Storm Log: Daily Entries, 2
Storm Log Archive
May 15, 2026 – May 31, 2026
05/15/2026
Restless night.
One of those nights where sleep technically happens, but not in any meaningful way. Tossing. Turning. Waking. Drifting. Repeating.
Around 8:20 a.m., I woke up feeling physically fatigued before the day had even started. There was that familiar ache in my chest again—the emotional kind, not the kind that sends you to the ER, but the kind that sits heavy enough to make even getting out of bed feel difficult.
I hate how familiar that feeling has become.
By 9:05 a.m., I was still in bed, researching attachment theory videos and trying to understand dynamics that have become painfully relevant. I had no real plan for the day. Part of me considered going to Cole Park off Ocean Drive, but that place carries too much history with someone I care about. It felt too loaded. The beach park I’ve been going to lately felt safer. Less memory-heavy.
Eventually, I forced movement.
The shower happened, though getting there felt like a mission in itself. Once I got there, I pulled it together and went through the usual routine, or what is supposed to be the usual routine.
Oddly enough, I noticed I’ve somehow drifted from Irish Spring to Zest, which is strange because Irish Spring has been my soap for years. I had tested different soaps on myself a long time ago, and Irish Spring worked best for my skin. Bar soap only. Never shower gel. But after buying Zest once when Irish Spring was unavailable, it somehow became part of the rotation.
For the past few days, I had also been using Mom’s bath gel because I had left my replacement soap in the car. That mattered because it was hers, and because scent holds memory. It brought back the familiar smell of how she used to smell after getting out of the shower. Then I realized I didn’t want to keep using it because I don’t want it to run out. There’s only about a quarter of the bottle left, and something in me wants to preserve that.
Around 9:48 a.m., after the shower, I remembered I had left clothes sitting in the dryer. While pulling them out, I found money sitting in the dryer, probably from something left in a pocket. A small unexpected win.
The original breakfast plan changed. Instead of going out, I remembered I still had leftover El Gavilan Pollero chicken from yesterday. So I stayed home and made breakfast there: leftover chicken with serrano peppers, cream cheese bell pepper bites with everything bagel seasoning, and chunks of pepper jack cheese.
I initially thought I needed to feed the cats before leaving, but when I checked, they still had a little food left, so I didn’t.
By around 10:35 a.m., I was on the road, passing through Portland and heading into Corpus. Since breakfast was already handled, the beach breakfast idea was off the table. The plan shifted to the gym: stretch, maybe do yoga, maybe get a massage, and try to get my body and mind into a better place before deciding what came next.
At 11:20 a.m., I got to the gym.
Started with the hydro massage chair, then moved into deep stretching. The stretch was actually good. Somewhere in that process, I made a commitment to myself again: no more smoking. That last pack has to go. Not “finish it eventually.” Not “cut back.” Gone.
But the reset got interrupted.
Around 12:30 p.m., while stretching, I saw someone from the past of someone I care about. Someone connected, in my understanding, to a disturbing chapter involving harassment and chaos. I recognized him because I had been shown photos before. I tried to act like I didn’t recognize him, continued stretching, and looked away.
At one point, I made a sudden glance back and caught him staring. He quickly broke eye contact and shifted his attention elsewhere, like he was pretending to look at a phone, watch, or something else. After that, while I rolled up my yoga mat, I kept noticing quick glances from him. Not one glance. Multiple. Enough that I noticed.
I had planned to do the hydro massage chair again, but that was over. I left instead.
By 12:40 p.m., I was leaving the gym upset, activated, and conflicted. The encounter stirred up protective anger and concern. I briefly wrestled with whether I should confront him, whether I should warn the person connected to that history, and whether that would mean crossing a line I didn’t need to cross. I left without confronting him and without going to anyone’s house.
By 1:25 p.m., I found myself at a tire shop.
That turned into the first solid practical decision of the afternoon. Just yesterday, after getting air checked, I had been told my front tires needed replacing soon. Looking at them up close, I realized the tread was worse than I had mentally pictured. Since I had the money from the boots I sold yesterday, I decided to handle it.
If I’m going to be on the road, this was something I needed to do.
By 1:45 p.m., I was leaving the tire shop with the two front tires replaced. It didn’t take long. Originally, I thought about grabbing food right away, but then I remembered I hate getting a massage after eating. That full, heavy feeling ruins it. So I changed course and headed to the mall first.
Around 2:00 p.m., I arrived at the mall.
Passing through the food court, the Chinese spot offered a couple of samples: tiny bites of orange chicken and teriyaki chicken. I immediately thought about glucose, but they were small enough that I didn’t think they would do anything major.
By 2:05 p.m., I was heading toward the Chinese massage place.
I did a 20-minute massage, and by 2:35 p.m., I was getting out. It was pretty good. Exactly the kind of reset my body needed after the morning and everything that happened at the gym.
After the massage, I grabbed the jalapeño shrimp from the Chinese restaurant in the mall food court, with broccoli and carrots on the side. Before fully settling into food, I also had to go back to the car to get cash for the massage tip. I don’t like leaving the real tip only on the card receipt there because I’ve been told the worker doesn’t actually receive that directly. So I left the small required card tip and went back with cash so the actual person could get it.
By 3:04 p.m., I made it to a beach park I don’t usually go to. I was trying to change things up.
The wind was too strong to enjoy eating outside, so I stayed in the car and ate there instead. While eating, I listened to the music for the new song I wrote yesterday.
By 3:22 p.m., I left the park.
After that, I ended up at my usual car wash on Greenwood, somewhere around 4:00 p.m. I got lucky because one of the vacuum stations was already running from someone else’s paid time. I pulled in and used it, and it kept going long enough for me to vacuum the entire car. At first I thought the machine might just be broken and would keep running forever, but it finally stopped right near the end.
Then I got in line to wash the outside of the car.
The car wash is next to the PMI convenience store. While I was at the change machine putting in a bill, I saw someone important to me pull into the PMI parking area.
I hesitated.
My car was visibly right there in line. There was no real pretending I wasn’t there. So I walked over and spoke.
I’m not going to unpack that entire conversation here because some things belong in private spaces, but it became a significant unexpected conversation after a period of silence and distance. Some things were explained. Some things became more confusing. There was talk of outside interference, emotional overwhelm, and needing time. There was also a future plan to meet and talk in person.
