Jackson sighed heavily as he rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. He opened them once more to find that they were still tired and the book before him still wasn't making any sense to him. The twenty year old college student had been sitting in the same spot in the library for over six hours now. If it weren't for the fact he was an Honors College student, they probably would have kicked him out hours ago. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. In the corner of the screen the time read 2:27 AM. He also had six text messages waiting for him. He had placed his phone on silent hours ago because the constant vibration of people bothering him had gotten on his nerves. He groaned slightly and rubbed his eyes once more. He wanted to go home so bad, but he really needed to keep studying. He had an exam in two day's time and it was going to be the hardest one of all his classes. He grimaced as he tried to remember what in the hell had possessed him to take Calculus four in the first place.
His grimace broke into a small grin as a face swam into his thoughts. Beautiful warm chocolate brown eyes set beneath a heavy, brooding, brow, a perfectly sculpted nose and high cheek bones, a strong chin, and full and sinfully luscious lips; it was the face of an angel. Jason was the most gorgeous man Jackson had ever met and ever since their first meeting almost four years ago, Jackson had been helpless before the man's God-like features. His grin widened as he thought about that first meeting. It was almost like a dream.
Jason had transfered to Manzonita Prep during the middle of Jackson's junior year. Him and his parents had moved to New Mexico from Mississippi because Jason's father had been transfered to the new paper mill opening in Hobbs. However, the family had no desire to live in the main part of the city, so they moved to the outskirts, right next to Manzonita Prep. Because Jason's father had be promoted to manager of the new plant, they were able to afford the tuition costs for the private high school.
Jackson was one of the popular boys in school, and not yet out of the closet, so he heard all the best gossip before anyone else. That Sunday, he received a call from one of his best friends. He wasn't able to get everything she said, because she was talking so fast, but he did pick up that a new kid had moved to the town and was starting at Manzonita the following day. He also heard her use to the word gorgeous at least six times. So, the next morning, when Jackson arrived at school, he went searching for this new boy. It wasn't until his second class of the day (Algebra II) that he was able to find him.
Jason walked into class late, causing every single head to turn and see him. Jackson could hardly believe his eyes. The new kid was far too gorgeous to be real. After taking a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor, Jackson realized that the only empty seat in the class was right next to him. The teacher gestured to the seat and Jason sat. Up close he was even more smoking hot. Jackson turned in his seat, smiled, and offered his hand. "Jackson May," he said. Jason had seemed almost startled at first, but quickly recovered and grasped his outstretched hand. Even to this day Jackson could remember how massive Jason's hands had seemed. They were huge, pssessive, and manly.
"Jason Marx," he had said, offering his own dimpled smile. Jackson smiled to himself as he thought about how close they had become after that. Apparently since his arrival people had completely left him out and had taken to staring and whispering whenever he walked by. Jackson had been the first person to really approach him. Because of that, they became close friends, and befor he knew it, Jason was one of the popular kids too, with Jackson's help of course.
The year went by in a flash and before he realized it, the summer had arrived and Jason was headed back to Mississippi to spend it with family. A lot had happened that summer and when he came back to Manzonita, things had changed. In the span of three months, Jackson had basically been shunned by most of the school because he decided that it was time to come out of the closet. He grew tired of living a lie. He held hope though, that when Jason got back, things would be fine and eveyone would look past it and still see he was the same guy. However, when Jason returned, he treated Jackson like all the rest.....and their friendship had ended.
Jackson's smile faded and his eyes burned. He could still feel the stinging betrayal of it all. Despite that, he still couldn't find it within himself to get over Jason. After graduation, they both decided to stay and go to the local college. They had had at least one class with each other each semester since then. In the current semester, they shared three out of five, Calculus four being one of them. Hell, it was the only reason Jackson had even taken the stupid class. He regretted it completely. Since the beginning of the semester he had been studying his ass off and was only just barely passing.
Jackson looked down at his phone as he checked the text messages. Most of them were from either Facebook or Twitter. The last though, was from his boyfriend. "Braking up wit U. Tird of dealin wit U. Cum get ur shit in morn." He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he read the words he had been waiting for for weeks. He knew that it was only a matter of time before it happened. They had been on the rocks for over a month now, but knowing it was coming still didn't stop the hurt. Apparently, he didn't even deserve a correctly spelled text message. Tears stung his eyes as he shoved his phone in his pocket, shut his Calculus book, threw it in his bag, and headed out of the library. He needed to be someplace where he wouldn't have to deal with people, and the glaring librarian was not someone he wanted to have witness his break down.
He was barely out of the building before the tears started falling. They had been together nearly a year. It was the longest relationship he had ever had, and he had foolishly thought that it would last. He poured his heart and soul into that relationship, but it just wasn't good enough....he wasn't good enough. Jackson sat down on the curb just outside the building as a sob escaped. Why wasn't he good enough? What could he have done different to make it work? Where had he done wrong?
In the end, it really didn't matter. What was done was done and he couldn't go back and fix it. Even if he could go back, part of him wouldn't have let him waste the energy on trying to fix it. Jason's face swam into his thoughts again as he thought about what he really wished he could go back and fix. If only he hadn't come out of the closet, maybe Jason and him would still be friends. Maybe he would be somewhere completely different. Maybe he'd be happy.
