Disappointment

"Disappointment" is the word that best captured today for me. And it weighs heavily in my heart.

One of my customers lied a really big lie. Let's just say it may as well have been fraud. And though it was work related, it turned my mind to other things I felt disappointed by. Cynics would say that if you expect nothing then you won't ever be disappointed. Frankly, that's not an existence I know, nor is it one that I wish to know.

My trust was betrayed, and my faith in others diminished.

It surprised me that despite my experiences, even at this age (of ripe old 29), that behavior like this still manages to ignite an emotional response in me. I still vehemently believe that people are inherently good. It's so unfortunate that we still allow fear to drive our ability to make difficult choices especially when those opportunities present themselves.

Perhaps I am naive. But, I don't want this part of me to fade away. I stubbornly hang onto this belief that people are capable of more, of better. I want to continue to believe and hope and dream of better tomorrows filled with better things and a better existence.

It isn't that hard...or is it?
I don't understand, and it makes me sad (though I might react angrily).

So strange...when I'm still and my mind is quieter, and my heart is calmer, that I find myself still trying so hard, maybe too hard, to pretend to be so strong. It's not to say that I'm not, in fact I know I am especially given all that I have had to endure up to this point in my life. But, I still keep my guard up and everything at a distance because like everyone else, I too fear. I am afraid of being disappointed once more.

The Metropolitan Paradox

Residing in a city as large as Los Angeles has a way of making you want to find every possible way to get out. It feels like a prison in some ways. And, for 24 years of my life, I tried to escape. When I had the chance to leave and bid farewell forever, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I chose to come back, the city and everything in her called me back, and so I returned.

There's always this looming feeling of loneliness that stays with you when you're here. Surrounded constantly by people you like, care for, love, and still one can feel quite alone despite it all. Places like my favorite coffee shop, strangely enough give me the sense of stability I need. I wouldn't know how to function if it weren't there. It's strange how I find myself feeling dependent on a place to give me that sense of security; my anchor. The people change, the place changes a little, but the address is the same, the way to get there remains the same, and the journey there always feels the same. It's easier to love or maybe grow close to something than it is to love or grow close to someone. People are without promise, unpredictable, and the one constant about us is that we're guaranteed to change.

Phone Calls

after speaking with you the other night, yours is the thought that persistently interrupts mine

Anxiety in San Francisco

The anxiety is overwhelming. I was overcome with fits of hyperventilation, my heart was racing, and every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was chaos. "breathe....just breathe...Breathe........Damn IT! BREATHE! Calm down!" I kept repeating to myself. It doesn't help. All those brochures and self-help pamphlets that emphasize the value of meditation to one's mental health cross my mind and then they're quickly thrown into the fire. Fire. Yes, a cigarette is just what I need to help me calm down. I step outside and have one, come back inside only to pull another comfort stick out of my yellow pack, step outside and have another. The second one was better. If only I could find a way to somehow fall asleep. I need so desperately to rest. I lay prostrate on the bed, but my heart races on.

Blind faith. I need blind faith. It only works if I believe and my mind keeps playing tricks on me. I feel so defeated.

Danielle Boone

Out into the wild frontier. Here I come, pushed from the nest that I grew to call my home, and the words on everyone's lips are, "You're going to be great. We wish you success. You're ready." And, I find myself just sitting there, at the end of the table with 32 eyes on me, choking on my words just wanting to scream, "STOP STARING AT ME!" Tears well up in my little eyes and I think to myself, "Today was not a good day to wear mascara." It was an awkward but necessary silence for everyone, and though brief, I couldn't help but feel it was more drawn out than it ought to have been.

I excused myself to the ladies room to cry some more. The door swung open and nearly knocked me flat, and as I squeezed my way in and peered into the looking glass, I couldn't recognize that red, wet, splotchy face looking back at me. I miss the days where it was impossible for me to cry, and now I feel like a total ninny. I tried desperately to dry my eyes but toilet paper was a poor solution, and the abrasive paper towels weren't any better.

I gripped both sides of the sink with my little fingers, looked hard into the mirror and in a voice just a bit louder than a whisper, said "Get a hold of yourself, you've got two more term sheets to finish before you can go home."

They showered me with gifts that are supposed to comfort me in my moments of nostalgia, sadness, and fear. I find it rather unfortunate that none of them were neither warm nor cuddly, but those are the kind of gifts you're given when you grow up, I suppose. No more teddy bears and rag dolls. I accepted them with gratitude and a smile, still terrified of failure.

Fashion & Apparel

So, it appears that after working for 7 months after some somewhat necessary disciplinary actions, I've found out that I seem to have come full circle.  I find myself again at the same place, but looking down a different road.  

The possibility of this change is not at all what I expected and for the first time, I'm fearing opportunity.  It's like my Republican inclinations as I age, whereas my Democratic self reigned for years when I felt I had nothing to lose.  I'm afraid of this opportunity because I fear this unplanned possibility for change.  

Oddly enough, what this change might bring is not a change in scenery.  I'd be in Los Angeles, still, among family, friends, loved by those around me, continually showering those whom I love with the only kind of love I'm capable of, the only kind I know.

It's all a "learning experience" or so I'm told, and those words keep resonating with me as I keep asking myself, "why do these things keep happening to Me??"

Only time will tell, and then the truth will show itself, however beautiful or ugly it may be. 

Late Night Art: Berlin

I wish you were with me last night at the L.A.C.M.A.  I imagined us navigating through those great halls on the second story as you shared with me the history behind pieces that struck me as provocative.  My eyes would carefully study the paintings and photographs while listening to your deep voice whispering haunting secrets of Germany into my left ear, in a language completely unknown to me.