Here we are again

I always forget to write when things are good. It was a very busy week. Parties birthdays, shows, photoshoots, a movie, a date(of sorts), suspension, and a farewell to a good friend.

Alot of our models are becoming good friends, an I either go out to hang out with them, or end up seeing them everywhere I go. I got kidnapped twice this week, once for a sushi "date", and once for a last minute photoshoot, which turned into a farewell party... On average when I leave the house, I don't get home until around noon the next day. So I guess I'm being alot more social.

A friend of over a decade had a bday party, with drum n bass djs and suspension acts... Tons of fun. Left there, sat at a friends house and we discussed collaboration.

I'm leaving out about a million things here, but life is good currently.

The illness is still in the household, but hopefully it's getting better. Yesterday was filled with cryptic questions.

Good god!

It's been a great week, and I'll write about it more later... When I have time. The main thing I have to say....

Would you just kiss me and get it over with?!? I'm so patient, but I do want some affirmation, beautiful.

Damn I have so much to write about. I'll catch you all up. Today isn't any slower than the past 4.

It's been an odd week, ups and downs, mom got out of the hospital today, but it's too early. I couldn't tell at first but her speech is still very confused, and I'm afraid she is still hiding medications she should be on. If what is in the kitchen is an indication of what she's taking, they put her on less than she was on before. She wasn't even taking that correctly, she hid an anti-psychotic from us for 8 months.

I've started work with the short webisodes we will be producing, and I went out a couple nights this week, even had some company over earlier in the week. I'll be attending my friends birthday friday, there will be suspension acts at the party.

I've adjusted to being alone, and I guess I just don't care. The person I liked is with someone else, I gave up on a couple other people that liked me because it was all too shallow. There is someone I enjoy spending time with, but it's so complicated I'm not sure it'll ever be anything other than a friendship. Mine is a path of solitude now. I'm lucky enough to have a few people I can actually call friends right now, that should be enough.

I keep forgetting I have a few shoots to finish processing. The days blur together and I lose track of things.

Stained glass windows long empty hall

This is where the subject line of my previous post cam from: I wrote this about 16 years ago, it's about me as a child dealing with my mothers mental illness, I can't find the original, and can't remember a couple parts, if I remember or find it, I'll ammend this post:

In the corner scene surreal, a young child doesn't know how to feel.
(I can't remember this part)

Stained glass windows, long empty halls, mommys in the pretty white house with the padded walls.

Mommys in the pretty white house.

Have fun on vacation mom. She'll be back in a few days I'm sure. She's doing her annual visit to the lovely city of phych ward. We've been sitting here for three hours waiting for her to be committed. Numbness. People don't understand how this effects us to commit her so often.
After several conversations that didn't make sense, we knew today was the day. I don't feel like typing from a hospital room, so this will be brief. I don't really want to explore how this all makes me feel until I'm back in the safety of my home. Right now I just focus on choking down this massive panic attack I'm hiding to seem strong.
It should be just about departure time... Have fun on vacation mom.

Ouch not really what I typed but close enough.

I was typing and kept swerving into new rants, wanted to focus more on one thing that plagues me lately, how lonely I am. Seeing as I've typed this once already, and it got destroyed I'll try to focus in on the important parts this time around.

I overthink everything, that causes me to miss chances with those I care for. I'm growing apart as we speak from someone very dear to me, and feel powerless to do anything more than watch.
My other shortlived attempts have been stopped by me before they got out of hand, I noticed unhealthy patterns and decided to not even start something I would regret.

Others have approached me, a couple all but threw themselves at me, but for certain reasons I knew it'd be a bad choice to seek anything with them, and I'm really not the one night stand type.

What do I miss you ask? (yes I'm putting words in your mouth now)

I miss laying next to someone and feeling them fall asleep in my arms. I miss waking up and seeing them staring at me, contently. I miss walks because it's tuesday, sitting outside and talking about nothing important. I miss staying in, because while going out is great, sometimes it distracts from spending time and talking with the only person you care to spend time with. I'm an emo girl at heart. I'm going to watch Benny and join and cry... Not really, but that'd be appropriate after this paragraph.
I'm tired of typing this. I'd rather be making someone laugh, and smile.

Side note, always type in offline apps, then copy and paste. Less chance of things getting stupid. This retype went somewhere else altogether and I forgot some really nice things I had to say about someone.

Crap.

I typed something really long, and a notification popped up as I was typing, closed the app and it forgot everything I typed. Curse you, I was on a roll too. I'll try to recreate it...

If I were a book, would I be hardback?

