Tonight is just one of those nights where I hate everything and just about everyone. I have the rant ready to go in my mind but I’m sort of emotion-shy right now. Maybe because my anger and annoyance are not rightly justified, but I feel nonetheless.

I hate that I can’t go anywhere with Daniel anymore. And the reason we can’t go anywhere anymore is because he has physically abused me several times in the past. Bruises and tears and emotional breakdowns and very late nights and many broken things and sometimes injuries. There’s no way he can come to any of my family events anymore. It’s not right. But then he still lives here and we still hang out and have dinner together and hold one another sometimes. And it’s just so mind-fucking weird. I know I shouldn’t keep playing house with someone like that. And it’s like an embarrassing secret or a clandestine relationship. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good going alone to family events (because I don’t go out otherwise unless it’s a family event ‘cus I ain’t got no frenz n e more).

Everyone was dancing tonight and I had no one to dance with and I had no one to talk to and I felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. At my own family’s party.

Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left.

Even though I love dancing and I wanted to have fun.

But when I think about it, if Daniel had gone, we’d probably get into a fight anyway. About something or other. Because he’s got the lowest tolerance for anything, and the quickest to anger response I’ve ever seen. When I think about it, I hate it. I hate the current state of things so much. This isn’t someone that treats me kindly.

I found some old video recordings from college because I used to record a lot and take lots of pictures way before Snapchat and Instagram were even invented. And I used to laugh so much. Now I rarely laugh and there’s very little joy in my life. Daniel doesn’t understand my humor or my jokes. Or anything about me really. I’m always in a constant state of war instead of conversing and laughing and being myself. I can’t be myself because it always leads to some kind of misunderstanding. I can’t be sassy in a funny kind of way. I can’t be witty. I can’t be anything. It’s all misunderstood. Like we speak completely different languages.

I don’t know how I ended up in a situation like this. I don’t know what to do. Or how to fix it. Or if it’s even worth fixing. I don’t think Daniel and I are ever going to be happy and I’m tired of trying. It’s never going to be the relationship I want it to be because we just don’t get along. Even if we managed to get along from this minute forward there are all the moments in which we didn’t get along and nothing can erase that. I hate relationships. I did when I was younger and after this, my first real relationship ever, I think I was right. I don’t even know how to reintegrate myself into society now.

I feel angry because I don’t keep up with my old friends anymore. But the sad thing is, they don’t either. I don’t exactly get invites from any friends to do anything. And I’m too depressed to reach out to anyone anyway — it’d feel like charity or like a pity hang, begging someone that hasn’t bothered to keep in touch, to hang out with me. I’ve lost so much faith in people that I don’t even want a new set of friends either. I’m just tired of how unreliable people can be and how disappointing that is, and that is something I rather just not meddle with anymore.

I know David has come to visit LA from New York a handful of times and each time I just can’t muster the social strength to see him. He’s my most beloved friend from 10th grade to UCSB and beyond. He was there for me during my tough high school years and through college, and through anything. But I can’t stand the idea that I’d see my friend during a time when I feel so depressed. That’s not the state I want to be in to see David. He’s got the funniest, loudest laugh and the biggest heart and I know he wants to support me through what I’ve been through with Daniel recently — but I feel so embarrassed and ashamed and I just can’t do it. He called social services when he saw how my mom treated me (also physical and emotional abuse) so I know he has my back. But I rather things were normal and happy and that if he came to LA to visit his family that if we hung out it were a joyous thing not a chance to connect over something ridiculous — and a situation he’s seen me go through before. Besides, no one wants to hear about depressing, sad things. No one wants to hear anything.

Omg, now I’m crying and feeling all sad at myself. This is so pathetic. I wish I could figure things out and just do what’s right. 🙁


“Long hair minimizes the need for barbers; socks can be done without; one leather jacket solves the coat problem for years; suspenders are superfluous.” – Albert Einstein. 

I do miss writing and talking about fashion on my blog. I miss writing in my blog, generally speaking. But when I think of what it is I would want to say, very little comes to mind. I think for a long time now I have enjoyed consuming really quality blog posts, news articles, the radio, and podcasts, and of course music. There is always so much to consume all around us. And I get so excited to consume, consume, consume that I’ve become nothing more than a consumer buying everything the world is selling me. And wanting to buy in.

As I have gotten careless with myself and my life, two things have happened: 1) I have gained weight and 2) I can no longer wear what I consider my perfect wardrobe. Seriously. My tom boy and mysteriously sexy look (showing less is more) vibes don’t jam with my currently curvy figure. I long longed for a slimmer, more athletic build so I could solely wear loafers and trousers and Reverse Seam button up shirts. Which I was doing for a few years until I jumped off the fit life bandwagon. I’m a yo-yo exerciser. And at 5 feet tall, I love food too much to consume as few calories required of a 5 foot person. So exercise was my non-negotiable counterweight to … uh, yannoe, weight gain. I do this every time… I reach this particular weight which seems to be my max/natural weight eating all the things I love without exercise and then circle back and start aiming for unlimited push-ups and 5 mile jogs. It’s like my life is a living trend cycle, pendulum swing style.

So I started Insanity Max 30 today. I tell ya, that pendulum swing. There’s no “easing into it.” Go all the way, or you don’t mean it. I was tempted to blog about this on my “secret”/private fitness blog but I mean — this blog is private enough. The readership is quite low. I remember a few years ago when all the wrong people were reading my blog and then my blog life crossed over into my real life and that was just weird. And then years and years and years before then I was part of the blogosphere.

However, it’s gotten a bit hard to stay focused on fashion. It feels as though the ultra-fast rise of social media has catapulted most fashion away from the blogs and into a see it once Snapchat moment. I’m going to have to dig a little deeper to get back into street style and bloggers worth following. But I want to feel that excitement again. It is harder when you can’t fit into the fashion you like, nevermind the expense of building a new wardrobe. It’s like honey, lose the weight or become a millionaire. Insert sideways glance here.

Here’s to a reset to bring things back to the way they were/should be/ought to be.

Death of a Strawberry

Sick of being in my head and thinkin’ about my fate and worried about my health
Wanna waste away my days with a pretty young thing and blow through all my wealth

Over- Over- Overwhelmed again
Sing out
Bury it away

— Dance Gavin Dance

It’s getting to be that part of the year when I sift through files and memories and mourn for nine years ago.

One Last Poem For Richard by Sandra Cisneros

December 24th and we’re through again.
This time for good I know because I didn’t
throw you out — and anyway we waved.
No shoes. No angry doors.
We folded clothes and went
our separate ways.
You left behind that flannel shirt
of yours I liked but remembered to take
your toothbrush. Where are you tonight?

Richard, it’s Christmas Eve again
and old ghosts come back home.
I’m sitting by the Christmas tree
wondering where did we go wrong.

Okay, we didn’t work, and all
memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.
But sometimes there were good times.
Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep
beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars
like ours. There ought to be awards
and plenty of champagne for the survivors.

After all the years of degradations,
the several holidays of failure,
there should be something
to commemorate the pain.

Someday we’ll forget that great Brazil disaster.
Till then, Richard, I wish you well.
I wish you love affairs and plenty of hot water,
and women kinder than I treated you.
I forget the reason, but I loved you once,

Maybe in this season, drunk
and sentimental, I’m willing to admit
a part of me, crazed and kamikaze,
ripe for anarchy, loves still.