Too Much Talking

Thursday, July 19th, 2018

I am not talkative. It has been a life struggle trying to be communicative. It hasn’t been a choice. More like personality. I am better than what I was years ago, but I still do suck at it. At least now, I have some charm – like a sociopath – but I still am sometimes socially awkward. I could pass off as being aloof and disinterested when, really, I am exhausted. Having a conversation is just too demanding. It is as if I do not have the fortitude nor the intelligence to sustain a conversation. I’ve improved to the point where I could start off great, then, I would want to fade into solitude until I’m ready again for another short burst of communication – small talk – until I want to fade away once again.

I wish I was more talkative. Only in writing am I really. Probably because I feel safe. There is no need for eye contact. And I may not get a direct response. Maybe I just want someone to listen.

But I have things to say. Sometimes. I really do wish I was more vocal instead. Talkative isn’t the right word. Vocal – especially at work. And just because I am silent doesn’t mean I am not there. It doesn’t mean I’m dumb or I know nothing. I have things to say in response to such ignorant notions, but I am not going to say it. It would seem “unprofessional”. I sometimes think about what two talkative people think and talk about regarding that one quiet person.

Nobody really knows him. He seems different.

It shouldn’t matter. But I wish I could tell them that. That and to be more professional.


Don Draper’s Guide to Fantastic Writing

The Art of Blogging

There’s no doubt about it. Mad Men is a must-watch TV show if you are a creative individual.

Don Draper is the most creative alpha male on TV. Well, some might say Harvey Specter is pretty ingenious too, but… Don is something else. Dark and moody and mysterious, but also a genius when it comes to sipping whisky and crafting the perfect slogan.

He makes it all look freaking cool…

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Isolation Leads To Assassination. — Ricardo Sexton

People underestimate belonging Fit in, but don’t belong to no one People desolate and feel longing Wait. It no longer exist. Move on. It never did. Forever is an illusion Ever hid, in the room of confusion No reciprocation / No association Divert! ‘No fountain in the desert’ Unlucky. Unlikely. Keep it low key Don’t […]

via Isolation Leads To Assassination. — Ricardo Sexton



Eyes + Words


“Don’t tell me the moon

is shining; show me the glint

of light on broken glass.”

– Anton Chekhov

Photo by João Silas

Over the years Eyes + Words has turned into a wonderful budding family of over fifteen thousand people across all platforms. It’s surreal and humbling to know that the art of poetry and story is alive and thriving. That being said, I hope that the creation of the Eyes + Words Writers Group serves as a vehicle and launch pad to help and support writers and the aspiring ones to keep manifesting words that many out there are searching for everyday. So go on and contribute, lets elevate together. Everyone is encouraged to share their experiences with anything involving writing.

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Thursday, March 29th, 2018

Thursday, March 29th, 2018

10:33 AM.

Melville, New York.

Here I sit, at a front desk in a day hab site for individuals for autism. There’s another front desk down the hall with windows behind it. Now that’s a front desk. I feel like I’m at a side desk. There’s no window here except for the door that leads into the vestibule, which has a glass window on it. But from where I sit, the angle doesn’t allow me to see anything outside. It’s supposed to be raining today. Is it yet? Is the sun out?

Is the sun out for baseball? It’s Opening Day today. I was a huge New York Mets fan. Huge. Since July 7th, 2017. That was the day the Mets were in Houston, playing against the Astros. It was like the bottom of the 14th inning. The Mets were on defense. A base hit wouldn’t won it for Houston. The ball was hit hard to deep center field. Carlos Beltran ran back, his head squarely up, chasing the ball. He stumbled up Tal’s Hill, one of the most ridiculous things a baseball could ever have. It was basically an incline located deep center field. Robbing home runs would’ve been tough enough in such a deep park.

Anyway, Carlos Beltran stumbled up that hill and made a miraculous catch. I was a New York Mets fan since then. And they won the game three innings later. I don’t remember how.

I was a Mets fan when John Maine threw a one-hit shut out against the Marlins on the second to last day of that season. When Tom Glavine gave up seven runs in the first inning to close out a 2007 collapse. When Johan Santana gave the Mets a chance on the second to last day of the 2008 season. The last game at Shea. The injuries of 2009. The trade that gave up Zack Wheeler. Matt Harvey’s first start, where you could tell, he was going to be special. He was attacking the inside of the plate. The R.A. Dickey trade for Thor and D’Arnaud. The 2015 World Series run.

But I haven’t been watching since. Not in 2016. Nor 2017. I haven’t had the time. Only for basketball. I guess I lost my appreciation for the beauty of baseball. Instead, I would rather have time. Baseball could go on for over three hours. Basketball is 48 minutes non-stop scoring plus timeouts and free throws and halftime.

What was I talking about? Oh. My day.

I had two people who looked like they were trying to check what I was doing. They are people of position who are capable of giving me something to do. I would rather not. I would rather just stay on standby and practice my writing. I think it’s average, if not above average. I should describe more.

This desk is messy. It’s disorganized and cluttered. Even as I have my focus on the computer screen, typing this, the mess is all in my peripheral vision. So many office supplies and paper that needs to be organized. What’s the point of having a fake flower around? Maybe because there isn’t a window here. Never mind that point. Why are their pebbles in the jar. Maybe because there isn’t a window here to look out at the rocks in the large parking that is barely filled. Never mind that point as well.

“Tiffany, come here.”

I wish I could share details about where I work. There are so many things I could write about. What’s wrong. What’s right. What’s working. What needs more work. But I don’t want to undermine my work nor the people here. All in all, though, they are doing a good service. What I do, I just stand by. Watching.

Is that my point? I’m learning by watching. This was supposed to be an entry describing my day. But I didn’t learn anything watching the Mets. I don’t know. Rambling now. Stop. Just stop.