#now i gotta call amazon like no sorry my mom looked again and found it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

god-hunter · 4 years

Text

Things Have Changed Too Much

It’s only been a month since I moved in and already so much has changed. Too much has changed! Remember how I said last time that by the end of this, we’re gonna come out in a completely different place? Well... I’m in the different place. And I hate everything about this Future/Now.

Almost everything... There are Silver Linings. And an Orange little ball of light that entered my life, 3 weeks ago. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I want to balance the good with the bad, and run you week by week as best as possible.

Forget dates, but we’re ranging from 4/12 - 5/11.

In that first week of living in my new pad, I’ve been owning the whole single bachelor lifestyle. After the pizza ran out, I had a well-stocked fridge full of frozen meat and other basic essentials, thanks to Mom. I needed to buy more pans and stuff though, so off to Target, I was.

Within those first 2 weeks, I was going to Target like, every other day. Always thinking of something new, or buying something that caught my eye. I’ll spare the details, but I will bring up furniture.

As I brought up in the last entry, I didn’t have a couch anymore... So I tried to rock that Amazon Prime, and order a quick comfy chair to get the job done, while I take my time to research and order a good couch with the correct Dimensions to get through my narrow door...

Well, ordering that fucking chair was a mistake, because it took forever to come through. So long, in fact, that I found a better thing at Target for less money and just picked that up instead.

So in week 1, in my living room, I was rocking two kitchen chairs. One served as my sitting chair and the other was a make-shift table... In week 2, I got a tufted comfy chair from Target, which was the shit. It absolutely did the job, as my back was KILLING me, once again. [This happened during my last move as well]. I’d be on the phone with my parents pretty much nightly, and my Mom told me that I’m probably doing so much without realizing it. I did do a lot within just 3 days alone. I definitely recall taking a break to recuperate.

That make-shift bed was a disaster too. My Dad pulled out the mattress from their couch and let me borrow it to give myself more back-support when I sleep. So now I had a couch and a bed to research, but I was not up for it yet.

In week 3, the original comfy chair I ordered from Amazon came, and it was.. mediocre. But paired right next to the Target chair made for an interesting make-shift Loveseat, while the other two kitchen chairs buffed around the sides to serve as end tables, almost. Soon enough, I bought an inexpensive leather ottoman from Target as well and my Living Room was starting to get a little cozy. I might have ordered my couch at that point and I was just waiting for it to come in. In another day or so, I was finally ready to look into getting a proper bed delivered. That process was a train wreck in itself, but... I found something I really liked. I took a gamble on a hybrid mattress. Half memory foam, half spring coils. Time would tell if this was a good choice, but at the very least, I was very happy with the bed frame and box spring.

That same week, something magical happened. This one merits a date. On Wednesday 4/22, I got a Kitten! It wasn’t planned, but the Ex caught word from her sister that an Orange Cat needed a home and I hit her up instantly. That day Fate intervened man. Suddenly I was a Cat Dad for real, and I couldn’t be happier in that regard. But... we’re not done...

The next day, my parents were really excited to meet my Kitty cat and see the apartment for the first time. A couch was still on its way, unfortunately. We were even half-expecting it to arrive that day, but that didn’t happen. Well... After my Mom walked up a flight of stairs to my 2nd floor apartment, she was winded and needed to sit down. This surprised us, as she didn’t look well. She was kind of gasping and didn’t even take her coat off.

After asking if she was alright, she said, “No...” and explained that she felt faint last night. She’d been having trouble breathing since the night before. This made me really worried. She didn’t think it was Covid though. Just something we’d all keep our eye on.

I got her water, and in 10 minutes she felt better. Good enough to walk around and check out my rooms. And hold the baby kitty cat. We went to his 1st Vet appointment together, which entailed a lot of sitting around and waiting in the car, since they don’t let you in. It was good to chill in the car with them while my little boy was getting taken care of.

We got back in the apartment and AGAIN, she was winded. This was bad... When they left, I felt really bad and I was really worried about Mom. Our phone calls became daily from that point on. It was definitely somewhere in this period that I was calling her and updating her about my bed purchase, which was a pain in the ass. I was definitely yelling, and upset, because my online order didn’t go through and I hadn’t figured it out yet. That next morning I was able to update her with good news that I was able to place the order on the phone and it even cost less. She was so happy for me. It was a really good conversation. She even went over all these changes I’ve been through since February, and how bit by bit I’ve been taking each of them on like a champ. She expressed how proud she was of me, which wasn’t unlike her. But... sometimes I wonder if this was precautionary... I think... I had the couch delivered, I just didn’t put it together yet. I think she knew about that. She also knew that I had a bed coming that week on Thursday that was going to be fully put together and set up for me. I remember her feeling really good about that.

Well, it was absolutely on Tuesday morning - 4/28 that I put together my couch, with minor issues, but I got it done. I was SO happy. The kitty cat was playing with the giant box and foam stuff that it came in. I filmed it for FB. It was really cute. I went to the bathroom, and I was washing my hands, I got a call from the house phone. I was really excited, because I was just about to call her!

Only... it was Dad, and he had terrible news.

That morning at 5AM, Mom had another breathing fit. [One of 3, which I had not known about!!!]. My Dad decided enough was enough. He was calling the Ambulance. She agreed. This was an Emergency and needed to be looked at.

The ambulance got there within half an hour and gave her oxygen. She immediately felt better as they took her away. My Dad was not allowed to go with her. He kissed her on the forehead and told her that he’d see her later.

My Dad received 3 phone calls that day. I think I’ll just spare the details and say that on the 3rd call, they told him that she didn’t make it...

The rest of my week was a nightmare. Nothing mattered anymore...

My Middle Brother took on the role of calling up the Hospital for as much information as possible and organizing the Funeral Arrangements for her. I was the emotional support for my Dad and Oldest Brother, who was a pain in the ass this whole time. My Middle Brother mostly had it together, but I was there for him too of course. There were a lot of Zoom phone calls late at night now. With both Family and Friends. The Cousins reached out and really made us feel better, simply by talking about it. We weren’t alone or so distant, despite our vastly different locations. We were connected.

I Zoomed a lot that week, and that’s important, but we’re not done yet.

My Mom’s Funeral Service was put on Zoom, for my friends and family to attend. The Service was limited to 10 people only. Everything sucked.

The same day we put my Mom in the Ground, the Honeymoon was officially over at the Apartment. My Landlord’s Brother took it upon himself that day to complain for a 2nd TIME that I had been zooming at night with phone calls that are so loud that its as if I’m in the same room with him.

I apologized and explained my situation. But I was more put off and upset at this. How fucking dare he!? Does he have ANY IDEA what I’ve been through!??? The short answer is no, but also... he doesn’t care. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve kept him from sleeping for at least 3 nights in a row.

For that I apologize, but these 2 go to bed at 10PM!! I’m sorry, but even when I’m working, I go to bed at Midnight. We’re under Quarantine, dude... I get tired between 12 & 3 now...

I told my Landlord that I don’t want his brother knocking on my door to complain to me anymore. I’m standing up for myself. But the other part of that discussion was that they’re going to Soundproof the Ceiling of his room so he doesn’t have to hear me. I am taking it upon myself to do the same to the room above him, which is my studio. It was a project I was going to take on anyway, but... I never would have worked on this right after my Mother’s death...

GOD! Are you fucking KIDDING ME!!!?

These emotions are raw, folks... I’m still so perturbed by the fact that the 1st two Zoom calls were in my LIVING room. I was talking NORMALLY. I wasn’t yelling. Yes I was laughing at 2 AM. 100%. The third time was even with Headphones on!!! But again, we’re under quarantine and we’re all adults. You gotta be fucking kidding me. So that’s what I said to my Landlord in a very respectful text. We need to respect each other’s lifestyles.

That bed came in by the way... 2 days after my Mother had perished. I was numb the whole time. Here I was getting this beautiful gift and I was no longer in any mood to receive it. I couldn’t tell her about it... Same goes for the couch. Right after I set up that couch, I got the bad news, so I didn’t enjoy it at all.

Now it’s a little better. I’ve gotten over it. It’s quite comfortable actually, albeit a little small for me. I’ve definitely passed out on it a bunch already. Which is exactly what I was TRYING to do, when the Landlord’s fucking brother came at me a 2nd time about the Zoom calls. The 1st time was enough! No new information was exchanged. I already knew they were gonna do the soundproofing thing!! He was probably really trying to impress upon me that it’s disturbing and to try to not do that, but guess what. You’re not my Dad Motherfucker. In fact, you’re not even my Landlord. And then I came to find that he doesn’t even fucking pay RENT. So his Say, is NOTHING...

FUCK THIS GUY. Absolutely. Whole-heartedly.. Fuck Him.

There’s more reasons why I am saying that, which are none of my business, let alone yours. I found out a lot about him from my old Co-Worker - the very same one who hooked me up with this apartment. Which almost segues perfectly into the latest development in my life. This Co-Worker tried to set me up with a new girl that she knows. This one’s a 32 year old Single Mom, and she’s got a cute face. I don’t know the rest of her body, but I know she’s a bigger Woman. That doesn’t really bother me, but after my Ex, that kind of thing is important to me. Because if you don’t have your Health... I can’t really take care of you...

