Too Busy for Her

For all of January, I’ve been too busy to pay a visit to my grandma. It’s one of the consequences I face trying to “make it in the world” and now with a second job, my free time has dwindled. She is one of the few women that occupies a permanent place in my heart and somehow, the forces of daily life prevent me from seeing her. I know in my usual grandeur, I could offer her an apology for being absent and she would understand. Knowing her, she’s being too nice and understanding. For this reason, I often wished I could be in two places at once.

For forty years, my beloved grandmother was married to my grandpa. In the time I’ve been alive and conscious, I’ve not once seen them argue, bicker, or have a fight. It’s remarkable considering the ups and downs they faced. I’ve admire this about them a great deal and hope my future significant other and I are so lucky. To be in love and have a happy life together seems almost far fetched, but nothing is impossible.

My grandma has a way with words. Often moving me to the point of tears rolling down my face. It’s one of her specialties and abilities that I don’t experience with anyone else. She pushes my buttons. I feel for her as much as she does for me. For that, I love her a lot and set apart as much time life allows me for her.

I’ve been told by her I’m her favorite amongst all the grandchildren she has — which has a way of filling me with joy and elation. She lives with my aunt and uncle, but never listens to a word they her. She’s stubborn. Unless I tell her to something, she won’t listen and just have it her way — much to the frustration of my aunt and uncle. Her love for me shows and I don’t take it likely.

I remember as a child she would make me breakfast while grandpa was away for work in the early morning. She’d then walk me to school and pick me up when class was dismissed. On our way back home, we used to stop by this liquor store where they sold toys and other knick knacks. My grandma would buy me at least one toy a week — I’ll never forget that and her willingness to give in.

I miss her. I miss them.

Later world.


I Was Hammered 1/31/2019

Last night, I got hammered — which is an understatement. My best friend and I have been feuding, which usually calls for a drink — or three. I’m just bummed the usual sushi place we go to didn’t have wine. That’s the great thing about my close group of friends, we don’t stay mad at each other for too long. We kick it, have a drink, and put that behind us. Regardless if we agree or agree to disagree. Twelve years of friendship summed up into one sentence.

While we were talking, he said something quite moving.

“People don’t usually change. Look at yourself. You have the same personality since we met, just with better habits.”

It got me thinking. Somehow, he was right. I’m still the same person as we met, just with a few minor improvements. Because of this, it’s one of the ways our friendship stands the test of time. We are alike in that way — a group of guys who share similar personalities. While the goals and motivations have change, at the core of everyone of us is fixed — we stay grounded.



Self-Forgiveness 1/30/2019

It’s hard to say no. No to one more glass of wine, no to a cigarette, no to a beer, a line, a pill, whatever. It all makes you feel good — calm and relaxed. It’s a trap for your senses and a prison for your mind. I would know. I’ve had a troubled relationship with alcohol over the years that’s eroded my relationships — many of whom are women. My male friends have forgiven me and passed it off as the usual banter every guy experiences with a night out. Even so, does that make it alright? I don’t think so. Actions have consequences — many of which you can’t take back.

I can’t take back what has already transpired, I can’t take back the money I’ve wasted, and I can’t bring back the relationships I lost. Self-forgiveness is just as important as an apology to someone you care about. As long as you live, you will fuck up. All you’re trying to do is keep it to a minimum. I’m often too hard on myself for past actions and behavior, but it gets better with time. Crack a joke about it and have a laugh. What else can you do?

The path of acceptance doesn’t come easy. You’ll feel guilty — which only makes you human. You might hate yourself for what you’ve done — which is normal. Being hard on yourself just means you realize your actions were wrong. Rightfully so. Take a step back, be mindful, and self-aware. Tomorrow is a new day.


My Dad & I 1/28/2019

I’ve never had much of a relationship with my dad — which is something I’ve talked very little about. My excuse over the years has been, if you don’t have anything good to say, you should say nothing. For most my life, that’s stuck. I’ve gotten use to giving him a blind eye, not giving him a word, or a moment of my attention. We are two people on very different paths who may never see eye-to-eye.

I’ve been disappointed by him countless times. Perhaps it’s his less than enthusiastic behavior to any good news I tell him or his inability to see it from my perspective. In a nutshell, it’s complicated, him and I. It’s funny. We look incredibly alike yet have worlds of differences holding us apart.

We were to get dinner at my uncle’s place tonight. My dad drove, just him and myself would be in the car. Normally, I’d dread this, but I had a long day and food was my main goal for the night. While we sat across from each other, I thought to myself — fuck it. Let’s chat to kill the awkward silence.

