>>> This cake...

In my younger days as a child, I always wondered why friendship was such a frail thing, that even the slightest ripple could cause it to break apart. Even up to this stage, I still wonder about that, but at the same time I think I do already know why some certain friendships I had in life had fallen through, while others remained strong.

As an individual, I do like the concept of friendship. Having friends around and treating them like a family or as like-minded individuals with whom i can share with, and have some good memories with. I also believe in the idea that when one starts a relationship, regardless of it being just friends or being girl/boyfriend, both sides have to make an effort to maintain the relationship.

Yes.

I am not kidding.

Even as friends, people still have to make sure that their friendship will last, and that can be either as easy and fun like baking a cake, or for some a little difficult, strange and complicated like baking a cake. It could even be disastrous, harder than a retro Castlevania game, and so gosh-darn impossible like baking a cake. Let me get into some perspective here.

Picture this:

You have just made a friend. You are so overjoyed and happy that you pour in a lot of time and effort just to speak, talk, or just chilll out with that friend for perhaps two weeks. After which, you suddenly start to notice your friend not being as fun as you had imagined at first. You decide perhaps he needs a break, and stop calling him for a while. And as you go through life, maybe, say maybe, you forget about him for a slightly longer period. He doesn't call you at all, to go out, relax over a game of scrabble or over Pokemon. Suddenly you wonder what happened, you call him, he sounds enthusiastic like before and you forget about all the drama. Repeat from top of paragraph, the second sentence.

That happened in my life for more than a good number of times, and it got me thinking, why in the world would something like this happen? I thought of a few reasons. Perhaps your friend is a lazy kind. Maybe he places more priority in other friends than he does to you. It could also be possible you might be invading his personal space. Or that he doesn't share the same enthusiasm or level of trust as you do. The number of reasons are endless, but it leads me to one question; why do I not know the reason for something like this?

I would think that people seem to prefer just not speaking with one another as a form of avoidance and hope to heck that the problem just solves itself, but that's not it works. If one was to keep mum about the problem or whatever he faces, then how is said problem, especially if it's a person, know what he or she can do the salvage the situation? I also have another idea or impression as to why people just do that. It's because they don't want the solution. Or they are just lazy and think that some other person in life will come by and wreck so much havoc in your life that you either change for the better or just keel over and die. To me though, that's as selfish and lazy as telling someone who didn't study for his exam to pray for good results.

It's just not going to happen.

To add on, is it really that hard for some people to just try and make an effort to socialize with a friend? I mean come on, there're just so many ways to do it. Picking the phone and calling or sending a text over, boot up the computer and send IMs over to him/her, etc. Technology has made it possible for us to effortlessly get in touch with people around us for a reason. But, for some, that's just not the point. And yes, I understand that one has their own clique of friends, but that doesn't mean that you have to completely avoid the spectrum of other friends, who range from acquaintances up to "best friends forever".

You aren't just depriving them of a chance to start a friendship, but you are also depriving YOURSELF from making a new friend. You can say that you will live with it, and probably will not feel the repercussions later on in life. Here's a low blow back at you then; what happens if those close friends suddenly have a different priority in life, and choose their own inner circle clique of friends that isn't comprised of you? And you feel lonely, having no one to talk to, so on so forth. Some choose to wait for those friends to call them, some just go ahead and call.

But all in all, it paints a very sad picture, that you would choose to only randomly call or trust in those friends who could have very well made your life a slightly better place to be in. Even then, there's still the chance they will not call you after noticing a pattern. There's just no trust or effort from you.

So to sum up, friendship isn't just built on having a lot of friends to talk with and all that jazz. It is the effort that you have to put in each and every one of them to make sure they stay. And every new friendship is an opportunity.

~LoKal

... ain't your typical shake and bake.

>>> The block...

You would think that writing an article would be easy. After all, it's just a simple matter of putting pen to paper, fingers to keys, blood to walls with nary more than a thought and a moderate spark of imagination.

How wrong you would be.

