A Direction

Yesterday I asked for a raise and got a tattoo. A year ago, I was scared of a lot of things. I was lost and trying to make something of myself. For some reason, this tattoo had meditative effects on me. I decided to get a blue lobster holding a sword. Well a few hours in, I suddenly realized this lobster totally reminds me of you.  At first I was thinking about Jordan Peterson and his rules about lobsters. But then it got really personal.  It was based on a joke we had way back. It’s the auspicious lobster that was your blog name, haha. The tattoo didn’t hurt for the first 4 hours, but when I realized this it broke my concentration!


Well whatever. You are a great part of me. It sits next to my lion. It’s close to the cancer symbol, as the lion is my leo symbol. At first I was like NOOOOO, I’m trying to move on. But then I accepted it. I accepted the gnawing pain. I accepted the flesh being scraped away. Tattoos are very therapeutic and symbolic for me. During the session, I repeated to myself that if I can endure my depression and heartbreak for you every day, then this physical pain is little. Also it’s cool you endure pain and you get something tangible you think is beautiful. It’s change you can witness on yourself…

A year ago I didn’t face my deepest problems. I was safe with you. I’m not happy, but at least I became a person capable of change. I’m doing a lot actually. I’m doing amazing work at my job. I’m boxing at a world famous gym with really intense, great people. I’m finally in therapy trying to better myself. I do yoga! I get to take my family out and bring some joy to them in really shitty times. And I have all these tattoos on me now. I know I’m patting myself on the back too much, but I need to bring myself to the next step. I need to remind myself that I’ve built some personal credit. I have created a personality and infrastructure to keep changing. And the next step is really going to kick my ass.

I can’t just leap into chaos. I need to take one step at a time. JP always says you can’t destabilize your life completely or things will become terrible real quickly. So I’m going to go to school again. But I need it to be an online program. USC apparently has a good psychology masters program. I might be worried about cost, but I should recognize I have the ability to bring in money! That’s a large part of my job at work. I just have to apply it to myself now in the form of scholarships and grants. I already wake up at 5 AM. I can get use to studying/doing work after my job like I use to.

I just need to be braver.


It sucks but no one will be as perceptive and considerate as you are. It’s lonely, but no one can really give you what you give to them. You really are different. 

Well that doesn’t make me feel less lonely. No one can save me. I have to save myself. Happiness is not for me. Intensity and hard work is the only thing I can rely on. I cannot rely on others. I am strong enough not to rely on others.

It doesn’t make me like life. It doesn’t make me happy. It makes me think that my life is suffering. I almost cried in therapy when I finally told her that life has been suffering for so long. Oh well. Deal with it. Move the fuck on. Get my shit together. Face myself and my bullshit. I want a change in my life. I’m the only one who can help me. There is no kindness for me. I use to feel really sad when my mom told me I deserve all this pain because I did something fucked up in my previous life. Fine. So be it. I accept my loneliness. I accept my suffering. I accept my mistakes. It’s time to bring out my inner Goggins again.

Some Happier Things

It’s time you accept yourself rather than constantly try to improve yourself. You’ve had a hard life. I’m really sorry Alan. Everything about your past, your family and your situation sounds really painful. You’ve become someone really incredible. But it sounds  like you’re basing your entire redemption on her coming back. Maybe redeeming yourself and her coming back are two separate things.

I think you’re right. I wanted to become a person worth coming back to. She’s not coming back. It’s delusion at this point. But it’s the one thing that gives me hope lately. So apparently google thinks I’m suicidal. I just typed ‘why is life so hard’ and bam first thing is suicide hotline. stop caring for me google!


I believe it. All the improvements you’ve made will only find you someone really amazing as well. You’re the best person I know.




I was feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, but this reminded me that somehow I found a place among others. Even at work, it’s become somewhat of a family for me.



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I was taking a shit when I saw a lady bug trying to climb up the shower wall. “I’ll save you little buddy.”  Idk it felt poetic watching it fly away outside. Like letting go of my ladyyy. It was probably mortified. Imagine just exploring some place and a giant takes a shit next to you then tries to transport you to a completely different location. I washed my hands dammit! I am a civilized giant!