That moment changed the emotional shape of the day.
It didn’t resolve everything.
It didn’t magically make things simple.
But it did shift the silence into something else.
I finished washing the car and left the car wash area somewhere around 4:45 p.m.
The original plan after that was to go to the Walmart on Staples and get gas at the Murphy station there. Instead, I got distracted in a long phone conversation with Dad and ended up parked in the Five Below / Dollar Tree parking lot across from Walmart.
The conversation with Dad turned into a deep theological discussion.
We talked about faith, fairness, scripture, suffering, and how I sometimes feel upset with God even though I still want to be on the right side of Him. A recent church moment came up, where the preacher referenced something involving consequences extending beyond one person and into future generations. Without realizing how loud I was saying it, I said, “That’s not fair.”
And honestly, that’s how it felt.
The idea of whole generations carrying consequences because of one person or one bloodline doesn’t sit right with me. It leads into bigger questions: why bad things happen, why suffering is allowed, why some things in scripture feel hard to reconcile.
We also talked about translations, the King James Version, political influence, and questions around older biblical texts. I told Dad not to simply believe me, but to research for himself. I wasn’t saying I’m against God. I was saying I’m frustrated, and some things don’t feel right.
That conversation continued until about 5:45 p.m.
After hanging up with Dad, I realized I had somehow ended up near Alameda, around the gym area again, almost like I had driven there on autopilot. I think I was headed toward Whataburger to get ice for a sparkling water I had bought from Dollar Tree. That’s become a thing: buy the sparkling water cheap, then get a cup of ice somewhere else.
By 6:03 p.m., I was at the water cooler / drink station moment, getting ice for the sparkling water.
Bluetooth mode.
Waiting for connection.
Somewhere between that ice stop and the next part of the evening, the timeline gets a little fuzzy.
By 7:30 p.m., I had made it to El Gavilan Pollero. Yes, El Gavilan Pollero twice in one day. I ordered a whole chicken with rice and beans on the side. The chicken was mostly to share with Dad, and the sides were mostly for him too. I only had a little rice and beans, just a few bites, because glucose is still in the back of my mind.
The chicken wasn’t ready until 8:00 p.m., so I sat in the parking lot and waited.
After picking it up, I started driving home and called Dad to let him know I was bringing food and would pick him up a drink.
At 8:44 p.m., I stopped at Sonic and got him a drink.
By around 9:09 p.m., I was home and had finished eating. Oh, and by the way, they hooked me up with extra chicken. That was an awesome surprise. I order from there so often that they know me by name and say hi to me when I walk in. Great food!
Honestly, I still didn’t know what to think or feel.
The whole day left me puzzled.
Not good.
Not bad.
Just confused.
Breaking the silence felt uncomfortable, but it also brought answers, or at least claimed explanations. It also brought another planned meeting. So I don’t know. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s just another strange turn in a strange day.
Either way, I think tonight needs to be simple.
Shower.
Rest.
Sleep.
Because today was weird.
Really weird.
05/16/2026
This day started badly.
Or maybe more accurately, it started in fragments.
Around 7:00–7:30 a.m., I woke up for what should have been the start of the day, except my body had other plans. A sharp pain in my right knee hit hard enough that walking normally to the restroom wasn’t really an option. I basically hopped my way there, handled what needed to be handled, and went straight back to bed.
Whatever that was, I wasn’t interested in negotiating with it that early.
So I repositioned the leg, found something tolerable, and went back to sleep.
By 10:00 a.m., the second wake-up became the official one.
And physically?
I felt wrecked.
Not alcohol hungover.
Just that same heavy, foggy, mentally depleted feeling people associate with a hangover.
Part of that was probably the sleeping pill from the night before still lingering in my system. Part of it was emotional exhaustion. Part of it was simply not enough quality sleep.
Whatever the cause, I felt like roadkill.
The morning didn’t begin with movement.
It began with mental spiraling.
I found myself looking into strange behavioral patterns tied to surveillance, monitoring, interference, and generally unsettling dynamics surrounding situations that affect people by proxy. Not because I had enough information to land anywhere concrete, but because when someone you care about is affected by something strange, your own life gets touched by the fallout whether you asked for that or not.
At 10:43 a.m., Dad called while he was on break.
Short check-in.
Nothing dramatic.
Just connection.
After that, I spent time texting Chris, updating him on the music project and the fact that what had started as a small creative burst had quietly become something much bigger.
Seven completed songs.
That still feels strange to say.
I invited him to join me at one of the upcoming recording sessions whenever I officially lock in studio time. If there’s anyone who belongs in that lane with me, it’s Chris. Years of friendship, music, shared history, and brotherhood put him in a category very few people occupy.
I asked what day would work for him.
Saturday.
That works.
At 11:45 a.m., I checked my blood glucose.
110.
Not bad.
Right after that, I finally ate.
Leftover chicken from the previous day, paired with cream cheese, mini bell peppers, everything bagel seasoning, and pieces of pepper jack cheese.
Simple.
Protein-heavy.
Functional.
Then I finally peeled myself out of bed.
Shower.
Reset attempt.
Fed the cats.
And by 12:45 p.m., I was headed into Corpus Christi.
No elaborate plan.
Just movement.
I stopped at Dollar Tree to grab sparkling waters for myself and a couple of Arizona teas for Robert, then headed over.
By 1:00 p.m., I was at Robert’s house.
That visit became less about hanging out and more about being present.
He vented.
I listened.
Updates came regarding his father’s condition, his mother’s recent injury, family stress, and the general emotional weight he’s been carrying.
Sometimes friendship isn’t advice.
It’s presence.
The visit also unexpectedly opened a possible work door.
Robert mentioned a potential audio / video opportunity involving church services and funeral AV work, something that actually fits surprisingly well with my background.
We also talked about a possible future Mexico trip involving him and his dad.
Somewhere in there, I met a new baby: Maribella Delores Castiellero.
Beautiful name.
Before leaving, Robert sent me off with road provisions.
A bratwurst he had made for the family.
A couple bottles of sparkling mineral water from a brand I’d never tried before.
By 3:20 p.m., I left.
And then the day changed.
