i am a dancing machine

i want to talk about a few things on my mind today.

went to work around 7:30, got home at 8. there was three of us today; recently it's just been my dad and me. since school is starting soon, my dad is looking for a permanent worker. his last one quit at the start of summer because he found a better situation elsewhere. that's why i've been helping my dad so much. not for the money, because i don't need money right now. not in the way that if i don't have $50 i'll be homeless. the money comes secondary to helping my dad. and he does need a lot of help, because the work he does is tough. today, alone, i think i mowed the equivalent of 16 houses. let's see. . . 7 here, 4 there, the big apartments in Inglewood at least count as 4, then there's the 2 places across the street. Yeah, 16 or 17 houses. Plus, cleaning and raking and lifting heavy containers full of cut grass. Damn, i'm pretty tired right now.

oh yeah, this afternoon we were waiting in the truck for my dad, eating hamburgers for lunch, and the new guy played the same song on his phone for about forty-five minutes. he likes ranchera music. 'It is a beautiful day. . . Let's go out and have fun!. . .There will be woman, beer, and wine. . . OoOoOoOoooOOOOOhhh!'

I wish i knew what the song was. not really.

haha, i actually do really like that kind of music. i grew up around it, so how could i not? it's in my bones and muscle: the things i need to dance with the hips.

On the drive home, we also heard this one on the radio, which is a staple of any Mexican/Latin wedding/birthday/family gathering with 80 people/party, mainly with family, with 85 people. 'Oh how it hurts me, how it hurts me, how it hurts me, that they should take you out to dance!' They play this song every time. Every time. And everyone goes crazy! Instant dance floor filler. You thinking I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. Every time there's a DJ and a dance floor. This song will come on that night. People will get up and dance. Guaranteed.

haha, i'm nothing like that guy singing. i have been around that culture a lot, though. the macho man culture. boots, trucks, cowboy hats, tight trousers, exposed chest, drinking coronas. it's all there.



on the corner of western and 55th street today, a tall white cop was talking to a young black woman. he had shades on, and he was leaning with one arm straightened on the wall - like if he was at a bar chatting her up. the girl, maybe around 16 or 17, wore gray shorts with flowers on them. she had her hands behind her back, as she stared up listening to the cop.

i smiled when i saw a 30 year old black guy walking down the street with his 2 year old son. he placed his hand on top of his son's small round head, guiding him away from walking into a wall or something. his kid had a big protruding belly under a white tank-top, and his face was chubby and brown.

More Thing That I Like:
finishing work for the day
quiet car rides home - coming from a party or something
ice in my drink
that big stretch when you wake up
when traffic lights stay green even though i'm far away
when a song i like comes on the radio
putting on clean clothes
going to the movies by myself

...just thought of more
ranchera music - music of the rancho
absurd movies - zoolander, dodgeball, anchorman come to mind
eating fruit - especially if it's already sliced-up
being somewhere early - although i rarely am
getting up before sunrise
putting clean sheets on my bed
the chilly freeze of ocean wind - last time i said cool wind, which i felt didn't exactly fit
riding on a skateboard
thinking you'll see someone you don't want to see somewhere, and never seeing them
living through a fear and feeling okay


That's all i can come up with for now. there should be more. i'll come up with even more later.

july 31, 2013 - a list of things

god, it's 2 in the morning and i have to wake up at 6.

um, i don't know what to talk about tonight.

I think i'll make a list of things that i like.

Things That I Like:
clever humor
good books
being alone when it's dark and raining
talking to people every once in a while
cold weather in a warm coat
passing a test at school
warms beds and cold nights
driving alone
being praised
scratching a really good itch on the bottom of your foot
when there's no traffic at night
hugs every once in a while
drinking a lot of water
being stronger than i was a year and a half ago
cats and dogs
calmness
feeling sad and crying during a good movie - catharsis, i guess
sitting quietly outside
the cool wind of the ocean
beach volleyball
having read the textbook before coming to class/
ALSO, having done my homework before coming to class
when people like having me around
waking up with dry mouth and taking a long drink of water
feeling confident in my favorite hoodie
staying in clean hotel rooms
air conditioning
having money in the bank
fantasizing about a successful future
playing dungeons and dragons
playing frisbee
being alone without risk of other people around
re-reading a book and understanding it better
when i parallel park perfectly - i'm pretty good at parallel parking, actually
taking naps - sometimes
seeing live plays

That's all i'll list for now. i'll add more stuff tomorrow, maybe.

a lot to talk about. really? yeah, it's unusual.

I wrote these ideas in my backyard while working out.

Creeping on instagram. i didn't have anything better to do today, so I decided to see some of my friends photos on instagram. i don't have instagram, but it's easy to see public profiles. is that creepy? i don't know how to judge anymore. whatever, I don't care. anyway, i was moving from profile to profile, and i came across one profile which i looked at for a while. it was a guy i knew back in high school, who is currently in Boston or somewhere for what i assume is graduate school. and looking at that just made me feel like shit.

Don't like the term creepy. people overuse it. if i were called creepy, it would hurt a lot. i don't even know what the boundaries of creepy are. it seems dismissive though. like, if you're creepy, you're also these other things in a list of 'Bad Things For A Human Being To Be.'

Hard to like myself when I haven't accomplished much. Don't have a career, a girlfriend, or a college degree. I barely have friends. Back to the instgram thing. I felt like shit because I saw these pictures of this guy who is doing something great with his life, and i'm just here wasting my time. I haven't accomplished anything, and it makes me feel regret and sadness. It's hard to like yourself when you don't feel like you've done anything with your life.

Comparing yourself to other people is bad. My dad was talking about this two weeks ago. He grew up on a ranch in mexico until 14 or 15, then he traveled to the united states. in his mind, he doesn't judge people based on their social standings. if, for example, someone is a doctor and has lots of money, my dad will look at this person the same as if they were a barber or something. he says that he determines what kind of person they are based on their integrity, their kindness, their blah, blah, stuff like that. You know, stuff we think makes a person good. that's how i want to see people. you'll never be happy if you compare yourself to other people.

Old asian man driving a coffee. that's self-explanatory. no it's not. okay, all it is is this incident last week, I think, when I was sitting in McDonald's somewhere in Los Angeles looking out the window. I see this old asian man backing out of a parking spot. he's old, so he's backing out realllly slowly, like err -stop - err-err - stop. Stop. STOP! err-err. Like that. what the old guy doesn't notice as he's backing out is that he left his cup of coffee on the roof of his car. i'm like, uh, will he notice? will he notice? will he. . .ah, he's not gonna notice. i jump out of my seat and run outside. imagine some mexican guy, patchy facial hair, dirty clothes, crazy look in his eye, leap out of McDonald's and run straight at you as you're sitting in your car. i'm pretty sure i terrified him when i reached his window. i kept pointing above the car, and because he had the windows rolled up, i couldn't shout at him, "YOU GOT COFFEE ON TOP OF YOUR CAR, OLD MAN!!!" he panicked, and started looking behind his car, interpreting my wild hand motions as, "Oh my God, you're about to hit someone - Look ouuuuuuuuuuuuuut - " so i just grabbed the coffee from the top of his car and held it out for him to see. he went, ohh, now i understand, and when he rolled down his window he said, "ah, thank you, thank you." i couldn't help it: i gave him the biggest, most genuine smile i could give; i felt sorry for the guy because i knew something like that could happen - and does happen - to me all the time. i just smiled big and gladly at him and said, "no problem," and walked back inside.

Sadness leaks out of me. still, it's hard to like myself when i haven't accomplished anything.

Imagine winning lottery. Invite my friends with message: "It'd mean a lot to me." If they show, give them $20,000. oh yeah, this is some daydream i was thinking about today. i imagined winning like a 260 million dollar lottery, and let's say, after taxes, i'd have 114 million dollars left. that's still a lot of money. so i though, well, if i did have 114 million dollars, i'd probably give some to my friends. one of my friends needs like 10, 000 for a paramedic class, so i thought that would be nice to give him money. but then i thought, well, i heard that when people find out you've won the lottery, all the want is to be pals with you so you'd give them money. i thought i'd find a way around this. and by the way, if i ever did win the lottery, i'd keep it a secret my entire life. maybe i'd tell my parents. maybe. anyway, back to the way around moochers. what i'd do is wait for a special occasion, say my birthday or something, and a month before, send out invites to people. I'd say something like, "Hey, guys. I'm having a birthday party next month on the 17 [not actually my birth date] at around 8 pm. I'd really appreciate it if you'd come; it would mean a real lot to me. If possible, I'd appreciate it if you got the day off work to come." it would go like that. then, when the day came, i'd wait about an hour after the party starts, then i'd say, "everyone, i'd like to thank you for coming. it means a lot to me. and because it means a lot, i have something special to announce." I would lie, most definitely. "You see, recently i've received an inheritance from a wealthy relative of quite a bit of money. not millions of dollars exactly, but enough for me to live off of for a few years very comfortably. so, in the spirit of giving, i though i'd share some of this good fortune with you - or, rather, to give some to you." and then i'd take out these backpacks from somewhere, and give one to each person. inside would be $20,000 in cash. I was also thinking something like a money belt, but i guess it doesn't matter. everyone would be in disbelief. "What?" "What's going on?" "Are you really giving us this money?" "You're joking, right? This is a joke. It's gotta be a joke." "Dude, I can't accept all this money." Etc, etc. Then I'd say, "Guys, this is my gift to you. However, it does come with the condition that you never expect to receive any more money from me ever again. Not even presents. This is all that I'll ever give any of you." I'd have some lawyers draft some contract that state the money is a gift and will never have to be repaid. the contracts would also have something in there about how i'm not responsible for any loses incurred by the receiving of the money, nor are they ever entitled to any more money. stuff like that, so that in the future, if i'm like ever invited to one of their weddings, they won't expect a new house as a wedding gift or something. They'd be all like, "Yeah! Woo" "Thanks, man!" "Dude, I can't believe it!" and i'd say, "Don't mention it. now, let's party!" and we'd all get drunk in my backyard, and i might even get a blowjob from a girl.

of course, i'd give some money to my parents. i still wouldn't tell them i won the lottery though.

Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve to be sad or miserable. I say to myself, Some people have real problems to be sad about. I'm sad because my laziness, social anxiety, and lack of motivation have resulted in a lame life. What a cry baby I am.

I like to be alone, but I need contact with people from time to time. i realize that my contact with other people is limited. and that's because i limited it myself. one of the main sources of contact with other people is here.

Driving to Colton to see meteors. And a girl. not exactly. okay, tell me if this is creepy (i don't like that word.) i think back in my second year of college, so like 3 years ago. to condense a very meticulous story short, some girl i liked in middle school, who was a year younger than me, and I had encountered each other one day at my house, because my sister was friends with her, and we spent some time together - with my sister and another one of her friends, too. well, it turned out that i still liked her. i find out that she's moving away from the city i live in, to another city called Colton about a lot of miles away - it's right next to Riverside, which is quite a bit of a drive. ( i still find it funny that you know about Riverside, because it's not a very hip, trendy city. anyway - ) so i'm like, "Dammit, how can i talk to this girl more face-to-face if she lives an hour away. i don't even know if she likes me back. Dang, what am i going to do?" Well, it turns out i'm going to do nothing. not entirely true, actually. she did give me a phone number when she left that day when i met her again. however, it turned out to be like her cousin's phone number or something, and when i texted it, i never got a reply. okay, that may be creepy, but that's not what i was referring to in the beginning of the story. i don't remember when this happened, you can look it up if you want, but around this time when i fell for this middle school crush again there was going to be a meteor shower for a few days. it was probably a month or two after she moved cities, to colton, so she was still alive in my mind, and i still had hopes that we'd end up liking each other somehow. seriously, it never occurs to me how it would happen; only that, by some miraculous coincidence, we'd end up in a relationship. i think it was the last night of the meteor showers, and i really wanted to see them. unfortunately, i live in a light polluted area, and the only way to actually see the sky would be to drive a number of miles away from the city lights into the canyons and/or mountains - which, on the night of the last meteor show, didn't seem worth the effort to me. so instead, i hung out with my friends. i forget what we do, but it's around 10:30 or 11 o'clock at night when I decide to go home. i'm on my way home, still thinking about this girl, when i decide that i want doughnuts. i go by myself to this doughnut place and get a couple - just, you know, to tide me over before i go to sleep. as i'm back inside my car, staring down these empty city streets because it's like a Wednesday at 11 o'clock at night, i start to feel lonely, and i get this restless feeling inside me. i'd just started driving for a year, i hadn't really taken my car any where far - only around my house and around town a bit - and i felt like exploring just a bit. i decide to do this on my way home. when i'm literally a block away from my house, i decide to keep going and make a turn onto a main street. for some reason, maybe it's because i don't know the area and i want to explore it, or because - secretly, deep down in my mind - i know it's the direction she's in, but i start to drive east. the night is warm, there's no moon and it's black outside. i have my windows down with my favorite cassette in the tape deck. (no, this isn't 1989; my car is old and doesn't have a CD player). i'm rocking, I'm jamming at the top of my lungs. i'm heading in a new direction i've never been before. the wide streets are completely empty of cars, but they're lit up just like it's only for me. the main street i'm on passes through numerous cities. at some point it's name changes, then changes again. soon that street ends, and i start to drive onto smaller, less well lit streets. i see the time on my dashboard and it begins to get later and later. soon an hour passes and i'm still driving east - taking whatever road i can find as long as i head east. i take surface streets, and quiet residential streets, and shitty pot hole streets that pass by abandoned-looking railroad crossing. I even take a dirt road once or twice, and pretty soon the street lights are gone and the only way to see is by headlight. it never occurred to me to ask myself, "Where the hell are you going?" never occurred to me to say, "okay, this is far enough. let's go home; it's already midnight and you're tired." I kept driving, always on surface streets and never entering the freeways. a weird thought began to form in my head: "this is where she lives; i'm getting closer to where she lives." i didn't know where she lives, because we hadn't spoke since that day, but just getting closer to her city was a comfort for me. And at the same time, it wasn't as if I was doing this all for her. in reality, she was a strict after thought after I had finally found myself in the city of Redlands - pretty much where city meets desert.

(i also remember driving through the University of California, Riverside for some reason - i think because i was recently rejected from there, and it was a sort of romantic midnight meeting of sorts - a soft, nostalgic goodbye, even though i'd never been there before. Totally didn't know where i was going, passed through like three little streets, about fifteen speed bumps, and some people coming out of a building looked at me funny as i drove by. not exactly a memorable, romantic experience.)

in redlands, i remember turning into this community of houses near the mountains. i remember driving around in loops and coming back down to a deserted street with houses on one side and an empty field on the other. i remember the rows of street lamps glowing yellow as i listened to my favorite cassette flip sides for the twentieth time in the past hour and a half. i remember thinking, "What the hell am I doing out here all by myself, man? I don't know where I am. What should I do now?" as was driving, i saw a sign on the road near the mountains: city of BIG BEAR - (some number) MILES. I though, shit,  am i close to big bear? from the little i knew of it, i knew it was a resort city in the high mountains, and that it snowed there. and i also knew that if i got caught in a snowstorm up there, i'd probably die. but then this final idea occurred to me, which intrigued me so much that i couldn't resist doing it. "big bear is in the mountains," i thought. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, the final day i think, and i think if i drive far enough into the mountains, i'd be able to see more than 20 stars in the sky at once." so i started to drive to Big Bear on the 330 - entirely unplanned, not even knowing which roads to take but rather following dark signs only illuminated by my dim headlights. in my ignorance, i was thinking, "Am i gonna need snow tires or something? should i have brought chains in case it snows?" I drive about five to ten miles into the dark mountains north of Colton and Redlands. the air is starting to chill a little bit. i've turned my music down, and now i'm listening with my head out the window to the immense emptiness of a mountain road at night. all of a sudden i'm hearing nature: not just crickets, but strange bird sounds, and wet river sounds, and weird screeching cicada sounds, and a thousand other sounds at once which i've never heard in my entire life, and which suddenly take up the whole space of the trees and cliffs on the sides of the road. i'm deep in the mountains now, really far away from the cities, and i'm getting pretty scared i might fall off the edge of the road and die. and then in the solid chilly darkness, i look up to see any meteors or stars, and for the first time ever in my life, i see the sky. i see millions of stars glowing brightly in the dark at once. i see milky ways, and venus' and mars'. i see colors which don't exist here on earth. i see shapes and patterns in the stars' alignments. i see everything which i'd never seen at home. then i see something streak across the sky. then immediately another. then another. and another. and the meteors i see are not only streaks of white light; they're purple and green and orange too. and i'm like, "Wow, why didn't anyone tell me this? I never knew meteor's could be differently colors. I never realized there were so many stars in the sky. it's all so much." i've stopped thinking about big bear, i've stopped thinking about Riverside or Redlands, i've stopped thinking about Colton and a girl who is probably asleep in her house dreaming of some other boy that's not me. all i'm thinking is: I have to stop and enjoy this sight right now. so i pull over to some dirt embankment on the side of the road, i get out of my car, in the pitch black, don't even have a flashlight with me. i try sitting on the hood of my car, but the engine is still hot and the heat burns my butt and back through my t-shirt and jeans. so instead, i think, i get on the trunk and back windshield of my car, and stare up at the meteors falling. alone in the complete darkness, with a jungle full of sounds coming from the mountain around me, i feel a bit afraid and vulnerable. but soon watching the meteors shooting across the stars and falling to the horizon calms me down, and i grab the uneaten doughnut i still have in my car, and sit in wonder. strangely enough, and this is totally true, a truck full of dudes - like college frat boys, I remember them being - pulls up to the same dirt embankment i'm on, after i'm there about ten minutes, and they shut off their truck and lay out sleeping bags and fold-out camping chairs, and just sit and watch the meteor shower too, with me being about 100 feet away from them by myself in the dark. and, for some reason, we just sit there and watch it together - 100 feet apart - and don't say a single word to each other. and it's lovely. after about an hour, an hour and a half, the frat boys leave. forty-five minutes later, i start to head back home, too. it's about 3 in the morning, and i'm all wondered out - i want to get home to bed. after a bit of searching, i find the right freeway, and from there it's a half hour eventless drive back home. and i didn't think about that girl again that night, or about what could have been. i thought about the great time i had had up in the mountains on the way to Big Bear with a bunch of college dudes i didn't know. that's what i thought about as i feel asleep that night.

i've don't think i've told anyone that story before.

I feel like I've been cold lately.

I don't even know what creepy is. I have my own set of social standards that may or may not overlap with "normal" society.

