Pain is inescapable, suffering is optional.
This is for those of you wanted to hear about my trip to Los Angeles. Thanks everyone for the support. I really appreciate it.
Why am I making a bigger deal over this trip over any other time? For the past two weeks I have not been myself lately at all. It cost me a bit of my sanity, made me depressed, anxious, and strained a dear partnership of mine.
For two weeks at work, I would be in tears. Luckily, not many people are around my job at night and I was alone mostly. I was feeling lost. I was losing love for myself and in turn projected onto others. It made me needier than I needed to be.
More and more I just kept fantasizing about hurting myself. As soon I was about give in, I remembered the advice close friends gave me a decade ago. I got rubber bands and kept snapping away at my wrist and ankles. It hurt…obviously. But, there was no bruising and I was able to “calm myself” down after a minute.
Then the eviction happened. I realized I could not trust anyone and I had a shitty chain of command. My “Master Tennant” did what he could to prove his was not a terrible person and did care about us. So, He took me to see his lawyer. He wanted to show he was fighting for us. I told him from the beginning that I was leaving . And, finding out how toxic some of my roommates were, I didn’t even want to stay there anymore even with an extension.
At least I was going to see Enoon and my goddaughters after months…
I find out Enoon was in the hospital because she went blind temporarily. She was okay luckily. But, I missed getting to see her.
(I was also offered a position to be helping with the Ladies of Steampunk Magazine during the summer which I will discuss later.) >.<
So, I went back to visit my partner. Well, things were amazing when I saw him. Then, I said something that triggered a discomforting feeling of his and my dumbass self should have just listened and moved on. But no, I wanted to look deep into this guy… Forgetting two things:
- I am not in a head space to handle issues right now because I have a lot to deal with.
- Then two, we were bonding properly. WHY WAS I RUINING IT.
We had a deep discussion alright…. I got a strong dose of reality of why I wasn’t ready to be anyone’s girlfriend at all.
I got the answers I needed to hear but not the manner I wanted them to be. Sadly, I let my insecurities get the best of me.
I did my best to put it behind me and not think of it. I was moving back into the Co-op I lived in 2009-2011, The Chaos Mandelbrot Cabaret Consciousness Collective.
Alas, to add icing on the cake, after I moved out of the apartment and back to the. I got an email from Enoon, the reasons she has been so distant from me and well how she is no longer the girl I fell in love with.
When I got that email, my heart stopped. It took all of my strength not to just jump in front of BART. I just kept walking back and forth from the edge of the rail to see how I close I can go. I felt like I lost the closest thing I would ever have to a future family.
I mean her and my goddaughters were a big reason I was quitting modeling. I wanted more time with them…now that is gone….well…well fuck…
The things that kept me going:
- I’m a Socialist, Poly, Pagan, Queer, steampunk-loving, punk-loving, goth-loving, awkward weirdo. Plus, I did erotic services two….I would be a walking statistic. My brother is finally allowed to go to Fur Meetings and be himself. If I killed myself, my family will project a lot shit on to him and people with my sexuality and similar interest….
As I thought about that…I didn’t want to be another statistic.
- I didn’t want people remembering me dying from my broken heart.
- I’m part a team that helps people in crisis…Anxiety Gaming
- Not to mention, If I was meant to die, someone would have pushed me off the edge already…
Then remembered, I had a home in Chaos…I always had a home in Chaos.
I went back.
My dreams were sweet and filled with warmth. I woke up feeling a bit more grounded and refreshed. I kept pushing myself to clean myself and the house. I did whatever I could to just focus at one thing at a time.
For the next few days, I spent just trying to heal. I spent some time with myself mostly. I had enough strength to kick ass in my Aerial Acrobatic course and lead my friend into a Shamanic Soul Journey. With a little help, I was able to council a pain she has been having for years.
After the Shamanic soul journey, on the way to work, inside 24th street BART station, a man on the guitar starting singing a song called “Daisy and the Moon”
Now Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do.
There’s a whole lotta life we ain’t not yet got to.
And if I’m feelin’ sad and blue,
Daisy, I wake up feelin’ sad and blue and that ain’t nothin’ new.”
You see the Full Moon stays out late straight past dawn,
and the Player Piano just keeps playin’ on,
and Daisy sometimes everything feels wrong,
but babe let’s do it we can move it we can make it to another song.
Granted, I was still hurt from the past events, they still haunted me, but I wasn’t going to let them get in the way.
It felt good helping people and seeing how my physical strength is only improve made me realize how I’m constantly growing and figuring it out.
It’s up to me to enjoy this roller coaster ride and get back into my vision!
Waiting for a new life…
After work, I went to the bus stop in Chinatown. Right next to the Bank of America, as I waited, I found a nice hole-in-a-wall place close by. It was chili, so I bought some delicious lamb dumplings for less than 3.00 dollars!
“Wow, this is delicious!” I whispered loudly.