Dig Dig Dig Dig

I divided my personality into different archetypes.

King: confident, helps bring success to others, lifts people up, leader, calm, problem solving. I think this is the best aspect of my personality, and takes from all my other personalities. I feel like this is the most recently cultivated. He’s the one who has to gather my personalities.

Master: Incredibly Disciplined. Routine. Hard-working, but veers on the danger of being tyrannical. Perfectionist. Stoic.

Slave: Sadness, does what I am told, pained, emotional, the writer, empathetic of other’s and their suffering

Warrior: Anger, willpower, strength, enduring, this was my biggest hurdle, I have to constantly tame it, tireless

Boy: baser instincts, hedonistic, adventurous, childish, fun-loving

Lover: this one is currently in a dungeon. but he’s sweet, romantic, caring, wants to make people happy.

I felt really bad at work today. Again, I had nothing to show for all my hard work and change. Sure, I brought in $160,000 in donations, but my family is still poor. Money is still tight. Sure I take on leadership roles and guide people, but I’m still not getting paid for it. What does it matter I helped my coworker move, and I’m still stuck? What does it matter that I help people with their personal problems and they seem happier after they talk to me or something clicked for them. I’m a wreck still. What does it matter when they just slip back to their old ways. All my efforts was for nothing. Why did I ask for an 80,000 loan for my arrogant, blundering family? What does it matter that I let her go so she can find someone better? What does it matter that I take my family out to eat every week? What does it matter that I heard screaming late at night and went outside to see a couple fighting? What does it matter that I awkwardly go up to them and tell the lady to not hit her husband, that I understand that she’s hurting and that I’m not saying she doesn’t have a right to be angry, but hitting him will only bring them pain and regret? WHY?! Who cares that I have this knowledge now! I know I’m supposed to find value internally rather than externally, but every day has been a battle inside. My supposed best friend can’t even hang out with me after I told him I feel really lonely and we agreed on a time and he has finished studying and homework. My other friend can’t even hang out with me without consulting his wife though I am happy to teach him how to skateboard. I’m still stuck at my job. I’m still alone. I’m still hurting from heartache. I’m always trying to do what’s right, but nothing has been right for me for a long time. I liked myself better when I accepted happiness is not for me. oooooo watch my resentment mannn

I’m being a silly goose right now. I do these things because fucking lover boy is trying to escape his fucking dungeon. Get the fuck back in there! No, that’s not the answer. I’m probably just overthinking things. I have a lot to be proud of. I have a lot to be thankful for. I think one day things will make sense. But for now, I’ll just take a hot shower and climb into bed. Weh heh heh WUH.





I fell into a depressive mood today (what else is newwww). But I went for a walk around a lake and I began to talk to the hordes of geese. I’m pretty lucky to have loved and to have been loved so completely, so wildly, and so devotedly. Honestly, it was kind of a once in a life time thing. I thought of our jokes and how our weird humor complemented one another. Thanks onion man. It was like living in a fairytale, and we were just kids until we broke up. We behaved like kids. We loved liked kids. We tried to figure things out like kids do. And I made a lot of mistakes along way. I loved like how my parents loved me. Hey, I’m just figuring out how to unlearn their toxic behavior so I can’t say I could have been better. I mean they’re old now and they’re still stuck in their ways. High highs and low lows. But I guess you have to experience one extreme to experience the other. It was crazy and stupid, and I’m very lucky to have had it.  I have to cherish how wonderful, how polarizing, how selflessly we loved one another. We were the pigeons of Collblanc.


A Heart is a Heart is a Rotten Rutabaga

Enlist in the army of sadness. We want you today. Join us and fight the good fight. Give us your sadness and we’ll give you purpose. Sadness for Freedom. The posters of smiling men aligned the streets. Montezuma walked on. They were smiling at him. He pulled his hoodie over his head. Another day had passed since his path collided with fate’s. He wondered when he’ll be released from his sadness. It’s not an uncommon wish according to his therapist, Peaches. Millions inflicted with sadness, with nowhere to expend it. It is an epidemic. Well why not enlist then? Oh sure there are stories of, who knows, Jim who had enlisted. He’s a solid 5 everyday. No 1s. No 10s. A steady 5. And maybe that’s the best you get in this life.

