Staying busy, Staying active

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be focusing on, or what challenges I should be facing. I’m not sure if it’s career growth or discovering myself more, as cheesy as it sounds. Turns out, none of that really uplifts my mood more than staying physically active and mentally active.

I went for a jog today and met up with a friend for some coffee. I pushed my body a fair amount and had a good laugh. Now, I’m writing and expressing myself and there’s not much more that can happen that can uplift my mood. I’m super happy and content.

I guess it’s keeping the mind active, always learning, and enjoying a delicious beverage. That is, enjoying the small things and appreciating the funny moments that surround your life. This way I don’t have to rely on someone hanging out with me to fulfill my day, or have someone talk to me so I can feel better. Something so simple as rock climbing really gets me captivated and mentally challenges you on finding nice routes. Of course, you end up meeting interesting people who also are like minded, hopefully.

We’ll see how long this lasts…

At Peace

I’ve picked up rock climbing, hit the punching bag, and go jogging consistently now.

I’m finally content and happy doing these things. It’s super zen, but it’s physically challenging things that really gets my gears to synchronize in a specific way.  I enjoy my time more because I’m so spent from my activities that I did in the day.

It’s just keeping the mind busy, really. I’ve been listening to podcasts lately, and it’s super therapeutic stories, where you get to turn off your brain for a few minutes and enjoy your time. Just today, when I took this picture above I was listening to Joe Rogan talking about hunting and hiking with some dude from Australia. Oh, and I climbed a tree today!

Now, I’m chilling at my favorite coffee shop building the courage to go rock climb. I’m kinda pooped from my jog and a morning bike ride. Yet, climbing is super laid back, relaxing, and you see amazing, sculpted bodies dominate the wall. It’s a win-win-win situation. I’ll probably carve a pumpkin later today and hit the punching bag. I’m less worried about how to fill my vacant day and more present in my day-to-day activities.

I’m relaxed, and at peace right now. It might be because my brain is full of wonderful chemicals that are only filled after a nice jog.

My Mother.

This week was a little interesting.

My mom and I had a pretty revealing conversation where I let her know about how upset I feel about doing nothing, with nothing to look forward to. It’s tough to talk to her about my issues or thoughts because she has no idea what I’m talking about, or has no idea what to say to me. It’s kind of like talking to the mirror. She is a great listener, but no feedback.

This time was different. I let her know just about everything that was on my mind. I’ve come to the conclusion that when I have nothing to do I become bored and feel symptoms of depression. I realize I’m now just existing, no challenges or obstacles are there to push myself forward. There’s nothing I’m looking forward to on my days off. I just chill alone and do what I want.

Yes, that sounds absolutely fantastic when you are working 12 hour days Monday through Saturday. Not myself. Although I still work the normal 80 hours like everyone else, I don’t really have friends or much of a social life. I have a couple friends here and there with whom I seldom see.

So my mom listens to me and surprisingly she empathizes with me. She lets me know of a story that brings a tear to my eye.

When I was about six years old, my mom enrolled me into the head-start program at the nearest school. I remember being super nervous about being left alone and it made me scared. So scared to the point that I would throw up. After a few days of getting dropped off and throwing up I finally got comfortable and made friends.

My mom tells me that she would bring towels and cleaning supplies to clean up my mess every time to drop me off.

One day my mom walks me to my class and brings along her supplies. She opens the door and I immediately go to my group of friends and don’t even say bye to my mom.

She tells me:

You didn’t even say bye to me. I brought the napkins and towels to clean up your tears, but you forgot about me as soon as you saw your friends. I walked back home and used the same napkins to wipe my tears. My son doesn’t need me anymore. 

I remember I used to dress you and tie your shoes. I would take you to work and cook the dinner so you were well fed. Now you know how to tie your shoes and don’t need me to feed you. Nobody needs me anymore. 

As my mom tells me this I try to hold back tears of my own. I’ve been so obsessed with figuring out why I become sad, trying to find a purpose in my life, and enjoying a latte at my favorite coffee shop. My mom doesn’t complain about not seeing me anymore. She doesn’t call and ask where I’m at.

She has accepted that her son is grown up. I do feel bad because it’s like I forgot that my own mother exists. I come home, say hi, and then go to my room. Hardly any interaction within our household. Yet, I don’t forget my mother’s care and love for me.

I don’t forget that you were the only person at my high school graduation. You were there every step of the way while you supported me through college. Even through my rough patches of being a shitty son you were always there ready to warm up a hot dinner if I was hungry. Even if you don’t understand what I’m going through you are always there if I need a hug. I don’t forget that, and I never will.

It Becomes Meaningless

Fuck. I felt the blues on a peaceful day, and it ruined my groove. My usual routine is working out, getting my latte (delicious), and then grabbing a bite to eat. No big deal. It’s my favorite thing to do. After all that is done, I’ll meditate for ten minutes and find other ways to fill my vacant day. My mood skyrockets and feel so damn satisfied about myself.

