Every man has a random box of cables in his room,” but that every man “has nothing on me” since I have 4x the amount. I really need to declutter those boxes…
I also noticed in passing that so many objects in my room were tied to times in my life which have long passed, and people in my life who are no longer around. I felt pretty neutral to this sentiment. I don’t know how to describe the emotion I felt, but it was as if no object in my room belonged to anyone else no matter where it came from, no memory was worth dwelling on for too long, because the only thing every object there had in common was the fact that it belonged to me now in this current moment. I thought about this handful of years I have spent in this room, and how that chapter is coming to an end. When I move, this will be the start of a new beginning for me, I can start fresh, there is more to grow and develop and become, that thought made me feel happy or relieved in some way. I dropped a giant box and it made a really loud sound, but the only thing that fell to the floor was a photo of me and him. I could hear “Fotos y Recuerdos” playing off my friend’s speaker in the background.
When I got to the new apartment with my loaded up car, my mom and sister were there waiting for us with plates of homemade pan con pollo. I always thought the name of this dish was pretty funny, literally meaning “bread and chicken” but it’s often served as a turkey sandwich with a crazy amount of toppings and salsa. I was tired and hungry, so this meal really saved me. My mom, who is also moving a lot and selling her old house brought me four massive photo albums with photos of myself as a kid. Browsing through I saw pictures of me in Hollywood, Rosemead, El Monte, Chicago, Burbank. They were all really cute, I liked browsing through these old photos and memories.
My friend then went to rent a uhaul at USC which she was using to pick up temporary furniture for our apartment. Basically, she knows a girl who needs to put her apartment furniture in storage for a few months while she goes through the process of moving/figuring out what she wants to do with her life, and my friend offered to take it for now and use it as temporary furniture for our new empty apartment. To be honest, I was a bit weary of the situation for various reasons. I don’t know this girl, she doesn’t have a driver's license (meaning we are responsible for moving the furniture in and out) and I didn't know how long she intended to keep her stuff with us/don’t want to end up in an awkward situation. However, eventually I warmed up to the scenario and felt okay about all the new furniture in our apartment. Again, I just have a tendency to think wearily and critically of everything, which isn’t inherently bad but something I need to be self aware about.
My mom would not stop talking about cleaning the apartment, so my sister and I left to go buy her some products and supplies she requested while she made a head start on cleaning with the stuff she already had. My sister and I went to CVS to buy bleach, where I uncomfortably witnessed her shoplifting and we got into an argument. Afterwards, we went to a Daiso to pick up various little items, where she started picking a fight with me about my mom. I kept trying to keep the mood light, but she was almost obsessed with arguing about anything and everything. This is how my sister’s personality is though, and honestly I am a bit used to it and comfortable navigating it.
While out shopping, I noticed a grocery store across the street I would sometimes go to as a kid/teen, which was situated next to a Chinese dvd store where I would also buy some movies. I asked my sister if she would please check it out with me for a second just to see if the store was still open, figuring it would be a miracle to see again since so much time has passed, not to mention a global pandemic that closed many small businesses.
I asked my sister “Do you remember that Chinese movie I had about the bug?” She is terrible at remembering things, so I figured it was highly unlikely for her to remember this. “I bought that movie here.”
My sister chuckled.
“Actually I do remember… it’s about a red spotted bug who follows around a girl who likes a boy… and her dad works at a construction site and she has to keep the bug a secret.”
It sounded like she mixed together the plotlines of two Hong Kong movies “Bug Me Not” and “CJ7,” but I was shocked she even remembered anything at all.
After crossing the street I was happily surprised to see that… the shop is still there!! I realize now too, I think it’s a store specifically for Cantonese media? Which is pretty cool. The business model however has changed a bit over the years, and they sell significantly less regular dvds and significantly more porno dvds these days… along with sex toys too. Even still, overjoyed with memories I browsed the movies and tv section a bit (the non porn section,) and came across a Chinese boobah dvd! The owner then walks up to me and lets me know that this movie is Chinese only. Awkwardly I asked him “Guangdonghua or putonghua?” Surprised by my question this somehow led to a simple conversation conducted in Cantonese, where he told me he’s from Guangzhou, and I told him I want to learn Cantonese, he then started joyfully recommending me a bunch of TVB dramas.
I decided to buy the boobah dvd along with some random compass keychain my sister wanted, and when I went to the front counter his wife was telling all these customers that I know Cantonese, and I said a few times “mou aa” which made me a funny center of attention for a bit. My sister for whatever reason was kind of irritated by my xiaomanyc moment and left the store to angstily pace across the parking lot while I kept chatting. Then the woman asks me in Cantonese if I like boobah, so I tell her I do. However I quickly realize I totally misunderstood her and she was asking if I like buddha… which led to her and her husband inviting me to an event at the temple, emphasizing many times that they have free food there. They asked me for my number/wechat and said I should come back soon to the shop in order to talk and practice Cantonese, and also that I should make Cantonese speaker friends. My sister eventually wandered back into the shop and they tried speaking Cantonese to her too but she got really confused. So then they invited HER to an event at the temple in English. We talked for so long and they also gave me oranges. My sister was kind of annoyed at me because I was taking forever and leisurely passing time here, but I don’t know why she was so mad when she got a free orange and a free compass keychain at the end of the day. This was so much fun. I guess the only thing now is that it may be awkward to ever try looking in the porno section there since they now know me as the random white girl from LA who speaks broken cantonese.
