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.

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[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.

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[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