Between approximately 3:30 and 4:00 p.m., something emotionally unexpected happened.
Someone I care about reappeared unexpectedly through text after a period of distance and silence.
The tone was light.
Surprisingly normal.
Playful, even.
That quickly shifted the emotional weather.
A previously planned in-person meeting for later in the week was casually reaffirmed.
Then plans changed again.
By 4:00 p.m., I had arrived at Wingstop, where what was supposed to be a brief reconnection turned into something longer.
Conversation.
Laughter.
Normalcy.
Shared time.
And a strange emotional thaw after recent turbulence.
At 5:33 p.m., we left Wingstop.
By around 5:40 p.m., the next stop was Five Below, where a slime-related mission entered the timeline because apparently life contains multitudes.
That lasted until around 6:10 p.m.
Then:
Gas station stop.
By 6:30 p.m., Subway.
By 6:37 p.m., departure from Subway.
Destination:
The park.
Around 6:45 p.m., the emotional center of the day happened.
A long private conversation.
One that shifted assumptions.
Clarified some things.
Complicated others.
Some stories changed shape.
Some fears were named.
Some truths hurt.
There were discussions about emotional reactions, fear, relationship patterns, trust damage, boundaries, healing, counseling, and the uncomfortable reality that support and reconciliation are not always the same thing.
It wasn’t clean closure.
It wasn’t disaster either.
It was one of those conversations where relief and hurt somehow sit in the same chair.
Eventually, the night kept moving.
Around 8:40 p.m., I returned to the house of someone I care about.
By 8:45 p.m., I made a stop at O’Reilly’s to pick up motor oil.
From there, I returned and added the oil to her car before finally leaving.
At 9:25 p.m., I stopped at Church’s and picked up fried chicken for Dad.
At 9:30 p.m., I stopped by Sonic to grab him a drink.
By 9:45 p.m., I was finally home.
Shower.
Food.
Trying to settle the day.
At 10:09 p.m., I did what I had been asked to do:
I called someone I care about after getting home.
And honestly, the conversation felt familiar.
Normal.
Not heavy interrogation.
Not emotional chaos.
Just talking.
Catching up.
Flowing through whatever topics came naturally the way we normally do when conversation is easy.
That call lasted until 1:43 a.m.
And technically, that should have been the end of the night.
It wasn’t.
Because apparently my brain still had one last creative side quest in it.
After hanging up, I made the random executive decision to revisit the song that didn’t originally make the cut.
Apparently exile wasn’t permanent.
Something about the night made me want to pull it back out and look at it again.
So I started messing with that.
And somewhere in the middle of that late-night creative resurrection attempt, sleep finally won.
Estimated actual sleep:
~2:30 a.m.
Which, naturally, sets up the next morning beautifully.
Poorly.
Beautifully poorly.
05/17/2026
Alright, it’s 9:30 a.m. and I’m still in bed.
I woke up somewhere around 7:00–7:30 a.m., definitely feeling a little brain dead at first, which honestly makes sense considering I didn’t actually fall asleep until around 2:30 a.m.
But once the mental fog started clearing, I remembered exactly what I had been doing before sleep finally took over: working on reviving the song that had originally been cut.
So naturally, instead of easing into the morning like a normal person, I resumed the mission.
By around 7:30 a.m., once my brain was functioning enough to cooperate, I jumped right back into it.
And it worked.
The revival actually came together.
What had previously been discarded suddenly felt alive again, which means the count is back where it belongs.
Solid seven.
No recovery project.
No “almost.”
Seven.
I believe I had that wrapped up by somewhere around 8:00 a.m.
After that:
shower.
Laundry.
Basic human maintenance.
And from roughly 8:30 a.m. until 9:30 a.m., I spent the hour repeatedly practicing vocals for the newly revived version.
And honestly?
The song sounds good now.
Really good.
Enough that the earlier decision to cut it clearly needed revisiting.
So the creative side of the morning was unexpectedly productive.
Outside of music, another mission started taking shape.
The floral mission.
The broader idea has always been simple:
bring flowers to people who may need a moment of light.
Nursing homes.
Now also hospices.
Potentially hospitals later.
Anywhere people are hurting, isolated, grieving, recovering, aging, forgotten, or simply having a hard day.
The original long-term idea involved eventually sourcing flowers through an actual florist connection.
That connection doesn’t exist yet.
So the current version became:
wildflower acquisition.
Free.
Roadside.
Nature-funded.
Same heart.
Different supply chain.
I reached out to someone I care about who had previously expressed interest in helping with this kind of mission, and she was willing to assist.
So the plan became:
get food
get flowers
build something meaningful
go make somebody’s day better
Before food, I checked my blood glucose.
Reading:
124.
Technically fasted.
Sort of.
But the previous night did involve very late eating, specifically a couple pieces of fried chicken I had picked up for Dad, so “fasted” comes with a small disclaimer.
Still worth logging.
By 10:25 a.m., I made it to Vaqueros in Corpus Christi.
Mission:
food.
Selection:
mollejas tacos
with queso fresco and salsa verde.
A proper launch fuel before the day’s roadside floral adventure.
By 11:00 a.m., the flower mission officially became real.
Roadside flower harvesting.
Inventory included:
dandelions
sunflowers
another delicate white flower that looked suspiciously like baby’s breath
Yield:
approximately a bucket and a half of flowers.
Not bad for a spontaneous mission.
The only issue?
Preparation was optimistic.
I thought I had two sets of scissors.
I did not.
So this instantly became a figure-it-out-with-what-we-have kind of operation.
There was also slight mission drift.
My partner in this little mission got partially distracted collecting roadside trash instead of focusing exclusively on flower gathering, driven by her own worldview around waste, cleanup, and leaving spaces better than they were found.
Honestly, fair.
Still, it shifted the mission a bit.
Because of limited tools, shifting focus, and the fact that we were basically improvising, we decided not to go overboard.
Instead of mass production, the plan became:
make a smaller number of intentional gifts for select people.
After the Dollar Tree supply stop, the flower mission moved to a park staging area.
Conditions:
strong wind.
Very strong wind.
The kind that makes crafting feel like a stupid idea.
Still, we pushed forward.
