This blog used to be about politics.
I think I last visited it in the beginning months of 2010. At that time, life was beginning to take on some very dark, very frightening shades and tones and my obsession with politics; my obsession with myself started to look like distant imprints in a thick fog whenever I glanced behind me. And as a result, looking at those things started to become less and less engaging. Some force was trying to push me forcefully and excruciatingly into adulthood.
I had begun my life in a family of artists and raised with the idea that being a practicing artist was the highest order of professions; being a doctor or a lawyer was bourgeois and banal. I always had the idea from my parents that they just didn't get doing something normal for a living because it was useless to man's aesthetic progress.
I never felt pressure to do anything except to be an exceptional and successful artist. That's a lot. The fact that I couldn't maintain a relationship or wasn't a mother by a certain time, were not the concerns of my parents.
But the only thing I ever wound up becoming a success with was being a drug addict and a quitter. I'm fantastic at those two separate pastimes, without merging them.
I stopped trying. I gave up at some point. I wish I could say that I remember the exact moment that I decided that trying to be a great writer or actor wasn't for me, but I just can't. If I could remember that moment, then maybe I would never have failed. I just became great at unpacking my responsibilities and leaving them behind at each of my stays. I'll take the easiest option always.
All of it was counter-intuitive to some of my best qualities: loyalty, love, honesty.
But life/the universe/god/you have a way of forcing you to do what's most difficult, if you're not completely committed to killing yourself off.
Without getting too into specifics, frankly, I'm still reeling from the events of the last few years and losing so much. And as I sort of said in the beginning of this ridiculously self-indulgent blog, things that were important to you suddenly become microscopic and stupid. And life doesn't exactly come into focus, but it does become more real.
Shit got real, basically.
And so here I am now. I have a day job that I like with people whom I've kind of fallen in love with, a brother that I love; I have a shitty studio apartment in Koreatown, a cat named Henry and friends that I love. And I also have a constant fear of losing any one of those things. The last few years have taught me only that you can lose anything, anytime. I'm trying to learn to let go of the fear though.
So I'm putting it out there on this blog, that I still don't know the theme to. I guess we'll just figure it out as we go along...?
Sort of how I do everything, anyway.
I think I last visited it in the beginning months of 2010. At that time, life was beginning to take on some very dark, very frightening shades and tones and my obsession with politics; my obsession with myself started to look like distant imprints in a thick fog whenever I glanced behind me. And as a result, looking at those things started to become less and less engaging. Some force was trying to push me forcefully and excruciatingly into adulthood.
I had begun my life in a family of artists and raised with the idea that being a practicing artist was the highest order of professions; being a doctor or a lawyer was bourgeois and banal. I always had the idea from my parents that they just didn't get doing something normal for a living because it was useless to man's aesthetic progress.
I never felt pressure to do anything except to be an exceptional and successful artist. That's a lot. The fact that I couldn't maintain a relationship or wasn't a mother by a certain time, were not the concerns of my parents.
But the only thing I ever wound up becoming a success with was being a drug addict and a quitter. I'm fantastic at those two separate pastimes, without merging them.
I stopped trying. I gave up at some point. I wish I could say that I remember the exact moment that I decided that trying to be a great writer or actor wasn't for me, but I just can't. If I could remember that moment, then maybe I would never have failed. I just became great at unpacking my responsibilities and leaving them behind at each of my stays. I'll take the easiest option always.
All of it was counter-intuitive to some of my best qualities: loyalty, love, honesty.
But life/the universe/god/you have a way of forcing you to do what's most difficult, if you're not completely committed to killing yourself off.
Without getting too into specifics, frankly, I'm still reeling from the events of the last few years and losing so much. And as I sort of said in the beginning of this ridiculously self-indulgent blog, things that were important to you suddenly become microscopic and stupid. And life doesn't exactly come into focus, but it does become more real.
Shit got real, basically.
And so here I am now. I have a day job that I like with people whom I've kind of fallen in love with, a brother that I love; I have a shitty studio apartment in Koreatown, a cat named Henry and friends that I love. And I also have a constant fear of losing any one of those things. The last few years have taught me only that you can lose anything, anytime. I'm trying to learn to let go of the fear though.
So I'm putting it out there on this blog, that I still don't know the theme to. I guess we'll just figure it out as we go along...?
Sort of how I do everything, anyway.
You are awesome and I have always loved you. I don't LOVE a lot of people. You may think you are hard on yourself but I see someone who sees themselves clearly, which, clearly, a lot of people don't. Parents can lay a lot of weird shit on you (its hard to remember that it's their shit, not yours-it can be hard to tell the difference)and then they die (go figure!) and then you are left wondering what it all meant and who you are without them. From the outside, when I look at you, I see someone who never stops trying, who never stops hoping and someone who is very, very funny.
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