It’s dark outside though it’s 1:20 pm. It’s also cold. It went from being 100°F plus and sunny to 65°F cloudy and cold. I know, 65°F is not that cold in many places. For me it is. For her, it would be.
I spoke to her on the phone this morning. It was a better talk.
The night I broke up with her, that wasn’t a good talk. Again, I felt like we broke up before this. And talking it through has helped a lot. Like I said, our paths started going on a different way, so instead of just prolonging the inevitable, I ripped the band-aid off.
Who knows if we get together later. Who knows what will happen. For now, she’s in Monterrey trying to find what to do. I’m in Tijuana continuing with my life.
The picture of us together and the love drawings she made me are still up. I’m still sleeping on the couch.
It was a tough decision. We were almost a full year together. Living together. Sleeping together. Eating and drinking together. Virtually, everything together. Except when I had to go to San Diego and she couldn’t cross.
The day after the painful phone call, I went to work early morning. I was at a bar for a gig by 10:30 am. I didn’t eat much before that. I didn’t have breakfast. I just started drinking.
The gig was NFL related, that’s why I was at a bar that early. It was great. My fantasy team did great.
By 2 pm I was already drunk. I went back to Tijuana and only ate a bag of sour cream & onion chips and a couple of Reese’s cups. Before going home, I stopped by Nelson. Had a caguama, and went back home. Tired from not sleeping and drunk from just drinking and not eating.
I turned on the TV to watch the World Series, couldn’t watch more than an inning and fell asleep before 5:30 pm.
Woke up at 10:30 pm to an abundance of text messages from her and a few missed calls. I texted her back and she didn’t reply. I know she was in pain and couldn’t sleep. But that she didn’t read the message at the time (past midnight for her) it meant that she slept. And I was happy that she could finally sleep.
The World Series was also great. I woke up on the top of the 10th. Holy shit. Tied game and the longest World Series in history. And the Astros won it!
Then I stayed up watching Did You Know Gaming videos. Until I passed out on the couch again.
Woke up early to see another abundance of messages from her. I replied to all of them. Then we talked on the phone for over an hour.
A good talk.
A better talk.
Shit still sucks that we broke up. But it’s understandable. It’s amicable. She wants to stay in contact with me, I told her to take some time and then we will.
I really think we will be. And again, who knows what the fuck will happen in the future.
Blog is on hiatus. I’ll post this when I come back. Not sure when. It might be soon. It might be in a week. I still wanted to write 1,000 words for myself. And for no one else.
Damn. Feels good not to hit post.
Now, work time!
Day 2 of truly being without her.
Days got way longer, figuratively. They are literally way shorter. I still don’t dare to put down the picture of us together. But I know eventually, it will happen. I’m not sure when I’ll see her next or if I will, but most likely we will. When our paths meet again.
Winter hit hard after hot weather. It’s cold out. I passed out again on the couch with an open beer I didn’t finish. It was around 6 am when I woke up and there were no hints of dawn. Still super dark as fuck outside.
The day was long and filled with nothing. I did some work here and there, but not much. I have to make some phone calls today and do some other work that I have no desire to do.
At 5 pm I got hungry, and though I had no desire to drink, I have nothing else to do. I went to Bar Nelson to drown my sorrows and watch NFL. Today seems like it will be basically the same. I should do some laundry.
The next few days, I’ll be really busy with a gig. That should be okay. And that should be my rent money and some.
6:12 am on a Thursday. Day 4 of the hiatus. Or something like that.
Like I said, I was going to be really busy. I’m waking up and thinking “why the fuck did I accept this job?” This suck. It’s so damn early, the sun is not out, it’s sort of cold out, and I have to cold shower and head to the border.
Be in Del Mar before 9 am.
And that’s just for Thursday.
Friday and Saturday I got to be there at 6 am. I’ll be staying in San Diego today and tomorrow so I can do this gig.
Why the fuck did I take this job?
Money. Duh. I need it.
She used to wake up earlier to go to a shitty crappy job that I hated. I have no idea how she did it. Woke up daily at around 4 am and walked to work.
No wonder she didn’t want to stay.
I’m fucking tired.
I couldn’t really sleep.
You know when you have to wake up early and it’s in the back of your mind so you barely sleep thinking you are going to be late. I woke up at 4:30 am thinking it was already past 7 and freaked out. It was only 4:30 am.
Fuck. I regret accepting this job. Though it’s only just for a couple of days and then it will be good money.
Today sucked. Tomorrow and the day after are going to be even worse.
One week later. It’s Monday morning. Winter hit hard and fast. It’s cold out.