Creations included:
small roadside wildflower bouquets
mini Dollar Tree flower pots
soil-filled containers with clipped stems from daisies and other flowers
future brainstorming for additional small gift concepts
Some creations didn’t survive.
The wind won a few battles.
Setup limitations didn’t help.
But enough survived to continue.
Estimated assembly time:
roughly 45 minutes to an hour.
By approximately 1:00 p.m., the mission shifted to hospice.
And reality changed immediately.
Different emotional air.
Different atmosphere.
Front desk contact:
Zach.
He remembered me from the previous flower visit involving chrysanthemums.
We explained the mission.
Offer flowers to anyone who might benefit from them.
He guided us.
The first room was an older man.
We had seen two people sitting outside on a bench earlier while arriving.
Zach explained they were family.
He was alone in the room.
He wasn’t in good shape.
His eyes were open.
I could tell he was present.
But he wasn’t able to speak.
Not really able to do much.
I acknowledged him.
Spoke directly to him.
Told him we were leaving flowers by his bed.
Told him I’d pray for him.
Told him everything would be alright.
And even without words, I believe something landed.
Something in his eyes acknowledged it.
One of those quiet moments where human connection doesn’t require much language.
The next room was an older woman.
Different energy.
There was communication, though difficult to understand.
But the desire for interaction was obvious.
She wanted the connection.
She wanted engagement.
She stepped in more here.
Conversation.
Compliments.
Presence.
Warmth.
Comfort.
The mission was the same:
bring light into a dark place.
When we came back out, Zach said there wasn’t anyone else available.
So we left.
But while leaving, we crossed paths with the gentleman’s family.
We told them flowers had been left for him.
That opened conversation.
Some laughter.
Some storytelling.
They explained that the patient was their younger brother.
He had been a drummer.
They had taken responsibility for caring for him.
Others had tried to step in, but they didn’t feel he was getting the right care.
So they were seeing it through themselves.
That landed hard.
There were tears.
During.
After.
Because hospice is hospice.
And sadness exists there whether you bring flowers or not.
But the assignment wasn’t to erase sadness.
It was to bring life where possible.
And I believe we did that.
We still had flowers remaining, so the mission continued to a nursing home.
The remaining floral creations were left there.
Some private moments were respected.
Front desk contact:
Yvonne.
She remembered me from a previous flower drop.
She asked if I represented an organization or business.
I told her no.
That led into conversation.
I explained how this flower mission came about.
And naturally, my mom entered the story.
Because throughout my life, from childhood into adulthood, I regularly brought my mom flowers.
Sometimes proper store flowers.
Sometimes roadside flowers wrapped in napkins.
As a child, as a teenager, all the way into adulthood—it didn’t matter.
I just brought my mom flowers.
I also shared how my mom used to volunteer in nursing homes and retirement homes.
Ukulele.
Hula.
Belly dancing.
Entertaining.
Bringing light into dark places.
Yvonne’s response hit hard.
She essentially asked if I was doing all of this simply out of the goodness of my heart.
I said yes.
That’s the assignment.
And then she said something that stuck.
That I was carrying on my mom’s assignment.
That I was honoring her.
And she wasn’t wrong.
That hit hard.
There were tears.
Again.
Afterward, we parted ways and continued with separate plans.
After that, the day pivoted hard into creative infrastructure mode.
I spent a large portion of the evening building the website for the new music identity.
A home base.
A place for future releases.
Identity.
Project direction.
Creative infrastructure.
The skeleton is built.
A short bio is in place.
The basic architecture exists.
Still needs cleanup.
Still needs refinement.
But it exists.
There was also a domain issue.
The exact original project domain had already been taken.
Which immediately felt suspicious.
Because the name is unusual enough that it doesn’t feel like coincidence.
I can’t prove anything.
But I do suspect that sharing branding assets before locking the domain may have exposed the project name to someone involved in outsourced file prep.
If that’s what happened, lesson learned.
Secure domains first.
Then distribute assets.
Fortunately, I was still able to secure a polished professional domain that works.
So the mission still succeeded.
After the website work, the night became rehearsal.
Running all seven songs.
Over and over.
At one point, frustration hit because I had forgotten the lyrical melody and delivery for the recently revived song.
Which was annoying because I had literally just rebuilt it.
But eventually it came back.
And once it came back, perspective changed completely.
Because the song that had nearly been thrown away may actually be one of the strongest songs in the current lineup.
Which is wild.
Especially considering Robert and I had both agreed it probably needed to go.
Not because the lyrics were weak.
The lyrics mattered deeply.
It was the original execution that wasn’t working.
The lyrics themselves were personal.
Heavy.
Connected to grief.
Connected to my mom being gone.
So instead of deleting it, I rebuilt it.
Different structure.
Different style.
Different execution.
And it popped.
Actually worked.
Possibly one of the best.
Now here’s the weird math.
The first actual spark in all of this was the song I wrote for my mom.
That technically would make eight songs.
But that one is private.
That one is mine.
Not for release.
So while eight exist in a technical sense, only seven are meant for the public.
And now those seven feel solid.
Studio soon.
By approximately 12:30 a.m., I ended up in bed.
Tired.
Emotionally unsettled.
Not feeling good.
There’s a weird overlap happening where creative momentum is alive and meaningful, while other parts of life feel painful, unstable, unresolved, and emotionally heavy.
Music became the outlet.
Unexpectedly.
Because I had already been losing passion for music even before my mom passed.
After losing my mom, that disconnect became worse.
Music stopped mattering.
I didn’t even really want to listen to it.
No radio.
No casual listening.
No emotional pull.
Nothing.
Then the song for my mom cracked something open.
And somehow that became all of this.
Seven releasable songs.
A creative resurrection I didn’t expect.
And still...
none of that cancels life.
Tonight I feel unsettled.
Not okay.
Trying to process mistakes.
Trying to acknowledge my humanity.
Trying to seek guidance from God.
Trying to seek forgiveness where needed.
Trying to adjust.
Trying not to fall apart.
Trying to move forward.
And underneath all of it:
pain.
Not just lyrical pain.
Real life pain.
The kind that sits in your chest.
The kind that makes you suspect it’ll still be there when morning comes.
05/18/2026
I woke up somewhere around 8:00–8:30 a.m.
Nothing dramatic at first.
Then I noticed an email reminding me about a doctor’s appointment.
