Positive Affirmations 2

August 18, 2013

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I feel frantic tonight, as I have the last few nights this week. Tonight, well, I don’t know quite how to explain this feeling. It’s like the PLDs (Pretty Little Demons) came back from vacation, hung over and strung out on cocaine, and are throwing a party in my honor. What am I trying to fuckin’ say…

Well, shit… I’m frantic but not angry. I’m excited; I’m thrilled with life and can’t wait for the next second to come. Everything is much to slow or much too fast. I’m over stimulated. I want it to speed up to my level. Confidence has soared and roared. I’m a social butterfly, not a wallflower. I am everyone–everyone is ME. Loud and outspoken, but agreeable to. I start a fight, but then I’ll make the peace. Pacify me and i’ll pacify you.

But an a storm of instability seems to approach. I hope I’m wrong. I HOPE THE WEATHER MAN IS WRONG!

That’s how I feel, only I can’t seem to pacify myself at night. In the days, yes. Nights, not so much. I’m caught in a tangle of thoughts.

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This morning I woke up screaming. I was yelling at my mother in a dream, though I don’t know or remember what the dream was about or what I said to her. All I know is my own voice woke me. It’s odd. It it happens a lot to me; it happens more when I’m frantic, or hypomanic or whatever.

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Friday night was terrible. I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts were racing. My body wanted rest but my brain was running a marathon. I wrote yet another ramble on my iPhone (note the bad grammar). You can’t write at light-speed while tapping tiny keys on a little screen.

Rambles ©paz 2013

Rambles ©paz 2013

I jump from tangent to tangent. And I’m anxious. These days there’s so much anxiety that is coursing through my body that my hands are shaky again.

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I went from writing on my phone to writing on my sketchbook. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep.

But here’s more of what I wrote. I’ll call them my positive affirmations, for now.

© paz 2013

© paz 2013

Positive Affirmations

August 16, 2013

iphone rambles ©paz 2013

iphone rambles ©paz 2013

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My 5 a.m. rambles from last night’s hypomanic induced sleeplessness.

Amanda Has Words

March 12, 2013

© paz 2013

© paz 2013

And cameras.

I just completed a pen-and-ink portrait of a fellow blogger and friend, Amanda. Here blog, Amanda Has Words, is full of her awesome little poems. Please check ’em out.

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I’ve drawn more these last three months. Like most things I get into, I hadn’t sketched for years, had put the pencil down. But I’m back at it again and I’ve decided (let’s hope I don’t change my mind) that I will try making portraits on of my goals as a freelancer.

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I have therapy tomorrow and one thing Brunet Young and I discussed were my “abandonment” issues. I know I’ll have to finally resolve some shit from my childhood to move on from this. It seems to me sometimes, that everything that heals me also hurts me.

One thing that’s frustrating me is that my Nemo T-Rex Duck arm has been hella hurtin’. I mean HELLA. And that’s the arm I write/draw with! Damn you Osteogenesis Imperfecta!

If you guys remember (not that I’d expect you to), I fractured my arm February of last year, 2012. Well, apparently, the fracture didn’t heal properly and there is a part of the core that is still disconnect. So essentially, my arm is still a bit broken. Sigh. This is what I mean by the though, “Everything that heals me hurts me”. Why can’t I make art without something hindering me? First it was my music and hearing loss. Now this?

I know I sound upset, and I am, but I’m quite excited about my new illustration goals.

Thanks for the support Amanda!

addendum: if you visit her blog, make sure to ask her about her photography

No, not a blow job you filthy-minded bloggie.

Back to BLOGGING se dijo!

… I hope. I miss this land, so I’ll try to blog again, por lo menos un poco, no?

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Yep, my hiatus has dragged longer than I expected, and you may have noticed–especially you, my long time followers– that I’ve been mostly out of the blogging radar, but I come bearing good gifts. These gifts are for myself though. ha (sorry) I’ll get some for you soon.

I’ve still tried to keep in touch with some of you who I’ve become friends with, but I also miss the other other buddies on here, all of you fellow bloggers and readers. With that said, I don’t think this post is going to be structured, so bare with me.

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Uh one…

Two…

Three and to the four!

Five, six, seven eight and to the nine!

Nine numbers.

It’s fuckin’ amazing what nine numbers will do for you. Nine little numbers!

The lack of nine little numbers had been the lack of a key for my ball and chain. And now I got it, though I still have a few chains on me. At least one has been released.

What the hell am I talking about?

My Social Security number, the one thing that makes you somewhat of a “person” here in the states. Yep, I FINALLY got my social security number. Twenty-two and a half years living in the states and I finally have one. It specifically states that I’m only under “work authorization” though. Funny how a number will make you a person, like the 14th Amendment made black slaves five fifths of a person instead of four fifths of a person.

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Anywho, back in July, when I wrote about Obama signing an executive order for deferred action for childhood arrivals, back when I nearly peed and shit my pants in disbelief and excitement, I still doubted this day would come. Barred from everything, even being able to “legally” work had worsened my depression. Who wouldn’t be down after graduating college, after becoming the family’s first generation college grad, and THEN having no job because you can’t “legally” get employed. Not having any money, hardly any for rent because of nine little numbers. You’d be blue rightfully so. But I was more than blue. And you long-time-bloggie-friends know how much beyond blue.

I was in hell. And now I’m out of hell. Been so for a few months now. So I’m out of hell and… and… in a job!