I wish I could write a book about my life, but upon reflection, it'd be more of a "what not to do" type of book. It's so easy to pinpoint bad choices, and try to avoid making them again. The problem is my life, in my opinion, has slowed to a crawl avoiding all the possible mistakes. Maybe those mistakes have to be made to find the beautiful moments in life, nothing ventured nothing gained and all those other quotes I don't feel like repeating.

Hiding in my house most of the time certainly isn't going to help me find love, friendship or any other shared human experience worth discovering. I've worked really hard to be more social, but often it leads me to wonder if there is anyone left I relate to on any significant level. People are wonderful, complex creatures, and everyone has some trait or knowledge that makes them beautiful and unique, but so many souls stifle that beauty, they hide it in shame.
Why must individuality cause so much stress and pain? I hate to think of a sea full of drone faceless putty, conformity is not a natural instinct, it's a learned process brought on by fear, taught it schools, barked from pulpits, and shown on television.

If I were to write a book about myself what would it be called? Rapid fire answers, some automatic writing, if you will:
"How to marry a junkie, clean them up to have your children, only to have junkie steal them after you kick her out" no too long.

"babysit your kids or make it to band practice, which is right for you?"
Eh, we all know how that one went wrong no matter what I chose.

"Learning to not live life by hiding from it, a cautionary tale of love and loss, then the void it all leaves after."

"how to not be recognized for your actual accomplishments, but for stupid rumors people start"

Ok I'm bored with that now. Rather than ellaborate on any of that, I'll leave it as is... Go ahead and judge those books on the covers, that's all you get.

Life, people and other great mistakes.

Hmm, personal life or professional life first. I guess the lines blur sometimes so let's just jump in. The last photoshoot was a mix of party and photography, and some ended up how should we say... Not exactly art, drunk people do funny things. Photographers tend to document. 12 hours of photography and debauchery and over 1000 images to sort. Of that maybe 10 will really make the cut. Wouldn't be so bad, but I was mostly shooting in raw not jpeg so I have to open each image one by one.
We went out for about an hour between photography visited zeal, and attempted to go to makeout. They told me "your pants are too long" I was wearing shorts. Two people dressed similar walked right in. And I saw photos from the evening, of one of my other models wearing shorts just like mine. So I'll be talking to Johan(runs makeout, dj friend). Bad choice doorman.
Everytime I get interested in someone they mess with my head, second time recently, I'm just glad I didn't actually start dating either of them. Wonderful people, I just don't like head games.
Hmm there's more I want to ellaborate on here, but Id rather keep some of my professional demeanor here, so I'll choose not to mention certain events.
I've also been doing design work on yet another website, we are retooling currently to redesign even though the site has launched.
I've been asked to take part in a model competition, that leads up to a fashion show, if I participate I will probably be bringing models of mine with me. The photographers involved have alot of opportunities so it may be a good option.

I spoke to my amazing children tonight, I really miss them, they start school in a few hours, I really miss being the one that packed lunchs cooked breakfast, and picked out clothes for them.

I guess I glossed over the love life, so let me backtrack a bit here. I am choosing to be alone, I've spent some time with someone I thought I liked this week, and they are great, but they don't measure up to the person I really like, and I'm pretty sure neither cares I'm alive, even though one invites me out all the time, and flirts constantly, and the other has random moments that confuse the hell out of me, she opens up and seems to care, then vanishes. It wears me out, I need something stable, or nothing at all. I have a kind heart, and lead a pretty interesting life, it'd be great to share it, but I'm not holding my breath.
There is an artist and musician collective that have asked me to join them, I guess in this case I'd be both, they hold meetings and just make art and music in mass. Sounds great. A few other photographers and businesses have approached me about collaboration. While I have to remain wary of collaborating it does sound good.
Had a guitarist lay down tracks for the brothers darqly today, I haven't had time to cut, eq and mix them in yet, but hopefully they work out.
I've been handing out demos to djs lately just to spread our work a bit more locally, I garner little interest in performing here, I've done that for years, it's just nice to promote in your hometown as albums finish and tours are planned. That was the main reason I was trying to go to the club, to get Johan and Francis CDs, but doormen are morons.
There's actually alot I'm leaving out here, I don't want anyone to feel weird about my open banter and mentioning too much about their lives.
Blah blah blah tons to do, we start filming this week too, there is a big photoshoot I've been planning, but my weeks fill up too fast to get it all worked out. I had models picked, but they won't keep in touch about scheduling, so I may pick different people. The location is amazing.

This is the part.