That caught me off guard.
I called the office, but nobody answered yet since they didn’t open until 9:00 a.m.
So the morning became:
get moving
get ready
see if I could get seen earlier
Somewhere in the middle of that, I also reached out to someone I care about because I was supposed to help with her vehicle situation and coordinate the day.
By around 9:30 a.m., I finally got through to the doctor’s office.
I asked if there was any chance they could see me earlier than my originally scheduled appointment.
Turns out:
yes.
They told me I could come in around 10:30 a.m., or close to 11:00 a.m., which was the original slot anyway.
Before heading in, I checked my blood glucose around 10:00 a.m.
Reading:
116.
Not bad.
Around that same timeframe, I stepped outside and found my dad dealing with my car.
Apparently the battery had drained.
He already had it hooked up and was jumping it.
So that surprise got handled before I even fully entered the day.
He mentioned he’d be heading off to his other job afterward.
Then I headed to the doctor’s office.
This may have been one of my last visits with him.
He officially retires on the 29th.
And honestly, I’m glad I got this appointment.
We got to catch up.
Talk.
Laugh.
Shoot the shit a little.
Not every doctor relationship turns human.
This one did.
Prescriptions were re-sent to the pharmacy so I’m covered on refills.
He even told me that if I ever run into him around town or in a store somewhere, to say hi.
He also shared that he’s dealing with serious health issues of his own.
Rapid weight loss.
Health decline.
Need for retirement.
Need to step away.
And I get it.
Completely.
I’m just grateful that our doctor-patient relationship became something more human over time, even if it started during one of the worst health chapters of my life.
That whole season feels surreal now.
The vision loss.
The kidneys shutting down.
Going blind for a period.
The corticosteroid-induced diabetic collapse.
The chaos.
And everything life piled on afterward.
Including losing my mom.
Including the more recent reminder that even if the original diabetic trigger had a specific cause, I still have a real metabolic issue to respect.
That said...
this latest recalibration has been dramatic.
Two months.
Massive improvement.
The doctor noticed.
The nurse noticed.
Both asked some version of:
“What have you been doing?”
Answer?
Mostly brutal dietary correction.
Cut sugary drinks.
Cut sugars.
Cut carbs.
That’s the main story.
Minimal medication involvement.
No heavy pharmaceutical dependence.
No miracle pill.
Just aggressive correction.
And the results show.
I left the appointment early and headed toward Corpus Christi.
Then traffic decided to contribute.
Harbor Bridge issue.
Looked like an accident.
Emergency response present.
Ambulances.
Because I was still near the base of the bridge, I was able to escape before becoming fully trapped in the mess.
That reroute cost about 20 extra minutes, but that beats being parked on a bridge wondering about life choices.
By 12:13 p.m., I was pulling up to the house of someone I care about.
By approximately 12:30 p.m., we dropped off the vehicle at Firestone.
From there, food became the next mission.
First attempt:
a Mediterranean place.
Walked in.
Walked out.
No spark.
Second attempt:
Indian food.
Better idea.
Except it was closed.
So the universe made the decision for us.
Fallback:
El Gavilan Pollero.
By 1:25 p.m., chicken had been acquired.
From there, we made our way to the beach park on Shoreline.
Simple food.
Water.
Pause.
A little breathing room.
But more importantly, it created space for conversation.
Even though communication had already reopened, this was the first real opportunity to sit across from each other, slow down, and talk more intentionally.
So over that meal, we did exactly that.
We started dissecting what had happened.
How certain things unfolded.
Where misunderstandings took root.
Where interpretations had gone sideways.
What had been assumed versus what had actually happened.
Some misinterpretations were cleared up.
Some needed conversations finally happened.
And on my end, boundaries were reinforced.
Clear expectations.
Clear lines.
Clearer structure for what I will and won’t accept moving forward.
On her end, those boundaries were recognized and accepted graciously.
Not combatively.
Not defensively.
Just acknowledged.
After that, the day shifted into school pickup logistics.
By approximately 2:45 p.m., we were parked near the school, waiting for release.
Pickup happened.
Then transportation mode continued.
By approximately 4:10 p.m., one pickup.
By approximately 4:30 p.m., another pickup.
And this is where the day unexpectedly delivered one of those moments.
During the drive, one of the kids mentioned wanting to learn guitar.
And something in me lit up instantly.
That’s not a small sentence to me.
That’s not random kid chatter.
That’s a doorway.
A beginning.
One of those strange life thresholds.
Because music runs that deep for me.
And when he followed it with the idea that maybe he’d get one around Christmas, my immediate reaction was:
absolutely not.
That’s too long.
Not if the spark is already there.
So the mission instantly changed:
get this kid a guitar.
Today.
After dropping him off, I started making calls.
Pawn shops.
Marketplace.
Anything within budget.
Looking.
Hunting.
By approximately 5:40 p.m., the search paid off.
We made our way to the pawn shop.
Mission success.
A Mitchell guitar.
Beautiful instrument.
And naturally:
an amplifier too.
Because if we’re doing this, we’re doing this properly.
Before handling the SUV pickup, we made a detour.
By approximately 6:00 p.m., the guitar was delivered.
Then came the vehicle retrieval race.
Firestone was closing at 7:00 p.m.
So by approximately 6:30 p.m., we made it there and picked up the SUV.
By around 6:40 p.m., we were back at the house.
And during that drive home, I had already realized something:
I forgot the pick.
The second I parked, the exact issue was brought up.
Same thought.
Same timing.
So improvisation mode activated.
I grabbed an old credit card and hand-fashioned a pick.
Problem solved.
Sort of.
Around 7:00 p.m., I ate the remaining chicken from earlier.
Then we settled in, looking for something to watch.
At approximately 7:20 p.m., the pick issue resurfaced.
Too rough.
Fair complaint.
So I filed it down and refined it.
Functional version 2.
Then the evening shifted.
By approximately 7:25 p.m., the relationship thaw continued.
Deeper reconnection.
Emotional closeness after a rough season.
Later, neither of us felt like making dinner.
So practicality won.
By approximately 8:55 p.m.:
Little Caesars.
Later, after the food, the day simply caught up with me.
I ended up falling asleep there.
Completely unintentionally.
Not some conscious decision to stay.