When we got back to the apartment and my sister explained the story of why we were late, nobody was surprised. My mom said something along the lines of “Yeah this won’t be the last time she’s out making friends with old people in Cantonese.” I hope she's right.
By now it was late but we still had a few more things to pick up with the uhaul– a bookshelf and desk from my room, and a bookshelf my mom was giving us at her house. My sister then started whining about my mom dropping her off at a friend's house, so my mom did, and we went on our way to start picking up furniture.
We stopped at my mom’s house first. As I mentioned though, it was getting late so we were getting hungry. My mom offered to take us all to In n Out and so we hopped in her car and grabbed food. The place was packed with white Mexicans in CF Monterrey jerseys since it was a big FIFA night, but we still managed to get our food promptly. We loaded up the bookshelf and headed to our next stop… but unfortunately my friend who is mildly lactose intolerant started to get sick from the combo of a milkshake and driving a shaky truck. We had to make a short stop at a McDonalds bathroom, but eventually she felt fine to continue our journey. We still had to get gas, so I got out of the car and pumped it for her so she had an opportunity to rest.
I would have loved to drive the uhaul, but my friend is a much better driver than me and had rented the truck in her name. Instead, I just sat in the passenger's seat using my native LA brain to shout out directions of what lanes to stay in and what freeways to take, all while using my hands to cover the giant overhead cabin light which we couldn’t figure out how to turn off. It was pretty silly. We were insanely delirious, and by the time we got all the furniture to our new apartment it was about 1am (for reference, this is kind of past my bedtime and most definitely past hers.) We carried massive bookcases up our flight of stairs, which was sort of hard due to our 8 inch height difference but also super funny? We kept laughing and she kept telling me “Stop laughing! If I laugh I’m gonna get more tired!” Then I forgot where I parked my car and we spent about 10 minutes deliriously looking for it and giggling.
I like being with her, we have a lot of fun. I want to enjoy our time together as roommates, and our time being in each other's lives. Sometimes I feel crippled by imagining worst case scenarios, and my fear of abandonment thinking everybody is going to leave me or betray me, and I don’t want to bring that baggage into this new stage of my life. We get along, things are okay. I’m moving to a place I like, things will be good.
It was maybe 2-3 am by the time we both went to sleep, and we were out fast. Now the work continues today...
We are “no contact,” but I know he reads my blog and I read his. We are no contact, but each of the times we have slipped up and talked, we chat for close to 8 hours straight. Is this really considered “no contact?” Is this really moving forward and making changes? Is this really trying our best?
Today I was driving around after work, and felt a familiar flash on the side of my face. I look up and notice it’s a red light camera on the intersection of Rosecrans and Hindry. What!?
He had just posted on his blog yesterday that he was hit by the same exact red light camera on this intersection. Not only that, neither of us are from or live anywhere close to this area. It’s weird. Why are we living parallel lives while apart from one another? This is so strange...
Thinking a lot lately about my past experiences and why I am the way I am, writing about it too.
Trying my best lately to be honest with myself.
There is an indescribable peace for me in looking out of a window in San Gabriel Valley, or the hills of Northeast LA.
I saw my new neighbor, he was pretty silly looking. He was an older Chinese guy, shirtless with basketball shorts hiked up to his big hanging belly, wearing chanclas with bare feet, tiny glasses and a cigarette. He was looking inside of an empty fridge outside, almost inspecting it, I’m not sure why. He was talking to some younger guys covered in tattoos. I had no idea what was going on.
I really enjoyed doing translations for the Spanish songs on my website. Most especially, transcribing and translating one song that doesn’t even exist anywhere online. I like translating to communicate a certain idea or feeling across two languages, rather than just word for word, that’s fun and interesting. I want to try English to Spanish translations but personally I think it will be harder for me. Lately I am enjoying using my working knowledge of the languages I have in my brain already. I like to use and maintain my Spanish and my Japanese.
It feels weird that I have work tomorrow.
I haven't even showered yet.
I wonder if I will be able to go to bed on time tonight.
Today I got off work from my job as a system administrator, and was thinking nonstop about the code for my website, my family issues, and my ex situationship.¹ I went to the gym, and then went to eat dinner alone at a small seating area in the supermarket. I was eating my food, deep in thought and sexually frustrated in public on a random Wednesday night. I can’t say it’s what I ever envisioned for myself in my mid 20s, but at the same time I never actually envisioned anything too specific, and I’m not surprised this is where I’m at.
Of course, this is only a piece of my life, as the real world and my real life is far more nuanced than can ever be put into words. This is one of the reasons I appreciate math. Complicated as math is, it’s straightforward and clear cut to the point it almost feels like wizardry sometimes. Math provides a calm and comfort to the chaos of a nuanced world. I am learning to acknowledge that I can never fully understand anything, even my own self. Even if someday I do come to fully understand myself, I acknowldege that day will not come soon. The best I can do is work with what I have and know now, and what is happening in my life at this moment.
I am moving to a new apartment this weekend and part of me feels scared. Although I am moving in with a friend, someone I really do like, someone I even live with currently and have no problems with, there is some type of added pressure in my mind to us living together.
We currently both rent rooms in the same house with three other roommates. We all have our own private bathrooms and individual month to month leases. This gives me a sense of privacy and self sufficiency. But now it will be just the two of us, with both of our names on one lease, a year long lease, and a shared bathroom. I know that this is just a roommate situation but I have this weird anxiety as if I am making a commitment to someone. There should be nothing to worry about, so why do I feel this way? She is literally just my roommate. It’s nothing new, I’ve had roommates since I was 19. I signed the papers to move there, nobody forced me, so why am I acting like this?