This is the part where I can say "please God, someone help me" and I get no response. I could put signs on every door down the street. I could tattoo it across my forehead, but somehow, no one hears, or just doesn't bother answering.
No one cares anymore. I guess I'm lucky people did care for so many years.
I'll blockade my door and try to return to sleep. I don't feel safe right now. I can hear the restless, aimless scampering of feet, and sadly it creeps me out. Fear should be one thing not welcome in the household.

Sleep.

I awake to the sound of sobbing, loud sobbing. I'm pulled out of rem so hard that I'm still shaking.
I ran into the hallway and asked what was wrong. "I tried to talk to her, she got upset." my brothers voice answered. I try to calm and shake it off, she emerges saying we hate her, and spouting other negative thoughts, saying she wishes it would kill her.
We just want her to be ok, to get better I try to explain. Since before I can remember it's been tabboo to talk about until it's gone full blown.
It was hard making it through my meltdown, I almost had myself committed, now it's that time of year again. Time to deal with the family "secret".

Written 217 days ago, Jan 11th
(keep in mind it's not current, even though it's similar to what's happening now)

I remember drawing a simple square, with a triangle on top, with four people standing beside it a man, woman, and two boys. I wasn't drawing this with paper, nor was I using a pen, or crayon. I was using my finger, drawing on the side of a velvet chair, I was helping my mom cheat, she had to draw a picture of what her house and family looked like. I was six years old. I was six years old, the first time a dr. Took me in a room and told me someday my mommy would get sick and not get better, she would have to stay in a hospital, he asked if I understood, I nodded and he left.
Some part of you hardens, some part adapts, but a big part of you hurts, and gets scared, like a revisitation to that six year old boy, trying to be strong.
She's sick again, second time this year, why so frequent? What will they choose to call it this time? Manic depression, graves disease, thyroid problems, dehydration, low potassium, it's been misdiagnosed plenty. Manic depression was it's name for years, I've met manic depressives, now called bi polar disorder, they are moody, extremely so in cases, this is beyond moody. This is mania, dementia, some doctors have dared to mention psychosis.
I've lost my own children twice, and while she is not directly to blame, it's definately a factor.
Imagine for a minute, not only losing your mother for a couple weeks a year, but not knowing who she was going to be when she returned, she was always different, not always worse, just different tendencies, different ways of talking, and carrying herself.
In every instance, taking her to a psych unit was the final step, but we knew when when it was over she would return, and everything would be alright, at least for another year.
This year has been different. This year she only made it eight months before being hospitalized again, they actually kept her longer than the 72hr hold that has been the norm the past few years. When she returned home about five days ago, we suspected things weren't quite over yet, she has been digressing quickly back into the same state she was in before she went in. What is the next step? If the hospital and medication don't help, where do you turn?
I'm no stranger to mental instability, between drug addiction as a teenager, and several concussions, I understand what it's like to have things not quite fit back together, after each concussion I get frustrated, my spelling gets a bit worse. She doesn't seem to accept and attack her illness from a healthy standpoint though, she won't stay on medication, and she talks as if we just can't understand her, it's not her though.
I thought it took place before I was born, but last week found out I was an infant. My brother was nine, she was at home with us, he got scared because she had a pair of scissors behind her back, and was talking strange. That was the first time we know of, that she got sick. She has broken statues in catholic hospitals, thought she was Moses, talked of the bible, and even early America as if it were currently that time period. She talks in riddle, nonsense, things you can almost understand, but don't quite make sense. Things become a conspiracy.
Often stress and sleep abnormalities lead to her beginning to get sick, she checks out mentally If things get too hectic.
The family had to adapt over the years, for a long time we dealt with it when it came up, and acted like everything was normal when it was over. We tried a proactive approach attempting to talk openly about it, but part of you feels like you are betraying her to talk about it too much. Eventually each year it quiets, passes, and we try to move on, but she stops her medication and slips again. These days we still try to be proactive but it doesn't seem to help.

Find your way home.

Written 824 days ago, I barely remember writing it, unthinkable I was on one of my long late night walks:

Through the looking glass
You couldnt find your way home
Its not where you lay your head
But with whom you roam

Pick up the glass and you will see
What life could offer when lived with me
The distorted refractions of light shown through bright
A new reality
the old one dissapears from sight.