Not some planned overnight.
Just total physical shutdown.
Body said enough.
I’d estimate I finally made my way home sometime around 10:30 p.m., give or take.
At some point during the night, a major storm rolled through.
Thunder.
Lightning.
Heavy rain.
Wind.
The kind of storm that makes it sound like the world outside is actively coming apart.
Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve checked on Monkey.
That thought existed.
But exhaustion won.
Completely.
My body wasn’t negotiating.
So while the storm did whatever storms do, I stayed out cold.
And that was that.
05/19/2026
I woke up around 9:30 a.m.
Didn’t technically get out of bed until closer to 10:00 a.m.
Slow launch.
The morning immediately turned into troubleshooting mode.
Not for me directly, but adjacent.
Phone consultation mode.
Everything from cough analysis to possible spider bite / infection concerns.
Basically impromptu triage-by-phone.
Around 10:30 a.m., another issue resurfaced.
The staffing agency that had previously tried to place me at the apartment project reached back out.
I had apparently received a message from them the day before, so I returned the call.
The conversation was essentially that they had something available.
Except the “something” turned out to be at the same place I had already turned down.
Just a different role.
That didn’t make sense to me.
The issue wasn’t simply the exact job title.
It was the environment / alignment.
So swapping titles while keeping the same overall mismatch doesn’t solve anything.
I made that clear.
Politely.
Firmly.
They seemed persistent.
I remained unconvinced.
After that, I shifted toward self-maintenance.
Around 11:20 a.m., I called my chiropractor to see if he had availability.
Answer:
yes.
12:30 p.m.
Done.
On the way, practical errands.
Gas stop.
Murphy’s, as usual.
Fuel.
Windshield washer fluid.
Then the blood sugar subplot.
I had intended to check glucose, but realized I was nearly out of alcohol pads.
So that required an HEB stop.
Picked up alcohol pads, a few miscellaneous medicinal items, and possible supplies for dealing with bite / infection concerns.
By 12:34 p.m., I was at the chiropractor’s office.
Slightly late.
Barely.
Close enough.
From there, treatment began.
Modalities first.
Electrostimulation.
Upper back.
Lower back.
Then the problem child:
the teres minor area.
Standard maintenance and targeted repair.
While the electrodes were doing their thing, I noticed my phone vibrating repeatedly.
Silent mode.
Couldn’t reach it.
Could hear it.
Couldn’t do anything about it.
So I ignored it until treatment was finished.
Afterward:
adjustment.
And honestly, everything moved well.
Lumbar:
responsive.
Thoracic:
responsive.
Cervical:
responsive.
No major resistance.
Solid adjustment.
Dr. Dulac, as usual, was in good spirits.
I left sometime around 1:40 p.m.
The second I got outside, I checked the phone.
The repeated calls turned out to be from one of the companies I already work with.
Opportunity.
Apparently a post had opened up closer to where I live.
Not exactly next door.
But geographically, I’m the closest available person for that assignment.
So they wanted to see if I wanted it.
I reviewed the schedule.
Checked the days.
Compared it against the other security commitment.
And surprisingly:
it worked.
No conflict.
No overlap.
Actually doable.
So I immediately contacted my supervisor and basically said:
let’s make it happen.
Which means:
I now have a secured post with my existing company and the incoming rehire role with the newer company.
Two security posts.
Actual redundancy.
Actual work stability.
That feels good.
Especially in a season where stability matters.
From there, back into maintenance mode.
Next stop:
the mall.
Arrival timestamp:
1:50 p.m.
Objective?
Honestly, unclear.
Massage was definitely one mission.
Food was also very much a mission.
At that exact moment, I wasn’t entirely sure which one outranked the other.
Both felt medically relevant.
Turns out food won the priority debate.
Reason:
my regular massage therapist was occupied with a client.
So rather than hover around indecisively, I pivoted.
Food first.
I grabbed the shrimp and jalapeño dish from the Asian spot in the food court.
Vegetables on the side.
Solid enough choice.
Fuel acquired.
After eating, I still wanted at least some bodywork, so I opted for a quick workaround instead of a full session.
Ten-minute chair massage.
Different therapist.
Just enough to loosen things up after the chiropractic work.
Not the full usual routine.
But enough to take the edge off.
By 2:30 p.m., I was back out the door and getting into the car.
Next destination:
the house of someone I care about.
See what the rest of the day becomes.
By approximately 2:40 p.m., I made a quick stop to drop off the medication / treatment supplies I had picked up earlier for the possible spider bite / infection concern.
Quick handoff.
No lingering.
By approximately 2:55 p.m., I made it to the first car wash.
Mission:
vehicle reset.
Not full wash mode yet.
More like excavation and organization.
Clearing clutter.
Reclaiming usable space.
Resetting the interior.
After that, phase two kicked in.
I relocated to a second car wash specifically because the vacuums there are free.
Excellent budgeting decision.
So phase two became:
vacuum detail.
Interior cleanup.
Dust / debris extraction.
By 3:30 p.m., I was leaving the second car wash.
Interior progress made.
Exterior still pending.
Apparently this vehicle cleanup has become a multi-stage campaign.
Which is fine.
No rush.
The wash itself can happen later.
By approximately 3:50 p.m., I made it to the house to pick up the vehicle for school duty.
By 4:15 p.m., first pickup complete.
By 4:30 p.m., second pickup complete.
By 4:42 p.m., I made it back to the house.
One drop-off complete.
Brief pause while waiting for the newly inspired guitarist to grab his instrument and get ready.
During the drive earlier, he had mentioned wanting to learn guitar.
And something in me lit up instantly.
That’s not a small sentence to me.
That’s not random kid chatter.
That’s a doorway.
A beginning.
One of those strange life thresholds.
Because music runs that deep for me.
And when he followed it with the idea that maybe he’d get one around Christmas, my immediate reaction was:
absolutely not.
That’s too long.
Not if the spark is already there.
So the mission instantly changed.
Get this kid a guitar.
Today.
And that happened.
Now he was heading to practice.
On the way to his cousin’s house, we made a quick HEB stop.
Reason:
cat diplomacy.
He wanted to pick up treats because his cousin has cats, and apparently showing up empty-handed to a feline household wasn’t the plan.
Respectable logic.