She has her own preferences towards things. She doesn’t eat spicy foods, she has her own standards of cleanliness while I have mine, she won’t agree to having certain types of pets, she’s deeply religious, which while I don’t mind it I am definitely not. These are just some things I can think of, although we do share a large handful of values in common as well. Am I scared of adapting to or even changing myself for another person’s preferences? Am I totally comfortable with this next chapter in my life? Do I want that badly to be alone? Do I want to be with someone else? I love being friends with her, but I know I wouldn’t date someone with the preferences she has. Is that it? Does part of me see cohabitation as inherently romantic and so I fish for problems in that way? I’m seriously not making any sense.
I just want to assuage this strange pressure I have been feeling. The room I’m in now, I lived in for three years. I like my home. It’s weird to think I’m leaving.
I will also be living further from my job, which means much longer commute times than I’m used to. I will probably have to spend days like today, going to the gym or eating dinner at the supermarket to wait out traffic. Today I ate a cold noodle with poke salad, and ate a daifuku for dessert since I wanted something solid like rice flour to go in my stomach along with the light meal. Holding the daifuku in my hands, it felt similar to a hard dicks’ texture. It has the outer mochi layer, which feels like a thick skin, and inside a very solid anko paste, which felt sturdy as an erection. It may sound weird, but I played with it a little in my hands and it almost felt as if I was playing with a foreskin. I liked it so much I almost wanted to buy another one.
I think often about sex but rarely is it in a way where I am turned on. The things I think mostly just take shape as very average intrusive thoughts. Today was a little different though. I actually did feel desire. I wondered how long into my declaration of celibacy I would start to feel sexual frustration. According to the javascript tracker on my site which states how many days I’ve spent single, (and also doubles as a celibacy day counter) it only took me 39 days without having sex to feel some type of frustration. This was honestly earlier than I anticipated? I was expecting something more along the lines of 3-6 months. However, I am curious to see how my attitudes towards sex will be and change as time progresses.
Recently, I have taken a disinterest in porn. It’s not a totally new thing for me, but the disinterest has only escalated in the past month. For whatever reason, I’m finding it boring and uninspired lately, and this is coming from someone who at some point may have even been considered a porn addict. I used to have an index of actors' names in my head, I downloaded and screen recorded and organized content that was to my liking, I watched multiple times a day, I watched in public bathrooms. I remember watching that Don Juan movie where Joseph Gordon Levitt casts himself as a porn addict who makes out with Scarlett Johanson, and the main plot of the whole thing is that he discovers how to jerk off with his eyes closed. I remember watching that damn movie and thinking “he’s so me.” The worst part about these times in my life is that no matter how much porn I got, I always needed more. Maybe this insatiability comes with the liberty of being a girl and having the capacity to orgasm an insane amount of times in one day, but whatever it was it felt like hell sometimes. But now sexually, I want what I can’t have. I want real sex with someone I have a real connection with. I want to feel another person in my arms. I want to know another person’s body on an intimate and personal level. Watching hours of uninspired sex tapes with my hand in my pants does not help that desire.
I think ever since onlyfans, everybody thinks they can make porn. But truthfully they can’t. I don’t mean this in a snobby way, but I hate watching porn and thinking I can do better. I hate thinking I can fuck better than what I am watching, I hate thinking I can enjoy a dick in my mouth better than the woman on screen, and all these videos make me think that.
Well, I’m definitely not “doing it better” anytime soon, so it’s probably best to just stop thinking about it. I should probably start cleaning and packing for my move like a responsible adult instead of messing with my website all day and writing semi-public journal entries about my uncertainties in life and my relationship with porn.
¹I hate the word "situationship." It feels belittling and unserious. I just don't know how else I can accurately refer to him. This was the word used by his wife to describe what our relationship was, so I guess I can use it too.
I've said this so many times. I was lying. Made so much progress on this site today and I am very happy about it. My brain is mush now but it's okay.
Last night I spent time recounting some of the worst relationship pain I would never again wish upon myself, and I wake up now bright and early, with baggy eyes, from a dream of peace and comfort.
We were laughing about admin passwords on computers, I remember talking too much, and we were giggling about work. We then discussed where we wanted to live together. Things were so serious yet so simple, and I felt happy. We were holding hands, and we were walking around together. Once again, I wonder if I am holding onto experiences and possibilities that never happened, and I feel confused. Do I miss the relationship, or the seen potential in what I was never given? Processing this relationship brings such a large spectrum of emotions and I don’t know what to do with it. I wish I could go back to bed. I wish things were as simple as a dream. I am so damn tired.
I fell asleep one last time before work and saw a life with him again in a different variation. I was laying in bed and he was laying next to me. We had a pet on the floor next to us, whether or not it was a cat or dog I don't know, but it was an indistingushible ball of fur with zoomies, playing like crazy with a toy. Neither of us seemed too concerned though, as if maybe this kind of thing happens all the time. We just laid there. Once again, I found peace and confusion through my dream. What I see through my dreams and never actually had, I hold onto because it brings joy. But what I really did experience kept me up late last night, recounting in pain. (Although I do admit it's cathartic to recount) Lost between fantasies and realities, am I delusional or not?
