August 12, 2017 Perseid Meteor Shower

It's currently 2 AM and I'm debating if I should stay up late like another two to three hours to watch this meteor shower or not. I may not even be able to see anything because of the damned street lights and cloud cover and the three quarters full moon. My sleep schedule hasn't been the best either, and it's really taking its toll. My diet is the same. I am breaking out in acne all over my cheeks, my forehead, and I constantly feel like my oil control is totally off, and I think my skin is getting rather sallow and basically just lost its vitality look. It's making me sad. And I thought maybe watching the meteor shower would make me feel happier. I don't know. Sigh.
Life has been difficult lately. It feels like I can't really talk about it though because. I dunno. Talking negative brings about negative aura. I want to surround myself with good auras and that has to start with myself. Auras. I feel like I sound like an indie-modern wannabe. Ugh. Whatever. Anyways, it is clear to me that I am not eating a proper diet, I am not sleeping properly, and that these two things are definitely making everything else worse than they could be in my life, and that these two things are also not the source of my issue(s) though. I think I will sleep and wake up regretting that I didn't watch the meteor shower. The only plus is that this meteor shower comes every year. I may also just be sad because of my period causing hormonal imbalance, which is in turn affected by my diet and sleep.
It's been only two weeks and I feel like I've aged so much in these two weeks. Am I dying internally yet? I don't know. I'm dying physically. Just one look can show how awful things have been since the move. It's really bad. I dreaded this and I came anyways. Gods. Who knows. Whatever. Fuck. I haven't reached a point where I internally want to cry my eyes out but outwardly cannot, so I guess it's manageable. It just still feels overwhelming. Probably my blog is about to turn into some rant hole.
On another note, #foodAtlanta , Urban Cookhouse in Sandy Springs has got some bomb ass mac cheese pasta. Like damn, son, so freakin' good. Takeya sushi is also pretty good. Jinya Ramen not so great. Overrated, and the ramen made me feel sick afterward. All these are on Roswell Rd in Sandy Springs, and all within this one area on Roswell Rd. It seems all the noteworthy restaurants there are kind of crowded into this little section of the street.


Outside the Window

My apologies to anyone and myself for not writing in so long. I have my excuses, but let’s not get into that shall we?

In a spur of the moment moment, I decided I wanted to maybe do a daily creative writing prompt idea. We’ll see if I actually stick to it daily, but for now let’s talk about what’s outside the window.

It’s spring, and there’s been spotty thunderstorms all week. A cat was waiting for me as I got out of my car after work today. He was a spotted cat, black and white. A little fat for a stray. He walked me toward my front door and ran away just before I turned the curve up to the porch. The porch really needs some work. The bushes are growing out of their boxy shape and into pointy cloud shapes. Dandelion wish flowers are flourishing all over the front yard. It seems cat scat is also flourishing a bit on the yard. Damned cat. I set my two lunch bags down on the porch as I struggle to find the right key to open the door. There are only four keys on the ring, why in the world is it so difficult to grab the correct one? Finally, I get the right key, and unlock the door. I pick up my lunch bags and realize there are also ants on the porch. Spring huh?

Ok, that’s all I’ve got right now. It’s getting a bit late, and it’s a weekday y’all. Work awaits me in the morning.

Have a good, thunderous night.


It’s been a little while. Two weeks now, almost.

Life has been busy, and my mind is a jumble.