Another sob racked him as he buried his head in his hands. The cold nipped at him through his coat. He had foolishly left his gloves at home because he didn't think he was going to stay late enough to really need them. He clenched his fist, pulling his hair while he did it and sobbed again. "Why wasn't I good enough? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't I just be fucking happy?"
The sound of heavy footfalls came from his left. He tried to best to quiet his sobs and unclenched his fists. The footsteps slowed nonetheless and eventually came to a complete stop right behind him. "Can I help you," he asked wetly, not bothering to see who the person was. A moment of silence passed before the person spoke up. "Are....are you okay, Jackson?" His heart stopped for a fraction of a second as he glanced up in alarm. Sure enough, his ears hadn't heard wrong. There stood Jason, covered from head to toe with only his face visible.
"J-Jason? W-What are you doing here at this hour?" Jackson couldn't hide his shock any more than he could hide the tears that were still wet on his cheek or the red of his eyes. He could see the indecision in Jason's eyes. It was almost as if he were deciding if he should just keep running, or continue with talking. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before answering. "I'm jogging. I usually do around this time. The streets are mostly deserted so I get some peace and quiet." Jason's bass filled voice sent shivers down his spine and almost made him completely forget about why he had been crying. "But, that doesn't answer my question, Jackson."
His eys fell to the ground as he turned his head back around and looked out over the nearly empty parking lot. He collected his thoughts a moment before he answered. His words came slow, reluctant, as if he really didn't want to be discussing it, which, truthfully, he didn't. "No....I'm not okay." He paused again before looking up at Jason once more. "But why do you care? You said a word to me in nearly three years. Why start talking now?" He couldn't help but let a little venom escape in his words. The betrayal still hurt, after all.
Jason clenched his jaw and that indecision appeared once more. He looked away and closed his eyes before taking a few steps. Jackson's heart sank as he turned back toward the parking lot, more tears stinging his eyes. "I'm sorry," Jason said. Jackson turned to find Jason only a few steps away, facing him once more.
"Mind if I sit," he asked, gesturing to the space next to him. Jackson shrugged and muttered, "Free country I guess." A small chuckle escaped Jason's throat as he took a seat.
They were both silent for a few minutes before Jackson decided to break it. "Why did you do it," he asked, pain evident in his voice. Jason didn't answer immediately. Instead he pulled his beanie off and ran his hands through his dark hair. "What did you expect me to do, Jackson? I mean," he paused and looked over at him. "I was just starting to fit in. I was a kid from a small town and I had no one here. People were starting to like me. People were starting to be my friends." He stopped again and looked out over the semi deserted parking lot. "You had everything," he began again. "You could have had any girl in the school you wanted. Everyone knew who you were, and you were talking to me. I was just the new kid and you introduced me to everyone. You made me popular. You made sure everyone knew who I was....."
"But you had to throw that away," he said, anger in his voice. "I came back from Mississippi to find that everything was different. Everyone avoided you like you had the plague. Had I tried to help you, they would have avoided me too....I would have been just as alone as you and I didn't want that. I was tired of having to live like that, Jackson."
A wet chuckle escaped Jackson's throat. "You were my best friend, and you deserted me when I needed you the most. I couldn't even talk to my own family. You're right, I was alone, but you could have changed that. At least we would have had each other. But no. Instead, you chose them, when I was the one who showed you that world." He paused for a minute before he pulled up his left sleeve and shoved it in front of Jason's face. A bright white and nasty looking scar ran up the under side of his arm.
"Summer after senior year, I tried to kill myself. Not only had I lost every friend I had ever know...my family shunned me....I dealt with the hatred of close minded homophobes every single day. My sister was the one to walk in and find me. She called the ambulance that saved my life. I later came to find out that she had hoped that being so close to god would have made me see the error in my hellish ways. When I was still gay, she told me she wished she would have let me bleed out."
Jackson turned his head to look at Jason, who had his eyes closed and his jaw clenched tight, head hanging low. A small chuckled escaped him again. "And you know what keeps me going? God, I'm such a fucking idiot. The only thing that keeps me going anymore is how my heart soars whenever I see you in class. Damnit, I've tried to stop it, but I can't. Whenever I see your face, I can't help but smile. Whenever you walk through the door, my heart flutters and the pain goes away. But, you don't ever even give me another look. Fuck.....I'm in love with the straight guy that betrayed me...." He looked away from Jason as more tears escaped his eyes.
In an instant, Jackson was standing and walking toward his car. He couldn't deal with this anymore. He needed to just get away and stop thinking. He needed to stop his brain from moving so he could be calm and rest. He ran to his car and fished the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and getting in after he did. He set his head on the steering wheel as he shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. The radio started quietly playing. A light knocking to his right caused him to look up to find Jason standing at the passenger side window. Jackson clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as he decided what to do. Against his better judgement, he pressed the controls for the lock and unlocked the door. Jason opened it and got in.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
For those of you who haven't heard the news...