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This is truly, the newest development since about 4 or 5 days ago. My Mom has passed... I’ve been working on this Fucking Soundproofing project.. and something came over me, that... I think I’m ready to meet new people.

On paper it’s only 3 months since we broke up, but it feels like longer, because week:month ratios are funny like that.

On the Female Front, I haven’t really been trying. I had mentioned before that things have gone cold with almost all parties. When I was living alone, I fell into a pattern of playing WatchDogs2, watching Wrestling Reviews and even enjoying Manga Readings of DragonBall Super. It was becoming a reliable little routine, before the kitty came into my life. I was it’s savior, but then a week later when my Mom died... this little guy is my savior.

I never thought about it, but I really do believe that animals come into our lives for a reason now. Exactly when they’re meant to. Someone or something knew I was going to need this comfort in my life... And I’m so grateful for that. This is the sort of thing that could even get me to believe in God. But... I already believe in a higher power, so that’s enough...

::sigh::

This entire Era, really fucking sucks. Now I’m my Dad’s emotional support partner. Who counts on me and asks me to visit all the time. And... that’d be fine if he wasn’t so hard to talk to. All he wants to do is talk about himself. When she was alive, he talked about how lucky he was to have met Mom...

So now those stories are just grating, frustrating and Exhausting!

But... he needs me. And I guess I need him... The brothers need to be united too. My Oldest Brother I’m worried about. He’s always been the angriest amongst the 3 of us. And most reliant on my Mother for help.

But I was talking about Women for a second...

Like I said, most of the novelty of keeping in touch has faded. My Social Distancer, might still want to go on that catch up date when this is all over, but when we talk, I don’t feel the warmest of vibes from her. I feel like I annoy her, which is the worst thing to ever bring up to a girl you’re talking to. Almost the same goes for Canada Girl. She’s practically off my radar, we talk so infrequently. The vibe is definitely cooler, and fuck knows if she’ll ever want to really come over like she said she did. Zombie Mama is really sweet, but we barely talk. She receives my messages very warmly and has definitely still expressed interest in getting me out of the house when this is all over. So I love it. I’ll absolutely take her up on that. In the exact contrast, you won’t be hearing about Bakery Girl anymore... I decided to hit her up again for the first time since she found out about the news. I tried to have a normal conversation/re-ignite flirting, but Nope. It was a short conversation that dwindled fast. And when I brought up that I’d like to stay in better touch and text more if that’s okay, she absolutely said, “Aww that’s sweet, but I’m such a terrible texter. I’m not the one, lol.” That terminology was so weird. Did she catch my vibe? Was she politely letting me down?? I caught that vibe and didn’t make it a conflict. But I did say, “In other words don’t count on you?” And she was like, “Yup, lol.” ::shaking my head:: What the fuck ever... [I also looked it up and that’s absolutely a thing that girl’s say when they’re not interested, so... fuck it.]

I actually shared that with Original Crush Twin, who was surprised, but also reassured me that she wasn’t looking for anything and always just sort of did her own thing anyway. I’m not broken up about it. It’s just annoying. If anything it’s given me more of a direction.

I can pretty much forget about everyone else. Gamer Girl is just a friend, Green is a bad idea and way too Polyamorous... Significant Party has had their own problems with the other half and I’ve stayed out of it. I’m there, but it’s none of my business. When they found out my Mom died, they were very supportive and told me to call whenever I needed. I haven’t needed to vent at 6 AM, although the gesture was really sweet. However, one night of flirting wasn’t really received due to bad timing from their own drama and... I just can’t with that right now. That’s the type of shit that fucked up this relationship last time. But they know how I feel and we’ve been in touch a lot this week. We’ve definitely been naughty in other ways, so... I think our Open Friendship is just fine But now I have other things going on. And I need to start focussing on moving on.

Which brings me to new girl. We’ll call her Mama Girl. Its too soon to tell how much chemistry we actually have. This person has a 3 year old and Dad is out of the picture, although it’s not without its own drama apparently. I’m still learning her. As my Co-worker said, she’s definitely sweet and silly. She laughs at basically everything, so she seems easy going enough. But as she is a Mother, she’s busy for most of the day. At around 9:30 the kid goes to bed, and that’s when it’s go-time to talk. We have a window until about 11. Sometimes she’ll push to midnight to stay up, but she’s already shot by that point and is quick to excuse herself for the night. One thing that I like about her is that I know when the conversation is over... But last night, I found out that this bitch is moving in 2 years! Like Away, not to another town. So should I even bother???

Right now I’m taking it with a grain of salt. She’s a new person to talk to, is a self-proclaimed open book, has a million stories and is happy to hear mine. She knows about Mom thanks to good old Facebook... She apologized for the news and said she’d never mention it again unless I wanted to talk about it. She’s really sweet. And she sends little hearts when I say things she likes, or even when she says goodnight. Last night she used the emoticon with all the hearts around it when saying goodnight, so... I guess that's something, lol.

So not only does she like my pictures, but I guess she likes me. She definitely likes the company and talking to another adult. I can only imagine what it’s like to deal with a 3 year old all day.

But I can certainly say that waiting for 9:30 for whatever minimal conversation we can squeeze out is a fucking drag. So... I’m trying to take it in stride. It’s not like we can actually go out anyway... This Social Distancing World we live in is indefinitely prolonged until further notice.

But... Today is a new week. I’m on my 7th week of Unemployment, I’ll have had my kitten for 3 weeks this Wednesday, my Mom hasn’t been with us for 2 weeks - tomorrow, and I’ve been split from my Ex-girlfriend for 3 months. I’ve had a place of my own for 1 month, and soon I’ll have known this new girl for a week...

Who knows what the future will hold...?

I’m not excited for it. At all...

Finances are no longer a Fear... My Mom’s investments had investments... She is leaving us Well Off!

But that is hardly a silver lining at this time...

My New Normal is going to suck. The World is in peril. And I swear to God, every time I actually think about it, I swear I want to just crack. I feel fucking defeated man...

But, it’s not over. And each day, I remind myself that too. And somehow I find it in me to move on. One fucking moment at a time...

3 notes · View notes

thestudyfeels · 6 years

Text

How To NOT Be Depressed.

(Or If You Prefer — How to Be Substantially Happy About Life.)

WARNING: This is one rollercoaster ride of a post. Proceed with extreme caution. For some, the staggering levels of insight may induce true purpose and re-establish their warrior spirit. For others, side effects may include grammatically incorrect hate or aloof eyerolls. We advise exiting if the said group includes you, for we're very tired of cleaning vomit off the seats.

Step aboard at your own risk.

If you’re one of the brave souls who stayed back to join us, I congratulate you for even I am scared of how crazy this post truly is. Alrighty then, kick back and relax folks, today we’re having a mature, adult conversation. Merely another cheery afternoon spent talking about life and its realities. Not too bad, eh?

Before we begin, spoiler alert! For those of you already turned off by the mention of 'depression’ and packing their bunnies to leave, sit tight. This ISN'T really about depression. This is about HAPPINESS. No clickbait. That got your attention, right butterfly? Nice, now stay.

A welcoming, maybe demanding A/N: Do me a favor and read this in one go. Maybe even plug in those headphones and listen to the songs dedicated to each part as you read. It's long, you have the new Riverdale episode to catch up on, but don't hop away just yet because (I had a couple moments writing this, alright) it's life changing. You'll prolly cry a few tears of realization, nod all nod-able body parts in agreement, beat your chest at random instants 'cause the hype’s too real, and perhaps, if it isn’t too much to hope for, finally go change your life for the better. In case you've forgotten, this'll remind you that there’s always hope, that you're a born conqueror, and you were made to THRIVE, not survive. Convinced? Kay, roll the cams.

To clarify first-hand, no, I'm not depressed although I’ve experienced mild depression for a period before. Glad to say I'm out of it but I still struggle with tackling what I'm about to detail next.

Insert bitter voice, it’s this: My life is nowhere near I want it to be. Though I know vaguely what I wanna do, I haven't yet figured out how the hell I’m supposed to get there, or how my dream life is to be sketched out. It’s all a blurry mess. Which, to put it bluntly, hurts. I HATE feeling powerless and worthless, roaming about aimlessly.

There are many such moments where I hit the brakes to wonder why I’m not living THE Life already. There have been several times when I curl up and cry a frickin’ Amazon. There are horrible nights where I'm shaking with emotions, but they won't release, leaving me choked. (…not in that way, you hoes. Um, just ruined the dramatic mood with a lame dirty joke, sorry.)

They say talking helps and that's why I figured I'd drop in. But perhaps more importantly, I wanted to hang because no matter how unfocused the lens may seem at my future, I don't consider myself a dopey loser incapable of the crazy dreams or wild bucket lists I fantasize about– and I thought I'd skip along to remind you that neither should you. (Or maybe I just came to sniff the new appetizers, who knows?)