Then the negative feeling seeped in slowly, like tea. The pleasure I found in doing my small indulgences were no longer there. It’s upsetting because I look forward to this after a monotonous work week. Now, my weekend is almost over and I didn’t enjoy it as much as I’d like.

It took until this moment to realize how much power a single realization, or thought had over me. It’s like bacteria in a petri dish that violently multiplied to consume my day and my mood. An instantaneous, euphoric feeling of self-awareness alleviated my spirits. No one is dying, my limbs are strong, and find myself handsome as hell (joking). As I said this, a girl just did the most impressive handstand just outside the coffee shop window.

Today is a Good Day.

 

 

I Dated Katy Perry

In the sense that the girl I was hanging out with was “Hot n’ Cold”

please laugh

The date went well. It was my first “adult” date that didn’t revolve around hanging out with friends, or go to the mall. Stuff like that, ya know?

I took her out to a martini bar, because I’m fucking classy. Ha. No, she just turned 21 and she said she usually prefers a glass of wine, or something fancy like that.

We arrive there, order our drinks and we hit it off. It was nice that I was able to connect with someone on a romantic, intimate level, since female interaction is not something I’m craving these days. After we had our drinks, we decide to go scavenge for food in the downtown area. After a few minutes of getting lost, we found our destination: A vegan ice cream shop that served delicious non-dairy dessert.

The walk back towards the car was cold, but enjoyable. The moment was present and her vibe was welcoming and full of desire. Of course, I happily obliged. She grabbed my arm for warmth and I grabbed her waist and gently pulled her face in so our lips can touch for a kiss. It was a perfect finish to end the Saturday night.

Sunday was enjoyable as well. We hung out for a few minutes and the spark was still alive.

We didn’t see each other Monday, but texted happily. No problems there.

Tuesday was weird. I texted in the early morning and she did not reciprocate. The night was coming to a close and I decide to text her again. Her text back was weird. She said she had a rough day and didn’t want to spread the negativity. I immediately texted back saying it was okay and I am happy just talking to her. No response.

Wednesday no communication on either side. I didn’t want to text when she is apparently having a “rough” time.

Today is Thursday and I think it’s sealed the deal for me. It appears she doesn’t want anything to do with me, or she is actually going through some serious personal issues. I don’t know, but I’ve accepted. There’s no sadness or sorrow, but it does feel like a huge let-down. It’s like the feeling you get when you are super excited to hangout with your best friend and have made plans two weeks in advance. The day comes and your friend cancels on you.

A huge disappointment.

The only issue is that I wish she would just tell me that she doesn’t want to see me. I’m super okay with it, just tell me! I rather not violently check my phone if I get a text from my friend, hoping it is her.

There’s a silver lining here:

My self-esteem boosted and I feel like Brad Pitt for a girl asking me to hangout. Aw yiss! I’m handsome as fuck right now.

UPDATE:

She texted me and said there was no “spark” and didn’t want to lead me on. No worries, that’s understandable and it’s to be respected. But, good lord woman, give it more than one date to know! Ha! It’s all good.

 

Boxing Bandwagon

I know exactly what happens now:

A random person pops the idea into my head, YouTube suggests a new video, or because I got bored.

So, I was pretty interested into MMA/UFC, and still am, but ever since McGregor was announced to fight Mayweather, my interest peaked and still climbing.

YouTube suggests a few items: “Top 10 Greatest Boxing Knockouts” or “10 Times Mayweather looked Invincible”. My easily influenced brain obviously goes for that clickbait. I watch and then look for podcasts that talk about the fight, and upcoming fights. Next thing I know, I’m deep in the rabbit hole looking for boxing gyms.

The only person in my family that has gotten into fights is my old man. The dude definitely likes to always say how tough he was and was on top of the world in his old town. My dad has no reason to lie, so the truth remains solid. It’s important to note that none of the valiant genes found in my dad are found in me. I have my mom’s worry and anxiety hidden behind my dad’s anger and cynicism. Good job, parents!

If you were to be a fly on my wall, you will catch me shadow boxing in my room at night. I fantasize more about an occasional street fight to prove to myself that I have developed “technique”. Of course, there’s every reason to always bet on the other guy winning. However, there’s a small sliver of hope that I have developed a better technique of throwing a punch. That’s what I like to tell myself at least so I feel slightly adequate defending my little self.  In all seriousness, I know absolutely nothing about fighting other than three years I was in Karate, ages 5-8.

Mind you, my wrists are the size of a chihuahua’s legs and I have the punching power of a fetus. I’m the least physically intimidating dude with a baby face. On a side note, I just bought a razor in over a year to keep the six whiskers on my face nicely shaven. If given enough time, a decent patch of hair will grown on my chin in about two weeks. It’s about the size of a diameter of a small apple.

Again, this hobby will just be a hobby and disappear in a few months. I’ll lose interest and find another hobby to take its place. I’m still into meditation, but I’ll supplement my thirst for action with sky-diving or extreme frisbee throwing. Ha! Who knows, maybe it will be learning how to effectively make rice and beans.