I was contacted by an old co-worker to work on a project for his boss and got approval based on my listed suggestions and given timeframe. It’s great news and extra income in my pocket considering it’s all done remotely and during the evenings. I got transferred the full agreed upon compensation just a few hours ago.

I told my dad as he was driving about what happened. He was impressed. And very. In those few short minutes, we had a real one-to-one conversation, free of conflict, awkwardness, and past resentment. We bonded.

When I was a kid, I use to think my dad was the coolest person on the planet. Next to my Grandpa and my Uncle, he was the epitome of laid back. He wore designer jeans, always had his characteristic Lacoste polo, and a pack of Marlboros stuffed in his shirt pocket. Everywhere we went, he knew someone or bumped into a friend. Everyone was always happy to see him and would try to quickly catch up, both men and women included. It’s one of the unique aspects of my dad. He’s popular and everyone knows it.

We both need to work on this — whatever is holding us back. Tonight, I’m a bit surprised, a bit speechless, and overall just impressed as much as he is.


Later world.


I’ve Seen Him Before

I have a lot of sympathy for the homeless — always did. I tend to wonder how they ended up on the streets and the means within their disposal to be out in the open all day. It terrifies me knowing they don’t have a roof over their head. While some people who walk by won’t acknowledge they’re even people, I don’t have that same perspective.

As fate would have it, I was closing an old bank account the other day. Turns out, the bank owed me $5. A 45 minute wait later, I was out the door with money I didn’t know existed an hour ago. Heading back home, I stopped by my usual coffee shop until I saw him.

To my recollection, this man has been out on the streets for several years. He’s one of the less bothersome types. He usually just sticks out his hand and asks if anyone can spare a dollar. I’m sure people turn him down hundreds of times and I’ve never seen him make a fuss about it. I think after a while, he feels hopeless. It’s a sad thought.

I had to walk past him to get my cup of coffee. We make eye contact with him sitting on the sidewalk.

“Spare some change, sir?”

I reached into my pocket, unfolded the crisp $5 bill I had and handed it to him. His eyes lit up and hand trembled when he went for it.

“Thank you, sir.”

God bless was my only reply. I didn’t get coffee that day, but who cares.

Later world.


7AM Thoughts

It’s 7 AM.

It’s been a difficult month for me, which is an understatement. A number of things transpired which set me back a great deal. Somehow, I felt like all the progress I made up to this point vanished into thin air. I’m being a bit too hard on myself, I think. Even so, I’m just being realistic with myself, my behavior, and admitting defeat.


In the open road, you may find yourself overwhelmed with life. I don’t think it’s all that uncommon to feel this way. My senses seem overloaded everyday and while the weekends are normally reserved for relaxing, it doesn’t happen. I need to turn down instead of turn up. When I wake up every morning, I take one hard look at myself in the mirror and ask myself: Who am I? Am I living? It’s purposely vague and opened ended to bring about as many thoughts as possible. It’s part of my morning ritual and it’s my way of staying grounded. I search my feelings, self-reflect, and meditate. I’d be hard pressed to find a better way to start the day.

I tend to wonder if people are looking out for me. I constantly feel the need to fend for myself from all the vices and temptations life throws at me. Call me crazy if you don’t agree. I have a great group of friends who are just a text message away, which is something I’m quite thankful for. They reply back instantly and hear me out — something I’m looking for — to just vent. This month seemed like my head wasn’t on straight and my mind was fogged up. The dust is clearing, but I’m not out of the woods just yet.

There’s much to do. So little time. Yet, here I am. Trapped in my thoughts. Feeling lost in the world. Pushing back. Later world.


If She Knows

I’ve seen a soul only dreams can show,

An aura like no other and all to know,

Someone whom I love and all be told,

She walks towards me and I’ll shall go,

A woman from the sea and falling shore,

An angel of dreams and a hand to hold,

For quite some time I wanted more,

To feel her love and hear her voice,

Laughter in the air and gone are ghosts,

To be lost in love and have no choice,

I wish for us and heavens knows,

Wishing and praying for endless hope,

I’m locked in her eyes and don’t want to go,

Someday hear her say I loved you so,


Opinions of Others 1/26/2019

It’s 3:25 AM in the morning and I came back home from a night out with the guys.

I’ve come to care less and less about what others think of me over time. It’s only the wisest thing to do considering you can’t make everyone like you. You are unique, and not everyone you see or interact with needs to view you favorably. You should always focus on yourself.