Exaggeration

guy missed by the bus. this guy was waiting at the bus stop. his bus arrived and drove past him. as it did, the guy had the most confused look on his face - like this: "wqepipofoi?" he then spread out his arms, as if to say, "What the hell, man?," at the bus driver. Maybe it was the shrug that convinced the bus driver to pull-over fifty feet after the stop.

gas station on Slauson and Crenshaw. I worked with my dad today (Saturday) in LA. We were heading to another job when my dad stopped for gas. I saw the strangest people walking around that gas station. It was packed with cars at all the pumps. Not only that, but there were people walking around who weren't even there for gas. There was this middle-aged black guy, grayish afro, a few missing teeth, ragged clothes, who said to me, "Olla, amgio. Got a quarter?" He didn't even stop walking. There was a guy there, very suspicious, who had jeans sagging to the middle of his thighs. While I waited in the car, a couple of fire department ambulances blazed through traffic - they were dodging and swerving over the road because people didn't really pull over; all they did was brake. There was heavy traffic, as the gas station was on the corner of an intersection. Cars and buses were going by non-stop; stoplights were changing and switching every twenty seconds. There were dozens of people walking around. I saw a young black guy with a fedora. I saw two asian people - a father and his teenage son - wearing sunglasses. Most people around there were black. I heard a lot of talking and commotion from every direction. I could see a bus stop about twenty feet away. I saw an old woman with a wrap around her head. I saw a chubby guy. I saw a black lady wearing a black skirt and a frilly white blouse - looked like a large doily. despite her sitting, I could see how big her but was. Literally, it was sticking out from under her. I was thinking to myself, "What the hell is going on? Why is there so much chaos and commotion around here?" I clearly overheard the big ass lady talking on her cell. She was talking for a bit, I was listening a bit, and then she said, in a loud, high-pitched yell, "YEAH, OKAY. RIGHT NOW I'M AT THE CORNER OF SLAUSON AND CRENSHAW. YEAH, THAT'S WHERE I'M AT." I was like, WHAT!? No wonder there was so much going on: the corner of Slauson and Crenshaw is just about the heart of South Central Los Angeles: one of the poorest crime-ridden areas in LA.

Cholo with the prettiest eyebrows. Some mexican guy was crossing the street in front of us. he had straight black hair combed back with grease or something. he had an angular, handsome jaw and a deep brown face that was quite clean - despite being a bit shiny. i noticed he had strange eyebrows; when he got closer to me, I noted how well-plucked they were, fine even, and how they curved just a bit at the ends. What pretty eyebrows, I thought.

Clowning downtown. I saw a black guy sitting at his bus stop in a full clown costume. Rainbow afro wig, white face paint, pajama jumpsuit with white polka dots. I knew he was black because his neck was darker than his face. Didn't see if he had the shoes on, though.

"Are you doing all the tress, or just this yard's?" we worked in Marina del Ray this morning - another wealthy city by the ocean with homes worth millions of dollars. we trimmed a giant bird of paradise at one of these multi-million dollar houses. the houses in this area are arranged as blocks on a grid. small walkways run between rows of houses, which connect to the roads out. my dad is chainsawing a trunk of the bird of paradise when I spot, four houses down, a woman staring at us from her third floor balcony. I stare back at her. she's too far away to see my eyes, so she doesn't detect me looking at her. after five seconds of motionless staring, she finally catches my sight, and quickly and nonchalantly pivots, and walks inside. ten minutes later, i'm picking up debris when i see her again. she's walking her small dog on the walkway outside her house. she has curly black hair, cut-offs with skinny legs, and has dark skin like a latin person. she looks kinda hot, so i assume she's in her thirties. as i work, i see what she's doing. she's walking around now, next to the dog but not with the dog, sauntering about. her dog is a fluffy white terrier. she's waiting for her dog to poo, i guess. i turn to my work, clean up a bit, then look towards her again. she's still sauntering, strolling slowly next to her dog - yet, I notice that she's closer this time. she's walked a few feet towards me. i shrug and do some more work. i turn back again. she's even closer this time! what is going on? What is this woman up to? this time I work while looking at her. she catches my eyes and turns away. she walks a few steps to her house further away. I say, You know what? who cares about this crazy lady anyway. She's walking like she's stoned, she might be confused about something. I'll ignore her. i get back to work. five minutes later, she approaches me while my dad is in a tree chainsawing some stalks. she walks up to me, her dog nowhere to be see, and only says, "Are you doing all the trees, or just this yard's?" i blink at her, then the implication hits me: she wants us to do yard work! up close, i see details. she's not latin, but rather a really, really tan person. her lips are puffed and her face possibly botoxed. her eyes are small creases of light blue in her tan face. her white t-shirt is see-through; through it, i can see her pink bra or bathing suit top - i don' know which. damn, I think, I thought she was pretty from far away.i say, "No, just this banana tree [i thought it was; it was not]," and nothing else. She says, "Oh," and strolls away. as i'm watching her walk away, it occurs to me that her skin is orange; she is an orange person. she went back in front of her house, strolled slowly around for a bit, looked around like she was really confused about something, then entered her yard and closed the gate with a crash.

genetic swerving. driving down slauson avenue when my dad realizes he needs to make a left turn. "I don't even know where the hell I'm going," he says. "I needed to make a turn right here," indicating the intersection he has just passed. quickly, he merges from the right lane to the left lane to make a left turn. he merges a little too much, and enters the empty center lane for a few feet before reentering the left lane. in real time, it looks like he swerves. i look into the side mirror at the cars behind us. the red corvette close behind us, who was originally in the left lane, moves slightly into the center lane a few feet and reenters the left lane. then, i see the white nissan sentra behind him do the exact same thing: enter the center lane for a few feet and move back into the left lane. i laughed and told my dad what he did: he created an imaginary pothole people were trying to avoid.

Conviction

homeless couple who didn't seem  homeless. saw them in Venice. one was a handsome young man probably in his late twenties. the other was a skinny, tall woman around the same age. She could have been a model if her clothes were washed and she wasn't covered in grime. (then again, based on the crazy concepts and designs they come up with these days - ) they were digging around trash cans at McDonalds, looking for cans. They had two small dogs with them. Are they homeless or not? I thought. They're digging through trash; then again, they could be hipsters. They're covered in dirt and wearing mismatched, dirtied clothes; then again, they could be hipsters. They're carrying a baby stroller full of stuff; then again, I thought, hipsters. I studied them for a full two minutes outside of McDonalds. I couldn't decide if they were homeless, or just hippies. As we left, I still didn't know.

i like girls who look lost. they wear frazzled hair, and have large, staring eyes. they look out windows all the time. they're mopey, and that's okay. i saw a girl like this on the freeway, and i thought, yeah, that's the kind of girl i like. she did have frizzy hair.

i was raking some trash at a house in Venice in front of a busy street. i wear one of those white masks which filter the air a bit, almost like surgical masks except these you can buy 10 a pack at Rite Aid for five bucks, I think. the thick dust from the trash kicked up in the air, so I positioned the mask onto my face. as i did this, an old black man with a white beard rode past on a bike. from his broken bike to his tattered clothes, he looked like a bum. he rode past me as i positioned the mask over my mouth and nose; as I did this, he saw me and then he broke into a smile and did that finger-point at me with his index finger, like if you're pretending your hand were a gun, as if he was saying, "Niiiice." I smiled right back, although he couldn't see my mouth, and shot him an index finger too. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Maybe he thought i was a tagger or a drug-user. then again, as i watched him ride down the street, he finger-pointed about a dozen more things in sight while laughing to himself.

saw the nice chinese lady again. she walked outside while we were working and started talking to my dad. her son needs a gardener for his new house. she said her son bought a house in [city], which i know is a pricey area. his wife, she said, is a surgeon, and they live very comfortably. she wasn't bragging, only saying these things with a mother's pride. I thought when I heard these things, "Well, I could be jealous of this person who has so much, or I could say, 'Cool, maybe one day if I work hard I can have that kind of life too'." So I decided to do that instead.

Oh, by the way, my friend is back from San Francisco. I've said before that he moved up there about two years ago (haha, don't worry if you don't remember), and how when he left our friendship sort of evaporated. He moved back home yesterday, I think. Some of my other friends invited me to hang out with him, but I declined. I have this nagging issue in the back of mind, which says, "Do you really want this person as a friend again?" I've been on this kick lately of choosing my own life path. So far it's been good. Now that it comes to friends, however, I've struggled. My friends aren't exactly great companions, but they're not terrible people. They're regular, flawed and good, people. I wonder, "How long can I avoid my group of friends and still be friends with them?" I'd think years. Maybe two.

School is starting soon. I don't know if I've told you this, but I've finally transferred out of community college and am attending a California State Univeristy this fall. Barely, barely transferred out after four years in communinity college. (Don't know if you remember THIS - I told you long ago the name of my community college. If you do remember, please don't mention it.)

I'm excited for school this year. It's not only excitement in my veins, though. It's also determination. A 'dammit, i'll do it anyway' kind of determination.

Something I've never had for school is passion to succeed. I still don't have passion for grade point averages and stuff like that, yet I know somewhere inside of myself that I'll succeed. I don't ask why. I don't ask how. I only know, somehow. There's an unwillingness to give up. It's deep, and embedded. It is me now.

I don't know what's caused this slight transformation inside of me. I've noticed that I'm being truer to myself than I've ever been. Maybe I've gotten more comfortable being myself. There's still the impending risk of social anxiety waiting below, but i try not to think about it as much. I've realized that miracles don't come down to grant your wishes. Hard work and tirelessly pursuing ones dreams is the only way to get anywhere worth being. I think sitting around my house doing nothing during the first half of summer awakened me to the dull grind of every day life. I literally had nothing better to do. I never wanted that to happen again, so I decided to start a powerful transformation that would affect the rest of my life.