PS: I also broke a sweat listing six ways to get outta depression– alternatively, to be more of a conqueror– because y'all are always pestering me with asks that go “how do I conquer omg send supplies” (Like, imagine a conqueror saying that! Oh, the crime, the atrocity!)

So yes, you're welcome. Have a feast with this litness.

The main reason behind people being so frightfully sad, I’ve found, is a huge lack of fulfillment. We don't do what we love, for either— [ 1 ] we aren’t living life the way we want to (since we keep doing things we feel we're supposed to do) OR [ 2 ] because Mama, Papa and Mrs. Carter next door feel that struggling is the only way, and project their traditional beliefs onto us. Either way, whether or not we consciously realize this, subconsciously, we're all hurting because of it. Badly.

That lingering feeling of emptiness never seems to leave. You feel drained every night when you drop into bed, not because you gave it your all, but because you couldn't. And so, we do the next best thing. Drugs. Maybe not literally, but figuratively. We numb out this subconscious pain by binge watching Netflix shows. We deaden ourselves to that discomfort by reading smut in the bathroom or by playing dumb video games all day. We try (and fail) to extinguish this feeling of not ‘being enough’ by having silly flings or fake friendships.

And ultimately, we NUMB ourselves out to LIFE for we can't bear to live the way we're living. There's a reason why “How to Stop Procrastinating” posts are so popular (they’re a blogger’s most foolproof way of paying the month’s rent, and yes, even I'm guilty of a couple). We’re constantly having FOMO and tuning into others' highlights on social media– completely missing out on our own lives in the process. We fail to realize that the culprit is lack of genuine purpose more than zero self-control (or maybe it’s both, but that’s a tale for another day).

[On a side note, obviously I did generalize a bit– video games can be a passion for you, watching shows a way of winding down. But for most, they’re only DISTRACTIONS, just another way of ignoring the calls of life by hanging up the phone.]

And here's the bitter truth about depression: The longer you wait to start living authentically, the more you start tuning out the inner cries wanting change, the faster your dreams start to ebb away, and the more you'll want to become insignificant. And to me, that's the scariest part of this journey to my dream life.

Nothing frightens me more than knowing that the moment I stop pushing, the very moment I give in to distractions and fears, my goals will stop manifesting themselves and I'll be stuck in this small town with its small people eternally. And THAT, I'm certain, won't be any more fun than working your way through a soggy ham sandwich, ironic as soggy is what life has become. (Yes, I have a thing against soggy sandwiches. They were a kid's worst lunch nightmare.)

If you relate, and I’m sure you do (it’s probably why you stopped scrolling through cheesy fanfic for ten minutes to read this, I know you amigo) — here are six ways to NOT be depressed. Or more accurately, to gift wrap yourself some sweet ol’ happiness.

You're a Samurai and the Following Be Your Katanas —

Hol’ up. The second you reach the End Card, I want you to drop your Cheerios and implement at least THREE of these six strategies. Just follow the Takeaways, I've made this really simple. And as a rule, one of them has to be this one. (Look, don't whine. If you wanna climb outta that dark hole, you gotta put in some effort. So pop that booty, and let’s get down to business!)

Here’s the most truthful, though cheesy thing I’ll ever say: I would be nowhere I am today without this blog. If not for it, I would most likely be weeping in a dug-out hole somewhere, drowning in my salty little pond of tears and chiming every loser’s favorite words (“there's no point”). Creating this blog gave me a definite purpose – putting out fiery content, dipping myself deep into my newly found passion for writing and influencing, and connecting with other conquerors on the platform.

I meet a lot of folks, whether at Sad School, Mouldy Mall, or Boring Bus stop, who always seem to be in a state of death-inducing boredom. When asked about their favorite thing to do, they’ll mumble “sleep” or “food” like Siri narrating your cat’s evening routine. And then you see adults, dragging through life mindlessly. Utterly clueless, floating like a piece of driftwood in an ocean bubbling with life. My sympathy quota gets overdosed everytime I think about it.

To spell it out, find something to do. Anything! Learn a language, try some ballet, take pictures of your neighbor's rose garden, make an art piece and show it to your mom, stitch buttons onto shirts for fun, heck, make an entire shirt out of buttons, take a break from reading smut to write your own, frutify your farts, WHATEVER, just get up and move.

And here’s why – nay, not to keep you engaged or make you feel less worthless, not that bullcrap. It’s to put in gear the journey of figuring out what is the shite that you love doing. Too often we get stuck thinking about what our oh-so-great passion is. Get this, passion is energy. A spark for something. A magical fortune cookie which, when cracked, seems to explain everything, gives you the very reason for being alive. You can only feel that fire, that wild love, when you actually do it. So get cracking is all I’ll say!

Takeaway:

Attempt something. Nah, scratch that, imagine you’re in a sweet shop with shelves lined with free samples and try everything. Pick up that Polaroid cam, take that dreaded history course, buy that children’s cooking kit– in short, start working. Pull out all the stops, get curious, and get creative. In the process, if you promise to try hard enough, you WILL (money back guarantee) find out what makes your little heart burst with mad happiness and would willingly do for free, if needed, because you really are that crazy about it. And that, my dear, will be your oh-so-great-indeed passion. Have no doubt, you’ll never be “bored” again.

Real talk, having a dream is a big deal. And unfortunately, I’ve witnessed, rarely anyone has one to begin with. They’re either more dead than the cheap skeleton I bought for Halloween or believe they have a dream, but in reality, it belongs to mom, dad, or Uncle Sammy. Listen, doing something for someone you love (my Uncle Sammy used to supply me with cold cash whenever he came around, loved that guy) is great! YET, if you’re willing to throw away your life to fulfill others’ expectations, convincing yourself it's because they love you, even when YOUR lonely heart craves bigger things than just a marketing job, then you, my friend? Are the biggest fool. Don’t get offended, we both know it, this girl needn't ramble.

Recently, my relatives were over (nope, sadly not Uncle Sammy) and my cousin and I had a chat about life (correct, I grab every opportunity to do so). It wasn't very exciting I must say, he kept staring off into the distance (I wonder why), but what he SAID is what I'll talk about. After I’d gushed about my dreams, he asked skeptically if being an influencer would still be an ambition two years from now when I graduate. I raised my eyebrows, mock hurt, like eff you son, I ain’t giving up on my dreams! But that question got me thinking.

Life is wild. Unpredictable. An unexpected call, a single person, a random BLOG POST (cough) – can turn your life upside down, sometimes in the affirmative, other times not. This variability of life isn’t uncommon, and everyone experiences some part of it– unpaid student loans, failing startups, talent and art going unnoticed in industries dominated by wealth and connections, you name it. If all of that doesn’t make you run for the Himalayas and abandon any dreams, throw in a quick side dish of dysfunctionale famiglia with a sprinkle of self-image issues.

It ain’t easy, darling. The world is one cruel headmistress; it loves slapping awake the daydreamers and wishful thinkers. That hasn't ever actually stopped the dropouts and class clowns from building castles in the air though. And the common blueprint you notice they follow? Let me introduce you to… Madness. Obsession. Maniacal obsession, to say. (Yes, I'm done playing with my words.)

I struggled writing this point. A pestering voice in my head kept mumbling – They'll go back to doing the same sad shit anyway. Um, does anyone even read your posts? Lol, call yourself an influencer, hun. Hesitation started creeping in. Then the irony of the situation struck me. I laughed, shook my head and got back to typing.

We ran out of juicy gossip weeks ago, so here’s your tea served cold: insecurities and self doubt WILL get in the way. That whiny voice was just a mild version of what you face when you go all in. Fear traps you in its cage, and those who prattled behind your back now progress to talking shit in your face. Criticism and self doubt resurfaces, so unless your defenses are strong, you'll be crushed. Destroyed REAL quick.

When hell breaks loose (oh honey, and it WILL), your self defense comprising of maniacal obsession must be well learnt. Let them attack, mock, heck, drag you away from the desk and hurl you at the top of a damn mountain, but you better STILL hike back down, show them the middle finger, and continue working. That's how bulletproof you've gotta be. That's how madly do you have to love your dreams. And if you really think this will be a cake walk or want to continue complaining about Stuart being born with a silver spoon, hop off the train already. Your destination isn't on the tour list.

Look, my dreams terrify me. But they certainly make me feel more alive than complying with what every parent said about getting good grades and holding together a roof on my head. My ambitions set me free, give me a reason to fucking live. And yet, every now and then, something makes me question them. A fear engulfs me, some doubter proclaims I suck, someone I love is so blinded they can't see my vision. And that's okay. My defenses are way stronger. The next day rolls round, and you'll find me hustling again, thriving again. All because I know that even if no one reads my posts (the worst case scenario, I know y'all love me lol), someday in the future, someone will. I know that even if I’m not an influencer yet, if just one reader becomes a conqueror because of my words, it would be a win. A big win. I'd have done my job. All because I’m wildly, yes maniacally, obsessed with my dreams.

So hey, cousin? This influencer thing? This will be my dream long after I've graduated. Till the day I die, and maybe even then I'll rise from my grave to give a dead pal a lively pep talk. My watchtower has just been upgraded, so thank u, next.