The browography of Lucid S. Darqly

Loss of emotion, it seems a dark subject. Through time you learn to deal with numbness or find some way to move on. Some people take things for granted, I was born mostly of Indian heritage, and grew to be somewhat hairy. But at a young age I noticed I was different from other children. While hair seemed in abundance all over my body, it seemed to have missed the mark in a few critical areas. While my sideburns were oddly flourishing, and my goatee a thing to be admired... There was something wrong. Above my eyes, and well below my hairline, was a sad and lonely void, what most people call a brow or forehead, was devoid of any hair whatsoever.
You may stop here, and think, "so what? A child with no eyebrows." but we must look deeper, delve into the very soul of a man, to understand body language, my emotions were lost on people. Even experimental facial recognition software fails to work on me. At the age of 9 my parents decided I would need glasses, I wear them to this day, not to correct my vision but to mask the deformation. Step back and imagine how it feels to not correctly display shock, curiousity or even flirt. This led me to feel ostrisized by the other children, I did learn how to strengthen my other facial features to compensate, I could flex my ears in ways to tilt or raise my glasses to insinuate gesture. Eye doctors experimented with radical ideas, starting simple, placing hair from midwestern hare, a common rabbit, on the top of my glasses frames. This proved to be less than satisfactory, as every time I had to clean my lenses, someone would scream. Next was radical surgery to attempt to remove my sideburns, and stich them to my brow, this proved a faulty process as my brow rejected the hair, every morning I woke to hairloss, until I was back to square one. Finally for years, i dealt with acceptance, living in an emotionless world, I couldn't tell jokes, love was always out of reach, because women believed I just didn't care. As i felt more of an outcast I lashed out. Tattoos, and dreadlocks, I turned myself into a monster, because I already felt I was. Finally one day I realized maybe I can compensate in some way... Cosmetic tattooing is somewhat of an under appreciated artform, but I learned i could easily tattoo eyebrows on.
So the day finally came, I made an appointment with a talented artist. He looked over my face, took measurements and did several stencils before realizing the placement was nearly impossible through traditional means. Time to go back to radical ideas. I head read about a rare practice some poor souls underwent that could not grow moustaches. The fingers were the answer. Thus far I have undergone two lengthy sessions, and will probably need two more for full prosthetic eyebrows. I has to hire a fulltime in home rehabilitation specialist to teach me exactly when to reach up and how to angle my fingers to properly convey the emotion I needed. I still struggle regularly, forgetting when I'm holding something in one hand, I end up unibrow, which usually frightens off potential friends. I was lucky enough to date a girl for a while, that had an odd eyebrow fetish, she would lick the stumps on my face while I stuck my prosthetics places no gentleman should ever mention.
If this was enjoyable, you may want to read on. There have been several stories over the years I've been forced to make up, just to hide my true pain. Here are a few.
The first ever was that I was so moved by Pink Floyd's the wall, I decided to emulate his life. The next was hearing Marilyn Manson say on povitch "kids shave off your eyebrows, and kill your parents"
When aggrevated I'd simply say I lost them in the war, to which I'd always get the same reply "what war? You don't look old enough for any of the major ones" really? Pathetic that was supposed to be my way of saying fuck off, instead they question it further. Just last night I told someone I had a kind viatnamese woman who works downtown, she only charges me .50 an eyebrow to have them waxed. Saying I like the sting of sweat in my eyes when I jog.
When I'm feeling frisky I tell stories of waking to find a note on my pillow. "dear face, we aplogize, but we have left you for a face with more emotion, please don't call,let us find true happiness" rumor has it they joined with hasselhoff and were never seen again.
Another I randomly told, I awoke to find I was covered in blood, I freaked and rushed to the hospital. Upon getting cleaned up, the nurses saw that I wasn't injured, but I was missing my beloved eyebrows. A few hours into the police search my left eyebrow was found crudely shoved in the garbage disposal, and the right couldn't be found. After over three months, FBI found the right eyebrow hiding out in Mexico on a Spanish mans lip, he blended almost perfectly. Upon questioning the only reasoning he gave, was a fit of jealousy, as when I was curious, I always only raised my left brow. He just didn't get enough attention, not to mention in my younger days I had peirced my left eyebrow, making the right feeling plain, all the other eyebrows never noticed him.
I can't convey the emotion(literally) of having to identify my limp eyebrow at the forensic salon, they actually had to take hair samples to be certain,then attend one eyebrows funeral, to turn around months later and have to identify my eyebrow in a lineup of potential hair based criminals, and to sit front row through court cases, and attending when they took out the death sentence.
Alot of men are judged by the job they have, earning a living by the sweat of their brow,but this would blind me in a manner of days, I've been forced to make up stories of severe anxiety, or work in the hvac ac installation field,or deep freezer butcher shops to avoid sweat.
Surely you can see this has been a hard road to travel, but with my new prosthetics I'm learning to cope even joining a group, HA, hairloss anonymous. Most of the other members have very different but empowering stories of their own.
In closing I'd like to remind everyone I'm actually typing this with my brow fingers, I'd give a general knowing glance, or some form of affirmation glance, but my fingers are too busy typing to complete the look.