I can't wait to work and live for myself one day. The first step is to graduate college. Meanwhile, I write my butt off and read everything I can. If I'm serious about writing, I need to take myself as seriously as I should take myself: which is seriously. (Hope that clarifies that objective. Haha.)

Grad school. I think I'm going to go. But I need to write some kick ass material if I want to go to a good school for Creative Writing. Or perhaps I should go for a literature degree? That's already my undergraduate. But wouldn't it be fun to write? For movies, or TV shows, or plays? And wouldn't you be able to express yourself more as a creative writer than as a literary student? (In a different way, some would say.) Don't you want to stir the emotions of readers and have them feel grand and lonely at once? Don't you want to change lives, like your life was changed way back in fifth grade when you read Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli? Don't you want to put those same feelings of exhiliration and warmth and tenderness into the hearts of other people? That sounds wonderful. And pretty cool.

I know I'll make it. I know i'll find a job and work for myself and survive day by day. I know i'll do whatever it takes (obviously not fold on my priciples; I know that's what you were thinking) to succeed, have a family, live a good life. The same way I know I'll gradute college, I know I'll fight my way through and do well in life; the same convinction is inside me, slowly, transfigured and embedded into my scrawling bones.

First college. Then writing. At the same time, reading. Then graduate school. Then who knows.

First college. And writing. Write every day.

It's Okay

I worked with my dad on Tuesday and Wednesday in Compton. If you aren't familiar with the reputation Compton, California has, I refer you to this audio/visual from the late 1980s:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MrQtOoQRpc

Anyway, we were working there Wednesday in some empty lot. Here are some things that I saw/that happened to me the hour and a half I was there.

1.) A black prostitute said "Olla" to me as we drove past her. It was daylight, around 3 pm. She had blue stars tattooed on her thighs - which I could see because her black shorts were only about four inches long. She was actually pretty, and only in her late twenties or so.

2.) While I was raking some trash inside the empty lot, inside it's chain-link fence perimeter, a guy came up to me from the street. He had on black dress pants, a blue shirt with cartoon characters on it, and a camouflage backpack. I saw him approaching from the corner of my eye, and a few seconds later he came up to me and said through the chain-link, "Oye, como te tu vas a requdo de me so tu que mi lo que?" At least, that's what it sounded like to me. I told you before that I, sadly, am not fluent in Spanish. Hoping to get back to work, I decided to try to get rid of this guy. I thought he may only speak Spanish, so I said to him, in English, "Sorry, I don't speak Spanish," and shrugged my shoulders. He seemed a bit surprised, but the very next moment he said, in perfect-ish English, "Oh, sorry, man. Hey, do you want to buy some Android Tablets?" I thought, D'oh. Oh well. I said, "Nah, sorry, man." I hoped the harder I waved my hands in front of me, the quicker he'd leave. "You sure?" he asked, staring with unfocused eyes at me. "Yeah, no thanks," I said. Then the guy spotted my dad working about fifty feet away, and said, "Do you think your boss would be interested?" "Him?" I said. "Him less so than me." "Oh," the guy said. "Okay." Then he walked away. And that's how I avoided buying stolen computer tablets.

3.) While waiting in the truck outside the bank for my dad, I saw a skinny white girl walk by. She was talking on her cell phone. She had dyed red hair, and a black tank-top on. Her shorts were so short that the lower half of her butt could be seen. Not her thighs; it was her butt hanging out. Her ripped jean shorts were shaped like a V.

4.) (Technically in Lynwood, an adjoining city. But still similar to Compton.) I saw two teenagers, a boy and a girl, who I assumed to be a couple, sitting next to each other on a high school football field. remember that this is California and practically every high school is an outdoors one. since it was a wednesday around 3:30 in the afternoon, there was no one else around. They sat right next to each other in that big grassy field - and when we turned a corner and drove past the school, I could see the girl resting her head on the guys shoulder.


The point of life isn't to be happy, I've realized.. if it was, we'd all be selfish jerks. there are some people who are happy to sit inside their houses all day eating pizza and burgers. they're only interactions outside are to go to work and to buy new cars. everything else is ordered online. they're yards are a mess, littered with pieces of trash and junk they've thrown away. i've worked at houses where these people live.

i've worked at places where nice people live, too. my dad does this place - a huge, multi-leveled apartment building in Compton. There has to be dozens of residents there; the building literally takes up an entire block. anyway, we were there on tuesday for four hours, mowing and blowing and raking. about two or three hours in, this lady comes out and hands us sliced fruit in a ziplock bag. pineapple, watermelon, mango. She also gives us water. it was so delicious after working in the sun for so long. we sat down and enjoyed it. about fifteen minutes later, she came out again and gave us ice cream!

that isn't normal, is it? that is above and beyond normal. that is true kindness. it may be that she gave us these things so that we'd do a good job on her section of the apartment block, but i think it still counts. i've also met people who give us something to drink every time we do their houses. seriously, almost every time they'll offer us drinks. it's definitely not at every house; most people are content to pay us and not interact much with us, which is both okay and fair. afterall, we're getting paid to do a service, and we do that service well. everyone gets something. but those people who like to talk with my dad and give us drinks and fruit and ice cream - those are special kinds of people. the world only has a handful of those people. we need to take care of them.

we also worked at an elementary school early tuesday morning. we had to get there and finish cleaning everything before the kids started to arrive. whenever i had trouble mowing the lawn, i encouraged myself by thinking, "FOR THE CHILDREN! AHHHH!"

i'm beginning to think that the point of life - or one of the points - is to enjoy it. how do we do that? by helping others enjoy life.

PS: I know my capitalization isn't great. i'm okay with that.

First Impressions: The Gospel of John

I'm only halfway through John.

Jesus keeps telling people how they need to believe in him to have eternal life. He keeps telling them that he is sent from God, and God is working through him. He uses bread and water as metaphors for partaking of God and salvation.

Every person in authority says, "No way. Who are you again? Get out of here before we kill you." Even normal folks say, "We are children of Abraham. Are you saying you are greater than Abraham?" and turn away from him. Jesus knows who will believe and who will not already.

Jesus goes around performing miracles. The first one was transforming water in large basins into wine. The second one was walking on water or feeding five thousand - I can't remember which one came first. He also healed a sick man who couldn't enter a pool by himself. There was a man blind since birth whom Jesus saw while walking. Jesus spit into the ground and made mud. He then spread the mud on the blind man's eyes and told him to wash it off in some lake. The blind man did, and afterwards he could see. The authorities asked the former blind man how he could see; he told them that some man had spit into the ground and put mud on his eyes to wash away in a lake. When asked who this man was, the blind man couldn't say. Later, Jesus met the former blind man again, and Jesus said to him, "Do you believe in the Son of God?" The blind man said, "Show me where he is, and I will believe in him." Then Jesus said, "He is here; you are speaking with him." At that, the  former blind man knelt down and worshipped Jesus. When the former blind man was once again summoned by the authorities, he told them that Jesus was the one who healed him. They asked him how could he do this. Some of them believed Jesus to be a sinner, which is how he had these abilities. The blind man asked them, "Why do you not believe in him?" Jesus would later call the authorities blind. "But we can see," they said. "How can you say that we are blind?" Jesus said to them, "If you can't see, then you are fine; however, if you say you can see but really can't, then you do not have eternal life" - or something like that.

Jesus tries to prove who he is most of the time. He does a lot of stuff that's against the Law, too. Like he heals a sick man and tells him to walk and pick up his mat - even though it's the Sabbath. I don't know if this is against the Law, but Jesus goes into a Temple that is used as a marketplace and start knocking over the stalls and driving off the animals with a whip. Jesus speaks to a Samaritan woman while he sits at a well. He asks her for a drink, even though Jews and Samaritan's can't share the same cups. Jesus says that if she wishes, she could never be thirsty again. She asks how. Jesus says by believing in him. She then leaves and tells the rest of the town about Jesus, and people begin to believe him. This was before he crossed the lake, I believe. Oh yeah, even though I forgot to mention it, this is probably important. The well that Jesus sat it was the same well Jacob dug years before which the town has used ever since. A quick wikipedia search said that this part is sometimes referred to as The Water of Life Discourse.

I guess there's a whole bunch of symbolism and meaning behind this scene. Any suggestions? The well: symbolism of life, but also can be of death, ie, a poisoned well. Jesus' kindness to those considered inferior can also be seen as God's word extending to all people, not just a chosen few. The water Jesus offers is salvation through him. The historical significance of the well indicates Jesus' connection with the past. According to John, the well was dug by Jacob. Jacob (I don't know much about him), according to wikipedia, was the grandson of Abraham, and later renamed Israel by God. Thus, Jesus' words and salvation, which is like the water in the well, comes to Jesus through Jacob from God.

I'll get to the next half later.

some thoughts do more harm than good

I work all day and think of you. I wonder what to say. I wonder what to do.

Each day is a repetition of the week before, and nothing in life progresses. I have nothing to look forward to.

I think about this situation, and I wonder at my own stupidity. I realize that I've gone about this all wrong, and that I've changed everything. Maybe it's for the best.

There are unrelenting and tireless thoughts about us pulling inside my head.