By 5:13 p.m., I dropped him off at his cousin’s house so he could begin practicing guitar.
And honestly, I still love how quickly that whole chain happened.
Interest.
Opportunity.
Instrument.
Practice.
Same day.
Exactly how sparks should be handled.
After dropping him off, I headed back.
Estimated return to the house:
somewhere around 5:30–5:45 p.m.
Brief pause.
By approximately 6:00 p.m., we headed back out again.
Mission:
groceries.
Dinner prep.
The original thought had been making dinner, so the grocery run became the next logical side quest.
Food acquisition.
Household supply mode.
Errands.
Normal life stuff.
By approximately 7:15–7:20 p.m., we made it back to the house.
And from there, the outside world more or less shut off.
The rest of the evening became stationary.
No major adventures.
No surprise detours.
Just staying put.
For me, that translated into diving into the website work for the new music identity.
Refinement mode.
Tweaking.
Adjusting.
Reworking.
Getting the site structure cleaner.
Making it feel right.
That became the night’s primary focus.
And honestly, I stayed with it until it finally started feeling correct.
By approximately 11:00 p.m., I left.
Final late-night mission:
food for my dad.
Not me.
My dad.
Route:
through Portland.
By 11:30 p.m., I was at Jack in the Box in Portland picking up tacos for my dad.
By approximately 11:45 p.m., I made it home.
My dad’s tacos successfully delivered.
Mission accomplished.
Once home, I put away some of my own food along with the groceries we had picked up earlier.
Basic shutdown tasks.
House reset.
Then shower.
Then bed.
Current timestamp:
12:15 a.m.
Tomorrow starts early.
Orientation day.
Rehire process.
Since I’ve already completed a large portion of the certifications normally required at the beginning of the process, I was told there’s a decent chance I may be in and out instead of sitting through a full-day orientation.
That is absolutely the preferred outcome.
Because full-day orientation energy is not the dream.
Especially after today.
So that’s the hope.
For now:
shutdown mode.
Sleep.
Peace out.
05/20/2026
Woke up around 7:00 a.m.
Didn’t actually get out of bed until closer to 7:30 a.m.
No excessive lingering.
Just enough.
Shower.
Reset.
Out the door.
By approximately 8:00 a.m., I was on the road heading toward Corpus Christi.
By approximately 8:30 a.m., I made it to the sidekick’s area.
The morning interaction was brief.
We met up at a nearby convenience store.
Quick beverage stop.
Short goodbye.
Part ways.
No long event.
Just a quick intersect before the day moved forward in separate directions.
From there, food mission.
Destination:
a taco spot on Everhart.
Objective:
mollejas.
Result:
failure.
Apparently this specific location does not carry mollejas.
Which was disappointing.
So contingency plan.
I ended up grabbing:
two corn tortilla barbacoa tacos
mineral water
basically an off-brand Topo Chico equivalent
Not the original plan.
But acceptable.
From there, I made my way to the new security company for orientation.
I had enough time to sit in the parking lot and eat before heading inside.
Around 8:40 a.m., while still in the car, I checked my blood glucose.
Reading:
121.
Not bad.
Especially considering the rushed morning and breakfast pivot.
At approximately 8:45 a.m., I checked in with the front desk.
Initial sign-in complete.
Then came the waiting phase.
Official acknowledgment happened around 8:55 a.m.
That kicked off the standard credential collection ritual:
driver’s license
social security information
TWIC card
guard card
identity verification bureaucracy
Standard intake process.
From there:
orientation mode.
Technically rehire orientation, not true first-day onboarding.
So there was some uncertainty as to whether I’d be stuck there all day or whether prior certifications would shorten the process.
Thankfully:
they did.
I survived orientation while periodically taking taco survival breaks in the break room.
By 1:00 p.m., I was out.
So full-day orientation purgatory was avoided.
That alone was a win.
During the drive afterward, another operational thread opened.
Communication with my supervisor from the other security company.
New development:
she wanted me to head out to Rockport to visit the property where I’ll eventually be posted.
Site familiarization.
Recon.
Get eyes on the environment.
Understand the assignment.
Makes sense.
That mission got queued for later.
By approximately 1:15 p.m., I made it back to the sidekick.
First:
errands.
We handled a few practical stops.
Grocery run first.
Picked up a few provisions / miscellaneous necessities.
Then the pharmacy.
Prescription pickup mission.
Medication for the kid’s current health issue.
That handled, the errand phase wrapped.
By approximately 2:30 p.m., I left.
Mission shift:
Rockport.
Objective:
visit the property tied to the new security assignment.
First look.
Site familiarization.
Recon.
Learn the terrain.
Understand what I’m walking into.
I made it to Rockport and handled what reconnaissance I could.
However, I wasn’t able to make direct contact with anyone at the property.
No immediate human handoff.
So I pivoted.
I contacted the central office that oversees multiple properties.
Left a message.
They relayed the message to the property manager.
Eventually, communication came through.
Not immediately.
Around 4:00 p.m., I received confirmation back.
Result:
an arranged in-person meeting for the following day at 11:30 a.m.
Mission accomplished.
Not full access.
But enough progress.
From there, I headed back.
A few miscellaneous errands may have happened in the blur, but nothing significant enough to define the day.
By approximately 5:30 p.m., I was back in Corpus Christi.
Returned to spend some time with the sidekick.
The evening became relatively low-key.
No major adventures.
No major detours.
Just downtime.
I continued working on the website for the new music identity.
Tweaking.
Adjusting.
Refining.
Trying to get everything to feel right.
I believe dinner happened.
Television definitely happened.
At some point, we were watching Deadpool.
The day finally started catching up with me.
I was drifting.
Nearly asleep.
So eventually I called it.
By approximately 10:00 p.m., I left.
By approximately 10:30 p.m., I made it home.
Shutdown.
Bed.
Sleep.
And that was 05/20.
05/21/2026
Woke up around 8:00 a.m.
Got moving.
Got ready.
Out the door by approximately 8:45 a.m.
First destination:
the main office for one of the security companies I work for.
Made it there around 9:30 a.m.
Quick in-and-out mission.
Handled a few operational items with superiors and office admin:
uniform assistance.
updated app setup on my phone.
general post readiness housekeeping.
