You Think the Only People Who Are People Are the People Who Look and Think Like You...

Our hearts beat the same beat
We have the same blood
We share the same earth
We breathe the same air
I didn't contaminate it since you're still here and living
We go to different churches but aren't we all looking for the same thing?
Yet you deny me any respect and any ackowledgement because I have a different perspective about than you do
You bellitle me because your parents told you that my ways were wrong
You deny me any help because I'm the color of darkness
You prevent me from helping others because you stereotype me with what is associated with those who follow the same path as I do
You hurt me without even noticing me, sometimes even noticing it and taking pleasure as it builds up your pride and confidence
You render me speechless
You leave me without a choice
You make me angry
You turn me into a monster
You make me judge
You make me hurt
You make me kill
You don't trust me
You don't trust me around others
You feel that you have to warn others before you go somewhere with me
Why do you hate me so? Why is that since we don't share the same views on a particularly issue I have to respect your views but you won't respect mine? Why is it that my views are the wrong ones?...This is supposed to be the better life? This is supposed to be where the heart is? This is supposed to be home? Maybe I'm just too young. Maybe I don't understand. I just never thought experience and maturity meant ignorance and closed-mindedness...Yet some part of me still manages to love you. I guess I was just trained that way.

Eyes Wide Shut!

"Ever since we've been in this country, you've been going downhill."
"Just because a lot of people are doing it, does not make it right!!!"
"Turn to God, pray harder!"
"You are angry and you don't even realize it."
"I'm older, I know a lot more than you."
"You should be ashamed of yourself. I'm ashamed of you."
"Get out of my house. You've deceived me!"


A quick question for those of you who still read this site and its contents haven't offended any of you yet, what is your perception on what is offensive or not? Do issues and certain words become less offensive with age? Or is it the way we employ those words? Or is it because of their overdose in our society? Fact of the matter is, whenever one would see the word "fuck" in a blog or in anyone's personal diary, we would immediately associate it with them being angry or exercising an extreme feeling of hate towards their environment. After all the crimes that have been happening around our country with the school shootings and such, you can't blame people for worrying. But does the fact that we worry so much hinder our capabilities of properly analyzing the presented piece or the "evidence"? And if so, how do you tell the difference between what to disregard and the next Timothy McVeigh? These are questions that are hard to answer since human beings are very different from one another and we cannot be based on simple statistics. It just cannot happen like that. Just because the numbers show that someone exhibiting this sort of behavior will ultimately react this way is, in my opinion, completely absurd.

An important issue that comes in this matter is parents. Older, traditional, conservative parents tend to view anything introduced against their beliefs as a sign of the devil, the antichrist, depression or any other kind of psychological problems they may have read in some book by some other conservative close-minded "professional" like themselves. They believe that since they are older, they understand matters better due to some sort of experience that may relate to the issue directly or indirectly. I kid you not, most of them are right. But for some and a lot of them, that kind of delusional thinking is why that group should be in some form of modern therapy, showing them that times have changed, that matters are just not the same and not as simple as they used to be back then. Then they get a shrink for their children and that child ends up drifting even further apart from them than they had envisioned. That's when more problems come in and then, truly hell does break loose. But honestly, do we expect them to change and accept the new ways in just a snap? It takes time. Sometimes, it doesn't. Sometimes, they completely reject the whole idea the child has adopted as his own and can't even trust that child, even in the family. This happens to more people than many of us may think. Some of us don't even think this happens to our own friends, as they always smile at us all day, every day and then the sorrows plunge at home. That's when their condition truly worsen.

Now what does this mean for future generations to come? How will those children come out? How will our future be drawn? Will it be a world where our parents will feel like complete strangers and outcasts? It shouldn't be. It shouldn't be at all. As much as talking to them may seem impossible, as much as it may hurt to try, there is a way to bring them in and reason with us. Like I said before, you can't trust statistics to evaluate people. Every parent is different. Find out how to deal with yours and good luck.

(This entry is armed with one f- word. Parental guidance is suggested.)