I’ll return from my hiatus to post all this garbage.
Work was painful but it wasn’t that bad. I spent Thursday night at Brozo’s place. He is one of the nicest people I know. He played video games and I wanted to join in, but I was so tired from working all day the previous day.
Then we watched South Park.
And around midnight, it was bedtime.
I couldn’t sleep very well….
Woke up at 5:30 am. Showered there. And got the fuck out to go to work on Friday morning. Alyssa, who got me the gig and acted as my supervisor, picked me up from Brozo’s place and we got to the track at 6 am. We “manage” the vendors at the Breeder’s Cup, the “World Cup” of horseys.
Friday was bullshit. It wasn’t busy at all. It was just freaking out over the health department checking everything like that the sinks were running at 120°F. There were almost no people. It was a slow day and vendors were not happy at all.
I lost $20 betting on horseys. I won the first bet, then lost all the rest.
I left work at around 7 pm and got to my IG’s boyfriend’s place at 8ish. There, I slept at around 9:30 pm after having a whisky drink with him and talking about life, photography, and relationships.
He had gone on a Bumble date the previous night that went well, but the girl never texted him back. I’m not really interested in meeting anyone in Bumble, but I got curious, so I downloaded the app.
There is no one in there for me (so far).
And it’s not like I’m trying. I uploaded horrible pictures of myself. I don’t really photograph well anyway. And the pictures are old because most of the pictures of 2017 I’m with her.
It’s weird to call her that. I sometimes call her my girlfriend still… then I correct myself. *ex-girlfriend*.
That is going well. We talk. Because we are still friends. And we still care for each other. But I knew distance was just going to be a bitch. She has a job interview today and I hope she does great.
Maybe at some point, our paths will cross again. Who knows.
Joey’s place is really nice. Like a fancy hotel in the middle of downtown. Comfy couch, comfy accommodations, I actually slept really well. I woke up at 1 am feeling refreshed just to figure out I have more hours of sleep. Slept a couple more hours and woke up at 3 am to find out I still had more hours!
And finally woke up at 5 am to do the same. Shower and leave. In his nice hotel bathroom shower with hotel shampoo and soap.
And out the door I go. Alyssa was already waiting for me at 5:25 am. I got some of the free coffee Joey’s building has.
If I lived in that building, I would drink the fuck out of that coffee. And go to the gym, though I hate that it has large windows that everyone on the street can look in. Why do gyms do that? I don’t want people watching me work out. It’s one of the reasons I hate gyms. And now that shit is public!?
Saturday was more active. It was really packed in there. Vendors did much better but not all of them. Some didn’t sell much at all. But some… some banked. And many bet on the horseys and ended up with even more money.
I ended up losing $22 more…
Again. Won the first bet, then lost all the other.
And on the seventh race that I didn’t bet any money on it… I called it. Horsey #6 is going to win. And he did.
I’m not a lucky guy… for the most part.
At least I got free food from all the vendors. Everything ran smoothly. And it was a good time while making money.
The day ended past 7 pm and Alyssa dropped me off at the Old Town trolley station.
I got home around 9 pm.
And by home, I meant Nelson.
I regretted buying the second beer there. I was exhausted. I saw two friends of mine there. They told me I look like shit. I wasn’t drunk. I was just fucking depleted.
I called an Uber even though it was a short walk. And slept well. Slept very good. I’m not even sure how many hours since the time changed and I didn’t really pay attention when I woke up.
I woke up before NFL started and caught up with the Colbert Report.
Then NFL and lazy all day. So fucking lazy that I ordered a torta from Torta Plaza through Uber Eats for breakfast.
NFL all day. Nelson for a bit in the afternoon. My brother called me to give me some bad news about some personal family shit that I don’t want to deal with.
Came home and finally finished the Halloween edit, almost a week after Halloween… Here it is:
I posted on Reddit and Imgur and it’s doing well so far. I was going to add notes to all of them but got lazy.
And I just realized my favorite of the night wasn’t on that album. Oh well. Posting the best pics on Tijuana Adventure’s Instagram.
That was the best one.
That cow costume should retire. That coat I’ll be wearing all winter though.
Picture by the great Tony Tee.
And now it’s Monday.
I’m not sure what I’m doing this week. I have one gig on Wednesday. Well… more like the two photo gigs I did are 85% done and I just got to do the other 15%.
I should email about that.
And Tuesday pay request.
The rest of the week I have it for whatever I want. I should establish myself as a versatile photographer and start making more money on that path next year.
I should write some articles. And maybe continue with my so-called book.
Hiatus continues while I try to figure shit out. Or more like I set myself to take two weeks off. But it feels weird not to write.