I have been feeling so out of shape. Yesterday while seasoning my food, I felt the fat on my arms jiggle. Today when leaning under a desk to replace a cable, I felt strain from my legs being too weak. Just now when looking in the mirror, my stomach looked so bloated that my body almost looked as if it were not my own. I want to use the opportunity of working a 9-5 now to go to the gym, and take better care of my health. I went after work today and it had me sweating, but I think I want to figure out a better training plan because it’s hard for me to plan out my own exercises. I hate muscle training and love cardio, but doing these disproportionately has led me to injury in the past. I also want to eat a bit better, not restrictive and not tasteless, but eat healthier foods for me in general. I can also drink more water, and consume less sugar. I think I will ask AI to help me work some of that stuff out into a plan.
Although my body looked weird today, I didn’t feel bad about it in any way. I am making a solid and conscious effort to no longer think negative things about myself when I look in the mirror. I don’t think I have self image issues, but as in everyone, bad days and doubts pop up.
During my last relationship, I felt uglier than usual, probably just as a reflection of how I felt inside. I distinctly remember a specific time when this occurred. This man who I was with had a penchant for going on vacations with his wife to destinations that I frequently thought about or wished I could go, which to his defense I dream of going many places. He had gone away with her to Vancouver and Alaska, the city I had planned to visit alone that year and my favorite state which I have always dreamed of seeing, all while I covered for him at work. Anyways, while he was gone with her I decided to take myself out to dinner alone on my day off. I wore a brown dress which I almost never wear, and under it some decorative underwear which I also hardly wear. They are nude colored and in a thin fabric, yet not totally see through, since they are adorned in a colorful floral pattern which covers up my nipples with distracting shapes and colors. This underwear frames my body shape differently from what I would usually wear, and while that could make me slightly self conscious, I felt it looked nice in combination with this brown dress. I prayed my nipples would not get hard that night, as with the thinness of the fabric, the shape of them would probably peek through in the cold. I brought a sweater just in case this happened or I got self conscious, but I never did. That night alone I felt beautiful, walking on the beach, taking photos on my camera, eating a nice meal, and even going to get ice cream afterwards.
When he came back from vacation the next week, I felt a mix of emotions. I was livid, I was anxious, I was sad, I felt worthless, I felt like a toy, I felt used, but somewhere inside I also felt excited to see him again. He asked me to hang out that following weekend and I agreed. I dressed in the same clothes I had worn the weekend before, that brown dress with floral see through underwear beneath. He picked me up, he was driving, and we were having a good time. We went to the movies, we went to dinner, and it wasn’t insanely late by the time he took me back home. What time? I can’t remember exactly but I do know it was before 10, and before the usual curfew time he always imposed on me. I think due to habit, maybe I expected him to come inside with me for a bit, especially since we were seeing each other for the first time in a week, catching up after time spent away from each other. I tried not to think about the vacation that made me so angry and to just enjoy the moment, and for most of the night I think it worked. It felt nice in a way, and as it felt to me, like we were making up for lost time.
As he pulls in front of my house, he hits me with an “I only told my wife I’d be seeing a movie tonight, nothing more, so I have to go home now.”
I didn’t want him to see me cry so I looked away as the tears oozed uncontrollably. I tried not to make any crying sounds. I felt so confused, what were his motives in returning home? Was this a boundary for him? I felt like I meant nothing. He spent a whole week with this woman on vacation in a place I only dream of going, while I covered for him at his job. Now that he is back with me, he is in a rush to go home to her? I remember sitting in the car for a little too long while he asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t quite articulate the deep sense of pain and betrayal I felt, moreover I felt resistant to displaying the deep feeling of sadness in my heart. What was the point anyways in explaining myself, possibly long winded, to a man who had no more time left for me?
I remember walking back inside my home, going to the bathroom, and looking in the mirror. It felt like I had never seen an uglier woman in my life. Here I was, standing in the same clothes I had worn just a week ago, the dress the same, figure the same down to my undergarments. Physically, the exact same person I had a week ago seen as beautiful was now before me looking disgusting. I was under the influence of someone who made me feel worthless, and so the reflection looking back at me looked just that, worthless. I have a lot of mirrors in my house, and that night catching even just a glimpse of myself felt like torture. I hated my own image. I buried my head in my pillow and cried until I fell asleep that night.
This all provides me with proof that looks are not based on actual appearance, but how you feel inside. This is why I want to think positive. If I believe I am beautiful inside, if I feel valued, it shines on the exterior as well. This is also why I want to try and focus on my health. If I feel healthy, I will feel it on the outside too.
Once you are insecure, you are prone to mistreatment. Do you ever watch those movies where a girl gets her glasses taken off, only to discover that she was actually beautiful all along? Well, maybe some of these predatory men watch too many of those movies because they treat insecure women in the same way, as if their beauty is something to be discovered, and these women eat it up and praise them for “discovering” something that was actually in them all along. Insecure people also end up being exploited in other ways, accepting less than what they deserve since they feel undeserving. Although I was not a victim of the former, maybe accepting less than what I need and deserve in a relationship led me to insecurity, which led me to being disgusted by my own face in the mirror.
I refuse to be a target due to insecurity, and so I choose to believe in my own beauty, internal and external. I will keep my internal monologue positive, and continue to be a good person at heart. I will be honest with myself and others, I will show kindness, I will be confident in my own intelligence, and I will not say anything negative to the woman I see in the mirror. Being healthy is now an added commitment to myself, and I will continue to update on the process.
I wish I could tell him goodnight.
A helicopter just flew over my area, and extremely loud, I wonder if he heard it from his home too.
A cat just walked past my window. I wish he could see it too.
