It has been awhile… even since I thought about building my portfolio, and starting my own design company. Everything still seems unfinished, and incomplete. The odd thing is, while watching everyone else’s achievements, where are mine?

I can step out to enjoy the afternoon, the Gay Pride Parade, and a number of other activities, but I have managed to coccon myself here, meaning to complete a list of activities that was never finished… but always thought of, somewhere lingering in my head. It has already been a year since I’ve started to work at Deloitte, and it has been a year since I’ve lived in this apartment, but within this year, has much changed? Have I accomplished something that I wish to gain? I’m only being to discover more and more problems, issues, conflicts. Am I ranting again? It seems right. A part of me really wants to go for a swim, to go out side and enjoy myself… but there are so many things that needs to be done. If that’s the case, when will they be done?

1. Design
2. Usability
3. Work
4. Work after work
5. Taking care of myself
6. Photography
7. Weight loss
8. Advertising
9. Learning
10. Self-improvement
11. Career
12. Finance
13. Real estate

This list just keeps on growing… too many lose threads, when will I be able to focus and accomplish something thought provoking? Go out, meet new people, develop a career, build on things, what else can I do? How should I focus… what do I want to accomplish? How should I prioritize.

Career.

My first focus. Which path do I want to take? Should I focus on one particular thing? Will consulting really get me there? What will help me establish myself? A portfolio? Take classes? How does it start? And how will it end? Questions, and never answers.

It’s a bit difficult to post here for the past couple of weeks. Tomorrow I have to call Virgin mobile again to re-set my password… the annoyance of it all.

The new project has been pretty fun. My teammates are supportive and friendly.

Maybe this is the end… let it be.

It’s difficult to post here on a consistent basis… especially when I get home, all I want to do is to carry on some equally brainless activities, such as, socializing or couch-potatoing. How should I explain myself to a friend whom no longer understands my world? That, time is scarce, and that I am consistently working against the clock? The portfolio… 6 years in the making? Maybe I should take the vacation, rent a house in the east coast, and just… finish it. But where do I start? How will it progress? What is the time frame? A writer with, what’s that word again, writer’s block, constantly pounding the pavement, in hopes that the cracked pavement will spring something anew. These are just jumbled thoughts and mangled ideas.

Time to drive back… for another busy Monday morning.

It’s difficult to cover you from head to toe. These thoughts, these emotions, are difficult to surface. But it is there, in a silent uproar. The mistakes that you silently judge, the actions that you rightfully accuse of. The mistakes, yet, they are embedded in yourself. Odd, how the balance is non-existent. If there is any moment that is not remembered, perhaps it is this.

This is my attempt at writing a longer post. There is no need, when the content is only surface deep. Much of what is inside, a shallow well. Cayman islands. Time to reflect and understand, pause to breathe. There is always time, but the energy to concentrate and work? Where have they gone? Flow away with the winter storm… Ideas, thoughts creativity, seems forced, and depressed. Suppressed. Memories, 1 2 3. Where have they flown to?

Remember the nights when you were able to fall asleep being aware of your existence? It’s difficult now to think of these things. There is an eagerness to go back and return to what was thought to be happiness. Perhaps acceptance is the best.

It’s difficult to feel creative again. Maybe it’s necessary to acknowledge that I have moved into a different stage of life, where design and artistic expression is left for the passionate… business cannot co-exist with lavish expression… and money cannot be painted. A bit sad, but as much as this is true, it can’t be true. The wakeup song.

That’s not my name.

There are too many things left to be done, but time seems to fly by and eagerness seems to be drowned by a simple desire to rest and maintain.

Damien Rice, string your tunes in the background.

Hotel room… what once was my stranger, now brings comfort and familiarity. Embrace. It’s hard to feel you again. The emotion that’s struggling to appear under the voices, voices of happiness, voices of laughter.

Yet that silence is not to be found. Hidden in a well, hidden in flesh, hidden behind caged doors, hidden. Focus. Feel. Embrace. Find yourself. Like his voice, raspy, like emotions in the sky. explode. How does it feel like, to be living under your skin? A person who has been acknowledged as a failure for your entire life? Hurt? Scared? Who is it to blame? Your upbringing? Your genetics? How far will you go?

Breathe.

Our improvement, how will it be decided this weekend? How will he handle it? Fearless. Teardrop on the fire, fearless on my breath. Nine nights of matter, black flowers blossom.

Less than perfect. Step by step.

Tonight, we will talk. our hearts out.

Loud bangs in the morning.

Aging. Less awareness. Maybe it’s because of this.

Rush to type this, rush to experience that. You are 39. What would you be? Where would you go? Youth is disappearing. Would you really be able to change?

Strange innocence. Writing here in front of the screen, with no thoughts in mind but just a tired concious waiting to be awaken. The battle is never won. Ignoring it implies peace. Maybe so. He finally came to an understanding. It was a feel-good-conversation. Why was it difficult to accept? Wrapped, twisted. Something to update. This is my hide out. Yet, it’s hard to free. The bubble.

Paint. Paint brush. Art shop. Tonight. Creativity. Draw. Release.

He is a sad excuse for a human. His words, his lies, and his trickery. Everyday, I wake up wishing he ceased to exist.

The boyfriend has been supportive and caring; the coworkers, understanding.

Our steps are almost there, amidst all this, retaliation, is a word that I will never forget.

Calm, a storm. Monday, the consequences. Scared. Afraid. Anger, rage. Hatred. Sad excuse. How can such a human exist? How can reality be twisted so much that it no longer makes sense?

Explosions in the sky. I love you.

Atlas Shrugged, I have been reading it again, to find my morals, my values, the right and the wrong.

Honey, I am home.

Never thought.

Never in a world, I could have thought such individuals existed… but only in dramas and soap operas. Sing a song of jadedness. Mike Mills, and your repetitive tones. How can such a manipulative, controlling individual exist?

Improvise.

Only until the end of April.

New project, new beginning.