The roommate is gone. Chad is gone. The Chad that everyone knew is also gone. He is now a 40-year-old that works all day on a suit and drives a Prius.
And sometimes I miss America and the responsibilities of not Tijuana. Tijuana is like using cheat codes.
The new roommate will arrive soon. Joshua. And with him, a mountain of beer.
No idea what next year will be like. This year is not over and I already want next year to be done.
Tuesday, November 7th!
Goddamn, it’s early. I woke up at 6:30 am.
Sunsets are shortly before 5 pm. By then, it feels like night time. Time to go out for food, and inevitably, more beer.
Days, though shorter, start to feel really long. Single life is boring as I swipe left and right on my phone and deplete my shitty options for a match.
I’ve been reduced to this again.
I’m not sure what I’m doing with most my days. I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Finishing up a photo gig.
But as for writing work. I’m doing nothing. Just staring at blank pages. Not writing anything. I crave a regular job. After suffering the 5 am wake up call and two days of 14-hour shifts, it wasn’t that bad. And I can’t wait till I get paid. I could easily do this. $15 an hour office jobs. I would be on my way right now to the office.
It would be painful. But it would be worth it. Better than what I’m doing right now which is waste away until I can waste away.
Seriously? Is it beer time already? 7:51 am?
Chad would think so.
Old Chad would. New Chad hasn’t touched a drink in weeks.
And I moved forward somewhat… to end back to where I was before. Even further back.
I have one writing gig that is due in two weeks. I should start that now.
It’s an easy one. It won’t take me more than a couple of hours. I just have to do some research and write a little bit.
I saw my friend Bobby at Nelson yesterday. He is working on an album. Or more like on a cassette. Yep. Hipster as fuck. I haven’t played music at all. When I grab my guitar I don’t get inspired. The old songs I used to play I can’t. My fingers are dumb. And I have no imagination.
I just tap tap tap tap. Tippy tap tap tap.
And I still grow and maintain my nails as if I was practicing every day.
I do absolutely nothing but go on Reddit for hours and then mope around.
I haven’t even cleaned the apartment like I said I would.
I just want to hibernate.
Hibernate at Nelson.
…. Though Nelson started to become a bit dull. I have nothing else.
So back to Reddit for hours!
And watch 90s movies. I’ve watched both Ace Ventura movies now. Well… The first one. I fell asleep during the second one last night. They are pretty bad…
I just got a call and it was for my ex. It’s so weird to call her my ex. She gave my phone number to banks and other things… They still call her.
Tap Tuesday. Time to waste till it’s time to get wasted.
New roommate arrives today.
Wednesday, November 8th.
Cold shower and out the door I go. It’s weird that it’s only 8:02 am and I’ve already been awake for almost an hour. Naturally. No alarm or anything.
I’m in bed at 10 pm.
I’m also in the bars at 5 pm.
I don’t remember winter being this crazy. At least the sun comes out. In Minnesota, I wouldn’t even see the sun some days.
But I remember the days being more… normal.
Cold shower. And I have to go. Have to be at the park between 9 to 11 am. If I leave in 10 minutes, I should be there at 10 am or so.
I got to go!
Cold shower first… with this weather.
It’s painful, then you get used to it. Then you are fine.
The difficult part is mentally preparing for it.
That’s all I’m doing today. Just one thing to finish the gig. It’s not even needed. The covers are set. The layout is most likely done. And this is for the next couple of issues. So photo gigs are set.
And oh yeah.
A cover picture comes out today.
I’ll grab copies.
I need to work on writing. I started the holiday special that is due in two weeks. Easy stuff for good money. But I need to come up with a couple more stories.
And I will…
Cold shower. Cross the border. Take pictures. Done. Come back.
Thursday, November 9th.
What the fuck? It’s only Thursday?
I’m stuck waiting for the weekend because I want to get paid so I can go back to work. I should be making good money on this check. Enough to cover rent, pay Brozo what I owe him for the lens, and still be good to do nothing for a while.
And I have that one gig to do. And picture gig. That’s going to be good money as well. And I really need to write something to make more money.
What I’m saying is, the gig is good. I haven’t been doing work and I should, but it’s tough when you have money and Nelson.
Yesterday, I went back to Balboa Park to take more pictures of the trees. It took me less than 30 minutes of shooting.
Brozo got busy so I didn’t have bro-brunch with him, I had Jack in the Box by myself. I regretted it because it was bad. Two new shitty breakfast wraps. I should have gone for the extreme sausage, my favorite guilty breakfast pleasure.