I need to wake up early for work tomorrow, we are setting up laptops for 20 interns. I wonder how their attitudes will be like, what age range they will be in, if they are getting Mac or Windows laptops, how many we can set up at once, how long it will all take. We will need to hardline in order to setup, and only have a limited number of network connections so that will be a factor as well.
Although I spent most my weekend in bed with Season 5 of 90 Day Fiance The Other Way on autoplay, I somehow don’t feel like the weekend was wasted. I laid the entire time with my laptop on my stomach, working almost obsessively on this website. I have so many ideas for links and features which I can’t wait to implement and optimize. There is really so much to do. And sure I cooked a meal over the weekend, spent time with my roommate, and got a 9pm phone call from my uncle about his PC problems... but this website work was most definitely the highlight.
This is a funny blog post, because unlike my others it is not very well structured or thought through. I just want to say my mood is better than usual this weekend, I am excited about my website, and I miss him.
If I were more permissive, patient and tolerant then maybe I could keep a man. If I stopped asking so many questions, if I stopped yelling when I’m angry, if I were less vocal about my own needs as an individual. Maybe if I learned to smile instead of argue, maybe if I pushed their needs over mine. Maybe if I allowed more bad behaviors, maybe if I brushed off more comments that made me uncomfortable. I genuinely believe this would make me more attractive to a lot of men.
But this isn’t who I am and I don’t want to change.
I don’t have a problem with women whose personality does align with some of these traits, but I do have a problem when women are conditioned to submit in order to feel worthy of “love.”
The older I get, the more I feel most men want only a partner who will provide them companionship, sex, and domestic labor, while simultaneously giving them minimal hassle. Giving them “minimal hassle,” usually means putting up with their subpar, inappropriate, or cruel behavior. Giving them “minimal hassle” usually means compromising parts of yourself. Giving them “minimal hassle” usually means matching what is approved by society, their family, and social circles. Maybe a woman outside of this box can be well liked, or seen as "fun," but taken less seriously for the role of a wife.
I believe men have a stronger tendency to see relationships as a service rather than a partnership. Even historically, marriage is seen as a transfer of property, fathers handing their daughters over to a husband. Fathers were even paid to give their virgin daughters away through marriage, as they were selling off their own kin as both household labor and a sexual object. I wonder sometimes, has much really changed? How many men mistreat or leave their wives once they are no longer of service to them? A man is 6x more likely to leave their seriously ill partner than a woman is. You always hear about men “trading out their ‘older’ wives for a newer model.” These things alone are a huge cause for concern.
I always thought it was weird when the older, divorced women around me decided they never want to date or marry again, but now I can understand why. They don’t want to bother with this society anymore. Single women are the happiest demographic for a reason. Married women live shorter than single women, married men live longer than single men, and it’s all for a reason. I believe that if we could change how we treat relationships, things don’t have to be this way. All that I honestly want is an equitable partnership with mutual respect, trust, security, and agreement for future plans. However sometimes I feel like this is too much to even ask for as a woman.
I’m not blaming men for my lack of success in relationships, in fact I am not blaming men for anything. I just feel so much anger towards the imbalances in the society which I am a part of.
One thing that makes me sad is how almost every woman I know who enters a relationship ends up becoming an emptier version of the bold person she used to be. Although I think men can also lose themselves in relationships, it is far more extreme for women due to cultural expectations. They stop dressing cute because they don’t want to be seen as attention seekers while in a relationship. They change their style for what they think their man wants. They put his comforts, needs, wants and hobbies above hers. They drift further away from family and friends, and the comfort and joy of female companionship.
Another thing that makes me sad is when women hold onto a hope that their partners will change, when they likely never will. A person will never change if they are never pushed to change. By merely permitting bad behavior, you are signaling to your partner that these behaviors are okay. If you allow your dog to shit all over the house, then the dog will never stop shitting all over the house. You can’t just one day expect the dog to change.
I genuinely believe that if I changed my personality, it would be easier for men to see me as a potential partner. However, even if I did change, I don't think it would make me happy. Even if I become perfectly submissive, fulfilling every expected duty of a girlfriend and wife, someone will still find some way to criticize me. Maybe I will become “too boring.” Maybe if I become a stay at home mother, I will be seen as lazy. Maybe if I become a career woman, I will be seen as an unpresent mother. Sometimes I feel like the only socially successful way to be a woman is to stop existing. No matter what I do or how I change myself to best match the male ideal, there will always be someone with a problem, and I still run the risk of being betrayed or left alone once I am no longer of service. There is no point in changing when there is no winning.
I don’t ever want to put up with something below my standards again. If anything, I believe I should be even more stubborn and even less tolerant than I have been in the past. Society teaches us that we need a relationship to complete us, and due to gender roles and the institution of marriage, this rhetoric can prove especially dangerous to women. Once we overcome the fear of being alone, I believe we can also reach a boundless state of happiness and freedom.
I fell asleep at 10pm again last night, an unusually early time for me. I have felt so sad and engulfed with laziness recently, and though my mood is slightly better than it was earlier this week, it is still causing me to oversleep. I had a lot of crazy stress dreams as usual, as well as many dreams I can’t remember. I woke up at 8am to a text from my mom asking me to accompany her to the flower mart.
10 hours of sleep and I still don’t want to leave my bed.