A Chaparral High School teacher was taken into custody tuesday for two counts of sexual misconduct with a student. If charged, Romo will face a number of years in prison, as well as the life-long title of sex offender, denying him housing in certain neighborhoods and from ever teaching again. However, before you cast judgement on him, lets take all of the facts into consideration.
Adam Romo was the mariachi and guitar teacher at Chaparral High School, the school I recently graduated from. I had met Romo a number of times and had a bunch of friends in his classes. From what I could tell, Romo was an excellent teacher who was popular with the students. Before his arrival at the school, Chaparral didn’t even have a mariachi program. He’s onnly 26 years old.
The student in question, whom I happen to know, is a 17 year old senior boy. The age of consent in Nevada is 16 for opposite sex couples, but 18 for same sex couples. I find that ridiculous and offensive, but what I feel isn’t relevent. The student in question, we’ll call him John, was in the mariachi program that Romo taught. A number of the students were staying the night at Romo’s house because they had a performance early the following morning for Mayor Oscar Goodman, the mayor of Las Vegas.
I happen to know for a fact, that John was the one to initiate contact, meaning that it was completely consensual. Now, I’m not as certain about the next couple of things, but occording to the report, the first time, Romo said, “This isn’t a good idea.” But, John pressed and eventually convinced Romo. Then, later on in the evening I THINK, again not sure, it happened again, which is where the second count comes from.
Now, that was on the 17th of November. Romo was taken into custody Tuesday, the 30th. John had told, although I think he may have been bragging, two students. Then, he made the mistake of telling a teacher he trusted, who was honor bound to report it to campus police. So, because John wanted to brag about his conquest, Romo now faces all of this shit.
I’m not saying Romo isn’t without fault. Yes, he knew the consequences should he be caught. He could of said no. However, I’ve read a lot of comments saying he’s a sick pervert who deserves prison. That is a ridiculous accusation. Yes, he had sex with a 17 year old male student. Would this be getting as much attention if the student was female? I really don’t think so. So, because it was a same sex relationship of sorts, he’s a sick pervert who deserves prison. You know what I have to say to those of you who think that?
Fuck you. This man’s life is completely ruined because one fucking idiot decided he was horny and then wanted to brag about it. It makes me fucking sick to think that Romo can no longer do the profession he loves and that this will follow him the rest of his life.
I recently talked with a friend about. I was talking about how Romo’s life is ruined now, and the friend said, “Well, John’s life is ruined too. He has to change schools now and people keep naming him!” Wow, so he has to change to a different school where no one will know that he was the one involved. That’s just horrible.
So, for all you people out there who make judgements without listening to all the facts, what do you think about it now?
Adam Romo was the mariachi and guitar teacher at Chaparral High School, the school I recently graduated from. I had met Romo a number of times and had a bunch of friends in his classes. From what I could tell, Romo was an excellent teacher who was popular with the students. Before his arrival at the school, Chaparral didn’t even have a mariachi program. He’s onnly 26 years old.
The student in question, whom I happen to know, is a 17 year old senior boy. The age of consent in Nevada is 16 for opposite sex couples, but 18 for same sex couples. I find that ridiculous and offensive, but what I feel isn’t relevent. The student in question, we’ll call him John, was in the mariachi program that Romo taught. A number of the students were staying the night at Romo’s house because they had a performance early the following morning for Mayor Oscar Goodman, the mayor of Las Vegas.
I happen to know for a fact, that John was the one to initiate contact, meaning that it was completely consensual. Now, I’m not as certain about the next couple of things, but occording to the report, the first time, Romo said, “This isn’t a good idea.” But, John pressed and eventually convinced Romo. Then, later on in the evening I THINK, again not sure, it happened again, which is where the second count comes from.
Now, that was on the 17th of November. Romo was taken into custody Tuesday, the 30th. John had told, although I think he may have been bragging, two students. Then, he made the mistake of telling a teacher he trusted, who was honor bound to report it to campus police. So, because John wanted to brag about his conquest, Romo now faces all of this shit.
I’m not saying Romo isn’t without fault. Yes, he knew the consequences should he be caught. He could of said no. However, I’ve read a lot of comments saying he’s a sick pervert who deserves prison. That is a ridiculous accusation. Yes, he had sex with a 17 year old male student. Would this be getting as much attention if the student was female? I really don’t think so. So, because it was a same sex relationship of sorts, he’s a sick pervert who deserves prison. You know what I have to say to those of you who think that?
Fuck you. This man’s life is completely ruined because one fucking idiot decided he was horny and then wanted to brag about it. It makes me fucking sick to think that Romo can no longer do the profession he loves and that this will follow him the rest of his life.
I recently talked with a friend about. I was talking about how Romo’s life is ruined now, and the friend said, “Well, John’s life is ruined too. He has to change schools now and people keep naming him!” Wow, so he has to change to a different school where no one will know that he was the one involved. That’s just horrible.
So, for all you people out there who make judgements without listening to all the facts, what do you think about it now?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Why I dislike holidays
You guys really don’t have to read this. It’s just sort of some stuff I need to get off my chest. If you do read it, well, then okay. I’m not really posting it so people can see it. Like I said, I just need to get some stuff off my chest.
