today i ate

1 cup red grapes
1 slice of whole wheat toast w/ creamy soy butter
1 bottle of Green Machine
2 cups green salad w/ balsamic vinaigrette
8oz. vegetarian asparagus soup
6 ginger chicken potstickers
1 banana
half an apple

I wonder how many calories that is....

no title

Why do I keep denying it? I love to sing. I really do. It really brings me joy. I need to do it more often. But I want to hone it, my voice, too. Not just sing in my car. I don't want to be famous, I just want to sing and stir in people emotions with the song I sing.

Step 1- Singing lessons, maybe?
Step 2- Karaoke nights?
Step 3- Open mic nights?

Sleeping pill kicking in....

One more thing

I made the most delicious Peach Crisp and hand whipped cream. I even surprised myself.
Perfect marriage of peach, buttery crumble top and chantilly cream.
Let's have the pictures do all the justice:

Meanderings

My sleeping pill is kicking in and I'll probably read this tomorrow and not even remember writing this.

Of late, I have been craving to get high on pills. It's more of a feeling: It's the feeling I would get when I was laid up in the hospital and the nurse would pull up to the door of my room, check my vitals, then ask me what my pain level is. I would lie and say a level 9. The filipina nurse would then turn on her reebok'd heel back to her cart built like an armored truck. Inside is the entire floors supply of medication that can only be administered by the RN. The key to unlock the "safe" is hooked by one of those retractable belt thingies around her small waist. In the hallway, she would pull out a glass vial from a concrete case. Inserting the needle into the bottle top she pulls back the plunger to a desired cc. After returning the vial in the "safe" the nurse breaks off the needle, leaving only the syringe that is now a perfect male fit to my female IV.

Then she would walk towards me with a nice motherly smile. At this point, my brain is firing off a million miles per hour anticipating getting my fix. On the outside, I have grimaced face to simulate level 9 pain that doesn't exist. Filipina nurse says, "Don't worry, this will help with all the pain." She then pull a small blue square out her pocket, rips it open to reveal an alcohol swab that she use to clean the insertion site on my IV line. Then she attaches the syringe full of dilaudid/morphine by a simple quarter turn, and slowly starts to push on the plunger. She goes slow since my vein is small and weak and does not want to "bust" the vein. She also goes slow because the opioids themselves burn inside the vein and can be very painful. The entire process is completely pleasurable to me, the anticipation of getting my fix up to the time the drugs actually reach my brain and I can barely keep my eyes open. I love it. I really really love it.

Its the same feeling I get when I have to use anesthesia for any procedure, like when had my wisdom tooth taken out. They gave me a cocktail called "Twilight" of a Benzodiazapine, a Barbituate, and an Opioid, like demerol, morphine or stadol. I love love love love love love Twilight. I would love to just take at home to chill the fuck out.

Man, my desires for these illicit things are still strong, that I don't really care about the consequences when i'm craving.

right now, i have 3-80mg Oxycontin. but I have no desire to take them, because I don't think I'm not going to like what how it will make me feel.

Time to pass out.

Good morning, it's wednesday!

Here's a typical thing. I haul ass to get to the farmers market by 7:30am. I arrive to get a text from my chef that he can't make it. A little perturbed, I am determined to be grateful of the change of plans. I buy a bag o'cherries and walk to the beach to bask in the morning light.

I need to change my paradigm.

This I know for sure

I'm chemically imbalanced. It's a constant battle between my body and my own desires to have mental peace and clarity. I'm hardwired differently because of my drug use of the past, at least that's what I've convinced myself. I'm pretty sure I would be able to "deal" with things better if I were on a consistent medication to elevate my mood, to "balance the imbalance". I choose not to medicate; instead, I "manage" it the best I can by keeping busy to create a sense of fulfillment, never allowing myself to just be still because I have myself convinced that if I just be still the negative thoughts will take over. So I mask them with busyness. Of course, the things I occupy myself with are never truly satisfying, but only wear me thin... Soon enough I'm ready to give up, tired, dissatisfied, hopeless and mildly depressed. My lethargy kicks in, my drive is non-existent, and I'm chastising myself for letting it get this far.

At my lowest point, I stay in bed, don't eat, surf the internet for another job and start considering ways to cut my cost of living (like moving to another apt or downgrading my cell phone plan). I'm filled with self doubt and impending doom. My biggest fear is that I'll be found out... that someone is going to figure out that I don't have my shit together, the shame that accompanies that, then the guilt of knowing that my life isn't bad at all and my feelings of inadequacy are forms of weakness and I need to remedy myself of personal defects and MAN UP!

So it begins all over again, the cycle of disparagement, until I'm completely brow-beaten--- a meek, insecure shell of my true self.
I think I've been in denial about the truth of my chemical makeup. I've always been afraid to ask for help or need someone; it's the stubborn in me Matigas ang ulo.

A year and half ago I started having these "dark spells," it coincided with a break up. A few month later I noticed that it paralleled my menstrual cycle. My pMS was a deep depression. I was diagnosed with PMDD, Pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder, and was prescribed Yaz. Within 3 months my PMS was "normal," but other side effects were weight gain. When I started to feel better mentally I decided to take stop taking Yaz. Immediately I started having extreme mood swings, mostly anger and rage. I had to be put back on Yaz. I'm wondering if the efficacy is wearing off on my PMDD...