Grabbed a couple of San Diego Readers before crossing the border. Here’s another cover for the books!:
I was back in Tijuana before 1 pm. I was thirsty. I stopped by Nelson for a caguama. Only one. That turned to two. That turned to three.
I was home at 6 pm and it was already dark as fuck already. Ordered a couple pizzas from Hornero (their special edition Armenian pizza is fantastic).
Watched Jeopardy and passed out.
Yep. At 8 pm.
Woke up at 1:30 am from weird dreams. I dreamt that my new roommate was already living here. And that he hung weird ceiling plants in the kitchen overnight. And that I slept through a small party he had. There was a dude passed out on the living room floor.
In reality, it won’t be like that. I don’t think it will be…
Watched YouTube until almost dawn and passed out again. Woke up around 10:30 am to a call by my landlord telling me I needed to sign some shit. She’s in a family dispute for the ownership of this building. I might have to move out no matter what… But I really want the penthouse. So I’m going to try to fight for it.
And now. Thursday.
This blog and this stupidly long post will go live on Monday.
If I’m not working, I’m drinking. So I should do some work.
Edit pictures. Send. Do some writing. Workout. Shower?
Let’s see what this day has for me.
Days haven’t been this nothing mysterious for a while….
Friday morning. I woke up with no internet. Forgot to pay it. So I did a morning walk to pay the internet. And now here I am.
Still unsure about anything.
The only thing I know is I still fucking suck at Fantasy Football. My running back started with a fumble yesterday. Great.
I haven’t been doing much. Weird sleeping schedule still. I should work but I have no desire to do so.
Yesterday I did something at least. I interviewed my friend Szavio again to finish his story. Once I’m done with that story, I can move on. I should have done it forever ago. I’m still not doing it.
I also bought a heater because it’s fucking cold out! And the apartment gets really cold.
And then nothing. Nelson. Waste my time while time wastes me.
I supposedly have two photoshoots today. Neither are confirmed and I’m not making any money. Or who knows.
One is at Mamut Brewery. Generic shots of brewers brewing and tanks fermenting the beer or what not. Thing is, brewers are in Mexico City. So it might get postponed for some other time. I will probably get paid with beer. Which is fine. Since most my money goes to that anyway.
The second shoot is supposedly at a gym. A girl I met forever ago who works out daily and is one of those bodybuilders wants me to do a photoshoot of her working out. I told her $50 and asked her to confirm. She never confirmed. I’m not sure if it will actually happen. I mean… $50 is already hella cheap. I need to learn how to charge people. I should fix my website and make it more about charging money for photography.
And install a paywall behind this stupid blog. One dollar to read all. How does that sound? Would you do it? It’s only one fucking dollar…
Friday and it just seems like another shitty day. I have ten days to finish a special article. Cake. I have 10 days to finish a couple more articles. Cake. I have 10 more days to take some pictures for the said article. Cake.
Two more days and I come back to posting stupid shit online. It’s funny to see that stats on my website have basically remained the same. An average of 20 visitors with around 50 clicks. I guess it’s normally a bit more. But people still visit my website…
And the last post…
The last post is the hiatus and it’s a sad post. And I’ve been giving dozens of people my business card. The first thing they will see it’s just word vomit. I wonder what the first impression of people is….
Two more days… and I make my shitty return to my shitty blog talking about my shitty life.
Saturday. Friday was nothing but constantly checking my bank account to see if the money got deposited.
It didn’t until this morning.
Working last week a lot, covering a bunch of photo gigs, and getting paid for one article adds up to good money for a bi-week.
That’s how much money I should be making every two weeks, but it’s usually a third of that. Yep. And since I knew I was going to make good money, I haven’t been working at all.
If I’m not working, I’m drinking. And that’s what I’ve been doing. Just depressingly drinking.
I should have finished the article yesterday and didn’t. Fuck.
By 4 pm I left the apartment in search of food. My friend and drummer of my last band called me to hang out. And we did. I drank while he told me what’s up with his life in his odd way of describing what is going on with his life. Then we hung out some more at Nelson and did the same.
I was ready to pass out after a few beers. Came home. Put Netflix on. Didn’t watch more than 5 minutes of Archer and passed out.
Woke up at 6 am.
I could be doing an office job. Or I could force myself to write.
Let’s see what today entails. I should do some work but because it’s Saturday I don’t want too. Though all days have been exactly a replica one of the other.
Waking up at the crack of dawn.
Rinse. Reddit. Repeat.
I need to buy a marker.
Hah. I haven’t bought a marker yet.