You've said previously that you think about me a lot. You think about me - why? Why? Am I even real to you, or am I this other voice in your head that keeps you company. Will I always be Tom: a personality only in words, safely tucked away when you turn off your computer?

What do you want from me? Do you want me to be your friend Tom? Do you want me to be that guy you know on the internet? Do you want me to be here for you, on the internet, during heartbreaks and depression and talk to you about your day, and make silly comments about boys and find things you say funny? Do you want me to never leave this website?

I can't help myself: I create wishes and hopes whenever I talk with you. When you unknowingly say something approaching the truth of your feelings, it hurts.

One of my main worries is hurting you by leaving. You said you'd miss me.

If I leave, I don't want this to seem like I'm leaving forever, or abandoning what we have. I don't want this to seem like I never cared for you and that's why I'm going. The exact reason I don't want to stick around is because I care about you more than you care about me, and that's not healthy for either of us.

I want so much for us to be together. I want to be with you, and care for you, and to hold you and kiss you at night. I want to tell you everything is all right. I want to laugh at your jokes. I want to be seen with you. I want to go places with you.

I don't expect anything from you. Selfishly, I did expect you to return my feelings. Since you made clear you don't, I have no choices left.

I don't feel like we can go on as if nothing is wrong.

I constantly think of the future. I wonder how long until one of us leaves. I wonder when you'll find a good Christian man to marry. I wonder how soon you'll fall in love and marry and have kids. Soon, I think.

I can't take watching it unfold.

I wanted you to want me to fly to Chicago to see you. I know that's wrong and dumb. I can't help how I feel.

I've realized that some words are better left unsaid, as too much honesty may cause more harm than good. I feel that you want me to remain here because you want a friend, someone who won't hurt you - and you're willing to let my feelings for you slide out of your mind.

You know how I feel about you. I know you don't feel the same about me, nor do I have reason to believe you ever will. You said you'd miss me if I left. You said there's no point blogging because I'm the only one who consistently reads your blog. You wanted me to stay because of the things you wanted, and didn't think about the things I wanted - or do want.

I want to not chase a girl who won't love me back. I want to find someone who will want me. I want to find places where I am wanted. I've had too many wasted years chasing lost loves in middle and high school. I don't want to stick around because you want me to. I'm not sure if my feelings are love or like, but  they're something more than this.

We are anonymous strangers on the internet - totally disembodied, harmlessly convenient, and at any moment, a click away from disappearing.

the thoughts i'll talk about

I'm a jerk. I'm a jerk to you. I'm selfish. I want to make you love me because I want to be happy. That won't make me happy though. And it won't make you happy. It's not the right thing to do. To force you to choose would be the worst thing in the world. You're a nice person. You don't deserve to be treated badly. You deserve to find someone nice. You deserve to not be depressed. You deserve a good job. Who are you? I don't know. I don't have the slightest idea.

We're going to blog to one another until one of us decides to move on. Boy, that sucks.

You're a good part of my life. I look forward to reading what you say. You make me laugh so much.You''re an anonymous girl on the internet that I like. That's all.

Time to get over myself and my selfishness. Time to grow up - just a bit.

the past couple of days

7/21/13

I'm starting to read the things you suggested. i started reading the gospel of John. i skimmed through that article once. some sections confused me a bit, so i won't talk about it until i can better understand what's going on. about the talk of abortion. . .well, let's leave it for now. (or is it finished? i don't feel like we've finished talking about it.) i want to talk more philosophy with you. i like how excited and interested you get when you talk about it. i like it when you get happy.

however, if i'm honest, i don't expect either one of us to change our points of view. i don't expect you to stop believing in God; i don't expect myself to start believing in God. i think we should still talk philosophy and theology to better understand each others' personalities and beliefs - that's always a good thing; yet, if either of us tries to convert the other person, there will be disappointment, and things will not turn out amicably. so let's try to respect each other in a serious way.

oh yeah, about that love and marriage thing. i didn't say that marriage wasn't about love, nor do i actually think that. i agree that love is important, and it probably is the reason why you choose to commit to someone. my point was that you can't marry someone solely because you're in love with them. at least from what i've witnessed, some marriages aren't exactly loving and comfortable, and the people in those marriages are aware that they don't feel the same as they did when they were first married. however, that shouldn't mean they get a divorce or separate. this is my point: if your marriage sucks, your spouse doesn't feel the same  about you as they once did, you're kinda floating through your life - these are not reasons for divorce. even if you stop loving someone, it doesn't mean you end your marriage. that's not commitment.

having said all this, none of this applies to extreme cases of broken marriages - as in domestic abuse or a toxic environment.

7/20/13

this morning, i worked with my dad at some apartments in Santa Monica. they're single-story apartments, attached to each other in a row, perpendicular to the street. this asian lady comes out while we're working and starts talking to my dad. she's middle aged, probably a bit older, and tells my dad that she's just got home from a three week vacation. she looks at me nearby; i smile and wave to her. my dad introduces me. "this is my son eric" - (yes, that really is my name). the lady says, in accented english, "Oh, my! Hello!" I say hello to her. she says to me, "Your father is good man." I say, "I know."

Then she starts moving towards me, and i think she wants to shake my hand, so I stick my hand out; but what she does is open her arms for a hug. i was like, 'what? okay. whatever.' so i hug her a bit tightly, while she hugs me a bit lightly. she lets go, and says to my dad, "So this is your son! He's handsome! He's a nice boy." haha, that felt good. what i think she meant is that i'm young and healthy, not handsome as in chisled jaw, high cheekbones. and nice as in i don't have any tattoos or piercings or wild hair or anything like that.

then she says, "so, you're helping your dad out? that's good." i nod and say yeah. she says, "gardening, it's good work." I say yeah again. then she says, "it's really peaceful work to do." What? I laugh, and start thinking about all the sweat and grass flying everywhere whenever i mow a lawn. I say, "it's peaceful when we're not using the machines." we all laughed. yeah right it's peaceful.

apparently, she's from china, and has been very successful in the United States.

she was nice.

i got suspicious. why was she so nice? her being nice at first doesn't mean she's a nice person. i don't know. i don't like to be taken advantage of, or scammed, so i don't trust strangers too much. normally people don't want to hug you when they first meet you - especially when they're meeting their gardener (me) for the first time.

this afternoon, we were working in Venice - a hip, trendy city on the beach - at some million dollar house. the lady who lives there has two or three kids, so the backyard was full of toys and playground equipment and small stuff like that. i had to wash the patio area with the hose. the only problem was that there were lots of chalk drawings done by the kids there. i washed them away anyway because i had to. I am the destroyer of children's dreams.

7/20/13

this might be long.

i saw a girl who reminded me of you. my dad and i were at Orchard Supply Warehouse in the check-out line. the girl was a cashier working another check-out line. she was about a foot shorter than me. she had short brunette hair pulled back into a ponytail. she was quite petite, very cute. she wore black glasses, and had a small rounded face.

i thought, "If she" - meaning you - "if she was here right now, she'd probably look something like her." then i imagined you standing next to me, and me seeing you in-person, standing next to you, looking at you. feeling like you were next to me made me happy. i couldn't control my mouth: i started to smile - grin, actually, on the right side of my mouth - at the thought of seeing you in person. i felt happy.

her name was maya, i think. or mayra.

i'm working through those suggested readings you gave me. the article doesn't really make sense to me, and there are some parts i have problems with. i started reading the gospel of john. i'll keep you updated. also, i'm thinking about reading the bible more. so far, i've only read Luke, Genesis, and Revelation. Any suggested books? i'd like to start in the Old Testament.

i went to my friend's sister's party. it was at my friend's house. she was turning 26 today. i got there an hour after it started.

this woman named olga tried to drive home drunk. my friends and i spotted her leaving the party, stumbling across the yard to her car. one of my friends said, "is she driving?" we all started saying that she shouldn't be driving, we should stop her, etc. no one was trying to stop her, so i decided to act. i quickly started walking towards her and stopped her on the sidewalk. she was so drunk she could barely speak a complete thought. i asked, "are you okay? are you going home?" she said yes. "i'll give you a ride, if you want." no, no, she said, i can drive. she slurred her words. then my friend Jessie, drunk as well, showed up. he talked to her, trying to convince her not to drive. he was hugging her, holding her, saying how he knows she's in no state to drive. "listen to me," he said to her, "Olga, I know you. we've played volleyball before. I know you're not okay." I asked, "where do you live?" she said the street names. i didn't know where they were. "I'll give you ride home," I said. Jessie turned to me and said, "Eric, I trust you. Take her home, all right?" although i didn't know where she lived, i knew i had to take her home.

after another minute of holding olga, convincing her to accept a ride home, and steadying her walking, a young woman came over from the party. i didn't recognize her. she politely declared that she'd give olga a ride home. olga seemed more willing to go with her. she asked me if i wanted to come along, and i said yes. the young woman's name was Ruby. i helped olga across the street and into the backseat of Ruby's car. i got into the passenger seat and we left. olga was pretty drunk.

ruby easily knew where her street was, and we got to her apartment without any problems. we got out and walked with olga up some stairs. she kept insisting she was fine, but we kept with her. we then let her walk fifty feet to her door by herself, and after fumbling with her keys for a second, she went inside. then Ruby and I kinda looked at each other in disbelief. ruby mentioned that olga's husband was probably home, which is why she didn't want me to take her by myself - since her husband might go, 'Who the hell is this guy?' ruby told me, in a whisper, that olga has three kids. i thought it was the lighting of the streetlights or something, but i slowly realized that olga was really an approaching middle-aged woman, and the lines and wrinkles and wilting skin of here face showed it - even behind the thick make-up she wore. i felt sorry for her, and i think Ruby did, too.