Yep, so back in January, I actually got my “work authorization card” (in the back of the card it reads: “This card is not evidence of U.S. Citizenship or permanent residence”). But I didn’t get around to blogging about it. And when I finally spent a day at the SSI office and all that jizzazz, I didn’t write about it either. But I REALLY wanted to. I REALLY did!

So much has been changing though. I’m exhausted.

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About a day or two BEFORE my social security number aka SSI card arrived in the mail (peed my pants again), I had a job interview. Yep BEFORE. I’m a hustler. And thanks to a lovely friend. Love you. And I was called back the same day! The boss fella wanted me to work right away. Of course, I had to go through all this logistical shit, background check and whatnot. I even got asked why I’m not a “legal permanent resident” by HR. Face palm ten times!

So here I am now. Two weeks into work. I just finished my second week this Thursday. It’s part time,so I only go into the office three days a week. That’s ok though,  because considering my physical and mental conditions, part-time is more than enough for me to handle. Don’t think I could handle more, at least not right now. Besides, I’m free to freelance now! I’ve been on elance, odesk, freelancer.com and all those sites preppin’ up my portfolio. I even started a new blog related to my profession!

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So where is P putting her skills to practice? At a community college. I’m working at one of the largest community colleges around here in the states. I’m at the PR department of the regional city-wide college system. I’m kind of like the multimedia girl. Video editing, photography, graphics and design. I’ll be doing a little writing too, mostly technical.

It’s been a hectic two weeks but I’m proud of myself. Damn proud.

Every Day Is f*cking MAGICAL!

September 2, 2012

Especially today. Know why?

Because there’s a f*ckin’ CLOWN ON FIIIIIIYA! Over at Le Clown on Fire, I mean A Clown on Fire (damn Le!), there is a contest going on. AND TODAY IS THE LAST DAY to vote/help out contestants!

Little Luna and I sat down just chatting away with our clown noses on–me in my hippie tie-die beach dress–trying to come up with a dare for Le Clown. (I’ll admit, Little Luna came up with most of my better jokes.)

Anywya, help me out here or it’s the end of The Circus at the End of the World! What should I dare Le Clown to do?

Ok, it won’t be the end of the circus world or The Circus at the End of the World, Not really.

This is no joke though; it’s not poor Photoshop work either. Soon after writing down the last comment, we had to stop, drop and roll because we REALLY caught on fire after reading the hilarity and typing 300 words per second.

Yes I have a ton of windows up. And don’t ask me why the word MAGICAL is crossed off. I got the font from dafont.com and since I didn’t purchase it, I think it only lets me use it with some words crossed off. Hey, it’s a trade off. BAgh.

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Don’t ask me what’s going on here either. But I think she was begging me to stop and I DID give her a dozen treats for helping me get through all those comments (truth is we really didn’t read ALL of them, but ya know).

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addendum: On a more serious note, I wish I had a painkiller because my jaw is fuckin’ hurting. I’ve got that titanium plate that needs to be removed from my lower jaw. 😦 Ughh… It’s been hurting all week. It’s been feeling like it really is on fire. le sad mouse sigh. Eric, you should tell Le Clown to give me extra points for this! Just because you know? You’re the only sweet one that Le Clown listens to. I swear I’m not trying to milk it. 😉

Le Clown’s Contest

August 29, 2012

Bloggies! So there’s this Le Clown dude who thinks he’s a demi-god or some shit. He has a contest going on RIGHT NOW. Please go to Le Clown’s blog (linked here and in the Canvas  post) and write “like” under the comments section where Ruby has commented. Canvas, contestant # 3, could use more eyeballs. And it’s not just because I’m a writer there and secretly collect eyeballs. Contrary to popular belief, I do NOT collect nut sacks nor balls of any other kind (except maybe a few therapy squish balls for relaxation). And I do NOT have any kind of obsession with hairy old balls either. Also, Le Clown’s over-inflated ego must be bigger than any ball in existence, including his own. Yeah, he also has one ab, apparently. It’s nothing to brag about. It doesn’t even compare to one of my six abs ’cause I be swimmin’ like a champ!

There is so much I want to write about  (and not just about myself, heh).

I wish I had the poetic air that filled me in April during NaPoWriMo. It just seems to have depleted. But I’ve been feeling somewhat, oh I don’t know, “normal”. Is that even an accurate way of describing not wanting to kill yourself everyday?

I was really excercizing some demons there with some of those poems. Actually, the Pretty Little Demons (PLDs) were exercising the Mouse if you recall the ping-pong matches they started in May and all the other ruckus.

Feels like an enema is being done in my head now. But I will write and/or sketch something proper soon enough (as if I ever did). For now, I give  you this from Nacho Libre:

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p.s. I saw Dusty yesterday. We had sex. And I want to have sex with him again and again and again and again. I know. I know. But he’ll be leaving for Brazil tomorrow, for a few months, with his family (his dad is Brazilian). And I have a therapy appointment tomorrow (have to ride the MetroLift since it’s been raining all week, bleugh). I kind of want to tell her, the therapist, about Dusty since it’s barely my second session in which we’ll do an overview of my life’s major problems–and well, the Saga of Dusty and P covers a lot of my druggy days/years. But I’ve never been open with therapists about sexual things. Should I tell her about him? It’s just… I think I’m hypomanic… I should leave this for another post.

p.p.s. XOXOxxxX

p.p.p.s. Your support has been incredible.