Takeaway:

“General, we've arrived!” Finally! Position those cannons, Martha, let’s talk them through the defenses. All aboard? AHOY MATEY! (wait, that was one for the pirates). Step one, dare to create a dream in your mind’s eye. The bigger, the crazier, and the scarier, the better. Doesn’t matter how impossible it is, don’t care how many voice their opinion against it, just imagine, keep a million possibilities in mind.

Once you see the life you truly want (you’ll know, everything will seem to zing)— have a sip. Become OBSESSED for that life. Thirst after that vision, itch to manifest it, and pine for the satisfaction that’ll come to your soul once it’s made a reality. Fall madly in love with the process and how magical it feel when you do it. And THEN, bellow a loud war cry and charge headfirst into battle, shields held high at all the criticisms. We conquerors never cared much for them anyway.

(play ♬) Picture this: forehead stamped with beads of sweat. Calloused hands working their fingers to the bone and eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Conjure an image where powerful beats are pulsing hard in your ears, synced with your own elevated heartbeats, and you’re thriving. Performing. Winning. Guess the secret to that? Preparation. Champions prepare. You can’t throw anything to the winds or rely on ‘luck’ or chance to conquer.

Tough days are in everyone’s calendar, be it your extra cheerful neighbor, Sally, or lone wolf classmate, Derrick. We’ve all found ourselves sulking over an awful situation, scooping into mint ice cream to forget mistakes, errands, and ghosting exes. Yet guess what? The solution isn’t the proclaimed “be positive!” or “It all happens for a reason, don’t you worry” - the key is coming up with a method to dodge the discouraging effect these hiccups have on us.

So every bad day, I bring out a mason jar containing a knot of chits and one secret letter which is, on most days, kept hidden on the top shelf of my cupboard. I make myself comfortable on the bed, read all my bits of paper carefully, including the letter addressed to yours truly, close my eyes, and mentally fight back whatever’s bringing me down.

A short while later, I get up, now a warrior, and go slay the rest of the day like it was my last one on this planet. That jar is my jar. A Conqueror’s jar. One look at those powerful reminders, and I’m grounded once again, the beast within me now unleashed to kill.

Takeaway:

Honey, go get yourself a jar. Along with some papyrus and ink. Then start jotting down. Document past victories, future visions, fears that mean zilch to the person you’re about to become, batty goals you’ve still gotta chase, reminders that the majority will never understand what it is you’re tryna do here, and how that’s perfectly alright 'cause you'll find your conquerors, your squad one day. Create your victory jar. And then go knock ‘em down dead. Bad days stand no chance against you. You’re a winner, a fucking rebel. Go take what’s yours.

Y’know, I’m perfectly aware that many muggles reading this will whine that dealing with depression ain’t no piece o’ pie and it’s hella hard to get up and take the crown when you feel like a pile of dino dung.

Stop it. Get some help. (See what I did? Like Michael- ok ok, calm thyself.) For real though, and I’m tired of repeating this with my kitten stamped microphone (but I’ll keep at it ‘cause it’s that significant) – whining is WORTHLESS. It saps up precious energy that could be used to make life a scrumptious smoothie. (Loothie? As in life + smoothie? Right, yes, I’m shutting up.)

And even THEN, we find denizens complaining about slow WiFis and thin crust pizzas and how the market’s down and the government’s incompetent. Because blabbering makes us feel important. Heard. But keeping yo’ trap shut and actually doing stuff? Hustling for your dreams when nobody’s watching? Actually walking the talk? C’mon, Emma, don't be naive, ain’t nobody getting recognition for that.

Trust me, I get it. The world is yet to become a feminist, turns out your boyfriend was cheating on you while you were looking up wedding dresses, mommy’s a drunk loser, and idiots are being voted into office. It’s a lot to handle. But thanks to our immense and ever increasing population (we folks really love our rumpy pumpy, can you tell) — there will surely be one chum, facing exactly the same misfortunes as you, but still turning up at every party and bulk-spamming his friends with puppy pictures while you sit and wail. (One Moaning Myrtle is enough, thank you very much.)

Look, I’m not undermining your worries or obstacles. I’m only reminding that you have the marvelous choice of positivity. To CHOOSE hope and a better future when others won't. To FIND (and it's always possible) something to look forward to even when the to-do’s a big snore. To KNOW, deep inside, that you're a magnificent conqueror, no matter what mess you’re in at the moment, and that the world dances to your rhythm. Realise that it's up to you to let yourself be happy. At any moment, you have the very say-so to get up and start rocking. Dumbledore said it himself, “It is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” So choose better, and you’ll unconsciously do better as well. And yes, that being said, this is the last HP reference, don't fret. Be positive instead. (Edit: Ha, look at these quips, the girl's all grown up now.)

Takeaway:

Your new occupation is to be a sunflower. If you think back, you'll probably recall Miss Honey rattling on about phototropic movement in AP biology. No? Me neither. Point is, sunflowers always face the sun. Put them ANYWHERE, hide them in the dungeons, throw them in a trash bag and shoot it off to the moon, they’ll still turn around and face the sun. No matter what. And taking inspo from that, you too can stop scripting creative soliloquies for being depressed. Happiness is YOUR right, YOUR priority, don't let anyone take it away from you or diminish its importance. DON’T let sadness ruin your vibe, do what you've gotta do to protect yourself. Track happiness in yo’ journal, set 84 reminders on your phone, and tattoo “Long as you’re beaming up at the sun, all the shadows will be left behind” on your boobs. Do whatever, just don’t turn the corners of your mouth down. You’re so pretty this way.

The other day, I was doing the deathly Plié Alternative Heel Lifts (these names, I swear) and my legs felt dead. Gone. Put to sleep like the Wicked Witch of the East. Now obviously, the timer wasn’t not even halfway done yet, but my cheeks were already flushing red like dear Santa, and NOT because I was high on choco chip cookies. I sighed, and at that point, I was so over giving up. All this while, I’d been whining and protesting because my muscles felt sore, but in that moment, I made up my mind. I bit my lip and kept going. On and on. Keep pulsing, you got it, don't stop, was the mantra I kept chanting.

Won’t sugarcoat it, I honestly hadn’t died this much since that time Miss Honey buried me alive with trig assignments. My legs were now basically Play-doh and I was shaking, fighting for balance. A few seconds in though, something crazy happened. My legs went numb. My grumbling mind quietened and the pain vanished. That evening, I had the upper hand, not my physical perceptions of myself. I was powerful. Flawless. (Hey Santa, do you even lift bro?) Real talk, I was in the Zone, bitches.

I’m not sure if that was the result of excessive pain or because Wonder Woman’s spirit possessed ma bod, but staying loyal to my love for metaphors, I’ll use the experience to explain what I’m tryna get at here.

Look, here’s the real deal — if all of the greats gave up the second things got frowny, we probably would have no one to worship. Nix role models, nix inspirations, none to stalk on Insta - we’d all be bumbling about like Sad from the even sadder Emoji movie (no shade, emojis be lit).

And that'd be very sad (pun definitely intended). Hence, cue some tangible ways to boosting your grit, so that you can be your own superhero:

1) Get yo’self a goddamn motto,

2) Know your “Why,”

3) Repeat the cycle till it’s in your blood. Btw, Shawn, if you here, I’m still a single pringl—HEY PAL I SEE YOU, DON'T SCROLL.

Seriously, don't brush these prime steps aside. We're always going for the advanced modes, and deeming these basic levels a waste of time. Well guess what, compadre, YOUR LIFE IS A GODDAMN WASTE O’ TIME IF YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR BASICS RIGHT. Excuse my outburst, but listen. You can’t do a hundred bicep curls on your first workout if you haven't lifted anything more than a crisps packet. Likewise, if you simply jump into Life one day, and decide “ok, here it is, 12 habits to build, sleep schedule to fix, man to ask out, let's go,” you ain't getting nowhere, chum. Start small. Take baby steps. It's clearly not as fun (definitely negates the bragging on Facebook part of it) but it'll stick. You’ll create a consistency that not even Grandma's cake batter can achieve.

1. Talking mottos — For context, a motto that I always mutter (my mom thinks I'm cursing, oh what a bad child) every time I spill milk while making coffee is “Do more. Give more. BE more.” Not only does it help me stay right on track for the rest of the day but it helps me clean up my mess, figuratively and otherwise, or I’d just be sitting in a puddle of spilt milk, cursing adulting for real this time and with more laundry to do.

2. Why you need the Big Why — Owning up, I’m guilty of attempting to learn Welsh for less than 48 hours because I hadn't a single reason to speak the language. A similar thing happened with half of my 2018 resolutions, which had a bunch of rubbish like “Floss daily”, something my eyes got trained to skip because, um, who the hell flosses every day?