At the altar, he released her with the ceremonial knife. He sliced open her chest and tore out her heart. A burst of iridescent light radiated from her skin. She was the most beautiful fantasy, a dream’s dream by then. Blood, flesh, beauty, light. Her eyes opened. She gasped for air. She sat up on the altar. Sunlight brushed her cheeks. She stared at him with loveless eyes. She asked for her heart. Montezuma held the organ. It pulsated, breathing, screaming for him to hide it, to never give it away, to eat it so that they could forever be one. He handed it to her. She stared at her heart with anger. She stared at him with anger. Her body turned ghostly and she drifted away.

Monte watched the smoke drift from his hand. A cigarette is 10 minutes. Half a cigarette is 5 minutes. He wished he was brave enough to enlist. A 5 was infinitely better than a 2. Peaches stared at him. He stared at her. The number shifted in their digital posts. “I’m sorry this isn’t helping me.” He left that session a little more perturbed than anything.

Monte meditated within the temple. The collective ohms seeped into his mind. Visions of a faraway land, where clouds descended upon a rice field. Swans swept through the sky with great flaps flaps flaps. His leg fell asleep. With each subtle shift, his leg screamed at him what the fuck! He walked down the temple steps with a slight limp. The posters had encroached even to the temple’s  steps.

Leave your sadness with us. Sadness for purpose. You know she found someone else. Good, it was his wish on his best days; on his worst days, it was a little more along the lines of suicide. Heartache can bring out the worst in a person. And yet, it’s usually after the weathered storm that someone blossoms. So she had blossomed. He, well, he was in the midst of a long storm. A long drought had aged him a few years. Two cavernous lines ran past his mouth, which appeared a lot smaller since he had shaven his nomadic beard. His jaw looked more squared, possibly from nights of teeth clenching. His eyes beadier, more tired, with signs of unwilling kindness.

It would be a life-long commitment. Sadness for purpose. Monte stared at the camp’s wired fence. Those who enlist shave their heads and eyebrows, becoming remnants of a freed life and individuality. The price of emotions is high. There was a line of men who had spent a few nights by the wired fence. They were haggard and desperate to find purpose. Love had been his, but what now? He couldn’t do it. He walked away once again. The unreleased action potential.

Peaches sat in her chair across him. She let her glasses dangle below her eyes a bit. So you cut her heart out. I did. What is her name. She must not be named! Not in the sanctuary. Peaches tried all right. She tried to demolish those armored walls that held back a torrent of haunted memories. Monte almost felt the tears flood his eyes. Only once. Human sacrifice is inevitable. It is the price of progress. Everything has a price. Time. Love. Self-betterment. Family. Freedom. Sadness.

A monastic life called to him. It was within him. He could see himself enlisting. He could see himself devoting himself to Death’s Temple. The demands of individuality had costed him greatly. When your heart is broken, you have to fill the voids that heartaches leaves you. He stared at the bald man lecturing. Your identity has been shattered. You are no longer his or hers. But the fissure runs deeper than you can imagine. His or her family is no longer yours either. His or her friends are no longer yours. The routines that have comforted you are now catalysts for pain. Reinvention is necessary. Diagnosis is necessary. Enter the void.

The hot dog saddened him. There is a blandness to life for those inflicted with sadness. Oh sure he knew of its sad conditions when he saw it rotating on a heated conveyor belt, the withered skin of its casing from constant blistering. Was he any different after his long sabbatical in the desert. He had aged greatly. And he could no longer see the light at the horizon. Monte ate the hot dog which offered mild stimulant. Hm so that’s what I taste like.

Be a 5. 5 is better than 1. But a 5 is no better than a 10. Is an elusive 10 even possible? Monte feared his past life had been distorted by nostalgia. So you couldn’t enlist. So you couldn’t forfeit your worldly claims. So you couldn’t abandon your identity. Why? Peaches stared at him. Well what do you think your purpose is? You know I abhor those posters. They’re lies really. Why is that? Monte’s eyes widened as if he really needed someone to confirm his rooted belief. But his time was up. The digital numbers struck 8:00.