My grandma passed away five years and seven days ago. She was the matron of the family. She was the one that collected us all together during holidays and, somehow, kept us from fighting with each other and stopped the bad feelings from occurring. She was the kind of person to start cooking the night before, get only a couple hours of sleep, then get right back up to keep on cooking, and still barely have everything done by the time dinner starts. Every single family member that lived in town, and even some that didn’t, were always at the house, laughing and talking and having an amazing time. She made everything from scratch, no matter the holiday, and it was always perfect. We had a huge table that seated at least fifteen people and we always had it full of food, and then more food on the counters.
Thanksgiving was always the best holiday. There was always more food and all the family from around the country was always there. The house was always full. We’d have people at the table, people sitting on the couches in the living room, and people out in the backyard and the front sitting, eating, talking, and laughing. I always loved holidays with my grandmother so much. Anytime it’d start to get close to a holiday I’d get so excited because I’d get to help her out in the kitchen and be her little taste tester.
A little over five years ago she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. After seeing a few specialist, my grandmother found a doctor who said, “I will not let you die, Lenora. We will beat this.” She always said that, if she ever did get diagnosed with cancer, she would never go through chemotherapy. However, the doctor convinced her to go through it anyways, and told her there was hope. She started out a woman full of life with meat on her bones and fire in her spirit. After two months, she was barely more than a skeleton who was racked with pain every time she moved.
Near the end of her chemo, my aunt went with her to one of her sessions. My aunt pulled the doctor aside and asked how the cancer was reacting to the treatments. The doctor looked at her seriously and said, “Unfortunately, I knew from the beginning that we had just caught it too late.” So, instead of allowing my grandma about a year of relatively pain free life, he thought that he could just charge her a bunch of money so he could pump her full of radio-active toxins. My grandma died on November 18th, 2005.
She was put into a hospice a few days before her death, so that her last few days would at least be pain free. I was told by me grandpa that, after her first night there, she said, “It’s the first time in months that I’ve woken up and not cried because the pain was so bad.”
The last time I saw my grandmother, was on November 18th, just before she died. My mom picked me up from school and took me to the opening of the new Harry Potter movie. I was in the eighth grade and, at that time, had no idea she was in a hospice, or just how bad things were. After the movie, my mom told me she had been taken to a hospice, and asked if I knew what that was. About a week before, our health teacher had told us that a hospice was a place people were taken to so that their last days of life are comfortable. I instantly became quiet and nodded.
So, she took me to the hospice where I got to see my grandmother. It was a horrible place. It had the sterile smell of hospitals, but also had a heaviness in the air of death, and from the moment I stepped in I wanted to cry and run away. Instead, I walked into my grandmother’s room with my head held high, refusing to let the tears come. The last time I got to see my grandmother, I didn’t even get to hear her voice. She was so heavily sedated because the pain was so great that she was unconscious. She had been awake not an hour before, according to my uncle who had been there the entire day.
So, instead of getting to talk to my grandmother one last time, my mom decided to take me to a movie. I know she couldn’t have known, but I still blame her…
I can’t even remember what her voice sounds like anymore… I can barely remember her face most days. She was my rock in life, and that night, when my mom woke me up in the middle of the night, before she even said anything, I started sobbing and crying. I knew, without having to be told, that the woman who practically raised me, the woman who I loved more than anything in life, was dead.
Since then, holidays haven’t been the same. Without fail, I always get depressed every time the holidays come around. I can’t stand decorating for Christmas or Halloween, I don’t like getting together for family dinners or gatherings, and I hate thanksgiving. My family just thinks that I hate them all, which, admittedly, I don’t like the majority of them. However, that isn’t the reason why I’m always quiet or confined in my room during the holidays. It’s because, without her, holidays don’t exist for me. They’re just another day, and seeing people happy and laughing and celebrating just makes me feel like I’m the only one who remembers and misses her. Right now, I’m sitting in my room while the family is out in the dinning room, laughing and eating and having a great time. I have tears on my face while they sit there laughing.
I will always miss you Grandma, and I hope that one day, if God does exist and there is a heaven, that he takes a little bit of mercy on me and allows me to see you and hug you just one last time, even if that’s not where I’m meant to be. I can deal with hell, as long as I get to see you one last time.
My grandma passed away five years and seven days ago. She was the matron of the family. She was the one that collected us all together during holidays and, somehow, kept us from fighting with each other and stopped the bad feelings from occurring. She was the kind of person to start cooking the night before, get only a couple hours of sleep, then get right back up to keep on cooking, and still barely have everything done by the time dinner starts. Every single family member that lived in town, and even some that didn’t, were always at the house, laughing and talking and having an amazing time. She made everything from scratch, no matter the holiday, and it was always perfect. We had a huge table that seated at least fifteen people and we always had it full of food, and then more food on the counters.