Also received confirmation that my scheduled meeting with the property manager for the new assignment was still on.
So that kept the day moving exactly where it needed to.
I was in and out fairly quickly.
Estimated departure:
around 9:40 a.m.
By approximately 9:50 a.m., I made it to Steph’s.
Originally, the next mission was just my recon and onboarding visit.
But she decided to come along.
So by approximately 10:30 a.m., we were headed to Rockport.
Arrival aligned with the planned 11:30 a.m. meeting.
Mission:
property walkthrough.
Post familiarization.
Expectation gathering.
Instruction intake.
And that’s exactly what happened.
Met with management.
Received the rundown.
Learned what the post requires.
Clarified expectations.
Operational details collected.
By approximately 12:00 p.m., the formal meeting portion was complete.
Afterward, I relayed the relevant details back to my superiors.
Mission accomplished.
But since we were already in Rockport, the day softened.
No immediate rush.
So we cruised around a bit.
Took in the scene.
Eventually grabbed food from the grocery store.
Improvised beach picnic.
Small one.
Nothing elaborate.
Just enough.
Sat by the water.
Fed the birds.
Reset moment.
By approximately 2:00 p.m., we left Rockport.
Next stop:
my house.
Mission stack there:
grab food for later dinner prep.
collect laundry to take back.
Quick stop.
Then back toward Corpus.
Dropped Steph off.
By approximately 2:53 p.m., I arrived to pick up my jacket for the other security post.
Apparently they had one set aside for me.
Bonus update:
they also ordered a windbreaker for me.
Useful.
From there, I made it back.
The rest of the day shifted into lower gear.
Took it easy.
But not completely.
Operational prep continued.
I created documentation needed for the new post.
Then placed an order through FedEx for 50 copies.
After that, I entered my property meeting notes into GroupMe for my superior so everything was documented cleanly.
Then creative mode took over.
Producer review mission.
Spent time evaluating producers to find someone who might actually align with the new music direction.
That led to a useful realization.
I did receive the production files I’d been waiting on from my existing producer.
And to be fair:
he absolutely kills it with beats.
That part remains true.
But this particular lane?
The dark pop and disco direction?
Not his strongest terrain.
And that’s useful information.
Because knowing someone’s strengths is just as important as knowing their limitations.
So rather than force misalignment, I pivoted.
Placed a new production order with someone who feels like a potentially better fit for where this project is going.
New wait time:
7 days.
Which is annoying.
But if the alignment is right, worth it.
By 9:45 p.m., I was officially en route to the new post.
According to navigation, ETA was approximately 10:45 p.m., which gave me a clean buffer before the 11:00 p.m. shift start.
Since I arrived in the area a little early, around 10:30 p.m., I decided to make one stop.
Food.
Not exactly diabetic-friendly.
But hunger was hunger.
I stopped at one of my favorite spots nearby:
Bierhaus.
A couple blocks from the job site.
Mission:
quick food acquisition.
I asked staff up front if timing would be an issue.
I made it clear I needed to be at my post at least 10 to 15 minutes early.
They assured me I’d be fine.
I was apparently the only active order.
So I went for it.
Order:
regular American bacon cheeseburger.
Fries.
Questionable metabolic decision?
Sure.
But at that moment, entirely justified.
While waiting, I ended up having a genuinely meaningful conversation with the person taking my order.
Really solid human interaction.
I mentioned that the graveyard situation was temporary.
Just a paycheck bridge.
He immediately related.
Turns out his own current job is temporary too.
His actual goal:
teaching American Sign Language.
That conversation became unexpectedly fascinating.
He described experiences involving deaf individuals and, in some cases, people who were both deaf and blind.
He explained tactile communication methods where a person physically feels another person’s signing through touch.
Hands.
Finger movement.
Tendon movement.
Wrist motion.
Reading communication through physical sensation.
And honestly?
That was incredible to hear about.
Really humbling.
A reminder that people adapt in extraordinary ways.
A reminder that struggle doesn’t automatically mean surrender.
A reminder that there are people out there dedicating themselves to helping others navigate impossible-seeming limitations.
That little interaction actually gave me something meaningful to carry forward into the night.
Then food arrived.
I got maybe two or three bites in before heading toward the post.
Pulled into the site around 10:50 p.m.
And immediately:
tension.
The person assigned to train me pulled up alongside me and came in hot with attitude.
Stink eye.
Energy.
Judgment.
Apparently me taking literal bites of food in my own vehicle ten minutes before shift start was offensive to him.
Which felt absurd.
I was early.
This was still my time.
And he didn’t know my day.
Or my life.
Or whether I’d eaten.
But instead of the situation escalating, something shifted.
He started pressing.
I clarified, respectfully but directly, that I hadn’t initiated any hostility.
That seemed to land.
Something clicked.
And almost immediately:
tone change.
Apology.
Handshake.
“Let’s clear the slate.”
Done.
And truthfully?
I had already internally cleared it.
Because in that moment, something my mom used to embody came to mind:
you never really know what someone has been through before they got to you.
Maybe he’d dealt with lazy people.
Difficult hires.
Entitled nonsense.
Whatever it was, I chose not to personalize it.
And that choice changed everything.
Because from that exact point forward?
Excellent shift.
No friction.
No drama.
Just solid training.
The guy turned out to be incredibly knowledgeable.
Really good trainer.
Really good person.
And honestly, maybe even a new friend.
That’s how dramatically the energy shifted.
He even apologized multiple times throughout the night about how things started.
But by then, it was ancient history.
Water under the bridge.
What stood out most was the reminder that rough beginnings don’t necessarily predict bad outcomes.
That applies to work.
Friendships.
Relationships.
Pretty much everything.
Sometimes people come in armored because life taught them to.
Sometimes all it takes is dropping ego long enough to actually see the human underneath.
Did the full shift.
Learned a lot.
Got out at 7:00 a.m.
And that was that.
05/22/2026 – 05/31/2026
Everything after this became a blur.
Work.
Projects.
Music.
Websites.
Appointments.
Responsibilities.
Conversations.
Long drives.
Late nights.
Early mornings.
One mission rolling directly into the next.
Days blended together.
Hours disappeared.
I kept moving.
Head down.
One foot in front of the other.
And before I knew it, May was over.
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