I woke up at 6 am again and I’ve been waiting for the games to start since then. I know I’m going to lose on my Fantasy League… but it’s a weird sort of addiction. I just want to see it happen. The glimmer of hope that I might win. I know I’m not going too, but I just want to.
Life is not important.
And it can be quite repetitive.
I need to get out of Tijuana soon. I’ll probably go to LA in two weeks or less.
It’s been the same thing day after day.
Coffee. Breakfast. Workout. Shower (sometimes). Internet distractions. Write here. Write over there. Write something else. More internet distractions. Get hungry. Attempt to message friends to see what they are doing. Oh. They are all busy doing shit.
Go find food. I’m already out. Nelson is right there. Nelson.
Life is not important.
The old farts that inhabit Nelson are like children hurling stupid insults at the bartender while awaiting death. There’s nothing there. They still go there.
I still go there.
In hopes of getting a red star.
And last night I did. And I’ve learned the pattern.
That’s how pathetic I am.
I’ve figured out the pattern for the red stars at Nelson.
As pathetic as the usual clientele. As pathetic as most people in existence.
Wash face. Look in the mirror.
“How Can Mirrors Be Real If Our Eyes Aren’t Real.”
Blog goes up live tomorrow. I’m not sure what the point was on taking a hiatus and keep on writing and not posting. I sort of liked it though. It was good training for the other shit I’m working on. Because I know it will take me more than a month and no one will get to read it until I feel like I’m done with it.
And that will be my life.
Who fucking thought I end up a writer?
That’s what I’ll do. Write books and take pictures. Other people do it and do it well. I can be like other people and do it okay.
I’m working on chapter 3 of my so-called book. And it’s a juicy story I only told a handful of times.
But first, breakfast. And then NFL. And then. Who knows.
Today I make the return!
Yesterday I was all ready to hit post. This morning… not so much.
We talked yesterday and I warned her that I was about to come back from the hiatus. She said, “oh no, I’ll find out you’ve been sleeping around with putitas.” That’s what she called some IG girls I follow that I hit like on….
I haven’t. At all.
I don’t really have an interest. Not right now. I’m happy with myself and Bisho. I mean, of course, I think about it. But I don’t want to deal with the whole thing that is flirting and getting to know each other and that bullshit. Also, the bar is setup real high.
Days still feel pretty long and somewhat boring. By 5:30 pm I’m already at Nelson. By 9:30 pm I’m passing out.
Waking up early. Getting entertained by the internet. Write. Figure out shit. Write some more. Workout.
I got published yesterday. Story is somewhat popular.
The first Minnesotan that I met that just moved to Tijuana just because. And since I went to college there, we hit up pretty well. We’re thinking about starting a band. Or at least jamming for a while and see if there’s something there.
I owe him some tacos.
So that’s good.
One published. A special edition due. And a couple of photo gigs = I’m okay for another week.
And I’ll have time to write some more if inspired. And I am.
Inspired to go to Nelson, that is.
Seriously. Not even 10 A.M. and I’m thinking about it.
An old man explained how to gamble. He doesn’t really talk loud enough, so I could barely hear him explain. But he got me going with the idea of gambling on NFL games. You can start as low as $2.
Another old dude was with some old lady drinking gin and tonics by the minute. They asked for the check and the bartender came over with 12 receipts. 560 pesos total for over 12 drinks. At first it sounded like “holy shit they spent a lot of money.” Then I thought about it, it was only $30…
Not for how much drinks they were having.
And I drink two or three caguamas per round. Sounds like a lot. It’s only around $7…
So my beer drinking hobby, aka alcoholism, only costs me a few bucks a day. And in Nelson is where I ponder most of my ideas. And type them into my phone.
It’s also an excuse to get out of the fucking apartment.
Holy shit. The word vomit is coming back hard.
This almost 5,000 words. If you read all of this. Congrats.
Here’s my fat cat yesterday.
The photoshoot I was supposed to have with the gym girl got canceled. Or more like she never confirmed. I saw her Instagram yesterday. What horrible pics she got. She probably got another photographer that did it for free. They are just simply really bad. And for some reason that made me feel good. I tried charging her only $50. She was not professional about it at all.
I need to be more professional with my photography.
With my whole self.
And I also need to pay rent. Which this building is also having its own drama.
TL;DR: Everything is going okay.
Moneywise, I’m fine but I need to be making at least double what I am making.
Relationshipwise, we still talk but for the moment not together and who knows how long.
Apartmentwise, there’s drama in this building but I should be okay for a while.
Familywise, there’s money drama there and it’s hurting my soul.
Nelsonwise, you’ll find me there almost daily. It’s my refuge.
Wordvomitwise, welcome back shitty blog my old friend.