that's how we got olga back home safely.

it was on the way back to the party that i realized i liked ruby.

rough draft of the story, written last night

there was this woman there named Ruby. she was nice, and quiet. i felt good around her. she's 26, too. she works as a substitute teacher for high school. right now, she's trying to find work as a full-time teacher. how i met her is when olga tried to drive home drunk and i went to stop her on the sidewalk, ruby came and started talking to her. i had offered her a ride home, but she refused. ruby offered her a ride home, and luckily she accepted. ruby asked if i wanted to go, and i said yes. we didn't have much trouble finding her apartments. actually, ruby didn't have any troubles; i would have gotten lost.

back to the post

i realize that i want to tell you stuff: that's why i write here. i like sharing my life with you.

the woman who helped me take the drunk woman home was cute, and nice. real nice. i liked that. she's a substite teacher for the city i live in. she said she's been doing that for four years. she was very sweet - she had this soft talking voice, like she wanted to whisper nice things to you. she dropped another guy off at his house - his name was andrew. i have no idea who he was, and i don't think she did either. when she came back, she told my friend's parents that andrew had asked for her number. later, i drove jessie's car and jessie to his house because he wasn't in a condition to drive himself, and ruby followed to give me a ride back to the party area. (at this point, the party was done and cleaned up.) i think this was around 3 last night. when she was driving me back, she told me how andrew had asked for her number - and she gave it to him! "i thought he'd get it from someone else anyway, so i thought i just won't text him back." she said he had already sent her a text, about twenty minutes after she dropped him off. yeah, i liked her. too bad she's like 26 and has a career and is looking to become a full-time teacher. she's in a completely different period of life than i am, and it would never click - on the supposition that she'd even go out with me.

as my friend said about the party last night: "Drunk ass foo's, sloppy as fuck." lots of sloppy drunk people. the birthday girl got wasted - and i mean incoherently drunk. lots of spilling drinks and knocking over chairs. these twenty-five, twenty-six year old white party girls were stumbling around a lot in short revealing dresses. one of them in a green dress fell to the ground and lay there laughing with her hands covering her face. there was only a few people still there. i bent down and said, "Do you need help getting up?" she didn't seem hear me; she was still laughing and covering her hands. then she moved her hands and looked up at me. we didn't know each other, so she was obviously thinking, 'Who is this guy?' I figure she didn't care about who i was anyway. after a couple of seconds, she said, "Sure." then I grabbed her left hand and under her arm and pulled her up. either she was incredibly light, or i didn't realize my own strength, because i easily pulled her up and to her feet. she had to steady herself and pull her dress down and adjust her boobs. she said "thank you." I said, "sure," and walked away.

one of my friends is a sneaky drunk. i thought he was sober, but at the end of the night he said, "no, i'm pretty drunk." what the heck?

another is an angry drunk. that's self-explanatory.

one of my friends who wasn't there is a sad drunk. he cries every single time he gets drunk. at first he's active and cheerful. then, somewhere in the middle of the night he hits a wall of introspection and self-deprecation, and starts to mope around. seriously, every time he's drunk.

i wonder what i'm like drunk.

oh, we also spent about 45 minutes looking for this lady's car keys. we looked all around the front yard with flashlights, and in the kitchen and bedrooms. we even sifted through the garbage can from the party - which was not pleasant. so much nacho cheese and watery salsa. i made sure to wash my hands with near-boiling water. (just kidding. but seriously: really hot water.) eventually she found her keys in a dresser drawer. you're welcome, lady.

i like older women who are serious, apparently.

i didn't drink at all.

serious thoughts

a few days ago, one of my mom's birds flew away. the guy who is remodeling the kitchen was outside, and he accidentally knocked over the cage. the little doors slid open and the birds flew away. he managed to re-capture one of them, but the other one, named Daisy, flew away. she was a yellow parakeet.

i wonder if that's a bad thing. i sometimes look at those birds and pity them. what's it like to live in a cage? aren't their muscle hurting from not even being able to stretch their wings? poor things: locked up every second of their life

it makes me think of Maya Angelou's autobiography/poem I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. i still don't know exactly why the caged bird sings. to remind itself of freedom, i guess.

i'm reading two books right now: The Crucible, by Arthur Miller; and Moby-Dick, by Herman Melville. The first is for fun; the second is to challenge myself.

i've told you before i work with my dad gardening. if you've ever seen those mexican guys in a beat-up pick-up truck with a whole bunch of tools haphazardly strapped to the back, that's us. i've been helping him a lot recently. i go about three days a week - wed, thurs, sat - all day basically, from 7 or 8 am to around 7 or 8 at night - that's including travel time and traffic and such.

i mow the lawns. it's super loud, deafening almost. i work out in the sun. sometimes sweat drips down my eyelids into my eyes, and I constantly wipe it off with my shirt. at the end of the day, there's always a layer of dirt and grass on my arms and face. it's tiring and boring, but it's work.

this morning i was working with my dad at some residential house in los angeles. i heard soft piano music coming from the neighbors house. it sounded  slow and deliberate, like a kid just learning how to play, but you could tell it was a song, and it sounded nice. my dad heard it, too, because as he was getting ready to turn-on the weed-whacker, he said, "It's soothing, isn't it?" I was ready to start mowing the lawn. I said, "Yeah . . ." Then I said, sadly: "It's too bad. . . " and I started the mower.

They were still playing after we stopped, in case you were wondering.

I want to show you LA, because i know you said you wanted more pictures and videos, but i seriously don't even know where or what to film.

i was in LA today when i saw this store. i can't remember what it sold, maybe it was a cleaners or something. it's windows were covered in brown paper - the same as a paper bag. it was neatly held together with blue masking tape. all three windows facing the street were covered, and written in big, bold letters on the paper were the words 'BLACK OWNED.'

i heard there were small riots the other day in Los Angeles. does this explain it? at first i laughed at the written words BLACK OWNED because it seemed like a ridiculous thing to do. but the more i thought about it, the sadder the situation seemed to me. jesus, would people really loot and steal from neighborhood stores indiscriminately during a protest-turned-riot? the answer is yes. would the words BLACK OWNED save that store from angry looters? who knows.

I don't know what is the purpose of life. I don't believe in God, so i can't say it's to glorify Him. I guess it's to enjoy it while you can without hurting other people. it's to get the most out of - physically, emotionally, spiritually (yeah, i kinda believe in the concept of spirituality - hey, there's more than one way to feel spiritual, you know). i guess it's to start a family - a wife and kids - and raise your kids to be good people, and have fun, and work hard to be successful, and do something that makes you feel like you matter while sharing it with someone you want to spend your life with.

marriage, i think, is more about commitment than it is about love. you say, 'okay, we're going to commit to each other - we're going to choose to stay faithful to one another the rest of our lives,' and you go from there. it's a contract exactly like a business contract: both parties are obligated to fulfill their part of the contract. it has to be equal, too; each person puts into the marriage an equal amount of effort, time, and energy. otherwise, you can get bitter or grow resentful, and that's serious trouble.

people who marry solely for love are stupid.

i don't feel like we need God in our lives to be happy. we need something more than ourselves. it doesn't have to be God.

what else is there? love, family, the greater good. you know, stuff like that.

being a christian doesn't make someone a good person. being an atheist (or some other religion) doesn't make someone a bad person. it's your actions that determine your morality.

physical bodies are dumb. they're just masks. sexual desire is deceitful and dangerous. in a relationship, there has to be physical attraction, but there has to be more. there has to be.

i don't know how i feel about abortion. on one hand, it's basically a life. on the other, who am i to say what a person can or cannot do with their own bodies? this might sound cruel, or evil, or horrifying, but it's an honest question: do we really need more people being born to mess up the earth? i'm not suggesting we allow abortion of fully-developed babies; i think the cut-off point is around 20-something weeks, when the embryo is beginning to take the form of a baby. why do we want so desperately to prevent aborting these lives, when there's so many other people already out of the womb who suffer so much? why don't we care about those people first? i've always thought the argument of, 'well, that unborn child could be the next einstein, or mozart!', is really, really dumb. yeah, or it could be a thief, or an asshole, or someone who really hurts other people. you don't know, you can't know.

i think my conclusion for now is this: legally, it should be allowed; morally, it hurts.

okay, tough question: say i get a girl i meet at some party pregnant. ten weeks pregnant, she tells me she wants an abortion, but asks my opinion. what do i say? if she has the baby, my life changes drastically forever. at the same time, it's my own fault, and i should own up to the mistake (remember: this hasn't actually happened). if she wants an abortion, what could i say? she's the one carrying the baby, not me. i couldn't stop her, nor would i try to, if i'm going to be honest. do you think that makes me a child murderer? at ten weeks, the embryo - or baby - has potential for life, but can't survive on it's own. i suppose if you believe in souls, you may believe that the soul is missing a chance at life.

it's not a white or black issue, nothing ever is. it's tough for me to figure out.

this has always bugged me about the concept of God. if He created everything, then why does the Devil exist. they say the Devil used to be an archangel, but rebelled against God, and was sent to Hell. didn't God know the Devil was going to rebel when he made him? if so, why make him? do we really need good and evil to co-exist? do we really need to choose good? God made man in His imagine, and man was without sin and good and stuff. then the Devil comes along, and tricks man. God, of course, knew this was going to happen. why did God let this happen? because God wants man to choose him over evil. why? because God made us in his own image. why? why did God create man? to glorify him. why? because God is perfect and deserves glorification? because he wants glorification? i don't know. God created evil - He created everything. why, if He's all-good, did he create evil? just make everyone happy.