A few thoughts running through my mind lately:

  1. It must suck to figure out your sexuality if it isn’t the ‘regular’ boy likes girl or vice versa type.
  2. If I ever had a kid and he/she came out and told me they are not of the boy likes girl sexuality type, what would my reaction be? (whatever my reaction, I doubt it’d be rejection)
  3. Painting houses is a work out.
  4. Houses are a pain, but also awesome, but also why the fuck do people even care, just buy a good sound proofed up condo??
  5. My introvert levels are in danger levels. I broke my water bottle today, and I think part of the reason why I got angry enough to throw my water bottle (in a very public location) is because of my dangerously low introvert energy levels.
  6. I like hanging out with people though, I just seriously need a break to myself though. I can’t deal with with an entire week without proper solo-time.
  7. I hate people who don’t understand introversion. Strongly dislike** not quite hate. Seriously annoyed by**?
  8. I want to travel the world, but really I just want to rack up experiences in life beyond what the corporate office and living at home seems to be offering me.
  9. Jealousy is terrible and difficult to remove.
  10. Food is life and heart.

Joan Didion

I don’t have much I particularly want to say this week, so I’ll just pop out with Joan Didion.

My first experience with Joan Didion was in high school AP English. An excerpt of hers was in one of those giant volumes students always have. I don’t remember where the excerpt came from exactly any more, but I remember that this one line just resonated deeply with me. It was this line below:

I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” 

I wrote much more often back then, a daily entry or two was to be expected, and I wrote precisely for the same reason “to find out what I’m thinking” and to “see . . . what it means.” It was just this awesome moment of connection and it made my day. So in an awestruck instant, Joan Didion became an author I love because of only one line, haha.

As an ending thought, does the fact that I write less now mean I’m not thinking as much anymore? Hmm.

One Rooster Restaurant & Bar

Hello all!

Last week after work I went to a restaurant with a some friends. We went to this newly opened place called One Rooster. We heard about it because one of my colleague’s brother is a co-owner of the place, and well you know, advertise anywhere and everywhere you can. It’s a Mongolian food and bar restaurant, and I was pretty psyched to check it out.

I don’t know how familiar people are with Mongolian food, but most times Mongolian restaurants have you pile up a bowl of whatever you want, then they’ll cook it then and there in front of you. It’s like Great Khan, a mall fast food joint back in the West Coast; not sure if it’s common here in the East Coast or not. Anyways, so the set up is you grab a bowl, as if you were at a buffet, and you pile this bowl with several choices. First, your main carb: Noodles (various choices) or rice (various choices). Next you can add on whatever and however much veggies you want; they have baby corn, green onions, white onions, green, orange, and yellow peppers, snow peas, broccoli, etc etc. After the veggies, you ladle up the sauce right on top. They’ve got these pre-made sauces for you to choose from. Reading the menu’s description of the sauces prior to walking down the buffet-style line and stock piling your bowl is necessary. Last, you get one more smaller bowl to choose your protein and season it yourself if you’d like. There’s also a special add-on section (quinoa, roti, tortilla, etc alternatives). It’s a really cool concept, and I personally really love Mongolian restaurants.

The biggest pro of this place has got to be the interior design. I love how contemporary it is. I know most times contemporary and modern are used interchangeably, but I feel that modern is now most associated with minimalism. This place was not styled with minimalism. It had good spacing, lots of elbow room and plenty of seating, some nice feng-shui going on, and the lighting was perfect for casual evenings. There’s a sense of a sunset orange colored theme going around the place too, but I didn’t observe that too closely until after we were leaving. Overall, the environment of this place makes me think yes, I would definitely come back and recommend this as a go to joint to hang out and catch up with a group of friends.

The biggest con of this place would be the food. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but it wasn’t delicious either. I’m not Mongolian, but personally I felt that the food tasted like nothing special. It could have been something I botched up on at home and just ate as my lunch for the rest of the week because it wasn’t a terrible botch up. Nothing special, nothing great. The problem with that though is that this restaurant’s draw is the very fact that it’s a Mongolian style restaurant, so we’re walking into the restaurant with some higher than average expectations on the food.

Final outcome? Check it out at least once. I think the vibe of the place is worth it. The portions aren’t bad either if you pile it high. Don’t worry, the food will definitely fit 😉 Just stack vertically.

Two Saturdays before my birthday

Good late morning!