It can often be a terrifying prospect to write something, in fact, anything really, that will be consumed by even the minutest of reading audiences (perhaps, like just your mother, for example), let alone the masses that comprise humanity. You'd be consumed by the need to perform to others' expectations, to reach your peers' levels of skill, to have your work acknowledged, accepted and perhaps loved more than the two-bit, two-cent writer that you consider yourself, to achieve some form of reassurance for your self-esteem and -worth through the adulation your writing receives and perhaps other forms of inner pressure and stressors.

Add to that the vise-like pressure of an approaching deadline which may or may not induce a hysterical, hyper form of panic. A boss breathing down your neck for the article that has you gritting your teeth and thinking of how to end him instead of concentrating on your work. The lack of subject matter or even too much free reign in terms of topic that has you pulling your hair out as you strain your brain for something, anything that may be worthy of your wordsmithing skills. Or even a combination of all the above plus a few other myriad other external little issues that leaves you in a desperate struggle of frenetic activity to lay down the quest of submitting an article worthy of print and publishing.

And, now, imagine, just imagine, that you're sitting in your favourite spot somewhere trendy and très cool, with a nice steaming mug of java (and that whole whirl of issues we mentioned earlier), gazing at your trusty laptop's glowing screen that displays the simulacrum of a fresh, white and very empty sheet of paper.

As empty as the sheet is, your mind is perhaps a tenfold worse, devoid of even the slightest sliver of an idea. Your inner vision, your mind's eye, is a field filled with white noise overlying endless planes of very white sand. And you would swear that you could just about make out the faint grind-like buzzing of static. Your set is working but not receiving anything, my friend, which in other words, means that you have gone just gone completely blank.

The horror.

The sheer abject horror that slowly dawns on your already overworked mind that basically sets you upon a regressive to the Stone Age with a vast amount of crazed gibbering worthy of a Cthulhic cultist.

What has caused this horrific occurrence of epic monstrousness?

That has made even composing a simple Facebook status or a fun-fact-filled tweet? That has reduced you to a drooling blank-minded zombie??

Writer's Block.

Dolorus scriptoris, by its binomial nomenclature, is the bane of not only writers but of artists, musicians and other creatives. However, they each have their own unique species of creative stoppages that cockblock their ideas from mating with their intended physical mediums. A dreaded yet familiar foe, a denizen that lurks in its favoured habitat of your mind, stalking its dark recesses, biding its time to strike.

And when it does, it drops in like the finality of a Thwomp Trap squashing that little idea that somewhat resembled Mario in hip-hop baggy overalls and neck-bling completely, utterly flat. You didn't really need it, did you? Oh, you did? Whoops, sorry! Cue rather silent evil laughter. Once sprung, it may never move. At all. Blocking off your reservoir of creativity and flow of ideas like the Hoover Dam on steroids.

This could potentially kill a creative's career if no one acknowledges the problem and accepts it. Especially if the block lasts an inordinate amount of time.

To make matters worse, it does not discriminate, it does not have a set schedule or follow the seasons. It can and often does strike at the worst of times. It matters not if you're normally filled with an abundance of creativity, inspiration and ideas. It will block them all from your reach and DEVOUR them for its continued existence.

In order to rid yourself of the horrid block, there are a few things that you can do. Firstly, do not panic. If you panic, it could potentially get worse in a very short period of time. That being said, just calmly cease all creative activity and pack up.

This is when you use your eternal lifeline: Call a friend. Or friends. Meet up with them, have a nice brew up and talk about it. It helps with the stress that it causes. Your friends, and perhaps even your family, can actually help in the removal of the block as your friends and family may provide ideas and sparks of brilliance that can carry you over the period of the block. And the block itself can't take the pressure of ideas and creativity coming in from both sides. It will inevitably crack like a bottle squeezed in a table vice.

You can also just sit in your favourite coffee joint and either draw or type random bits of things that will eventually collate into one large collage of, in my honest opinion, brilliant creativity.