Today is the day of my baby sister’s senior prom, and my mom is on a mission to make her and her friends corsages. I promised her I would come along, and would like to be there for my sister on her prom day. I tell her I’m on my way but lay in bed a little longer, mess with some html on my blog a little bit, and make my way to shower for the first time in several days. There is a sticky note on my door from my roommate saying that she misses me and she hopes I’m doing well. I guess I’ve been in bed the whole time. Maybe she thinks I’m not home. I appreciate the gesture, and leave to meet my mom.
By the time I meet my mom in Downtown LA, I am in a pretty good mood just by being outside. We make our way towards Santee alley, an area full of wholesale vendors, on a block with primarily fabric shops. Some sellers are pushier than others, trying to catch our attention when walking past. Some look old and almost frail, hidden behind spools of polyester lace. I hear a variety of different languages, English, Spanish, Arabic and one that I can’t recognize. I notice an extremely soft plush fabric printed like Fred Flinstone while my mom talks to herself, unsure of what direction we are going.
I follow her around the corner, and suddenly we are surrounded by shops selling ribbons. I look into one, manned by a cholo veterano, most likely in his 50s pelon y todo. His skin is painted in tattoos, a teardrop on the eye, as he delicately adjusts spools of ribbon. My mom notices him too, and later in conversation with me gives him props for being reformed and having a job. She then continues the story, and gives him even more props for working hard in his family’s business. I mostly agree but also notice she is making a lot of assumptions about the guy's life, probably reflective of her own experiences and values.
I remember that I forgot to take my birth control yesterday. I almost never forget, but I guess with my constant moodiness and exhaustion, it slipped my mind. What’s more, I forgot to bring my pills with me when I left the house today. I realize that if I forget two days in a row it will cause my hormones to spiral, and period to start early. A hormonal crisis is the last thing I need at the moment. I bookmark it in my mind that I need to be home by 6pm to take my pills.
My mom gets a little more lost but eventually we find the block where they sell flowers. We enter a handful of stores, and while I provide feedback on some flowers to pick, I sort of leave it up to her. I feel a bit like a kid, or a boyfriend who was dragged along for shopping against his will. I notice each store has a unique hand drawn sign at the counter. One has a drawing of Goku holding flowers, another has one simply written “please don’t tuch.” Sooner than later she buys all the supplies, flowers, elastic bracelets, and flower tape. She then suggests we go to a local Italian restaurant for lunch, and once again I find myself following her through the chaotic street.
I immediately found the restaurant decorations to be funny and interesting. There are fake flowers everywhere, from floor to ceiling. There is a fountain in the corner with artificial mist smoking off of the water. We wait to be seated, and a couple walks by bickering in Mandarin. Were they bickering? Were they just talking? I don’t know the language well enough to say but they looked unhappy together. The man was very skinny with feminine features, and dressed in a tuxedo that seemed to belong at either a wedding or costume party, finished off with Louboutin designer shoes. The woman looked slightly older but not by much, and was dressed fairly normal if not frumpy. Their clothing didn’t seem to match. The woman walked down the hall to the restroom, but instead of entering to use the toilet, spent a long time inspecting the giant red door that said “EXIT” and “ALARM WILL SOUND.” A server came up to greet and seat my mom and I, and I almost forgot about the bizarre couple.
He explained the specials to us, as well as his personal recommendations. My mom and I worked out what to order and share, as to get the most value. Suddenly, I get the sensation that occurs when either discharge, period blood, or semen leaks out from you. My feminine intuition tells me it has to be discharge, and I excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up. The bathroom is in use, I assume by the woman of interest I mentioned earlier. I wait a little while, and eventually she comes out, a look of shock on her face when she opens the door to me, as if I had jump scared her by waiting. We did not exchange any words and I entered the bathroom and she walked back to her table.
The bathroom was decorated just as funny as the rest of the restaurant, with head to toe pixelated murals of Italy… and more fake flowers everywhere. Even the toilet was wrapped in faux vines. I pulled down my underwear and noticed light pink discharge, weird.
“Light pink discharge– an indication of hormonal fluctuation or an early sign of pregnancy,” I say to myself almost immediately in my head. I’m obsessed with medical facts like this. I figure due to the birth control situation, and even my moodiness, it must be due to hormonal instability. Briefly I wonder what I would do if I were pregnant. I would have to get an abortion, right? Would I even tell my ex? He couldn’t even stay with me or commit to me or be there for me as is, so why would he be there for me through a pregnancy or abortion? What’s more, to tell him would just be interfering with his life, a life he lives with another woman. I get a brief feeling of alienation. I remember that I’m the same age my mom was when she was pregnant with me. Then I stop thinking about pregnancy, wash up and head back to my mom.
We ate cheesy pasta with mushrooms and a beet salad, and it was honestly delicious. I drank a full glass of water with no ice through a clear plastic straw, and cleaned off both plates with my spoon. Although I can’t handle eating it everyday, and am not great at making it myself, I love Italian food, especially pasta. I remember how just earlier this week I was too sick to even eat, and I feel grateful that I can now keep food down better and enjoy this meal. Food makes me so happy, and I had a nice lunch with my mom. I then cradle the flowers we bought as if they were my own, and we head back to her apartment.
When we get back, my mom almost immediately runs to her computer and starts to google “how to make corasage for prom.” It’s at this moment I realize she has no idea what she’s doing. She watches a video on youtube from 7 years ago, with royalty free Christmas music as its soundtrack.
“I knew I should have gotten wire!” She exclaims in frustration.