Thanksgiving was always the best holiday. There was always more food and all the family from around the country was always there. The house was always full. We’d have people at the table, people sitting on the couches in the living room, and people out in the backyard and the front sitting, eating, talking, and laughing. I always loved holidays with my grandmother so much. Anytime it’d start to get close to a holiday I’d get so excited because I’d get to help her out in the kitchen and be her little taste tester.
A little over five years ago she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. After seeing a few specialist, my grandmother found a doctor who said, “I will not let you die, Lenora. We will beat this.” She always said that, if she ever did get diagnosed with cancer, she would never go through chemotherapy. However, the doctor convinced her to go through it anyways, and told her there was hope. She started out a woman full of life with meat on her bones and fire in her spirit. After two months, she was barely more than a skeleton who was racked with pain every time she moved.
Near the end of her chemo, my aunt went with her to one of her sessions. My aunt pulled the doctor aside and asked how the cancer was reacting to the treatments. The doctor looked at her seriously and said, “Unfortunately, I knew from the beginning that we had just caught it too late.” So, instead of allowing my grandma about a year of relatively pain free life, he thought that he could just charge her a bunch of money so he could pump her full of radio-active toxins. My grandma died on November 18th, 2005.
She was put into a hospice a few days before her death, so that her last few days would at least be pain free. I was told by me grandpa that, after her first night there, she said, “It’s the first time in months that I’ve woken up and not cried because the pain was so bad.”
The last time I saw my grandmother, was on November 18th, just before she died. My mom picked me up from school and took me to the opening of the new Harry Potter movie. I was in the eighth grade and, at that time, had no idea she was in a hospice, or just how bad things were. After the movie, my mom told me she had been taken to a hospice, and asked if I knew what that was. About a week before, our health teacher had told us that a hospice was a place people were taken to so that their last days of life are comfortable. I instantly became quiet and nodded.
So, she took me to the hospice where I got to see my grandmother. It was a horrible place. It had the sterile smell of hospitals, but also had a heaviness in the air of death, and from the moment I stepped in I wanted to cry and run away. Instead, I walked into my grandmother’s room with my head held high, refusing to let the tears come. The last time I got to see my grandmother, I didn’t even get to hear her voice. She was so heavily sedated because the pain was so great that she was unconscious. She had been awake not an hour before, according to my uncle who had been there the entire day.
So, instead of getting to talk to my grandmother one last time, my mom decided to take me to a movie. I know she couldn’t have known, but I still blame her…
I can’t even remember what her voice sounds like anymore… I can barely remember her face most days. She was my rock in life, and that night, when my mom woke me up in the middle of the night, before she even said anything, I started sobbing and crying. I knew, without having to be told, that the woman who practically raised me, the woman who I loved more than anything in life, was dead.
Since then, holidays haven’t been the same. Without fail, I always get depressed every time the holidays come around. I can’t stand decorating for Christmas or Halloween, I don’t like getting together for family dinners or gatherings, and I hate thanksgiving. My family just thinks that I hate them all, which, admittedly, I don’t like the majority of them. However, that isn’t the reason why I’m always quiet or confined in my room during the holidays. It’s because, without her, holidays don’t exist for me. They’re just another day, and seeing people happy and laughing and celebrating just makes me feel like I’m the only one who remembers and misses her. Right now, I’m sitting in my room while the family is out in the dinning room, laughing and eating and having a great time. I have tears on my face while they sit there laughing.
I will always miss you Grandma, and I hope that one day, if God does exist and there is a heaven, that he takes a little bit of mercy on me and allows me to see you and hug you just one last time, even if that’s not where I’m meant to be. I can deal with hell, as long as I get to see you one last time.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
A Post to Ignore
None of the things I say will really make sense to anyone who reads this. It's just some stuff I need to get off my chest. If the person who this is about happens to read this. . .well. . .I doubt it will happen.
Part of me still hates you for the pain you put me through. I was so young at the time, so naive, and you came into my life at a time when I needed a saviour. And yet, you walked out as easily as you walked in, leaving a wound that never quite healed. Through the years you've walked in and out of my lives and few times, and each time I never really learn from my mistakes; each time I let you in despite knowing what's coming at the end.
Despite that part of me that hates you, or perhaps to spite it, the tiniest part of me remembers the happiness you gave me in my time of need. You treated me like I mattered when no one else did, and for that, that tiniest part will always love you. You may say that I never loved you, that I was too young and naive to love you, but maybe that's the reason I did love you. I think the purest form of love is the form that has been untainted, or suffered little taint, from pain and heartache. Perhaps the young are the ones who really know how to love, and all of us older ones only know how to show that guarded affection. The point is moot though because you will say what you will say,
Despite how tiny that part is, I still feel compelled to help you whenever you need it. Anytime you're in pain, I feel it too. I hurt when you hurt and the only way to make it better is to help you. You're like a drug; I know you're bad for me, I know I shouldn't want to be near you, shouldn't want you, but my mind and heart have been forever altered. You've been in my life the longest. . . .you were my real first. . .the one who first showed me loving affection. . . even if maybe it was to use me. . .
I will always hate you for what you did. . .but I will always love you in spite of it. . .