Other than that, remove yourself from all the sources of stress, possibly search for a counsellor to help you deal with your internal issues, keep calm and drink something warm. Engage in sex if you think it may help since it's rather liberating. Just saying.

You can overcome it and break the block down, beating it back to its dark home.

Just keep calm, tuck that pen behind your ear and have a cuppa.

... is a trap!

>>> Time will tell...

... as time is all we ever have.

>>> May our Dreams be true...

To all my friends, you are the stars that make up the galaxy that is my life and the stuff that only dreams can be made of, so this is dedicated to all of you. May all your dreams come true and the nightmares end. Amen.

... so we can escape the Nightmares.

>>> Family is...

... as family does.

>>> How to survive...

Death.

There are worse things than death.

Indeed, it is true, if cliché, what some villains of the silver screen say, that there are worse things than death.

In so saying, there is also something else that can be said about these "things" that are worse than death:

You'll be surprised what you can live through.

It's true.

After all, one of the things that can be worse than death is heartbreak. It can bring you to the brink, leaving you hanging by a nail, maybe a thread of sinew, and you'd wonder what would it be like to just let go. Sometimes, in some cases, it's like a near-death experience. Or even comparable to a first brush with death.

Some would say that heartbreak is a death of sorts. The death of a love, even. Someone once told me that it felt like his heart was literally shriveling up and dying by the yard. I can't say that I felt that way, but, personally, it's always left me feeling empty inside, like something tore my heart out and poured cold, nebulous vacuum from space into my chest cavity.

But at the end of it all, you're still pretty much stuck in place with the thoughts of the women you've loved waltzing through your mind with alarmingly frequency.

And, then, horrifyingly, perhaps you realize that there's only space in your heart for one but you know that it'll never happen but you can't quite let go, so, it's a I'm-sorry-that-room-isn't-for-rent-or-sale-can't-have-it-thanks-have-a-nice-life-bye kinda thing if any other women end up entering your life. Or it'll end up coloring your future relationships in stark shades, in a horrid contrast to your past. Which might be even more horrifying.

Plus, Fate may keep throwing you curveballs by setting up happenstance run-ins with at least one of them in places that you least expect, with random phone-calls and text messages out of the blue from the far side of the moon. But you'll be nice, even when everything inside of you screams bloody murder while being thrown through and shredded by the industrial meat grinder that are your emotions and metaphorical heart.

And you don't know whether you want something more or less from that person. You can't decide whether you want that person to disappear from your life for-freaking-ever or to always have them there. And there's no real middle ground.

You just can't make up your mind at all which will send your mind into a vortex of frustration, angst, pain and sorrow, with perhaps a little sorrow thrown in for good measure, which it may or may not exit in one functioning piece.

But you'll survive, you'll get over it soon enough.

Even if you feel somewhat lobotomized by the whole chained series of events.

After two failed relationships in under a year and the 'death' of something before it even began, it makes me wonder how on earth do you ever get over such an event, let alone a chain of them? And how long does it take before you feel "back to normal"? What kind of closure is required for the chapter to be ended, to reach le fin?

I have no clue.

None what-so-ever.

And, yes, I'm still on this trip, this godforsaken path to somewhere that's hopefully not here. No, I'm not completely A-OK, even after such a long period of time. I can't keep up the facade of being alright and functioning with everyone, sorry.

My closest friends know how I really feel and have been feeling over the past year. It has been a constant source of frustration for me and of some irritation to my familia, my extended family of friends.

Does that make me a hypocrite? For keeping up a mask and appearances around most people, but dropping it with the closest people to myself?

Probably.

Not that I care about that. Much.

It's hard to be okay, I guess. The pain is still there, hiding in shadowy corners, being vague and then incredibly sharp. And, yet, there is that contradictory feeling of happiness and pride when speaking about either of my somewhat recent two exes, the stories of, what were to me, very important and interesting memories, that war with the after-recital feelings of nostalgic sadness and incompleteness.

And, perhaps, it's even harder to "get over it" since it can't quite reconcile with my hardwired [romantic] belief that, regardless of what happens, a part of one's self will always love them.