another thing i can't wrap my head around: how has God always been? it just doesn't make sense to me. obviously, i know, something must have happened for us to be here. it could be a million, trillion different things, but you're saying it's God who did it? how do you know? how do you know? furthermore, how did God come to exist? you could say, well, He always existed because He's an eternal being. how? how is He an eternal being?

i guess i don't have faith, nor do i want to put my faith into these claims. they don't make sense to me.

i was raised catholic. up until 14 or 15 i was without doubts - mostly, i guess, because i never thought about it: i wasn't religious. most of the masses my parents took me to where in spanish - which i've told you before i don't speak fluently - so i wouldn't even listen. i just followed everyone else: stand, sit, stand, kneel, stand, pray, sit, stand, leave.

yeah, catholic services kinda suck.

as a teenager, i used to imagine what my life would be like if my mom or dad died. i liked the feeling of everyone feeling sorry for me, and for having an excuse to be sad.

my friend's older sister is having a birthday party this saturday. i have no idea what to expect. i don't know if i'll drink or not. i don't know if i'll get drunk or not.

sometimes i don't know how to feel about my life.

my real name is Eric.

july 8 2013 - the truth

note: i wrote this before i saw your latest post entitled 'truths.'  But reading it gave me the confidence to post this.

it's a new week, a fresh start.

i have no idea what i want this to be about.

///
 
[from july 2, 2013]

quick thoughts:

I went hiking again to the cross. it got to be night when i reached the top. it was quite pretty and cool sitting up there, watching the city lights below. lately, people have been shooting off illegal fireworks around town--the kind that shoot into the air and explode. from the top of the mountain, they looked like little balls of color. they looked like those fireworks in super mario brothers when you reach the castle at the end of the stage: like toys.

I had to use a flashlight on my way down. my brother gave me his as i was leaving my house. i told him i was meeting friends at the trail but i went by myself. on the way down i passed this family with four kids all under the age of 6. they stood in the dark in the middle of the trail. i passed them without a thought, but as i got further down, it struck me that it could be dangerous for the kids to walk without a light. so i decided to go back up a little and wait for them to ask them if they needed a light. i even started practicing what i was going to say. ¿necessitan luz? do you all need a light? they were speaking spanish when i passed them. then, after a few people passed me on the trail, i hear the voices of little kids. i look up the trail and see that the mom is using her phone as a light source, and it turned out they didn't need my help after all. d'oh. they took a picture near where i was standing and then left. i stood alone in the quiet darkness looking out at the city for a while. then i started down again. about five minutes later i passed the family again. i considered maybe i should still ask them if they needed a light. it would have been safer and easier for them if they had two light sources. in the end, i didn't, and i don't know if i regret that decision or not.

I don't feel like writing about the wedding. it feels like it's going to be long and boring. nothing spectacular happened. the reception was at a fancy hotel in Ontario. there was this girl there. she wore a soft pink dress with tulle fabric falling down to her knees (heh, i figured out what kind of fabric it was as i was typing this. thanks, the internet.) i remember vividly her pale face and dark eyebrows, and her abnormally large honey-colored eyes looking up at me. in her nude heels, she was about one or two inches short than i was, and i'm about 5' 11''. and i swear she was into me! what happened was that she moved over to our table as people started to dance. there weren't many people at our table, and she was alone. as the music started playing, she started swaying her body with the rhythm. no one else was around but me, my sister, and my cousin from riverside. I THINK SHE WANTED ME TO ASK HER TO DANCE BUT SINCE I LACK THE REQUIRED SELF-ESTEEM I DIDN'T DO IT AND I KIND OF REGRET IT. later, when she moved back to her table--which was next to ours--i caught her looking at me and quickly look away. AM I CRAZY, OR DOES THIS MEAN SOMETHING?

Then it struck me: why the fuck do i care about dancing or connecting with this poor girl? i don't know anything about her, since we were only introduced earlier that day. i have no idea of her personality. i didn't even remember her name. SO WHY THE FUCK DID I CARE? the answer is because i'm a predictably horny guy who wanted to use a pretty girl to fulfill his cravings for sex. i'm sorry about that, girl at the wedding.

///

[today's writing]

i was with my dad in his truck this past saturday. we stopped by the gas station. some guy came up to my dad with a towel and a can of some cleaner. from the passenger seat, i could see him trying to get my dads attention. he was standing off a distance, then he'd lean a little bit and look towards my dad; then he'd walk a few steps away and come back and start standing and leaning again. my dad finally noticed him. the guy said, "can i interest you in a free demonstration in this window cleaner? it'll clean your windows and headlights, too." he was a tall, large white guy wearing a polo shirt. i noticed he was wearing a silver wedding ring. I don't know why i noticed this. back to the story. my dad said, "no thanks."  the guy smiled and said, "no problem," and then he walked away. a few minutes later a second guy comes up to my dad with the same towel and can of cleaning solution. this guy was mexican and wearing sunglasses. he was a bit overweight, and i noticed he had a tattoo on his left forearm. this guy wasn't wearing a wedding ring. he goes up to my dad very confidently and asks, "hey, boss. mind if give you a free demonstration on your windows?" my dad says, "no thanks," again, but just as he said it, the guy sprays the cleaner on my dad's truck and starts wiping it with a towel. What the hell! he told you no, but you do it anyway? what kind of asshole are you? immediately i got uncomfortably angry. meanwhile, the guy was still talking, and i could hear him give a few cheesy lines to my dad. "i bet this stuff will work great on your ferrari at home." my dad is a gardener and drives a beat to hell 2003 toyota tacoma. "i bet you only drive the ferrari on weekends, huh?" my dad laughed at this; i got even angrier. then the guy said something, and then for the first time looked inside the truck and at me sitting in the passenger seat, and said, "isn't that right, boss?" i've told you before i hate being called 'boss,' or 'chief,' or any variation of those condescending, flippant names. i told you i was already furious with this asshole. i wanted him gone. at that point i said, pointing to the window he just sprayed and wiped, "hey, do you think you can do the whole car?" "yeah, i could do that," he said, "but i'd have to charge you a thousand bucks." i could tell he was annoyed. "that's not a demonstration, that's a service fee," I said, grinning. he looked even more annoyed, so he changed topics. "so, uh, what kind of work do you guys do?" "gardening, mowing," i said. "oh, so you guys work all day in the sun, huh?" "yup, we're busting our asses everyday out there." at this point i think i really started to annoy him. he said, "well, i don't know what that's like, you know? it's not like i work or anything. i don't even like to work, you know?" i didn't say anything. i kept grinning at him. then he started talking about staying hydrated in the sun, and you know what's really good? those gatorade energy cubes. --(at this point he's kind of backing up a bit)-- like, seriously, take those, and it makes a big difference. then, not sure what to do next, he said, "well, okay. you guys have a good day," and quickly walked away. i really think i annoyed the crap out of him. i know he was only trying to do his job, but i had to say something: if i (or my dad) tells you don't spray crap on my car, then don't spray crap on my car.

///

[from april 13, 2012]

It's raining today. It's coming down torrentially. I can't remember when this happened last. And there are brief cracks of thunder, too. Whenever it rains, I get a nervous foreboding that I left something vaulable outside, and as I sit safely and quietly in my house, whatever that thing is is getting soaked and ruined outisde. But, I supposed if it was really valuable to me, I'd have a mind not to leave it outside. But some things don't fit inside, do they?

Now that I'm twenty-one and am able to legally drink, I have only the slightlest inclinatino to do so. About a month ago, my uncle was rushed to the hospital because he was coughing up blood. It turns out he has cerosis of the liver. He's somewhat better now and out of the hospital, but that incident got me into a reflective mood. Almost anything that happens in my life gets me in a reflective mood.

Am I going to have liver problems when I'm older? Will I have to suffer like all my aunts and uncles and grandparents on my mother's side, and fight diabetes and arthritis and liver failure (my other uncle has also had trouble with his liver)? What are the chances I'll have the same problems?

Which then got me thinking about health.

///

[july 8, 2013]

epilogue:

Anonymously Me, it feels like the only reason i keep writing is to talk to you. i know my goal is to record my life in an honest and true way, but i feel sometimes my feelings for you supersede this objective. not in a horrible way. sometimes i find myself filtering out thoughts in an effort to please the thought i have of you in my head: will she like this? will she be offended by these thoughts? does talking about other women make her jealous? then there's this recent thought i've had: what if you're not really you? what if you're not who you say you are? i'm not calling you a liar, i'm only scared of getting hurt. what if i've fallen in love with someone who doesn't exist? what if you're made up, the creation of some guy somewhere as an experiment? then again, how do you know i really am who i say i am? what if i say my name really is Tom? how can you know? why should you trust me? even if we ever skyped or sent photos of ourselves, we could still be lying about who we are. i could really be a sixteen year old high school kid with serious social anxiety. you could be anyone other than myself; i could be anyone other than yourself. is it worth it to trust me? should i put in the effort to trust you? what's the point of all this? i feel my heart ripping everyday at the thought that you won't want me. i'm afraid we'll never be together, even though i know it will never happen. i'm struggling to find a reason to keep going, to keep writing out my feelings and guts and mind into this empty place where the only other soul to reach out i have to believe is who they say they are. is this really living? or am i truly empty of the deeper emotional connection i thought i had with you? do you even know what i'm talking about, or do you only see me as a diversion in the story of your life? in the past few months i've realized i have feelings for you, whoever you are, whether you're a real living, sweet, funny, sarcastic, strange person, or the character creation of another totally separate from the person i love. it is true that to me, you're a real person. it is true that with you, i am in love with. however, the reality may be different. if you turn out to be a created character, and the truth is one day revealed, i won't stop loving you, Anonymously Me--because in my mind, you'll have always existed, will continue to exist, and you are with whom i have fallen in love with.

july 3 2013

What's been going on

I didn't have internet this afternoon. my parents are remodeling parts of the house--mainly the kitchen--and the builders had to enter my brother's room and shut off power to the wireless router.

