12 Weeks, 4 Days.
And apparently, blogging every day.
And what a strange day yesterday was.
Depression is a bitch, but I’m handling it alright (I believe).
I woke up feeling better. Early as fuck again. Wishing I could sleep more. But feeling better.
Stupid comments made me feel slightly better.
Silly how they often say “if you are suicidal, seek help,” I post something about it and people are like “just kill yourself.” And I get it. Honestly, that’s my advice to everyone. Just kill yourself.
Alas, you are not getting rid of me.
It would have already happened. They are just thoughts. If you never had such thoughts, well, lucky you.
And strange.
I’m really baffled if someone never in their life has thought about ending it all. Not even in your teens?
Isn’t it human to wonder our own death? Or to crave it once in a while?
Maybe I’m wrong.
Wouldn’t be the first. Wouldn’t be the last.
Today I’m a delivery boy. Cross the border. Get some papers. Deliver. I’ll get some writing done as well. And perhaps some sales.
Better than flipping burgers.
Well… not really. All jobs have their own dignity and worth. Flipping burgers is not for me. I did that in college. I flipped vegetables and meatsies at the Mongolian grill. I was good at it. It was fun.
I hated those girls who asked for all the soy and vegetables and demanded not to use oil on the grill. Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know the soy just burns on the grill and it’s a bitch to clean?
It was nice though. I would actually love a 9-5. I’ve been asking for it for a while. I’m tired of freelancing. But the freelance life chose me. So I have no other choice but to work for myself.
Which is also why I write this stupid shit.
For myself.
It’s not for you.
Not for your entertainment.
It’s my word vomit. It’s my outlet. I’ve been doing this for quite some time now. In a way… I can’t stop.
Call it what you will.
Big Star Bar in Houston is closing.
Just read the sad news.
And re-reading what I wrote of my time in Houston last year… It’s better than I remember.
Bisho and Chimba got canned food this morning. They still complaining.
Cats.
What’s going to happen to Ting Ting?
Cats.
Is Cats still showing?
My parents took me as a kid. I was probably four years old. I fell asleep during the show. A cat woke me up. It scared the fuck out of me.
Little kid falling asleep at a musical and suddenly woken by a human dressed like a fucking Jellicle Cat shaking my head.
Yeah. It was scary.
My mom would get a kick out of this story. She loved all the stories of my childhood. She always told people I was a vegetarian as a kid. Because she was a vegetarian, and I just did what she did.
Holy shit.
Cats is still showing!
And of course, the Japanese love it.
CATS!
The Wikipedia about it is pretty extensive.
Don’t care that much.
My coffee is shitty this morning. I shouldn’t be blogging every day.
But it was on my mind since I got more response from strangers than usual.
Thanks for visiting weird strangers!
Work out. Shower. And across the border I go!
I like driving. Driving for Uber/Lyft has always been extremely tempting. It’s what I might end up doing in 2020.
For now… I have to finish two articles.
My next scheduled photo shoot it’s not until next week. Then a bunch of them in May. And I am sure more will pop in the following days.
Great.
Just checked the border line.
There is a ton.
Should be fun.
Yesterday’s sky was strange.
I almost took my camera with me. And my work laptop. I should have.
I convinced myself that the iPhone will be good enough for work and for pictures. I wasn’t wrong. But I could have done better and done more work.
I just laid the basis for my articles and then took panoramic pictures with my iPhone of the insanity of the sky.
Macbook and camera would have been way better.
Lesson learned for the millionth time.
The other side that you’ve seen plenty.
And then this happened as I was leaving the brewery…
You see it?
No?
The ticket on the floor. The photo is a recreation of where I found it. Because I walked by it, saw that it had some writing… and decided to pick it up.
It was a receipt of the brewery. And the note… well… I was about to just toss it. Ignore it.
I’m still not sure if I should post the picture of it. Not sure if it will help or damage. I’m not sure if it’s a joke or something is happening.
Like I said…
Strange day.
The note was addressed to one of the bartenders. I told her first. Then I told the owner of the joint.
Bartender dismisses it as a stupid joke. And I was going to as well.
The owner took it way more seriously and involved the police. A handful of cops showed up to the brewery at closing time while I drank the last beer still pondering about life and my depression. They looked at the footage of the people in the bar and the people that possibly left it behind.
This might not be the last I know about this story.
This was the note:
It would have been so much easier to simply walk by it.
To ignore it.
But I picked it up.
And ended up doing something about it.
Curiosity eats me away.
Is it real?
A sick joke?
Are there going to be consequences?
What was going on through their minds?
Why drop it in the parking lot?
Why did I have to find it?!
Why only two beers and some BBQ wings?
Their order is a couple of hours before I arrived. And I paid no particular attention to anyone at the bar.
The ending of the note with a sad face is also very curious. And the whole explanation.
MYSTERY!
Sigh.
Work out. Shower. Breakfast.
Wait until the line dies out. Hopefully, by the early afternoon. There is a two hour+ wait right now.
Matingas 