Yesterday after work I went out with a friend/co-worker to Lenox Mall. It was fun. I had some higher expectations of Lenox Mall to be honest, but I also went when it was almost closing hour, so maybe I didn’t get the full experience. I did get this nice pair of pants at Loft for $21 though; I feel like I am awesome for getting such sweet deals. Percentage off times percentage off, brought the price down by like $45. I’m reveling in my shopaholic sweet deals success, hohoho! So, it’s Saturday morning, and you’d think maybe I’d feel pretty amazing after a successful deal like that, but I don’t.
I had a goal to apply for one job last night, I didn’t. It’s been about a week since I said I would start applying to jobs, and I did not do even one application yet. Sure, life happens, you work 9-5, you’ve gotta go home and figure out what to eat, etc etc, but it’s excuses. I found time to watch Netflix and go shopping, why couldn’t I find time to apply for a job?

Anyways, so I get up to have breakfast and figure out how I’m going to be productive for the day. I get downstairs, and see that there are two soups that have been left out overnight, and a new plate of tomato eggs. Why were the soups left out? What the heck, kitchen rules 101, right?! Well, whatever. It’s pretty common to have 98% of the kitchen rules 101 broken. So I eat some tomato eggs, and listen to the wind and watch the sunshine. It’s really great weather recently. Upper 70s with some breeze almost the entire week, today is no exception. As I’m rinsing my bowl post-breakfast, I see through the half-opened slats of the window blinds that the dead leaves rustling around in a circle, because the wind is doing that strange yet common thing where it creates a verrrryy miniature and momentary tornado on the ground. It’s cool. I watch the leaves scurry around, and the moment comes where I’m hit by the question of how well do I even know my friends? I was thinking in particular of one person at that moment, but really it relates to all the people I call my friends.The one friend in particular I was thinking about has been friends with me since 2008 or 2009? It’s been nearly 10 years at this point, but really I do not know who this guy is. What is his favorite food, what are his dreams in more than just one or two over-generalized sentences, what is his guilty ‘sin’, who are his best friends and closest friends? I feel like these are pretty general to know about friends. Favorite food maybe not, because honestly, all my friends love food and we can’t really choose just one, but the rest are things I think should be known as a friend. I know all the answers for some people, maybe half the answers for others, and perhaps none for still some others. It felt a little lonely when I realized I’ve stranded myself from others. I’m an over-thinker though, so maybe I’m just working myself up in the moment.

Well, that’s it really. It’s a freshly baked idea, because literally I was forming these ideas in my mind 30 minutes or less ago, and now it’s all cracked and spilled out here. It feels like a bit like a diary entry, haha; welcome to my heart.

Extra note: A lawn service guy rang the doorbell, and I think he thought I was in high school. The humor in this is just the thing to bring me out of this “Oh, I’m so lonesome” over thinking process. Good day to you all.

Hands in my pants – Poem in progress

First Draft

Dad’s hand in my pants,
underneath the underwear.
How old am I?
Old enough to recognize the strange look sis gave me meant ew and that this is weird.
That look makes me feel shamed and embarrassed.
I hold onto this feeling any time a man tries to remove my clothing.
How old am I?
Old enough to realize that I’m receiving looks that mean why are you so strange? I thought this was mutual?
so did i.
I can’t help this feeling of awkward shame, guilt, and embarrassment.
Maybe it’s not mutual,
just aggression received with passive acceptance.
Does it matter? No. I have accepted this happened.
To me it is nothing but an old boxed memory in storage that when brought out makes me feel and remember
Am I damaged goods? No, I am only plagued by ew when that memory is brought out.
Does this memory disturb me? No.
Does it disturb the way I live my life? No, not at all.
Dad’s hand in my pants,
Well, there have been several hands in my pants since ew,
Am I damaged because of those hands? No.
I am well, I am healthy, I am happy, I am sad, I am neutral.
I just am, and I am ok with that.