I really don't feel like finishing my post about the wedding. I will soon.

Yes.

I went over to my friends house yesterday to play the board game Settlers of Catan. We were supposed to start at 3:30; however, I was the only one who showed up on time. Eventually we started around 4 pm and ended around 8 pm. Luckily we were sitting in his air conditioned living room the entire time. We drank mimosas, which are made of champagne and a fruit drink like orange juice, in mismatched glass cups. We used shitty, super sweet supermarket orange juice concentrate; the champagne was all right for being a $7 bottle. I popped a champagne cork for the first time in my life. Here's the picture:

My friend's patio.

Unfortunately, when I popped the cork and it went shooting off, i didn't realize i was pointing it at my friend's RV, where his older brother and sister-in-law live. It ricocheted off the back of the trailer and flew into the neighbors yard. it left a small hole in the paneling of the trailer a couple of inches across. whoops. sorry. it was an accident!

we didn't tell them.

What's done is done. Oh, did I forgot to say that i won the game of settlers of catan yesterday? Well, I won.

I'm blue.

The Procession

I've been copying bits of readings that i like in a small notebook. today was a few passages from a poem by Walt Whitman called "I Sing the Body Electric." My second motive is to show and record a sample of my handwriting.

My crappy, crappy handwriting.

"(All is a procession,

 The universe is a procession with measured and  perfect motion.)

Do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant?

Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no right to a sight?

Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float, and the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegetation sprouts,

For you only, and not for him and her?"

about myself--again

Something that came into my head today is the differences between my in-person personality and my written personality. How much of myself do I portray in writing, how well do i portray it, and does it accurately reflect who i am in real life? I could be a really foul-mouthed, angry person, but when i write i can choose to clean up my words and present a different persona. How do you know? I don't think you can know who I am by my writing. everything i write is filtered by what i want to reveal; in other words, what you know of me is only what i want you to know about me. this scares me because then there's a limit to how close you can become with someone. there's a limit to online relationships--whether acquaintance, friend, or more--because people set the limits. now i'm thinking, does this also apply to in-person relationships as well? what if i want to reveal who i think i really am through the internet in written words, but EVEN I don't know who i am? what if, despite trying my best, i can't accurately channel myself because i lack the writing skill? what if the reader doesn't interpret my words the way i want them to, and forms a fundamentally different image of me in their head than i wanted? what if i can't connect with people?

Here's something I realized about myself today: The reason I want to write is so I can connect with people on my terms.

a million times over, i want someone to connect with intellectually and emotionally first, and then physically. i have to be patient.

friends

today was my friend's surprise birthday dinner. it was at 6 in the evening at a restaurant. his girlfriend set it up with other people and the invite trickled down to me. i didn't go. the reason being that i didn't care to go. honestly, i feel sick of some of the people i hang out with. you know how they say that you're supposed to pick your friends wisely? i think i want to do that. that guy and i aren't even close friends. here's an example of what i mean: a few weeks ago i was planning on going up to the A, the hiking trail. I sent everyone a text inviting them to come. this guy text me back asking if anyone else was going. at that point he was the only one who replied, so i told him i didn't know. a few minutes later he texted me that he couldn't make it. okay, not a big deal; i told him it was all right. anyway, some of my other friends replied that they were going, so we agreed to meet at so and so time. anyway, when i got there, i saw these people waiting at the start of the trail, but amongst the group i also see that guy who said he couldn't go! here's what ( i think ) happened: he texted me saying he couldn't go; he texted the other friends, or they texted him, about going; he knew these other people were going, so he decided to go too. what he didn't want was the possibility of going with only me. would a close friend mind this?

my friends forgot my birthday this year. every one of them. no calls, no presents, not even a text. that day i realized that my family is far more important than my friends--and always will be.

(my birthday is in march, by the way. (i actually thought i was over this pain.))

is it my fault as well? do i not do enough for them? is this an endless cycle of blame, cynicism, distancing, and making-up?

god, i'm a shitty friend. that's why i have shitty friends.

10:46 PM

july 1 2013

1:47 am

on saturday i went to my cousin's wedding. she's a relative on my father's side of the family. she's, i think, in her late 30s, and has two kids from two different men, i think.

i don't see my father's family often. i have tons of cousins, aunts, and uncles whose names i don't know. at 54, my father is the youngest of 12 children. this side of the family mainly comes from mexico. the older aunts and uncles only speak spanish, so i rarely talk to them. many--if not, all--of my cousins speak english.

i don't know the exact reason why we've distanced ourselves from that side. my father doesn't particularly make an effort to stay connected to them. i guess because it's such a sprawling mess of people he's doesn't see the point. there's also some savory characters on that side whom i suppose my father prefers to stay clear from.

you know my cousin with whom i reconnected with a while back around christmas? she was there, along with my other two cousins and my aunt and uncle.

there were a few older cousins whom i hadn't seen in years--like 7 or 8 years. i remember them being much taller

the wedding was held at a catholic church in fontana. if you're aren't aware, fontana is a city to the east of los angeles, approaching riverside. and since the recent heatwave, it's a fucking hell hole. like furnace heat pressing right into your face and up your nose. like constant clammy, damp skin. like break a sweat standing in the shade.

i've never lived anywhere else. are cities normally connected together? what i mean is that, here, you can drive from one city to another without realizing it. you don't have to drive across empty fields to get to another city; the boundary can be literally across the street. in areas like fontana and riverside--which are technically in san bernardino and riverside county, not los angeles county--open, undeveloped land is more common. it's also closer to the desert and hot as shit most of the time.

aside: i had a neighbor growing up on my street with the same name as me. we were one year apart. he was a bit chubby, so i always had an advantage in sports and games. i used to go over his house a lot--probably once a week. we'd play video games a lot, or watch tv, or just play pretend. i remember days when i'd spend all afternoon over there, and casually walk across the street and two houses over back to my house at night. i have good memories, and i have bad memories. he was an abusive son of a bitch, constantly physical when we were younger, slowly growing out of it but never quite completely. he was a whiny, coddled baby. we never had much in common except that we were both kids with the same name and an interest in video games. he wasn't funny or witty. shamefully, my strongest memory is of peeing my pants in their house in fifth grade because i was too embarrassed to ask permission to use the bathroom. at last, when i was in pain and ready to let go, i asked to use the bathroom. i lost control of my bladder in there. my pants were soaked with dark wet stains. i stayed in the bathroom for about fifteen minutes thinking of a way out of there (obviously this was before cell phones) and meanwhile cleaning up the mess i made. finally, i took a chance. i exited the bathroom, rushed passed the living room where my friend and his parents were sitting, said something like, "yeah, i'll be right back. i'm going home right now. i'll be back soon," and didn't see them again for another few months.

aside, cont.: a few years later we lost contact with each other for no particular reason--although see coddled baby above. they moved away around that time. this was probably. . . 2005? 2006, maybe? my friends dad was a realtor and making some serious money back then--or at least he led my parents to believe. they were always like that--my neighbor's parents. anyway, around that time they bought a bigger, newer house in fontana. we only visited them once a couple years later. it was a nice house, spacious and modern. the kitchen was huge and well-lit; it had two floors and three or four bedrooms. my family had dinner with them. the dad showed us a recent  diploma he'd gotten from pepperdine university realtor school or something. my old neighbor showed me his room--actually, both his rooms: a bedroom and a computer room with a soft couch. i remember this because he was the first person to show me stumbleupon, and we exchanged email addresses. in my head, it was a nice house in an newly developed area of land in an under-developed city. their house had a steep incline driveway--or at least it appeared so in my mind--and it was the first house on the block. on one side of it was an equally enchanting similar style house; on the other a dirt lot with a chain-link fence around it. there were more house--an entire block, actually--but i think they were one of the few families to have moved in; all the rest were waiting for buyers. i don't believe it cost more than a couple hundred thousand--which for the la area, is a very low number. if you didn't mind living in a hot climate with a lot of open, undeveloped land around you, these kinds of houses were gold waiting to be lived-in. then the housing market burst and i think they went broke. i don't know exactly the ins and outs, but they eventually moved back into their old house which they were renting out; and when they did move back, the dad went missing for two or so years. i never saw him in their old house after they moved back in, i never heard anything about him. i didn't talk with my neighbor because our connection was--and still is--frosty. eventually the dad returned (or was he even gone in the first place? i still speculate with myself, and even my parents don't know the whole story). something happened during the rough transition between houses with them and my parents, and now they don't speak with each other. they used to be quite close, the kind of friendship couples have with other couples, complete with movie invites and parties. i still don't know what happened; everything i know is about the far past. my neighbors are a mystery.

2:58 am

part 2 to be continued: the wedding and reception