Fuck this. He let the leaves steep. Their essence inked outwards like combative octopuses. When the demands of modernity are too high, one can always turn to hallucinogenics. Monte had found himself at an apothecary’s doorsteps. I need something spiritualistic. Have some cocaine! What? No I want to trip out, not go out in a frenzy. How about ayahuasca? You know that sounds spiritual. It is! Take it, but for a price – $100 please. Monte drank the brew, which didn’t taste unlike hot dog water.

He laid atop the altar. He was naked. He stared at her. Are you still mad at me? She drove the knife into his chest and dug out his heart. That’s fair. She handed him his heart which looked a bit like a rotten rutabaga. You know I still think about you every day. She offered him a smile of sorts. I forget your voice sometimes, but if I search for it long enough, I can still remember it. She handed him his heart covered in dirt and blood. She had no words for him. Well what the fuck am I going to do with this? Monte sat up and chucked his rotten rutabaga off the temple. It rolled and rolled. He stared at the sky when it began to rain.

Hey man. It was a big fucking face of an Asian man. AH! I’m writing a story about you. Me? Yeah, you’re me but in a fictional kind of setting. I was going for a mix of like ancient latino shit and I don’t know some city. Anyways I got some words of wisdom for you, Montezuma! What do you want from me? I’m here to talk to you about fiction, man! Like there’s an illusion of finality. What? Let me finish! Like how characters resolve their problems within a finite amount of time, you know like a movie runtime or by the end of a book, you don’t get that in life. But art puts that illusion in our heads man! Like oh when will I be a fucking 10! It’s a lie man. It’s a big fucking lie. And it’s OK that you’re searching still. It’s OK that you’re a 1 right now. Because a 10 takes work! And it probably won’t be the 10 you thought of when you’re a 1. Like you won’t know it’s a 10 if you keep holding it to a past 10. I’m just here to say let things take their time, man. It’s OK some days, nothing monumental happens. It’s OK to wander. Let go the illusion of fate. Life isn’t fiction.

So when will I be OK?

God, Monte you dense motherfucker, weren’t you listening?! Just give it time. Go ponder my shit. You don’t have to be only of sadness. Let go of that narrative. In the meantime, try to live your life more. Go read a fucking book and why did you stop writing. You love writing! You’ve done a lot. Chill out, progress won’t feel like progress until you look back, you know?

You know you sound really stupid for a god-like entity.

I knows it. Peace out!

Monte awoke in his bed. He rubbed his sleepy eyes. Maybe he’d go read a book or something today.


New Goals

My dusty mirror covered with crossed goals says I’m good. I’m not a famous writer yet. I don’t have a psychology degree yet. But everything else is done. Maybe those are like life time goals, and everything I’ve accomplished can be a testament to how much I’ve grown. Anyways, maybe I feel lost lately because I need new goals.

  • Get over heartbreak
  • Tattoo (next week)
  • Move out/ Move away
  • Solo Travel
  • New Job/School
  • Shave the ole mustachio

I remember a while back, I felt the same pain of stagnancy. My mind wanted to be somewhere else, but my conditions mandated that I stay put. It was a strange coincidence that a new friend from yoga class repeated a thought to me that I’ve been trying to process. Robbie is this very interesting surfer/mma fighter/really chill guy, and he almost said it verbatim: the right things and people will find you in the right time. in the meantime just try to enjoy yourself. 

Anyways, where am I going with this? I tend to think I need to have everything right now or I won’t be complete. Like if I don’t have love now, I’ll be lonely for the rest of life. Or if I don’t have a dream job now, I’ll be stuck forever. But this is the truth of impermanence. Just as good things go, bad things go too. When I was in the ring, with my head screaming, my stomach knotted, my arms numb and I unable to raise them, I was able to push through the pain. A few hours later, I had completely forgotten the pain as I was sitting at my desk drinking Lee’s coffee. Happiness has left me, but pain will leave me one day as well. Cycles and cycles until death.

Yesterday was nice. We had a corp date by the beach. Chilled out with some Netflix people. I haven’t been to the beach for a while. I saw us a year ago, walking down the same road.