Lame humor aside, I still workout almost daily because I have my Why straight. 1) I want to feel good about my body and get closer to the confident badass I envision my future self to be, 2) I simply HAVE to sustain my health to live to build my legacy and fulfill my dreams of opening a bakery at 90 and 3) Because I’m an influencer, and want to walk my talk and be the inspiration people need. Those are the reasons as to why I turn up to my yoga mat everyday, shut my jabbering mind, and keep on pulsing. This “Why” strategy applies to everything. Wanna get outta depression? Why? Wanna lose 20 pounds? Why? Wanna listen to your dentist’s desperate pleadings and floss already? WHY EH? Unless you know your intentions, you’ll give up at the first chance you get to not act on your goals. And watch out, because there'll be a LOT of those.

For me, leaving a legacy behind means more than having a slice of cake or missing a workout because there’s a fun movie playing. Find what's important to YOU, make it your why, and go marry your goals.

3. And then, Repeat — Bear in mind, if you're not living your best life yet, there are NO weekends. NO work-shy days. No weak days, no pick-me-up days, no eat-candy-do-nothing days. Everyday is a damn Monday. EVERYDAY is life or death. Every holy day you wake up is a chance to push your limits, challenge your mindset, and see how far you can go. And every 24 hours, when the cycle starts again, it’s your mission to race to build a stronger, wiser and crazier you.

And who knows, perhaps one day, you and I will just be casually sipping tea in our dream home, laughing at how the milk is still being spilt but knowing, proudly, fiercely, that we’ve come so far, even though there’s still more left to do, more to give and so much more to be.

Takeaway:

Quit quitting. You're, guaranteed, 20x stronger than you think. I doubted I could go through with the workout, it seemed beyond my present physical capabilities. But I did, because I treated it as life or death. Understand this, the second you start making excuses, for being depressed, for taking an unnecessary day off - you give away your power. You are a very powerful being. You're limitless, capable of everything.

I'm not throwing these words around to make you feel cute, I actually mean AND believe them. There’s so much that's been done already— the iconic four minute mile by Roger Bannister, invention of the light bulb, cars, toothpaste and other junk, people who lost both legs and climbed Mt. Everest, we sent a man to moon in frickin’ 1969 (50 YEARS ago), some ran a 26 mile marathon with zero training, love and hope is still strong in this world, oh let's also add coffee and motivational music— and YOU think you can't finish a workout or get outta depression or meet your idols or marry the man of your dreams or become the artist you wanna be? Ridiculous. Don't give away your power that easily, this ain't no charity shop.

(play ♬) Having personally dealt with unwelcome yet familiar feelings of emptiness quite often, I’ve now reached a point where each bad day is simply a reminder of how long my journey ahead is, and just how badly I want to reach my destination.

We finally near the end of this novel of a post (thanks for sticking around, bud), and my best advice would be this: Rather than wallowing in self pity and throwing one-man parties because your life is so awfully dreadful, know that even when life throws you to the floor, long as you can look up, long as you can read an entire book about defeating depression (cough)– you can GET UP too. Let those emotions of sorrow and frustration blaze up into a roaring, crackling fire that doesn’t consume you, but instead, urges you, fuels you.

Lately, no matter how much shit I go through, how many arguments I tumble into, or how barren my dreams look sometimes, I don’t break down. And no, it wasn't always like this. I never even had aspirations to name two years ago. Six months back, it had become a night routine to cry. Not anymore.

Now, every setback and every failure only pushes me to be stronger and give more than I ever gave. The day I made the decision to Conquer (truly, madly, deeply, with all of my heart) was also the day I said a big, loud ‘fuck you’ to every resistance that was to cross my path. I had finally understood that life was nothing but a battle of WILLS, that it was all in or nothing, and I made up my mind once and for all to NEVER give in to depression, or to society, or to anyone who tells me I cannot make it.

I had conquered depression. There was no looking back now.

Takeaway:

Here’s something no one will tell you: the key to bringing depression to its knees is seeing it positively. Pretend that it's a friend continuously sending strong, aggressive signals urging you to be happy. And what do you do when a caring friend throws some holy light? You listen, push past your ego, and follow accordingly.

And if that parallel seems unconvincing, here's another one (sup, DJ Khaled. This post is turning musical, sorry): it's scared of you. Depression is scared shit of you. Y'know how bullies are, right? Majorly insecure, self-loathing too perhaps, hardly fans of self love, and always trying to numb all that subconscious pain by inflicting pain on others. Depression has the same instruction manual. Your fears and doubts are your (pathetic) bullies, and depression is the big ol’ crony who does the dirty work for 'em.

Whenever you decide shit this is it, I'm going for it, they go paranoid and try stopping you because they've seen no better. And if they succeed, BOOM, you're depressed, paralyzed, your qualms reigning over you again. Don't let them in. I'll say it a thousand times if I gotta because I want (HAVE) to see you conquer – you're so much stronger than you think you are. You can do so much more than you think. It's all in your head! Don't just sit there, click away, and go back to living a sad life. You’re better than that. DO better than that. You’re meant to freaking CONQUER, straight-up dominate, my pal. Pay heed to that voice craving freedom. You got this. And you better know it.

One thing’s fixed like the (beloved by all) proportionality constants in Physics, you will come across depressing mornings and sluggish evenings even in the future. I assure you. Lots o’ bad hair days in the calendar, sis. But here's what you’ll do: you'll deactivate the miserable thoughts, keep a cool head, remind yourself that this is yet another test (better, rap your new mantra) and USE that hurt, pain, and anger to create a fervor and passion that wreaks havoc on its obstacles and drives you to accomplish EVERYTHING you've ever wanted to do. The easy choice would be to just give up, bellyache about the situation, and want sympathy for your worries. Yet, what you'll never do is… exactly that.

Rule 1) NEVER give up. Stand your ground. Have faith in your strength. Know that you'll have your way soon enough anyway. Rule 2) NEVER complain. All it does is drain your energy, that precious fire you could to high jump your way into the clouds. Makes you a pathetic wimp too, definitely not something you want on a warrior’s resume. Lastly, Rule 3) NEVER seek validation. From anyone. It sure feels nice to be acknowledged and encouraged, but grasp this— this is your journey. YOUR life and YOUR vision. Validation won't get you anywhere, for there'll never be enough of it.

Cuz Marty, if you're tryna bring something new, different, and authentic into this world – you'll most likely be hated on badly, before you'll be loved madly (hi, me a rapper). Learn to invite hate instead—IMPORTANT: hate from others, not yourself. Sounds counterintuitive, but this is the real tea: hate is good. It means you're standing up for something, refusing to fit like a puzzle piece in society, and being UNAPOLOGETICALLY yourself. And it’s certainly a sign that you’re on the right path if you can ignore that hate and stick your tongue out at it.

Yet another reason to never seek validation is simply this: you have to fight for yourself. In order to meet your own expectations, reach the doorstep of the best version of you, and transform this world, you'll have to go wildly IN. Toil and hammer away. Shut out all the haters and non-believers, listening only to your gut. Importantly, learn to accept the rejection slips, validating yourself not with what Molly says about it being okay, but with the reminder that your time is coming soon. Depend on yourself. Validation will NEVER be enough.

I get it, it's a lot of homework, but perhaps you already realize that it’s THIS work that'll change your life forever. Not “how to not procrastinate, Jesus take the wheel” or “HELLO, life's a mess so here are ten things to do (you won't believe number four!)”. Clickbaits don't work, stop believing that a fancy planner is going to be your savior. There is no rule to making your life a masterpiece. You'll have to get to know yourself and your dreams (journaling, meditation, silent pondering), build the work ethics and the mentality needed (lots of work in this one, yet no strict framework to go about it) and GET GOING.

AND with that firework, I'll begin to slip away now. Again, I won’t say it’s easy, that’s cock and bull. Life’s no fairytale. You will never feel ready to start bringing your dreams to fruition. But, my darling (I’m being so nice yo, follow me), you must. You must force yourself to work for the future you want till it becomes a habit, an obsession. The world badly needs heroes; confident people who can stand for themselves so that others can stare at first, maybe even hate a little, but then follow because they seem unstoppable and are, truthfully, having the most fun at life. YOU'RE one of them. No validation, just plain facts.

You see, conquering is a LOT of blood and sweat (K-pop, anyone? BTS? Lmao, this is me tryna clickbait y'all to read). Even getting up will seem huge when you're just starting out, and this is one long road, dear pal. Still then, I have enough faith in you to hope you don't give into your fears, I hope you willingly chase discomfort, and I hope you find the courage to do all that you want to do, while that heart's still beating.

I hope you conquer. I'll do too, and I'd really like to see some familiar faces during the ride.

Peace, amigo.

A loud ass A/N: And now, we come the most important part of this post. WAKE UP Luke, stop snoring, and take some notes. Remember kids, I won't accept anything but an A.

If you couldn’t identify yourself throughout this post and currently are scoffing like um woman, that's not really why I'm depressed, hang in there a sec. Yes, you can stop singing It Ain’t Me now. You've a very nice voice by the way.