Part of me still hates you for the pain you put me through. I was so young at the time, so naive, and you came into my life at a time when I needed a saviour. And yet, you walked out as easily as you walked in, leaving a wound that never quite healed. Through the years you've walked in and out of my lives and few times, and each time I never really learn from my mistakes; each time I let you in despite knowing what's coming at the end.
Despite that part of me that hates you, or perhaps to spite it, the tiniest part of me remembers the happiness you gave me in my time of need. You treated me like I mattered when no one else did, and for that, that tiniest part will always love you. You may say that I never loved you, that I was too young and naive to love you, but maybe that's the reason I did love you. I think the purest form of love is the form that has been untainted, or suffered little taint, from pain and heartache. Perhaps the young are the ones who really know how to love, and all of us older ones only know how to show that guarded affection. The point is moot though because you will say what you will say,
Despite how tiny that part is, I still feel compelled to help you whenever you need it. Anytime you're in pain, I feel it too. I hurt when you hurt and the only way to make it better is to help you. You're like a drug; I know you're bad for me, I know I shouldn't want to be near you, shouldn't want you, but my mind and heart have been forever altered. You've been in my life the longest. . . .you were my real first. . .the one who first showed me loving affection. . . even if maybe it was to use me. . .
I will always hate you for what you did. . .but I will always love you in spite of it. . .
Monday, October 25, 2010
Self Realization
We all reach a certain point in our lives, at one time or another, when we realize that we aren't at all where we imagined we'd be. Perhaps saying all is a bit presumptious, but the statement still stands. I'd like to think that even the rich and famous are at different places in their lives than they could have imagined.
When I was younger, I saw a lot of things for my future. In elementary school, I wanted to grow up to be a Marine Biologist, because I loved fish and I loved to swim. In middle school, that changed. I remember giving a report in seventh grade about wanting to be a Geneticist. In eight grade, that changed to wanting to be a rock star. My freshman year, I start to think seriously at my future, but, I still managed to hold on to those dreams. At that point in time I wanted to find myself on Broadway one day, or maybe becoming a professional singer, even if I wasn't rocking out on stage. Then, I wanted to be a massage therapist, a dream which, admitedly, I haven't completely forgotten and still consider from time to time. Now, I want to find myself at the front of a class room, teaching young people the joys of the written language. After that, I'd like to retire from teaching and become a jovial librarian, helping children and adults find new joys in books.
I look back to how I was all those years ago and where I am now and it makes me think. I remember telling myself vehemently that I would never ever become a teacher, because then I'd have to deal with all the jerk students. Hell, even in second grade when I thought that I wasn't an average child. I never once said that a teacher acted the way he or she did just because she was mean. I always looked at how the students treated them first. Okay, maybe I thought my third grade teacher was a bitch who was out to get me (and really she was), but that is beside the point.
Hmm, this isn't at all turning out like I had planned it in my head, but no matter. The point is, we rarely ever find ourselves where we once imagined. I think about how, just a year ago, I thought I'd be in college and succeeding and living a happy life. However, I find my situation is different. I find myself still living with my mom who, though I love her to death, drives me insane sometimes. I'm still visiting my hypocritical father on the weekends. I don't have many close friends.
The fact of the matter is, lately, I've felt very alone. I know I have a man who loves me, but sometimes, that doesn't comfort me. I know it should, but it doesn't. I just feel like sometimes, no one really gives a shit about what I think. I have all these people that call me a friend but when I think about it, I don't really know anybody all that well anymore, save my boyfriend of course. I look at the people I call my best friends and find myself wondering how they could act like they do, or what they're thinking sometimes. It's disconcerting not to feel connected with anyone anymore. Frankly, it's lonely as hell and I hate it.
Last night, I found myself staring up at the sky, focusing on the few stars I can see in this city, and just thinking about life. Staring up into that mostly empty sky has a way of making you feel insignificant, like nothing you say or do really matters. We live, we die, and then life goes on.
Eh, perhaps these are just the thoughts of a semi-depressed and exauhsted teenager. Maybe I just need to go to bed and forget about it. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try to forget, these thoughts always come back in the end.
I know that I have people who care about me, people who do care what I have to say. I know that. However, most of the time, the heart and the mind are bitter enemies. Eh, I'm ending this here. My mind is too tired to contemplate anything right now.
When I was younger, I saw a lot of things for my future. In elementary school, I wanted to grow up to be a Marine Biologist, because I loved fish and I loved to swim. In middle school, that changed. I remember giving a report in seventh grade about wanting to be a Geneticist. In eight grade, that changed to wanting to be a rock star. My freshman year, I start to think seriously at my future, but, I still managed to hold on to those dreams. At that point in time I wanted to find myself on Broadway one day, or maybe becoming a professional singer, even if I wasn't rocking out on stage. Then, I wanted to be a massage therapist, a dream which, admitedly, I haven't completely forgotten and still consider from time to time. Now, I want to find myself at the front of a class room, teaching young people the joys of the written language. After that, I'd like to retire from teaching and become a jovial librarian, helping children and adults find new joys in books.
