Good morning, I'm stuck in the OC.
So its like 8:35 am I've been in this cafe for an hour. Scary huh. Considering it took 36 min to get down here. I like listening to loud talkers, its easy in this busy place. Seems like people like being heard. So between the lines they don't say, you pick apart their life, draw irrational conclusions, and piece together the missing pieces of what you think their more than perfect life is here in this planned community. I feel like a spy.
Partly because I happened to have stumbled upon an affluent Asian/American young professional community here, and the only thing I have in common with them other than my Eastern Looks is the fact that I'm sipping this 3 dollar coffee. Outside in the parking lot is my 98 jeep complete with 90 thousand miles, and dirty socks in the back. It sits in the oversized parking spots adjacent to the BMW's and Mercedes with model names hard to pronounce. But their owners make it not to difficult to spy it out since they keep the darn things so stinking shiny.
I'm going to go the gym today in this town, and hope they don't sniff me out for a poser from apartment life in LA. I would be hunted down like traitor among the flock, and whipped and beaten with Prada and Dolce/Gbanna belts. Maybe hogtied to the front of anyone of the SuperAwesome SUVS in this lot.
The elderly jap couple in front of my table are presently writing out a 10,000 dollar check, for what I don't know. Maybe its bribe money, maybe its a check to smuggle some poor chink kid across the pacific to live in their house. Maybe its a payoff for a cheap ransom. Or maybe they're going to buy some shoes and a pedicure here in town.
Whatever the case, I have to say as annonying as the LA look goes(if that can be defined) I feel funny because I'm not wearing a bucket hat and a keyless entry key. It seems like many of these guys were like me when I was a kid. A dork. Except these dorks ended up with tons of money, and me...well I ended up okay considering I have some confidence to make up up for the skinniest wallet I know.
I know its been awhile since I wrote. But as of late I haven't been inspired. I've been stressed. Maybe a first child is like that to some guys. I know it is for me. I feel like since I had such a rough childhood taking care of my brother and sister at such an early age that I feel like I have a lot of life I haven't lived yet. Especially since my career feels like its getting closer. Appreciating what is real and tangilbe is a gift that I don't have. Somedays I find myself dreaming of birds that are not only in the bush, but they are in bushes in different timezones.
I guess that's what happens when you lose perspective. So I'm still trying to find that, and sometimes I feel as though if I didn't have it, well then that would be okay too. The hardest part of being confused is not so much realizing that you are, but more so coming to grips with it, but making the conscious effort to reverse the confusion. "I Choose the Matrix."
I feel like many of these people here have chosen the matrix, and well in their ignorant bliss, they have succumbed to a slumbered life, in a daze to the harshness of what is real. The fabrication of a so-called existence is not only common to the OC, but to LA, NY, FL, UK, and any other state or country name that is shortened in a series of letters. The complacency of modern existence is self-propelled. It is not a by product of civilization, it is induced into the mainstream by a force that allows us to look at something dangerous and say: "You surely won't get hurt at all." And the love affair with ourselves continues to satiate the appetite of feeling of "Purpose."
The glimpses of awarness happens like speed bumps that need no slowing, an apogee of our inspiration is dashed into a corner as we muddle with whatever is inbetwixt our fingers. So as we don the T-shirt of experience it becomes evident that we have no right to wear it.
Partly because I happened to have stumbled upon an affluent Asian/American young professional community here, and the only thing I have in common with them other than my Eastern Looks is the fact that I'm sipping this 3 dollar coffee. Outside in the parking lot is my 98 jeep complete with 90 thousand miles, and dirty socks in the back. It sits in the oversized parking spots adjacent to the BMW's and Mercedes with model names hard to pronounce. But their owners make it not to difficult to spy it out since they keep the darn things so stinking shiny.
I'm going to go the gym today in this town, and hope they don't sniff me out for a poser from apartment life in LA. I would be hunted down like traitor among the flock, and whipped and beaten with Prada and Dolce/Gbanna belts. Maybe hogtied to the front of anyone of the SuperAwesome SUVS in this lot.
The elderly jap couple in front of my table are presently writing out a 10,000 dollar check, for what I don't know. Maybe its bribe money, maybe its a check to smuggle some poor chink kid across the pacific to live in their house. Maybe its a payoff for a cheap ransom. Or maybe they're going to buy some shoes and a pedicure here in town.
Whatever the case, I have to say as annonying as the LA look goes(if that can be defined) I feel funny because I'm not wearing a bucket hat and a keyless entry key. It seems like many of these guys were like me when I was a kid. A dork. Except these dorks ended up with tons of money, and me...well I ended up okay considering I have some confidence to make up up for the skinniest wallet I know.
I know its been awhile since I wrote. But as of late I haven't been inspired. I've been stressed. Maybe a first child is like that to some guys. I know it is for me. I feel like since I had such a rough childhood taking care of my brother and sister at such an early age that I feel like I have a lot of life I haven't lived yet. Especially since my career feels like its getting closer. Appreciating what is real and tangilbe is a gift that I don't have. Somedays I find myself dreaming of birds that are not only in the bush, but they are in bushes in different timezones.
I guess that's what happens when you lose perspective. So I'm still trying to find that, and sometimes I feel as though if I didn't have it, well then that would be okay too. The hardest part of being confused is not so much realizing that you are, but more so coming to grips with it, but making the conscious effort to reverse the confusion. "I Choose the Matrix."
I feel like many of these people here have chosen the matrix, and well in their ignorant bliss, they have succumbed to a slumbered life, in a daze to the harshness of what is real. The fabrication of a so-called existence is not only common to the OC, but to LA, NY, FL, UK, and any other state or country name that is shortened in a series of letters. The complacency of modern existence is self-propelled. It is not a by product of civilization, it is induced into the mainstream by a force that allows us to look at something dangerous and say: "You surely won't get hurt at all." And the love affair with ourselves continues to satiate the appetite of feeling of "Purpose."
The glimpses of awarness happens like speed bumps that need no slowing, an apogee of our inspiration is dashed into a corner as we muddle with whatever is inbetwixt our fingers. So as we don the T-shirt of experience it becomes evident that we have no right to wear it.
posted by Leo Jaramillo at 9:09 AM
1 comments