I'm not a doctor, and I don't have enough exposure to know why so many earthlings are depressed today. HOWEVER, by talking to many, following their stories, watching and reading stuff – I do know with firm conviction that a majority suffers from severe unfulfillment. Don't believe me? A study shows 85% of the working class worldwide hate their jobs. Do you realize what that actually means? EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT of the THREE BILLION PEOPLE employed today, hate being employed in the first place! They do it for prime survival, to sustain themselves. And that's just jobs. I won't scare you, but 50% (yes, HALF, you heard that right) of students HATE going to school. Kids waste SEVEN hours of their life every day going somewhere they dislike, doing something they hate. Who's singing now?

People find themselves trapped in golden handcuffs, taking the paycheck despite the passionless job. They push aside the art and business they love, to become a slave of good ol’ cash. Several surround themselves with negativity and get frustrated when unable to escape the choking (no, not THAT kind again, hello someone pour holy water over this post) atmosphere. An innumerable are forced into taking up courses that they don't care about under parental pressure. The reasons are endless, and I don't think I'll amuse myself listing all the sad excuses.

This has always been the story. Hundreds of influencers have preached the same words I’m tryna put into your head here and you’ll yourself say you’ve heard this a million times. YET, you’re dissatisfied. YET, you feel like crap everyday, feeding yourself the same lie that the next day will be better, that you’ll get up tomorrow– while you let life beat the shit out of you.

That’s why, all of my words, everything you’ve read today - all of that boils down to just one single question. A difficult but necessary choice. Will you let this happen to YOU? Will you, seriously, even after this wild ride together, go back to doing nothing and being nothing? Will you, for real, continue deceiving yourself, sacrifice your happiness for the sake of pleasing everyone else, and remain a statistic on a website?

(play ♬) If you’re not sure of your answer, read: Look, making you feel guilty is not my intention, because that’s not how this works. I need you to understand instead. Guilt wears off, it’s only understanding that brings about change. So, just for old times’ sake, I’ll rant a bit more (ik, just can’t seem to leave y’all).

You’re so, so young right now. More than half of your life is yet to be experienced. None of this probably makes much impact right now but it will the day you die. Remember, on your deathbed, you won't EVER look back and say, “Damn, wish I'd spent more time at the office. Saved up just one more dollar. Could’ve got that promotion before Amy.” Nay, it won’t even be on the calendar. That day, one foot in the grave, you'll reflect and wonder why the heck you didn’t let yourself be happier. Why you took up that lacklustre, soul-sucking architect job when all you've ever wanted to do is keep laughing. Why you didn't ask your crush out, why you were so afraid to walk up to that audition, because dammit, you could’ve been running your own comedy show by now. Why you dragged around a karaoke machine all this time instead of singing your own song. Why you couldn’t love yourself. Why you submitted. Why.

And the moment you realize that you hadn't lived a life for you, you’ll be crushed. Broken. The arthritis in your grannie joints won't even compare and neither will the mild dissatisfaction you’re feeling right now. Those whys will haunt you, they'll terrorize you, break you. It'll hurt tremendously to know that there isn't a single thing in your long life that you could call completely your own.

With every death today so many dreams are left unachieved, crazy things left unchecked on the bucket list, and unique potential left unexpressed.

DON'T let that be you. Please. I'm still a mess myself, struggling to reach class on time and studying subjects that aren't exactly fun, when all I want to do is create content (read: fireworks) that is at a level of insanity, influence folks to do better, hold crazy world tours and meet-and-greets to give hugs, and get an adorable puppy so I can create a dogstagram (yes, I'm that mom). Sure, I could declare it's too hard, hang onto small-minded and negative people who whine endlessly, and follow the crowd, getting lost in it, with ease.

But I won’t because I can’t take the burden of those regrets. That painful unrest and discontent that nothing could cure, not drugs, alcohol, buddies, not even true love. For then I’d be just another drone, my controller in the hands of society, forcing me to see the world through its eyes. I can’t give in because I’m scared, terrified even, of wasting away this one life doing the bidding of others- folks who won't even notice when I’m gone.

It’s easy to be depressed and crib your entire life. It’s easy to think you’re worthless and that trying is pointless since nothing ever goes your way.

But perhaps, if you rise, if you simply DECIDE to have the audacity to fight for what you believe in, if you work and focus on becoming better, things will go your way. Life will bend to you, in awe, at your incredible relentlessness. Life will take one look at you, wonder who the fuck is this person? How the fuck are they so incapable of giving up? And back right away. And then perhaps, life will be such a blast for you that depression would become the past you never had.

I know you can get there, conqueror. It’s time you knew it too.

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last Post :— How To Get Back Into The Creative Process – For you, if you're in a creative rut. Get outta it and go create magic!

5 Reasons Why You're Unhappy — To help you identify & cut out CURRENT sources of sadness so that you can spice up yo’ life with some happiness instead. Definitely recommend reading AND implementing.

The Bubble Trap & How To Get Out Of It — One of my classics. Everyone is in one of these 'bubbles’ till they consciously do something about it; that's just how it is. Are you still in one? (Someone teach me marketing, lmao.)

The 5 Biggest Regrets of The Dying (from Greatist) — I LOVED reading this. Pretty much all you need to cut the crap and do meaningful stuff. Read it, memorize it, work it.

++ Want to request a blog post? Leave your request in my ask box! I'll get back to you with a reply, along with the average time I'll need to birth that magical idea.

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure to have you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I'd suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

If you wanna check out my blog, here's a little something about me (y'all know I love the attention). What do I write about? Three arenas I dominate, Work, Lifestyle and Life, they are, my mate! Take your pick!

I post new blog posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you're into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I'll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it's a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you're pretending to be deaf, but Mom's yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you're well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I'm sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

797 notes · View notes

xjoiexgabriel · 5 years

Text

Welcome Back

Who: Gabriel Beiste & @joieagilbert

When: Oct. 2

Where: Beiste Dorms

What: Gabe and Addison reconnect and Gabe finds out something that will change his life.

Gabe couldn't believe that Addison was back. It had been over a year since he had seen her and he was excited to see her again. Coming to her place, Gabe knocked and waited for additional to open the door for him.

Addison was nervous to see Gabe, she knew she had to tell him and had managed to avoid this confrontation for half a semester now but no longer could she keep this a secret, it wasn't fair to Gabe to hide this. Telling Gabe would also mean she didn't have to hide it from the rest of the student body, only her very closest friends knew and some days that was hard because all she wanted to do sometimes was talk about her son. Addi gave a big sigh heading to open the door, "Hi Gabe" she smiled, it was so good to see her friend again.

Gabe smiled back to her, pulling the other into a hug. He was so happy to see her once more. "Hey, Addi. Its really nice to see you again, how you been?" Stepping into her place and giving it a glance for a moment. He wasn't sure why she had left but now she was here and he was going to ask her but it felt more right to ease into the topic.

Addi let Gabe pull her into a hug, it felt so good to be back in his arms, she had missed her friend, their friends with benefits thing had been fun but she really did value his friendship the most. "It's so good to see you too Gabe, I've been good- tired but good," She smiled and lead him over to sit where she had a squishy couch and TV set up. "It's not quite the sorority house but you know I really wanted to RA and I got the chance so I had to move here," She shrugged, she missed her sisters at the sorority but this was something that meant a lot to her."How have things been for you? I saw your games you've been kicking ass and taking names."

"I mean, i couldnt think of anyone better to RA in my dad's dorms so I'm good with it." he teased as it was the Beiste Dorms. Sitting with her, he shrugged. "They've been going, had some drama but things are getting better and yeah, still dominating the game and enjoying every moment. But what have you been up to?"

"I'm glad you approve, you know I just want to mother everyone." She teased back. "What kind of drama?" Addi looked at him with worry on her face. She would always worry about her friends, and Gabe had an even more special place in her heart now. "Been trying to get back into the swing of college, last year was kind of crazy, some big stuff happened..." She trailed off not meeting his eyes, unsure how to tell him.

"I know you do and you're very good at it. You're going to be a best mom one day." Gabe nodding with a certainty in his eyes. When she asked about what happened. "I let myself feel for someone and got burned. Doesn't mean I wont let it happen again, just yeah. Gotta learn to know the person better, I guess." he shrugged. "OH? What big stuff?" His brow knitting together a bit.

The playfulness fell from he face at that comment, "I really hope so." Addi bit her lip, obviously Gabe had managed to hit on one of her biggest worries, was she a good mom to Myles, she wanted to do the best she possibly could for him. "I'm so sorry Gabe, I know you don't fall easily." She leaned over and gave her friend a tight hug. Addi took one of Gabe's hands, focusing all of her attention playing with his fingers between hers, it was an easy comfortable gesture, something she had done a thousand times before and it worked to calm her. "I don't really know how to say this," she closed her eyes, her stomach was in knots, "after the last time we slept together do you remember the condom broke and I told you not to worry because I had Plan B?" she took a deep breath, focusing on Gabe's face now, "well it didn't work..."

Gabe hugged her back, "I know you are and you're a good friend as well." Pulling from the hug, he felt her playing with his hands. He knew it was a gesture she did when she was nervous. He listened to her talk then his jaw fell open. Did he hear that right? Was she saying what he thought she was? "Okay...so what are you saying, Addi?" His voice light and wondering a lot of things.