I look back to how I was all those years ago and where I am now and it makes me think. I remember telling myself vehemently that I would never ever become a teacher, because then I'd have to deal with all the jerk students. Hell, even in second grade when I thought that I wasn't an average child. I never once said that a teacher acted the way he or she did just because she was mean. I always looked at how the students treated them first. Okay, maybe I thought my third grade teacher was a bitch who was out to get me (and really she was), but that is beside the point.
Hmm, this isn't at all turning out like I had planned it in my head, but no matter. The point is, we rarely ever find ourselves where we once imagined. I think about how, just a year ago, I thought I'd be in college and succeeding and living a happy life. However, I find my situation is different. I find myself still living with my mom who, though I love her to death, drives me insane sometimes. I'm still visiting my hypocritical father on the weekends. I don't have many close friends.
The fact of the matter is, lately, I've felt very alone. I know I have a man who loves me, but sometimes, that doesn't comfort me. I know it should, but it doesn't. I just feel like sometimes, no one really gives a shit about what I think. I have all these people that call me a friend but when I think about it, I don't really know anybody all that well anymore, save my boyfriend of course. I look at the people I call my best friends and find myself wondering how they could act like they do, or what they're thinking sometimes. It's disconcerting not to feel connected with anyone anymore. Frankly, it's lonely as hell and I hate it.
Last night, I found myself staring up at the sky, focusing on the few stars I can see in this city, and just thinking about life. Staring up into that mostly empty sky has a way of making you feel insignificant, like nothing you say or do really matters. We live, we die, and then life goes on.
Eh, perhaps these are just the thoughts of a semi-depressed and exauhsted teenager. Maybe I just need to go to bed and forget about it. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try to forget, these thoughts always come back in the end.
I know that I have people who care about me, people who do care what I have to say. I know that. However, most of the time, the heart and the mind are bitter enemies. Eh, I'm ending this here. My mind is too tired to contemplate anything right now.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Words From the Heart
In order to know what I'm talking about You have to know what's been going on in the media between Chris Amstrong, the University of Michigan's first openly gay student body president, and Michigan's Assistant Attorney General, Andrew Shirvell. If you haven't been following the story, I invite you to view this video, which is a brief summary of the whole thing that's been going on.
Now, in writing this blog, I come to you not as a homosexual, not as a teenager, not as a man, but as a human being. It is people like Andrew Shirvell that really make me hate calling myself, not only an American Citizen, but a human being. Shirvell has posted blogs calling Chris Amstrong a, "RADICAL HOMOSEXUAL ACTIVIST, RACIST, ELITIST, & LIAR." and another with with a photo of a swastika superimposed over a gay pride flag and an arrow pointing at Armstrong.
According to Shirvell, Chris is a 'RADICAL GAY ACTIVIST' because he chose to use the little bit of spotlight he gained as the student body president, to reach out to gay teens to promote education of suicide hot lines and stronger support programs in high schools and colleges. The three biggest points on Chris' political agenda for the school are longer lunch hours, gender neutral housing, and lower tuition costs. Yeah, sounds like a real plan to take over the earth and force all heterosexuals to become gay!
I understand that Andrew Shirvell has a right to be spouting this idiotic crap. However, all he posts are blatantly disrespectful comments about Chris because of his homosexuality. However, once it comes to literally stalking Chris by showing up at events, showing up at night clubs Chris goes to, and actually following him home and video taping outside his house, that goes a little farther than the first amendment. The man is a state official and this is a very disgraceful example of a human being. It's people like this that make me hate to watch the news anymore. So what? He's gay! Oh my gosh! He's going to recruit all of your children! Get over yourself people.
Now, in writing this blog, I come to you not as a homosexual, not as a teenager, not as a man, but as a human being. It is people like Andrew Shirvell that really make me hate calling myself, not only an American Citizen, but a human being. Shirvell has posted blogs calling Chris Amstrong a, "RADICAL HOMOSEXUAL ACTIVIST, RACIST, ELITIST, & LIAR." and another with with a photo of a swastika superimposed over a gay pride flag and an arrow pointing at Armstrong.
According to Shirvell, Chris is a 'RADICAL GAY ACTIVIST' because he chose to use the little bit of spotlight he gained as the student body president, to reach out to gay teens to promote education of suicide hot lines and stronger support programs in high schools and colleges. The three biggest points on Chris' political agenda for the school are longer lunch hours, gender neutral housing, and lower tuition costs. Yeah, sounds like a real plan to take over the earth and force all heterosexuals to become gay!
I understand that Andrew Shirvell has a right to be spouting this idiotic crap. However, all he posts are blatantly disrespectful comments about Chris because of his homosexuality. However, once it comes to literally stalking Chris by showing up at events, showing up at night clubs Chris goes to, and actually following him home and video taping outside his house, that goes a little farther than the first amendment. The man is a state official and this is a very disgraceful example of a human being. It's people like this that make me hate to watch the news anymore. So what? He's gay! Oh my gosh! He's going to recruit all of your children! Get over yourself people.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Overworked Lawyer
I recently read a post from The Bitchy Waiter that inspired me to write this. Please enjoy this, and any future I might decide to write, post from The Overworked Lawyer.
