window seat

I keep skipping albums. some of my favorites musicians. I can’t enjoy that rhythm and those songs of love. those words of promise and commitment that d’angelo sings of make me tilt back my head, roll my eyes, and rotate my neck in hopes of exorcising these tears, but back into their deep pits. will I ever heal? I have no fear of love but the reminder of my desire for romance makes me weak sometimes. my logical hopelessness. I struggle to allow myself to admit that it hurts in an obsessive attempt to condemn my want to love, but is it a need? whatever. I’m not going to listen to that rhythm & blues and songs of the sweetest taboo. it’s ridiculous and I much rather ride the metro and focus on my surroundings than looking into my pocket mirror to cover what’s leaking from the windows to my soul.

right now. I’d rather be safe, than feel sorry.

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Los Angeles is extremely unique, I’m supposing. I haven’t travelled to many U.S. cities as an adult but through referencing my experiences in Atlanta and New York, L.A. is a completely different beast. Yet, it’s just like every other place I’ve visited through a plethora of contradicts and paradoxes. Its integrated but yet segregated, progressive but blind, vast and divided, inspiring but depressing, healthy and also, very ill.

Right now, I’m staying with a few cousins in Inglewood. They’ve been super hospitable, fun, and understanding — so grateful for that. Down the street from their house is a diner that served me a bomb ass egg croissant sandwich for $3.50, which reminded my pallet what breakfast food tastes like without lime juice and chilies. The owner is a Cambodian man, who hasn’t seen his hometown since the 80s. He fled after the genocide during the 70s, which the country still hasn’t recovered from. Of course, he’s adapted to his new home. He speaks Spanish fluently. His diner was filled with Hispanic workers playing cards and talking shit. It felt great to show him recent photos I’ve taken of his hometown. It felt great to connect with a migrant who had experienced my native land more recently than I had and vice versa. I drop by sometimes on my walk to the train station. Its a nice walk. The train is pretty reliable and accessible. I’ve seen some wild shit on these trains though — especially the blue line. Kids openly begging for money to get high and getting a positive response, people doing bumps of cocaine, theft, belligerence, people smoking bowls. So, of course, there are some neighborhoods where the train has no route. These are the neighborhoods where the Bruce Willis grabs a smoothie, where tourists are far from plenty, and a ton of restaurants selling tasteless food that’s overpriced. Every now and then, the homeless has roamed their way into these communities, only to be bussed back downtown — the international home for the homeless. These dynamics are interesting to think about but far from surprising. Politics are hardly ever surprising.

Before I arrived, I thought that it was insanely wonderful that my drug of choice could be legally consumed in California — especially since this enjoyment almost landed me in legal trouble in Thailand. Martial law is no joke. Needless to say, I was stoked to get here and smoke weed without the paranoia but that shit is sooooo overrated. I’m being completely honest when I say that I’m not even that glad that it’s been medicinally legalized. For one, the weed sold in dispensaries that’s manufactured by Uncle Sam is fucking scary. That bad boy is way too potent and meant to basically paralyze you. I’d rather not. Also, now that it’s legal theres a culture that’s been created. Uncivil behavior has been normalized. There’s a fine line between social & personal responsibility and I think that the legalization of targets a group of people. It’s a sensitive topic but it’s almost like the crack epidemic in a way. I guess it’s just survival of the fittest though. I’ll just find the weed that was bred in the dirt and not a lab to get my feels.