Addi was silent for a few moments that felt like an eternity as she wracked her brain for the right words. "Got pregnant Gabe.." She said quietly, reaching for her phone from her pocket and opening up her photo gallery, she had hundreds of photos spanning the less than nine months since Myles was born. She pulled up a photo she had taken at the weekend when she had captured him pulling a face that made him look identical to Gabe, she handed him the phone, still biting her lip nervously, wondering what he was going to say.

Gabe sat there, in a sort of shock. He looked at each photo and the last one told him so much, he knew. That was his child. Taking her phone as she offered it, he looked through them all and felt tears well in his eyes. "Is he...is he here? Can i see him? Whats his name? I'm a dad?" he chewed his lip a bit.(edited)

Addi silently watched Gabe flick through the photos, she didn't know how she had ever doubted her friend, but she was so relived he wasn't angry at her. "His name is Myles Lucas Beiste, he's going to be nine months old on the eighteenth." She took the phone and scanned through the photos until she found the one of the day he was born, where she was holding Myles in her arms for the first time and showing Gabe. "He's with my parents in Akron, I go home every weekend to be with him until he's old enough to go to the daycare on campus then we will figure something else out so he can be here I miss him a lot but I can't afford my own place." She shrugged, she was used to making the best of any situation and right now having Myles stay with her parents was the best way for her to be able to finish college because she needed to live in the dorms to be able to afford college.

Gabe looked at the picture then looked back to her. "No...he needs to be here. I can help you get a place but Addi, i want him here and I'll help you. We can make this work...he's my child too and he needs to be with us and raised by us not anyone else." He knew he was quick to jump in but he wasn't ever going to be okay with someone else raising his kid.

"I'm not telling you about him because I want money, Gabe," Addi would admit she was not good at accepting help. "What are we going to do when we have class, or clubs or sports? I'd rather he be with my parents than strangers all day." Addi's voice caught in her throat with a sob. "I want to do the best for him, I want to finish school so I can provide for him not that I don't appreciated all my parents did for me I know they loved me but getting a job at 14 and working through high school was tough I want him to be able to have fun not worry and you know how much becoming a doctor means to me..." Thinking about the future was so overwhelming to Addi.

Gabe shook his head. "Addi I'm doing it because I want to and I'm sorry but we'll make it work. My classes are not normal classes and professors here are more then willing to make things work. I'm not going to agree to this. Addison I have missed 9 months of his life, I missed all the big first in the first year. I'm not missing a moment more. We can do this and he won't be raised by strangers." His tone though told it all, he wouldn't budge on this. "We're getting him this friday and he's staying with us on campus. Also he can go to the daycare now, they can go at 6 weeks old but it wont be needed. Please dont make me miss more time with him. He's going to live with us

Addison sighed, she knew Gabe, she knew once he set his mind to something there was no changing it. "You realize Friday is two days from now and we don't have anything we need here to take care of him. We still have another week of midterms and-" Addi shook her head. She knew keeping this huge secret from Gabe was the worst thing she had done and right now she would do anything to make sure he would be in his sons life.

"My mid terms are over. " Gabe told her. "I finished them this week and yes I know it's not a lot of time but you'd be amazed what Amazon Prime can do. So Friday, we are going to get him. Can you let your parents know to have everything ready for us? " He was set there was no changing his mind. "We will make this work, it will work. "

"Do you still live at the Frat house? I don't want him living at the Frat house Gabe." Addi responded with a worried tone, she was feeling so overwhelmed by Gabe's response but at least he wasn't angry or upset which is what she had been worried about. "I'll call them and we can set it up, but I want both to talk to our professors before then I want to know they will be flexible and supportive with whatever we need, and I'm going to have to figure out something for my RA duties I can't just walk away from that."

"I'm not going to leave the frat and it's not like it was before. I'm the president now. We don't party, we just all hang out. I know what mine will say, there is girl in my classes who brings her child everyday. They don't mind. You figure that out, Addison you have to trust me in all this. You owe me that. "

"I get that it's important to you Gabe, but a Frat house is no place for a baby, this is why he's better at my parents because there are parts of our college life that will be so much harder and we both need to finish school" Addi sighed, there was no way she was giving into this. "I know I owe you, I can't even explain how sorry I am but we have to do this the right way not just leap in blind."

For the first time, Gabe was getting upset now. "Addison. He's coming here. That's it. I'm done doing this, done looking for excuses. He's my son and he will live where I can see him whenever I want and with his parents. My dad did it all by himself with two kids after being abused. You can't guarantee that when you're not there that they're raising him the way you want or they're not talking shit on me. Addison. I'm done. Friday he's coming here. "

Addi looked away from Gabe's face, trying not to let herself get too upset. "Okay we let's try it, if you really think this is the best option and you really think we can do it let's try, but I don't want him near parties or drugs or alcohol and I don't want your flings around him, I don't want people flitting in and out of his life." Addison responded with a firm tone. It wasn't that she thought Gabe would ever be a bad father but she wanted to impress upon him how much he'd have to beware of what he was doing and what was happening around him.

"No more flings. I promise you and the boys will all know that the house is a baby safe zone. No drugs or alcohol. Well maybe beer but you know what I mean. " Signing some and running his fingers through his hair. "Thank you for this.... Sorry I got upset. I just... I want to do this right. I want to be a good father for my children and honestly, I'm glad you're his mother. " Taking her hand. "I don't think he could have a better mom. "

"Okay." Addi nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, she was impressed at how quickly Gabe was seeing what he needed to do. She knew he was a good person but most often saw his fun and playful side, a smile grew on her face at how strongly he was fighting for his son. "It's okay Gabe, I'm sorry for keeping this from you, I've just been so scared, this past eighteen months have been so hard for me I didn't know what to do." She squeezed Gabe's hand, "I'm glad your his father, I tell him about you all the time, he's going to love you I know it." Addi gave him a warm smile, leaning her head on his shoulder, happy to have her friend by her side.

#paddison

1 note · View note

theliterateape · 3 years

Text

I Can't Drive 55 | Lessons Learned in the 55th Year

By Don Hall

In my thirty-second year I felt incredibly sorry for myself. I was getting my first divorce, was living in a one-room studio in Uptown, my theater company was imploding over ego-driven bullshit. I drank myself into a state of suicidal yearning. It was a rough year.

I called my mom. Mom is that voice of reason in good and bad times.

"This has been a really shitty year. Maybe I should move back to Kansas."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"And in thirty-two years you've lived on the planet, how many of those years were bad?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Really bad? Two. No three. Three years. Why?"

"Well, three out of thirty-two is a pretty solid track record. Seems to me that you weathered those other bad years and had good years to spare. Maybe you decide to quit wallowing in how bad this year has been and get to work on next year because based on your experience you probably have another cluster of good years in store."

Some have the Dali Lama. Others have a priest or a shelf of self-help books. I have my mom.

My fifty-fifth year (or the specter of 2020) was a rough year for so many people in the world it's almost a joke. The whole year has been covered in shit—from the campaign to unseat the least capable and most destructive president in my lifetime to three months in a pandemic shutting down the planet and economic hardship most of us have only read about in Steinbeck novels—2020 looks like the toilet bowl moments after a morning constitutional from a night of White Castle and rum.

Sure, the act of comparing one's life with those around is a narcissistic self-loathing experiment best suited for recently jilted lesbians and Instagram junkies, but while the entire world has been burning down in both literal and figurative ways, fifty-five has been a damn good year for me.

In January, I was well into my year and a half managing a casino on the corner of I-15 and Tropicana. I had done my due diligence in training and had hit the sweet spot of knowing enough about the business to be an effective leader on the floor. I knew my high rollers and had figured out the best approach to dealing with the meth-addicts and prostitutes. I could fix 90 percent of the machines and could process a jackpot inside of four minutes consistently.

Then came the pandemic and the economic shutdown of Las Vegas in March. Most were laid off and in free fall but I had stumbled into working for one of two gambling corporations in Nevada that committed to keeping the payroll rolling despite losing millions per day.

The three months of closure saw me coming in to work every day, cleaning the bar and the machines, and hanging out to make sure no one ransacked the place while it was closed. I did a lot of writing in my office during that time.

In terms of personal tragedy, my nineteen year old nephew overdosed in a parking lot in April and, virus be damned, Dana and I flew out the next day to help my sister.

We re-opened the casino in June.

Seven months of balancing life in a pandemic with idiots motivated to gamble, arguing with people about the necessity to wear masks, and submitting essays to everyone. Getting paid to write (even in small increments) was a genuine drug.

Over the summer both Dana and I were asked to write for an anthology of essays. Las Vegas writers writing about Las Vegas. It was a boost, man. Don't get me wrong, the casino gig was solid and, for the most part, enjoyable. Getting paid to write words and sentences was fucking delicious.

The book came out in October launched with a Zoomesque gathering.

The casino gig, while solid and simple, was becoming dull. Rote. Combining the fact that my best (and meager) talents were not usable during a pandemic in a struggling casino, I told my General Manager that I needed more money for such routine grind and that I’d start looking aggressively for something more in tune with my skills that also paid a bit more on my year-and-a-half mark.