So, definitely defiiiiinitely first draft right now. Not sure when I’m going to fix it up, but I’ll keep the handwritten version near me in case any ideas come up and I’ll update it here too. This poem came to me because I thought about how so many people seem to pity or feel awkward about a person when some big secret that’s not a social norm comes out. Example, having potentially been molested as a child by your own father. Well, yeah. I probably was, and me saying probably is just my way of coping with yeah, it really did happen, but only probably really happened. In any case, I don’t think it has made me in any way unable to function socially with people or society. There’s this image I have in my mind that people act awkward and weird towards people who’ve had moments like this in their life. Really though, why? We are who we are. If you liked me as I was prior to me telling you this happened, why treat me any different because of this new fact? I am who I was when you liked me prior to the fact because of my history. Just because you now know the history makes no difference in the me you liked before the fact, and the me you (hopefully still like) after the fact. Well, anyways. I just wanted to to express that I feel normal, and shit like this is normal because it happens often enough for people to write about.

A Move for a Change

Good afternoon to any and all,

I know I haven’t posted much on my blog, but I think today is the day I’m going to start actively changing my habits.

I moved to Atlanta about six months ago in hopes of freedom, change, and independence, and  you know, all the dreams that a fresh out of college graduate has. I was full of hope and energy, ready to take on the challenges that were sure to arise. I totally deflated and ended up settling, ha! I didn’t do it consciously, but I definitely allowed my fall into it, and I’ve only just recently become consciously aware that yes, I have fallen and settled into the little hole I fell into. I currently work a tiny entry-level position job as a coordinator in a small company. The company is cool, definitely, and I would never have accepted the job if I didn’t have any interest in the company, but it’s not related to my major (English, surprise surprise) and it isn’t where I see myself several years down the line.

I thought a lot about the move here, and then I thought a lot about the position I am in now. I learned that I’m a total freshie, a newbie, and there’s a lot I have left to learn and experience, and that that excites the heck out of me still. It makes me feel anxious and ready to jump toward the future, again. I know of course that responsibility and keeping a roof over my head comes first, so I’m certainly not going to quit or figuratively jump ships too quickly yet, but I’m getting ready to. My first move for this change is going to be this blog post. Like I said earlier, I haven’t been keeping up with this blog at all, and I ‘m not sure that I’ll do any regularly scheduled posts, but at the least I want to and intend to let my thoughts flow out here rather than being kept locked up in my mind as just invisible conversations to myself.

I’m excited! I’ve got people who support me in this move for a change, although they don’t realize I’ve coined this change as a cute little motivational blog title line. I’ve also got an updated resume, and a couple of jobs open that I intend to apply for. There’s no use just sitting around, unless you’re sitting to recover your HP (haha, does anyone get that joke?) I’m starting this week of optimistically. I hope and dream for the best. Let’s do this, me!

Dear Grandma, a poem

Dear Old Lady,

My old, old lady keeps talkin’ shit
about me behind my back.
“What a heartless daughter”
she spreads that to the gathered.
My father has cancer.
I don’t know no further,
But dad ain’t old and decrepit, so quit causin’ dispute
and callin’ me a heartless daughter, trick.

He left momma and me quicker than a broke entrepeneur,
so fast I couldn’t even feel anger.
Granny, let’s look at my dad again, flashback.
He and my momma commit,
nothin’ comes between ’em but a pack.
Smoke it, drink it! Four siblings and some years later
I’ve got somethin to wonder over
cause that ain’t a lover’s hand crawlin’ down my pants.

Oh grandma, no, let me finish, I insist.
Papa had a tent but it wasn’t at home out back.
He had it set up for a honker
and before I could really wonder, he left mama for her.
Grandma, your hands seem a little slack.

I’ll admit, when it comes to dad, love might as well quit
but don’t have a fit, I’m takin the Amtrak.
I’ll do what’s proper,
so stop callin’ me a heartless daughter,
like he deserves a father of the year plaque.