It Ends Tonight: How To Save My Life

"All man think all men mortal, but themselves."
- Edward Young (1683-1765)
English poet, playwright

"The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace."
- Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)
English metaphysical poet

"Truth sits upon the lips of dying men."
- Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)
English poet, critic

Funerals: the darkest hours any normal human being wish they could avoid in their lives. Actually, I'm going to rephrase that: the darkest hours any human being in general wish they could avoid in their lives. Fact of the matter is, every single one of us has either lost someone or knows someone who has. Me, I've lost my grandfather, my uncle, my friend from junior high...and recently myself. Last year, me, my mom and my little brother went to a funeral to provide emotional support for the uncle of the deceased. When we got there, my little brother brought something to my attention: the picture of the deceased. What was surprising about it: he looked like me. Not only did he look like me, we were the same age, same major, spent the same amount of years in college, spent our early years in the same country. As I watched family, friends, faculty walk into the church, I couldn't help but wonder about my own family, friends and faculty, how much sorrow I would bring to them dying, realizing more and more how much they really care for me and how these people really mean to me. Then at the end of the funeral, as they took the coffin down the aisle, something happened. One of the family members, maybe his mother, I don't exactly remember, was trying to walk behind the coffin as two people supported her. Then she fell exactly where I was sitting, into my arms, wailing, screaming, asking for her child back. Holding her in my arms is when I started crying myself, shedding and sharing her tears for the dead son. My family was friends with the uncle, but I did not know these people personally...and here I was...crying with them, becoming a part of them, sharing their sorrow for such an early loss of such a bright young man... As we walked out of the church, my little brother held me up, smiling, trying to comfort me...From that day on, I have thought of how I would feel if I ever lost any more family members or friends. I still remember a few nights where I lay in bed crying, having vivid visions of losing my mom, my aunts, my grandma, my best friend... ...But I have grown out of that because they are still here, very much alive, some happier than others, but very much alive and enjoying life as much as those around them and their tax-deductible checks allow them...


I think of the quotes I wrote in the beginning of this blog and I think of the people in my life, how each of them have reacted to death. Whether it be crying, locking themselves in their room, screaming, breaking things, laughing, denial, it affects every single one of them. What is it about our ego that forces us to see ourselves above everyone else, thinking that we're some kind of superhero, that we're here to watch everyone else die and live beyond our years and build a world according to how we see fit? I'm sure that when each and everyone of you out there, you sit down and think about death and how it will affect you someday, you then realize how vulnerable and unstable you are, how you're not that different from everyone else after all, that you're down here with all the rest of us and that you're not here to stay. What does that mean? What's the point? Does that mean you have to constantly think about your dying day? About how you're going to die? About how we're all going to die? Absolutely not! What's wrong with enjoying the time you are on this earth? What's wrong with seeing a little light in every little thing that you do, whether it be with your family, your friends, you lover, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, you wife, your husband, your kids, everyone around you? If everytime you look at those around you and all you see is death, carnage and apocalypse, every smile and laugh that you give those around you will be filled with so much indifference, so much hidden sadness, so much disorder and instability, that all anyone will feel for you is pity and accept you for you are...well, those that will hang around. Because to them, you are already dead to them and those that care will keep trying to revive you as much as they can, in any way that they can...while others will just tell you to go to hell and watch you kill yourself more and more until you can't even give them that smile anymore.

A Cliché: Does Size Really Matter?

Mkay, I think I'm-a skip THAT train...Back to the subject at hand, the original purpose to this blog: is bigger really better? Recently, I had a discussion with a close friend of mine who told me that her partner was not that well-endowed. She got worried that he wouldn't be able to please her since it was obvious a few pleasuring inches were missing and the guy was one of the nicest she had dated in a while. But by the next morning, she had come at least five times, as far as she could remember since she passed out the last time. Now some may wonder how in God's green earth is that possible? Simple: he may have a tiny little penis, but he knows exactly what to do with it. Fact of the matter is, gay men have it easy when it comes to sex since however you look at it, both will cum. But when it comes to a woman, the process becomes a little more difficult. What men fail to understand is that there's more to just in and out when it comes to the female body. They all base it on what they see in the pornos. I tuned in "Buffy the Vampire Layer" the other night since "Forrest Hump" had already ended (gotta love Showtime), and that's when I noticed something and this was the same in every other pornos: as soon as he climbs on top of her, she starts moaning. I mean, honestly, you cannot be serious. Yes, granted, all the blood is in your dick, therefore that hinders any capabilities of you rationalizing that this is an act, a movie and that these are "actors". But you're making love or having sex or "chill heavy" or whatever you want to call it, for Gods heavenly mercy. She's a not a toaster you can turn on or off. Connect with her. READ her!!!! What is she thinking? What will she be thinking after this event? Where will she want this to go? Know what you're doing before you get in there so you can please her. You're not supposed to be having jackrabbit sex. You know, pound-pound-pound-pound-pound-pound!!!! That's like masturbating with a woman instead of your hands, which most women do not enjoy and I'm pretty sure is illegal by now. You don't need the twelve-inch tree trunk between your legs. Work with her in there. Find her clitoris. Odds are, it's two inches from where you think it actually is. You may have a tiny little penis but at least you know exactly what to do with it.
The other way of looking at this: sex may not mean everything to you or her or both of you should you be lucky. What may have attracted her in the first place about you could have been your hot personality instead of your nice eyes, big arms, big dick or full scrotum. It could have been the fact that you were the only that noticed her when she was crying; the only one who would listen to her when she really needed someone to be there for her; the only one who knows her better than the guy she actually is with at the moment. When you've accomplished that, you will have fulfilled her even better than you thought was even possible. Call me the eternal optimist for thinking in such ways considering I lived in one of the most cynical cities in the world, where women want to see a blood test and a ATM receipt before even giving you their number. But what's wrong with hope, eh? Keeps a lot of us still going.