So it's out there.

I guess people may actually be reading this now. It won't change how I share my thoughts. I'm eternally open about how I feel, I don't share these things with many people in person, because I assume they don't care.
Only a couple exceptions have been made, that I showed people this or that i opened up much about my feelings recently. Even of those two, one showed they didn't care, by giving up when I needed them most.
So here we are the writer and the reader, face to face in a way. I use my iPod usually to write here, so I can't comment on my posts, but I guess if you have anything to say about any of this there is a comment section.
Aside from that I'll not know you're ever here, and just continue writing everything. I skip over the good parts from time to time, but all the bad things make it here. Names won't be mentioned and people won't be affected... Other than me.
What you'll probably read over the next few days is very hard to write about. I didn't get to see my kids for summer, there were a few reasons for that, maybe I should get it off my chest already. I'm going to be forced to watch my mother break down, day by day, until she's sick enough to commit, that'll be a good read. I'm going to miss my own dr appointment because now I won't be able to afford it. Maybe I can document mental breakdown number 3(I wasn't blogging during the 1st one). Maybe I'll keep moving forward and find the strength to repair this broken man, maybe.

Creature

Something I wrote 473 days ago, attempted putting it to music but was never satisfied with the result:

She ,she comes from another place
A place that knows no sleep
She comes from the deep

I hear her calling me, her siren song
It's drawing me,and I know it won't be long.

The sounds hit my ears, and wash away my fears
Like a willing trip to hell, I've fallen for her spell
She's snared me in, has me in her grasp
Now fight for life, for air I have to gasp

All creatures of myth and legend
Are not fully based on deception
Some are founded in on our reality
This such creature is always haunting me

This is not just the sirens befalling
It seems to be every womans calling
Once They have lured you in
Youre Never to be heard from again

Signing off.

This is me giving in. This is me giving up.
After all I went through in July, and after the initial meltdown I was stronger than ever, but now I'm done.
The harder I try, the more the universe screws me over. Now I have to deal with my mothers mental illness again, and the very real possibility of becoming homeless. She gambled away her entire paycheck, didn't pay bills and didn't refill her medications. Our lease is up in a few weeks, and we were supposed to move. Within a few days she will probably spiral down until the point of being committed for the second time this year. Her job gets less tolerant of it everytime and doesn't really understand the full situation.
After deaths, divorce, loss of children, attempted suicide, loss of love and a meltdown in July. This is what gets me. Signing off.

A return to me

Obviously I've had a great week, or you would have heard about it here. I still feel the need however to fill you in. I've been approached about 3 new music projects that garner my interest, and a couple others that just sound fun to tinker with.
I have two photoshoots booked this week, and my ex wants to get back into booking me shoots for profit, hard to say no to cash from time to time.
I guess the main reason I feel the need to write tonight, is because the stronger I grow, and the better I feel, the more lonely I become. I sat at a dear friends birthday party last night, and as girl after girl approached me, I couldn't even pretend to be interested. One person has a monopoly on my thoughts, and I fear on my heart. It should be a joyous occasion that I actually like someone, but it seems to be unrequited. I'm not sure what to do with that, but I am certain that if I can't have her, I won't settle this time. I'd rather be lonely and work too much to keep my thoughts at bay, than be with someone I don't want to be with merely because they want me. I can't even remember the last time I had a crush on someone, I always get chased. At least there is some peace in knowing I won't do something foolish with someone I don't care for, I just wish I knew how she felt, I know at one point she liked me, and I was honest that I have feelings for her.
I return to my work, healthier than I've been in years, and more confused than I've been in years... Ahh the joys of life.

Just a day.

Spent half the day watching photography tutorials... Always important to keep learning new techniques. Excited about our video projects, now that we are working with a new cameraman, his camera actually detects my bluescreen good enough that we can use chroma key. Bluescreen opens up a world of possibility.
Starting to get some direction on a spoken word piece I'm writing music for, once that's done it'll be a video, so I'm trying to conceptualize where to take the footage.
My increase in exercise is starting to speed up my metabolism which is good, but it's also increasing my appetite. If I had something more important to say about my personal life, I wouldve put it right there. It's actually calming to feel my life calm down.
Skipped out on movie night with the people we will be filming with, but I wish I wouldve went, I thought it'd be a few people crammed in an apartment... Apparently it was 25 people in a reserved theater. Lesson learned, I won't be skipping movie night again.