She starts to rummage through every drawer in her apartment, and I feel a familiar and unique form of chaos in the air. It is the chaos felt through divorce and separation, the chaos of missing objects, and an existence spread out across multiple households and timelines. She was just divorced again last year, and is still adjusting to a new apartment and environment. My mom spent all this time digging around her apartment for objects and tools that were never really there at all, that she probably had at some point in her old home but not anymore.
She never found the wire, but we started to make the corsages anyway. The ones I made looked a little off, less like a flower arrangement and more like a bizarre and rare bug species camouflaging with plants. I started to exhale loudly out of frustration, and I just resigned to watching my mom make them. I loved watching her, she put them together so delicately, with so much care. You could have almost never imagined she was so clueless and spastic about the project just 20 minutes earlier. Time flew by quickly, and before I knew it we were on the road again, bringing the corsages to my sister’s friends home.
She got on the 110 freeway towards Northeast LA. For those who don’t know, it is the oldest freeway in Los Angeles, with winding turns and sometimes bumpy pavement. Due to its archaic design and unsafe layout, there are always a lot of accidents on this freeway. My mom doesn’t care though, as she drives at full speed with music so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. I have mixed feelings towards this freeway. I grew up really close to it. In this moment I remember pictures I saw of my ex laying down on the pavement of this freeway. They were taken on a day that they closed it down for pedestrians, and the photos were taken by his wife. I wonder how their relationship was at the time those photos were taken. I think about our breakup. I think about how he is probably at home with her right now. I think about how even if I claimed not to be, I was so invested in an impossible future with someone who knew he couldn’t stay with me. I feel like the idea of having “more” in our relationship was always dangled over my head, and after a year and a half that “more” was nowhere to be seen. And now I am alone and he is with someone. It’s so hard for me to accept that those things are not only over, but not for me. I feel engulfed in anger and jealousy, and I hate myself for being this way.
When my mom pulls off the highway, and up to my sister’s friend’s street, I get an insane rush of nostalgia. I have never been to this girl’s house before, but remember back in high school my best friend's mom, who was a housekeeper, cleaned a house on this block, and we went there together. The street is a long and winding hill, with sweeping views of the city and other surrounding hills. I felt just as in awe of it back then as I did now.
The girl’s house was so nice. It was large with amazing views. It’s my dream to live in a house like that, in a neighborhood like that, a very expensive dream that may never come to fruition. I tell my sister’s friend I love her house and she makes a weird face at me. Why is it that rich people can’t ever just say “thank you” about these things? She tells me it was a house people shot pornos at back in the day. Interesting, I don’t watch much classic stuff but I guess I’ll keep an eye out.
I played with their cat while waiting for my sister to get ready. She took forever, but eventually finished. I didn’t like her outfit. I don’t want to be mean so I didn’t say anything. I thought her makeup looked pretty but she told me she wasn't wearing enough. Then all the girls put on the corsages for photos, thanked us and left. That was sort of it. To my surprise, my sister chose to wear one of the crazy looking corsages that I made.
Before I knew it, I was back in the car with my mom. She knows how much I love houses like that one and told me, “You never know what can happen. It may feel difficult to imagine now, but maybe someday you will actually have a home like that.”
Then we are back speeding on the 110 North, and I am back to my same angry thoughts. My mom drops me back off at my car, and I head home. I try not to think more about the things that make me upset.
7:47pm
This is the time I arrive back at home to take my pills. It’s off nearly two hours but still okay I hope.
I think about my day, how much time and effort was spent on a small decoration, which will likely die and break tonight. I still don’t feel it was a pointless effort, and feel the fact flowers don’t live forever only adds to their beauty. I’m happy I spent time with my family. I’m happy I left the house today. I would rather have bitter and heartbroken thoughts with fresh air than bitter and heartbroken thoughts in my bedroom reeking of my own sweat. I feel better than I did earlier this week, and I guess that in itself is a win.
I hope my sister has an amazing night.
Obviously I am not ready. This may go without saying, but in this day and age you never know. How many people jump from relationship to relationship without taking time to heal the last one? I know that I have been one of those people. I don’t think I have properly handled my time single, ever. Obviously, deciding a healthy time frame for moving on is subjective, but I think that in a world of constant dopamine addiction and rampant codependency people don’t sit alone with themselves long enough. I really want to do things right this time.
There are plenty of things that I want to personally improve.
I have made the decision to go back to college while also keeping my full time job and career. I understand that not only am I now heartbroken, but I will also be busy these next two-ish years in this school and work process. I don’t have the time or capacity to date, and would like to focus on myself, and so I have made a commitment not to date or have sex until I finish school.
There are three other future things I would like to notate wanting, which would be that I want to live abroad for at least a year, I want to get a pet, and I want to own my own property. These things are not associated with my two year focus plan, as I cannot leave the country while still in school and I should not get a pet or house with intentions to leave the country. However, they are things I want to stand strong in making a reality.
I don’t think I will have a lot of trouble adjusting to being alone. My last two relationships both involved some type of disconnect and distance, and so I have been spending a lot of time alone these past four years anyways. I actually prefer to have time alone. I have wondered if I tend to choose men who are disconnected from me because I don’t want to give up my sense of self. I think ideally, I would like to be with someone who allows me that space in a healthy way, rather than a strained and constricted one. However, I tend to pick the latter.
So besides my plan to remain focused on studying, remain focused on myself, what are smaller things that I can do to keep myself happy and growing?