So the cat is out of the bag: I'm nothing but flesh and bone.

I think you should know

I dropped out of school.

I don't want to be rich on paper, I want to rich in EXPERIENCE!!!!

I think I have Celiac Disease. The anemia, GI issues, GI bleeds, the eczema, the super bloat... I plan to call my Primary Care Physician to get a blood test done.

I'm very interested in taking up photography as a hobby. I lust the Canon EOS XTi. There are some on craigslist for less than $500, new unopened. That is what I want for my birthday.


I have gotten over my obsession with quitting or trying to get fired from my job. I looked out on the job listings and there is nothing out there that I have interest in doing AND for sure there are no listings that would even give me the personal freedom I have currently AND I really do not want to start all over again to get where I am financially.

I really need to start saving money. Every month I say "next month" and i never put away what I want. Instead, I "realize" that I need something or something big pops up, like new tires or brakes, that prevents me from putting away money. I have no discipline because I completely rely upon the next paycheck to come in. It's horrible. I wish I could live like this would be my last paycheck, I would rethink on some of my frivolous expenditures. But at the same time, I hear my Nanay saying, you can't take it with you. For example, I want to go to Hawaii for my birthday. I cannot justify not going just so I can save money. I want to experience life NOW. I don't want to be rich on paper I want to be rich in EXPERIENCE! So, yea, Charles and I are going to go away and bask in paradise. It will be worth every dollar I spend. Time spent with loved ones with the limited time we have on this earth has a bigger return of investment than some measly few percent the money would have made sitting in my bank account.

It's always YES to Lauren.

Breakfast blog

I'm moved into my new place.

I realize that I love change. I actually thrive on it. When life gets into a routine I like to shake it up a bit. I really seek grand adventures, to travel the world. I want children someday, but I don't know where that all fits in. There are still so many things I want to do on my own before I'm tethered by the responsibility of motherhood.

I do feel really blessed, I like the trail I've blazed so far.

I think a few people think my move is a step backwards, but sometimes you have to forsake somethings to be able to make leaps and bounds. All I keep thinking is my move to NorCal in 2 years. I feel relieved that I have goals besides being some worker bee drone. It may satisfy some people, but the idea of working day in and day out just irritates me. Ironically, I sought stability, and once I've achieved it I want to relieve myself of having to maintain it. Aren't I a contradiction?

I do hope to find a partner who embodies the same spirit I have. I am not attracted to those who settle, romantic or platonic. Most whom settle bitch and moan, but do nothing to change it.

Leah says that I date men not on my intellectual level. She's probably right. She thinks that difference is the catalyst that lead to an eventual rift in my relationships. Not one man in my history can I say, "He's so intelligent. He has so much to teach me." Well, maybe Michael had that potential, but I guess we'll never know... I don't have closure with that. Unrequited love, I think, is more painful than love that has met its demise. I still carry this ache in my heart that is dull, yet constant. Do not mistake this ache for hope, those have been dashed a long time ago. But I don't know how to make the ache go away. I battle everyday to try to love Michael unconditionally, but it is very hard. So I'd rather just mask it.

I've felt that I've made impact on my lovers lives, expanding their horizons, teaching them through my eyes. Even if it means just means showing them tolerance and patience in how I treat them. I can honestly take the credit for showing most how to communicate... how to "fight" properly. Eli was the worst in the beginning. He always threatened to leave, but when the first time he tried it and I didn't try to stop him or wasn't going to chase after him, he realized that threat had no power in my home. If he was frustrated he would take the time to cool off, rehearse what he wanted to say then deliver it in a calm manner. It was quite amazing to witness him evolve that way.

Carla's mom hasn't passed away yet. It's long drawn out death. It's horrible. She is not at peace with her mortality.

I'm hungry...

Bleeding vagina liberal

Today I have Math and English Assessment tests required by the college if one hasn't been in school over 5 years. I haven't taken a "test" in years, and after overcoming many real world challenges (like closing quarter million dollar deals) one would think a placement test would be a non anxiety provoking task... but I feel like I'm in 11th grade all over again, the feeling of dread seeming to grow and multiply within as the seconds of the day tick away.

I wonder if I can bring a calculator to the math test.

New York Institute of Technology is the DEVIL. Yes, Satan himself, tangibly formed into buildings, offices and all those satanic souls found in those offices. They are withholding my transcript because it on their record that I registered and attended classes in the Spring of 2000, all the while residing in one of the many run down campus dorms. This statement is fantastical and unfounded. You see, January 2000 I had voluntarily admitted myself into an out patient rehabilitation program for drug and substance abuse.

YES, Lindsay Lohan, I made Rehab cool before you had even started your menses.

NY Tech is seeking almost $10K from me. Holding my transcripts hostage for $10K! How does one charge for a dorm room that no one even lived in? How do you charge for classes that I never enrolled in? Hmmmmmmm?

Yesterday, I did go to my "alma mater"-- Inter-Agency for Drug Abuse Program (I-Adarp). My intention is to obtain my entire treatment history to be proof to the Devil that it is impossible that I was student living on campus and attending classes.

We'll see.

Lots of TV action last night, my DVR was doing double duty: The Debate, Game 5, and Project Runway finale.

Who won? Who should've won? And is she a one trick pony?