Six days after I started the search, I was hired by a Denver-based firm as a Senior Copywriter.

Turns out I’m pretty good at it. Getting a salary for writing words and sentences is sweet and working from home as the pandemic continues to rage on is smart and comfortable. No longer a slave to the swings shift, my schedule is my own.

I can, for the first time in my life when asked what I do for a living, answer “I am a writer.” In a career path marked by ten year gigs followed by "gotta pay the bills" gigs, it looks like Casino Manager is the latter and "Writer" is the former. Now it’s time to write some books, yeah?

It’s been a year, my friends.

Here are the lessons that landed in my 55th annum.

Always Leave ‘Em Wanting More

Over the course of my bizarre career as a “Writer. Teacher. Storyteller. Consultant.” to refer to my donhall.vegas website, I’ve had a tendency to overstay my welcome.

Instead of leaving circumstances on good terms, by the time I was ready to go, I was all Fuck these people! What a bunch of dickseeds! and at least a few of the people were Fuck him! What a dickseed!

I stayed one year longer than I should have as a public school teacher. I stayed at least a year too long in my second marriage and, despite some incredible shows toward the end of the WNEP Theater years, I stayed too long with that company. I should’ve left WBEZ at least a year earlier and I waited until things got weird in the storytelling scene before leaving Chicago.

With the casino, I left long before things become too rote or sour. I found the new gig, jumped on it, and was told if it didn’t work out, I always had a place to land. That I was a part of the Station Casinos “family.” My staff bought me booze and when I swung by just to see them, they are happy to be seen.

Hell, the GM even gave me one of the chairs from the Craps Table for my home office!

As I get older, recognizing the signs that perhaps it’s time to go is an essential skill. At fifty-five, maybe I’m finally into that.

Family is Always More Important Than Work

Last year, working the first 24/7/365 job in my life, I was told I had to work on Christmas. It was the first Christmas in decades I hadn’t spent with my family in Kansas. It wasn’t bad—Joe flew in from Chicago, he took Dana and I to see Penn Gillette at Rio, Kelli joined Dana and Joe on the casino floor while I worked.

This year, especially after the death of my nephew, it became obvious that family had to come first. Months before I landed the writing gig, I let my GM know I was taking the week of Christmas off, COVID be damned. I was clear that if the company couldn’t pay me for the time off I understood and if I was to be let go because of it, then that was fine, too.

The casino was incredibly cool about the request that wasn’t really a request. In fact, even though I gave my two week’s notice before the Christmas vacation pay would kick in, my GM allowed me to be paid for it anyway (see that first lesson again).

It was in every possible way the correct call. My sister needed me. I needed my mom and dad. We got to reconnect with a cousin I hadn’t seen in years. Turns out she’s a professional copywriter in Austin, TX. It was a soul-filling holiday and I’ll never miss Christmas in Kansas again.

It’s Pointless to Argue with Zealots

Maybe it’s in part due to my new-found desert surroundings or my distance from the increasingly Woke Chicago Arts scene but this last year of Trump and the ridiculous nature of angrier social media has pushed me closer to Left Center than Full-On Progressive.

As a younger man I decided that religion was simply not for me. Too emotionally charged without a sense of rationality. At the distance Nevada gives me I can see how irrational both the Extreme Right—the overtly white nationalist taint with the individualism bordering on sociopathy—and the Progressive Left—the quasi-religious circular logic of white privilege, erasure of women as a category, and focus on tribalism over all—have become. Or maybe they were always this way and it took some time away from a major urban center to see it.

Whichever the case, arguing with either side has become synonymous with filing my teeth with a dremel. Besides being as productive as screaming into an Amazon Box, taping it up, and shipping it to Congress, it’s fucking annoying.

If there is a resolution I’m attempting to adopt in the latter half of my fifties, it is this: find common ground with everyone and if I encounter someone so far into conspiracy territory that I cannot, walk away and don’t look back.

Social Media Enables the Very Worst in Us (and Me)

I can’t remember if I shed myself of Faceborg, Twitter, Instagram, and the host of social media this or last year but I’ve spent most (if not all) of my fifty-fifth year absent the noise and it was an excellent decision.

Mobs of imbeciles canceling professors, trolling J.K. Rowling, threatening violence to strangers, and organizing a breach of the Capitol all using tools for communication that should be extraordinary made me hate people I had never met. This cannot be a good ‘chicken soup for the soul’ arena to spend time in.

I’ll admit that I do feel left out of the mix some yet I’m happier for it. I jumped back recently with a new LinkedIn account (which is sortof like social media but with jobs) and the only good thing about that has been being able to message with Rob Kozlowski.

I’m a Social Distancing Jedi

Five years ago, Dana threw me a birthday party and there was a room full of friends in attendance. This year, I’ll be lucky if even Dana remembers my birthday.

The culling effect of both getting rid of social media and the pandemic has been like a hoarder finally ridding himself of boxes of empty Altoid tins and those square plastic bread ties. Always a bit of a misanthrope, this year has cleared out so much noise and my new gig at home has me isolated from the wash of the unwashed.

Turns out I’m good with this. My interactions with people are more intentional rather than surface level and while life has made me more cautious when it comes to whom I genuinely trust, those whom I do choose teach me things I wouldn’t know and enrich my dwindling time on the planet.

Your Reality is Dictated by Your Optimism

Optimism isn’t merely hope. It isn’t happiness or a cheery disposition.

Optimism is an act of resilience against the brutal harshness of living the existential crisis.

It’s darkest just before the dawn implies that there will be a dawn. What if there won’t be? What if it’s just more darkness? If the implacable timpani of human greed, a self correcting planetary environment, and the algorithm that defines our modern interaction has no end, should that result in giving in to the despair?

As optimism is a breeze when things are going your way, despair is the path of least resistance when things turn to shit. Seeing through the mist at a better future takes effort and commitment like a solid marriage or a massive novel you’ve committed to writing. It’s a project to be managed not a feeling to languish within.

One cannot truly call himself an optimist who refuses to see the horror. Pretending that people are essentially kind and generous is stuffing the ostrich head in the sand. People are apes with higher brain functions and follow the rules of the jungle. Tribalism, essentialism, war for resources, the history of brutality of all humanity goes far beyond Hannah Jones 1619 Project. Taken in whole, we aren’t a very enlightened and forgiving species.

Further, optimism is an individual choice. It’s not something that can be enforced but it is something that can be inspired. The American Experiment, despite its many missteps and flaws, is grounded in a belief that humans can govern themselves justly and effectively. Given the larger picture, belief in democracy is only slightly more delusional than the guy playing slots so he can pay his rent. The odds are astronomically against success and yet the choice to persevere is made.

When you see someone who has one of those death camp tattoos on their arm you are witnessing a genuine, tried and true, bona fide optimist.

Optimism is hardest when things turn to shit but it is then when it is most necessary.

Becoming Antique is a Journey

For the first time I see that more of my life has been lived than I have left to live.

I recognize that I wish I could give the years I have left to my nephew because I have done a lot in my five and a half decades and he didn't get the chance. I wonder, absent the obsessive drive to achieve I had in my younger days, what I have to offer in the next ten years? What value does my existence provide to others and how do I manifest that value in pragmatic terms?

Like an old car or a pair of worn-out shoes, we all must acknowledge a certain sense of obsolescence. The pandemic has up-ended so many of the fictions we lived with up until this point and finding North on the compass is a challenge these days. Becoming irrelevant is like that boiling frog—slowly and without even recognizing the boil—we all find ourselves as vintage.

Perhaps that's what I've become. Not the rusted Coca Cola sign in the corner but the "like new" vinyl Def Leppard album with slightly tattered and stained liner notes.

In my next ten years (if I have that much time in store or more) I'd like to read more. Write a lot more. Listen to more live music. Be a better husband. Become that cool old man on the block with good advise and a snort of rye in case it's a little chilly. Christ, I already smoke a pipe.

There is so much more to learn that, in order to avoid feeling useless, I need to learn more.

In a Pandemic, Look For the Simple Things to Keep You Sane

A really well-made sandwich

A cold beer in 115˚ weather

A road trip with your Soul Mate

A book by a new author

A slideshow of you and your Soul Mate doing things together

A long walk

Recognizing that you have a Soul Mate

Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything else. I wonder if I’d miss anything important if I simply ceased to breathe on the couch I bought back in Chicago as it sits in Nevada.

In those moments of melodramatic existentialism, I remind myself that the experience of living is this annual letter to you. A summation of the things I’ve learned and the life I’ve lived.

If I had finished this race last year, my mettle wouldn’t have been tested by a pandemic. I wouldn't have found my sister again. I wouldn’t have seen Trump slink away to Florida. I wouldn’t be sitting in a Craps Chair in a home office of my design.

I wouldn’t have learned anything at all (you know, because dead people stop moving forward).

Here’s to another year and what adventures I will have!

#Fifty-Fifth Birthday #Birthday Lessons

0 notes