For one, I am writing about it. Writing makes me feel better and I like writing. It was a big hobby of mine as a kid until I stopped at some point in high school. I started to become busier, more self conscious, and more adjusted to a world where writing is a dying skill. Especially now at a time where writing is done by AI more and more frequently, there is something that feels almost rebellious in doing this. Language is like a puzzle, picking and choosing various words in the order that expresses yourself best. Designing the most fitting structure, selecting the most appropriate words, and taking the time to truly share my emotions on my terms feels deeply human.This cathartic experience is something we as people will likely have less and less of as time goes on. To me it feels important to preserve my sense of humanity, and again, self identity. These are some reasons I am so drawn to creating this project.
Another small thing that brings me peace and joy is cooking and cleaning. As a feminist western woman it sometimes feels like a loaded thing to say I enjoy, (lol!) and so I’ll explain a little more. While I don't mind cooking or cleaning for others, I would hate to do it as an expectation. Too often than not, women end up in domestic situations where the housework just “gets done,” and the men don’t really question who did it and when it happened. I have seen it happen in my own family, and even situations living with couples as roommates. Women cook for a man nonstop, but even if they enjoy cooking they get exhausted if it becomes a never thanked expectation, and he never at least offers help with the dishes. I understand that everybody’s individual and cultural expectations may differ, but for me and those around me, I think desire for labor acknowledgement would be a collective sentiment, even if it’s labor we enjoy. I think both men and women should be equally acknowledged and appreciated for the efforts they put into a relationship. But back to why I enjoy cooking and cleaning.
When I cook for myself, and I clean my own space, it makes me feel appreciated. It makes me feel a little more in control of my surroundings, and a little more accomplished. Doing that labor for someone else may be an act of love, but doing it for myself feels like an act of self love. Not only this but I can do it on my own terms. I can clean, organize and decorate the way I want. I can be as messy or as clean as I like without the standards of another person in mind. I can cook for my own preferences and cravings, without having someone else’s in mind. These things feel so good to me. This is the freedom that comes with living on my own without my family or a partner, and I want to embrace it.
I also enjoy going out on my own, to events, to eat, to nature, or even to travel alone. I want to do more of this. I also want to spend more time with my family and friends.
I also have various hobbies, both creative and technical that I would like to give some attention to, such as studying languages. Ever since I have been heartbroken and unemployed with a lot of time on my hands, those language textbooks on my shelf have been looking attractive. Although there are other things I would like to study in my spare time such as Math, (I know, this may sound strange to some people) when it comes to studying, I would now like to focus solely on my classwork in college and my foreign language learning hobby.
I am hoping to also write blog posts regarding some of these hobbies and activities, rather than just heady and emotional things. I am writing about life! And what would a blog about focusing on your time alone be, if you don’t write about some of those things you are doing alone?
I am not ready to date. I am not interested in dating. Although I’m also sure sexual feelings will come up, I do not need to have sex. There is a lot that I need to do for myself, and I think a lot that I need to process about myself alone in order to grow. Hopefully this project can assist me in providing an outlet, self reflection, and seeing my progress. Maybe some people can even see what I write and connect to it. Although I feel some hurt feelings now, I am still looking forward to all of this.
He was always the reason I wanted to wake up in the morning, and now that we don’t talk, I find myself sleeping 12 hours straight. Sure, it could be the liberty of unemployment, but being so lethargic feels unlike myself. I feel like even if I get out of bed, there’s nothing worth doing. I remember so many days where my alarm couldn’t wake me up, but the vibration of receiving his texts could. The thought of seeing him, confiding in him, laughing with him, these thoughts were what encouraged me to start the day.
Since we broke up, I lost my appetite. I can’t keep food down, and even when I can it gives me stomach pain. From the second I wake up, there is a feeling in my chest as if it was shattered into one hundred sharp pieces. It keeps me from eating, and it worsens whenever I overthink our relationship, when I imagine him with someone else, when I wonder what he truly thinks and feels, the anxiety causes physical pain.
I’ve been spending a lot of my time awake, (when my Mom isn’t worried about me and forcing me to eat,) just laying in bed and watching movies. I’ve had a lot of silly rewatches lately of things I haven’t seen in nearly 10 years. I find it relaxing. When I see couples on tv together, living together, sleeping together, investing their time in each other, it makes me sad. These were all things we didn’t have, and maybe I am also grieving the loss of what never happened.
When we would still talk, I felt like I was always demanding answers that he cannot give me. “Do you want to spend your future with someone else?” I ask, he says he doesn’t know. He doesn’t provide much with clarity, and can’t help but feel he would if he truly loved me. Maybe my perspective is self centered. Who am I to judge though? I myself am not flawless or crystal clear on my future desires.
I need to learn to accept the “worst case scenarios” and move forward with my life. I need to accept that this chapter, while unfinished, must close. I can write forever about him, our good times, bad times, my emotions, my questions… and even if I spend forever writing about him I will always think of more to say, feel and ask.
Until crying over him now, I haven’t cried about a breakup since I was a teenager. I think there are probably a multitude of reasons for that, but if I wish, I can interpret it as a testament to how much I cared. Unfortunately, I am an adult now with more responsibilities than the average teenager, and most of those responsibilities resume next week, including the start of a new job. I must stop rotting away at some point, work on what needs to be done, and reclaim my own life. Because I ask myself, how did I ever reach a point where I was so dependent on another person for happiness? How did I get here, where the thought of another person is what pushes me to wake up in the morning? It honestly snuck up on me. In the end I realized I was far more attached and invested than I could have imagined. I think as people we get attached to things that make you feel good. He made me feel good, and now I need to learn to feel good on my own again.