Perhaps it's a lesson or even a test. Or even one gigantic joke woven by the Fates.

Who the hell knows?

And we've already established that I certainly don't.

So, I try to distract myself.

Bury myself in any kind of work. Lose a job. Hang out with my friends as much as possible. Throw myself into projects that may or may not see fruition. Look for a new vocation. Smoke. Go to new places, try new things. Read webcomics and online stories of any kind. Read more books. Look at girls, random and known. Maybe unknowingly flirt if they stop to give me the time of day. Skate. Buy stuff online. Stumble across porn and watch for less than five minutes before realizing that my mind has better ideas about sex. Think. Get tattooed. Compose lyrics and poetry. Make crazy plans for the future that may never happen. Go for counselling to beat and break the steel of negativity that binds and constricts me. Smoke helluva lot more. Eat over irregular periods. Go out late with no real agenda. Play silly Facebook games. Skate more. Get physically hurt while skating. Smoke a little more to ease the pain on a psychological level. Sleep late and get kicked out of bed for no real reason. Lie to the rest of the world that I'm okay when I'm not. Hit a club. Dance. Get wasted. Smoke even more. Draw. Sketch. Write. Blog. Sleep. Dream.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Until either I break or I get through and over.

Even while claiming to the world that I'm over it all.

So, yes, there is something worse than death.

Bitches, please. Y'all survive. Maybe live even.

I'm right here and I know.

Right now, I barely EXIST.

But, somehow...

... I'll survive.

We all will.

Somehow.

... a car wreck of a heart, after the fact.

>>> The time is drawing near...

I've been as honest as I can, and I've done what I've had to. I did what I did, I enjoyed what I could. I've done my time, paid my dues. I can regret nothing.

Some chapters are long, some are short, some should've happened, some shouldn't have, but they all come to a close sometime.

For, and make no mistake, it's coming down to closing time yet again. So, grab your last drinks & that last mouthful and walk with me through that soon-to-be closing door. The door that closes on a filled chapter of my life.

To those who walked with me, helped write the pages, thank you. It's meant a lot to me over the past three quarters of a year. I wish I had more physical, visual mementos, but at least I have the memories.

Thank you all, customers, friends, colleagues, fellow storekeepers and so many others, for making my time so memorable within that strange spaces of that mallscape.

I'll see you when I see you.

SALUT LA FAMILIA!!!

... that the store's shutters will close on another era, another chapter of my life.

>>> Doesn't matter...

... if you don't say it outright.

I can hear it in your tone and the things you say. The way you compare me to everyone else around us. In the way you treat all others differently.

I'm not in the same situation as everyone else. In fact, I'm NOT everyone else, I'm ME. I'm DIFFERENT. But, no, you still treat the whole thing as if I had the most normal lifestyle and upbringing in the world, like I had the same path as everyone else.

Ha!

Like REAL.

I'm so disconnected from people that I don't belong to ANY group, I just flit from group to group like I don't tangibly exist, even IF I do happen to like entertaining people. SO, I have to be alone at the end of the day with no one to turn to. But, guess what? I don't like being alone. In fact, I hate it. But would you understand? Oh, no, you wouldn't!

That would be such weakness to you, wouldn't it. Like how I'm weak all over, a failure and a disappointment, with my multitude of flaws, phobias, allergies and whatnot.

Unlike the other two, who are such bright stars in your eyes, perfect in every way.

Joy, joy, bully for them.

It doesn't matter what I do or say or anything, I'll never amount to anything in your eyes.

You don't even think that I'll get a place in any of the Unis that I'm applying for, do you? You probably even think that it's a waste of time helping me with anything 'coz I don't do anything for you. That everything that I do is a right that you possess and expect from me. So, I have no rights; I'm not a being who's entitled to his feelings, negative or otherwise. And who is to [or can] be blamed for everything that doesn't go right.

I'm always wrong, you're always right.

After all, I'm such a failure.

Aren't I?