“Of course it is, it is Chinese food! Chinese food is good.” Commented an old woman with a smile.
I smiled back and enjoyed my food.
She sat in front of me.
We enjoyed each other’s company smiling back and forth at each other in silence.
I thought my bus came so I stepped out. But, since I was mistaken, I went to sit back down.
“Where you go?” The looked at up sipping her coffee.
“Ah, I came from Hong Kong long ago.”
“I see, so you speak Cantonese?”
“Yes, Cantonese, Mandarin, and English.” She said proudly. “I teach English in Hong Kong before I come here. Now, I forget…” she sighed.
“You don’t talk to many people in English?”
“No, I just go here, go to Senior Center,” she pointed to the corner outside. “watch news..”
“You don’t go out?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I too old.”
“Not even back to Hong Kong?”
“No, You know how long it take to go to Hong Kong? 15 hours! TOO LONG!”
I laughed. As she went about her journey to the United States and her life in San Francisco, I couldn’t help but feel a sadness when I looked into her eyes. She looked so tired but it was not because she just woke up.
“It’s just me now, my husband died. 10 years ago. I just come here and go to the senior center. I 78!”
“My condolences.” My smile faded. “Hey, you are here kicking strong.”
“Ha! Woman always live longer than man. Funny since woman take man’s name. In China, woman don’t keep her name. Woman takes man name. They want sons to carry the name. Woman not so special. I am one in 7. All girls! Poor mom wanted boy…” she trailed off.
“I can slightly relate. Mexican culture is similar.”
“You speak Spanish? I first heard Spanish here. In Hong Kong, only English because the British took care of us.”
I see. “I can’t speak Cantonese. I only know how to say thank you in Mandarin.”
“Cantonese is hard.” She tried teaching a few words.
I could barely pronounce any of them.
This made her smile once more. “It’s okay, English does not have this sound like Cantonese. You will learn…”
“What’s your name?”
“Josephine, that is my American Name.”
“What is your Chinese name?”
“It is my Husband’s name…”
“Oh…what of the name you were born with?”
“You wouldn’t be able to say it. You can’t. Also, it is rude to say a person’s name in China. You say only last name. I have my husband’s last name. Not my own.”
I wish I could have given this woman a hug. I hated thinking this but I could help but wonder when her heart will stop beating. I could not bring myself to wonder, when is she going to die? How could I? She is already dead it seems or barely in even alive.
My bus arrived.
She looked up at me and grinned. “You will be okay. I must go. Go live, be you.” With that, she was gone.
Anonymous asked: Any thoughts on doing your puppeh for denali and her new site?
I definitely plan too!
I found out I had to move again. If not evicted by this Weds, I still have to leave by the 31st of April. My landlord wants to kick us to just so he can renovate the property and raise the price. I am not fighting to keep the place because the property manager has shown me how much of a liar he is.
Not sure if I will get my deposit back. But, moving again is more buzzing bee of my issues in my head right now.
The advantage of working the night shift is that no one is notices how much cry. For the past week, I have been crying at work.
I don’t know who to turn to.
I don’t know who to trust.
Because of my shift at work, I can’t simply call people to help me. Nor do I know who I can.
It’s a weird feeling when you get an anxiety attack.
I mean, I can be a happy little paradise surrounded by white flowers.
The grass is bright, green, soft.
It is warm outside and the sun is simply hugging me.
But, the pain in my chest is unbelievable.
A sharp pain that feels like a sharp object is slowly piercing in your heart.
Because that warm funny feeling is so far away,
The best way you can feel is numb.
Numb to keep going.
Numb to just turn away and ignore it.
Numb to just keep the pain away.
The best feeling is knowing that nothing matters.
Everything and everyone will be gone soon.
It’ll be okay…
Even if your dreams don’t come true,
It’ll be okay.
Even if you feel like you shouldn’t open your heart anymore.
It’ll be okay.
So long as I keep myself numb, I don’t have to face the pain.
After interviewing for a job with the Academy of Art and finding out at the end of the interview that the pay is $13.50/hr, I wrote a nice thank you note: “Thanks for speaking with me today. After looking over my expenses, $13.50 will not be enough for me to live on. The average rent for a one bedroom in San Francisco is $2,897, and $13.50 an hour would only amount to $2,160 per month. Only if you increase the rate to at least the living wage, or offer housing, this will not work for me.”
Her reply: “At this time, the pay rate for the role is $13.50.”
My reply: “I suggest your institution reconsider its priorities. As one of the largest landowners in SF with a real estate portfolio worth at least $320 million, and annual revenues more than $247 million, you would think you could spare enough to pay full time labor enough to afford to live in one of the Academy’s overly priced buildings. Just sayin.”
Greed on both sides of the equation, the landlords and the employers, makes for a citizenry forced to depend on loans and credit which, surprise, just funnels more money into the pockets of the wealthy.
Part of the reason I want to move away.