My New Year's Resolution

I am not a child now.
I can take care of myself.
I mustn't let them down now-
Mustn't let them see me cry.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
I'm to tired to listen.
I'm too old to believe:
All these childish stories.
There is no such thing as faith,
And trust,
And pixie dust.
I'll try,
But its to hard to believe.
I'll try,
But I can't see what you see.
I'll try.
I'll try.
I'll try.
My whole world is changing,
I don't know where to turn.
I can't leave you baby,
But I cant stay and watch the sitting burn;
Watch it burn.
'Cause I try,
But its so hard to believe!
I'll try,
But I can't see where you see.
I'll try.
I'll try.
I'll try and try,
To understand,
The distance in between:
The love I feel,
The things i fear,
I dearly say good dream.
I can finally see it.
Now I have to believe:
All those precious stories.
All the world is made of faith,
And trust,
And pixie dust.
So I'll try,
'Cause I finally believe!
I'll try,
'Cause I see where you see!
I'll try.
I'll try!
I'll try!
I'll try-
To fly.

...I'll try...quite a simple resolution one might say. But considering 2006, which is probably the worst year I've ever lived since I came out of my mother's vagina, I should have picked up a clue when I started last year hanging on the ledge of my window with a bottle of wine. But being the eternal optimist, these things just don't register easily. The year started deteriorating when my mother began realizing that I've been constantly lying to her about pretty much everything. She started crying and ranting about she could never stick by my side, as she didn't know who I was. That's when I remembered my resolution for 2006: Honesty! Then I came out to her in a seven-page letter, describing and recounting everything since I was 9 years old. From then on, a series of unfortunate events took place that went about destroying the already fragile relationship between us. For 10 months, from March to December, every word that we said to each other was filled with distrust and sometimes hatred for the other, mostly from my part. For 10 months, from March to December, terrible thoughts flowed through my mind whenever it came to my mother. For 10 months, from March to December, my mother went through the worst depression of her life. For 10 months, from March to December, the best relationship I've had in a while, the only thing that kept me on my feet, was completely shattered. For 10 months, from March to December, my whole family saw me evolve and mature into something completely unexpected, different than everyone in the family. For 10 months, from March to December, I saw the honest side of my family, who and what I was truly dealing with...
What do you do then, when your eyes suddenly open in so many abrupt and sudden, sometimes unwanted events? You try is what you do. You try as hard as you fucking can to make it work. You try until you get results, whether they be negative or positive, at least you'll know that you tried. Though your efforts may be in vain, there were efforts. That alone says something about you. Just standing there and watch as events unfold in front of you, while that small little action of yours could have turned them in a different path, is unworthy and unacceptable. Because if you don't see it now, they will come back and affect everything you cherish in a most unsuspecting way or a way that you knew it would yourself. But you were too coward to do anything about it and you watch as it destroys everything you've built. I quote:
"It's not who I am. It's what I do that defines me"
...It's hard, believe me. It may seem easy for some but building up the courage to do it can substitute for the hard part. And once you've accomplished that feat, that gives you a label about yourself that absolutely no one can take away from you.

Happy New Year to all of you who have made my life this much more interesting and who never cease to inspire me every day. Thank you!