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.