Why do I run from dreams, aims and elevated goals? Why do I have to or feel the need to always be so fucking practice. Like the Nurse said recently, sometimes that’s not what’s needed.
Didn’t see things going like this… Thinking of one individual at the MSP, and how his voice and condescension, attitude and just the sight of his ogre-y stroll and dopey self irritated me. So, I guess then, one positive from all this – I never have to see that individual a-fucking-gain.
Go more on the offensive, I remind myself. And partially against my attitude. Be a bully with it, which is funny as that’s the question in the BED journal, today’s prompt. Have I ever bullied someone. Answer, NO. Well, not till now. ME, I’m intentionally bullying me to motivate self out of this shit.
“”””””””
13:27. Went for a run, and it sucked. Set time for 60 mins, didn’t even touch 30. Not in the best mood, and this fucking … not interested in doing it right now. Fucking selling my soul for another quarry.
And some people, much I declare I will ignore and not let their evil tentacles into my cells, I’m unnerved and off-lot. So… get out of the house. Seriously, go to KC’s or KIN, or Oliver’s. Write, build content, a STORY.
Single dad in tech laid off and agitated with much, but only wanting to build for his kids.
The fucking film or covering, whatever the fuck it is over the ink on my arm is itching and driving this writer crazy.
I AM…
Strong.
Stubborn.
Loving.
Conviction-drawn.
WRITING.
Creating….
Grateful.
IN LOVE.
…
When in high school and Foothill College, SSU and CSUEB I said I was going to be a writer and professor. Then I backpedaled, played life safe, fucking compromised, did what others said I should do. Find a “real” job, one that’s “safe”. Get married and whatever the fuck else.
Basically, what I had on the board was inadequate.
And here I am back in that film… that scene, and I’m saying FUCK OFF.