That’s not to say you don’t hear a few nice comments from your friends every now and again. While out at our usual spots in Glendale, one of my friends, whom isn’t in my core group, mentioned how — I, out of everyone “does the least amount of shit.”

“Danny got his shit together.” My response: perhaps.

The friends I see on a regular basis don’t have the best habits. They usually drink a ton of alcohol, smoke a lot of weed, and God knows what else is being consumed throughout the night. For a few years, I’ve grown accustom to their less than perfect behavior and general lack of care for their well-being. They’re pleasure seekers. It’s as simple as that.

Somehow in all the chaos, I’ve been able to say no and just have them partake in their quick sessions without me. We still have a good night and their actions don’t in anyway make them bad people. To judge them as such would be unfair. In my eyes, I don’t see that as the life I want or desire. There’s a level of self-control needed to find the path to salvation — if the destination is even clear. To them, they don’t see it as a road like I do. Why would they.

I’m just here to do me and take it all in. If you see me as a friend who has the best habits, I’ll take your complement with a lot of flattery. It’s been a difficult road for myself met with a few setbacks. I’m just hoping I don’t fall short.



Shifting Priorities

I’ve noticed with each passing year, my priorities have shifted a lot. I used to think money was the end all and was a bit misguided to think so. I spent several years like this and came to realize this wasn’t the least bit correct. Money is important, but it’s not a magic bandaid for all your problems or your family.

It’s one of the main reasons why I majored in psychology. I had two reasons: I could pursue a career in helping others and also figure out what makes me tick inside. I’ve wondered what makes me go and if the thoughts and feelings I had were unique or common. For this reason, I’ve felt odd when I was a teenager. It wasn’t your typical teenage angst you see so much with everyone. I felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness. I wanted deeper insight into myself and answers for questions I wasn’t entirely ready to ask.

It’s one of the best things I ever did for myself. I found the light and felt less terrified for why I felt this way. Why things the way they were with my family. The odd behaviors my parents have. The dynamics of their often troubled relationship I’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It all made sense after a while. Much to my surprise, I figured out I wasn’t crazy for thinking this way. They are as they always will be — summarizing six years of schooling in that subject.

I’m not alone.

The last several years haven’t been a walk in the park. I’ve had three relationships come and go. Those select women whom I used to love taught me a lot about myself. Learning to self-accept, learning to better listen, learning to take responsibility for my actions, and more importantly, finding a path to self-improvement. We didn’t always agree on every topic — which is something I’m thankful for. It turns out having someone who always agrees does you no good. I get turned off and somewhat suspicious when I date and hear yeses and mmhmms. I tend to think it’s lacking in sincerity. All I’m looking for is that — honesty.

Last year, I took it upon myself to write more — both here and whatever scraps of paper I have with me at the coffee shop. I’ve come to like it a great deal not for just better articulating my thoughts into words, but finding it to be therapeutic. I appreciate alone time more. I still have a tendency to edit after a blog post is made or worse, convince myself it has to be deleted. I’m working on that and hope to be less of a critic to myself.

This year, I’m hopeful it’s like every other year. One of personal fulfillment, goals being met, shared experiences with those I hold dear, and to not repeat the same mistakes from the past. I’m only human. I’m imperfect. I strive to be the best person I can be. If I know this and hold myself up to this standard, I’ll feel less anxious, less worried, more relaxed, and remain optimistic for my future.

The future is met with unknowns. Who knows who I’ll end up or where I’ll end up. I try to be consistent and relentlessly give others the time and attention they deserve. It might be one of the best qualities about myself if I am going to be a bit less modest.

It doesn’t deter me and shouldn’t anyone for that matter.


Late Night Thoughts

It’s 3 AM. Come to think of it, I was never good at sleeping as a kid. I’m still terrible at this. I remember being just 4 and I would challenge my Grandpa to see who would fall asleep first. He’d sit on his favorite chair, read the paper, and have his characteristic toothpick in his mouth. He was quite the man and I’ve always held on to this image of him.

Being the determined little kid I was, I always beat out my Grandpa. I remember right as he fell asleep, I’d walk on over to bed and wake up the next morning. I’m amazed he was always so willing to entertain me like this. He always worked early in the morning at 6 and we both would stay up past 1 AM.

Every time I can’t fall asleep or find myself waking up late at the night, these are the thoughts I have. There not bad memories — ones I think about a ton. We just sat around with the TV on just having each other’s company. Conversations were few. He said more to me being silent than words ever could.

I miss you a lot Grandpa. It’s been a while and I’ll never forget.