As I get older and learn myself and gain more understanding about the nature of things, I settle on the idea that these paradoxes and contradicts give our world equilibrium. Although, everything seems to happen in extremes nowadays, it seems to be balanced. As negative energy might seem to be on the rise, positive energy is just a powerful to even out the paradigm shift. I don’t believe in this picturesque utopia of a world without hatred, destruction, corruption, and disease. I just have faith that no matter how sick, twisted, and fucked up this life may appear to be, there’s another energy out there fighting to combat the evils and ills. That’s basic science. Karma is a clever bitch. We work well together.

new year rambling

i haven’t been here in a while. i’ve been preoccupied, but always writing, just maybe not always in a place where everyone can see. i’ve been in the states for a little over a week now — first time in 16 months. i miss bangkok but not too much. los angeles will prove to be just as magical, just in a different way. i’m trying not to get too anxious. the american ideals. the rat race. the cost of living. the high racial tension. the judgement. the societal norms that i haven’t acknowledged in over a year. i’m trying to stay true to who i am and just enjoy the ride. i’m trying to adjust myself in a way that is practical and progressive. i want my experiences to count for more than just experiences. in bangkok, i could just be. there wasn’t anything really expected of me. i set my own rules. i was a foreigner. of course, i respected the thai culture but i was free to be me. i think because there was nothing expected of me, that i got lost a bit. my mind was so open. i didn’t uphold the same standards i previously upheld. i wasn’t sure if those standards were even mine or something that i was conditioned to value. traveling opens your mind. you just get lost in your environment. i enjoyed that. now, i’m back in my considered homeland and i’m comparing myself again. i got jealous the other day. i never get jealous. being around people who have businesses, being around people who can afford to pay $20 for an irish coffee, being around people who are more globally connected than I am, being around people who have something tangible to show for their experiences and conquests. i want that.

in thailand, i lived a comfortable life. i had enough to get my nails done every 2 weeks, my hair cut every week, go shopping every friday, support my musical interests, pay my student loans, eat out as often as i pleased, and put away a little bit. i didn’t make enough, however, to travel overseas. i didn’t make enough to really build. i want to build and make investments. i want to create more and not just have my ideas be daydreams and blueprints written in a notebook that get buried as the pages turn.

i want to feel like i’m doing something, not like i did something.

maybe i should stick around in one place for a while. maybe i should find a home to create a garden. in this garden, i plant my seeds. i water these seeds. i provide nutrients for these seeds. i watch them grow. i can then share the fruits of my labor. i can share this garden with others versus sprinkling seeds and letting them sprout but vacating the lot before i can produce a true harvest. i need to be more diligent. i need to produce a solid crop. i need to feel more substantially validated. i’m vain. i’ll admit that. not in the way that i need buy that $20 cocktail. honestly, i’d prefer a med card so i can purchase sativa. i just want to build on my ideas vigorously. i want tangible success. not just a book of experiences and photos. being back in the states has given me that sense of entrepreneurship. i was anti-america for mostly all of my life. the capitalism. the divide. the unjust financial pressure. the brainwashing. after living overseas, i see that every society has those imposed values that some people blindly embrace, while some find their own way and make of their society what they please. brainwashing is everywhere. there is no designated heaven. heaven is wherever you choose it to be. its time to build my heaven and not think that there’s an ideal place to create it.

heaven is a journey, not a destination. i don’t know if i’ll ever be completely satisfied, but honestly i can’t complain. traveling has shown me that. all these goals and desires that i have must be analyzed through different contexts — idealistic and realistic. the reality of it is that my life is beautiful and i’ve done a lot of cool shit. realistically, more cool shit will happen. ideally, i know exactly what i want it to be. realistically, i can only control so much of that. ideally, i think my goals are realistic. haha

i’m going tangent for tangent now. thinking about my relationship views prior to arriving in LA. i was just dating, not too much of a standard. ideally, i know what i like. realistically, i wasn’t going to find that in bangkok. now that i’m in LA, i have to slow down some. in bangkok, i told myself that i was the girl who didn’t want to get married. i convinced myself that was an illogically concept. yet again, american soil is altering my perceptions. i want something serious, in all areas of my life. i want stability. i want to feel connected and rooted. i can do that without expectations. i can do that and deal with the results if they’re not ideal. i just want to put forth more effort in life; exert more energy towards creating a world that reflects my dreams.

yea, thats it. thats heaven. the process of creating a world that reflects my dreams.