Jeez, I don't even know why I write in this damn blog anymore. I am far too busy most days to even think about it, let alone set aside the time each day (yeah right) to think about my day and type it all down. However, I suppose a little release is needed every so often with how much stress I deal with daily. I'm not sure how the BFL's (big famous lawyers) do it. Well, granted, they do have plenty of people beneath them who can take care of most of the work. I mean, I highly doubt most of them even take a look at any but the biggest cases that pass through their office. Ah well. I suppose someone needs to take care of the people who can't afford to pay top dollar (unfortunately).
I just finished up a civil case today between a husband and wife. The wife divorced her good-for-nothing nothing husband four years ago for infidelity. It took her ten years before she finally got the courage to seek out a divorce lawyer. The bastard had been sleeping around since before they even got married with different women from his work and his past. For ten years she acted like she didn't know a damn thing and let him do it. I swear, had I been her, his family jewels would be sitting in a jar on my mantel right now. But that is neither here nor there. She was suing him for harassment and pain and suffering. Apparently he had been calling her every night for months (though I suspect it went on a lot longer than that) and telling her that he was way more happier single than he ever was with her. He told her frequently that the women he bangs on a regular basis are far better in bed than she ever was. Now, again, had I been her, and had I, for whatever reason, not taken his balls on earlier occasions, I would have done so when those phone calls started. Anyways, she ended up winning ten thousand dollars, which I'm very surprised at. I mean, I expected her to maybe win five thousand, and that's if the judge was sympathetic. However, she, by some amazing circumstances, got Judge Marlesque, the strange woman that she is. Apparently, she was far more than sympathetic, and that makes me wonder what went on in her past.
Anyways. I didn't make Mrs. Push-Over pay me. I mean, for one, she didn't really need a lawyer. I mean, all I did was tell her exactly what to tell the judge and how to act. I probably should have charged her something for the consultation, but I didn't have the heart. I mean, I may be a bitch and one helluva shark in the court room, but I'm still a woman and the story kind of got to me. It makes me glad that I don't have time for romance. The occasional hook up I can fit in, but a relationship takes up far more time than I have.
Anyways, I really do need to get back to work. I have three case files sitting on my desk that, even though they don't have eyes, are managing to glare at me. I've got a serial rapist I'm defending (yay. . . .), a man accused of kidnapping his two year old daughter from her mother (double yay. . . ), and an arsonist. I'll try to fit in the time to post at a later date. Until then, try to survive without my scathing comments (since I know this post only contained a couple).
Sincerely,
The Overworked Lawyer
P.S. Comments are welcome. What would you have done to the cheating husband?
Jeez, I don't even know why I write in this damn blog anymore. I am far too busy most days to even think about it, let alone set aside the time each day (yeah right) to think about my day and type it all down. However, I suppose a little release is needed every so often with how much stress I deal with daily. I'm not sure how the BFL's (big famous lawyers) do it. Well, granted, they do have plenty of people beneath them who can take care of most of the work. I mean, I highly doubt most of them even take a look at any but the biggest cases that pass through their office. Ah well. I suppose someone needs to take care of the people who can't afford to pay top dollar (unfortunately).
I just finished up a civil case today between a husband and wife. The wife divorced her good-for-nothing nothing husband four years ago for infidelity. It took her ten years before she finally got the courage to seek out a divorce lawyer. The bastard had been sleeping around since before they even got married with different women from his work and his past. For ten years she acted like she didn't know a damn thing and let him do it. I swear, had I been her, his family jewels would be sitting in a jar on my mantel right now. But that is neither here nor there. She was suing him for harassment and pain and suffering. Apparently he had been calling her every night for months (though I suspect it went on a lot longer than that) and telling her that he was way more happier single than he ever was with her. He told her frequently that the women he bangs on a regular basis are far better in bed than she ever was. Now, again, had I been her, and had I, for whatever reason, not taken his balls on earlier occasions, I would have done so when those phone calls started. Anyways, she ended up winning ten thousand dollars, which I'm very surprised at. I mean, I expected her to maybe win five thousand, and that's if the judge was sympathetic. However, she, by some amazing circumstances, got Judge Marlesque, the strange woman that she is. Apparently, she was far more than sympathetic, and that makes me wonder what went on in her past.
Anyways. I didn't make Mrs. Push-Over pay me. I mean, for one, she didn't really need a lawyer. I mean, all I did was tell her exactly what to tell the judge and how to act. I probably should have charged her something for the consultation, but I didn't have the heart. I mean, I may be a bitch and one helluva shark in the court room, but I'm still a woman and the story kind of got to me. It makes me glad that I don't have time for romance. The occasional hook up I can fit in, but a relationship takes up far more time than I have.
Anyways, I really do need to get back to work. I have three case files sitting on my desk that, even though they don't have eyes, are managing to glare at me. I've got a serial rapist I'm defending (yay. . . .), a man accused of kidnapping his two year old daughter from her mother (double yay. . . ), and an arsonist. I'll try to fit in the time to post at a later date. Until then, try to survive without my scathing comments (since I know this post only contained a couple).
Sincerely,
The Overworked Lawyer
P.S. Comments are welcome. What would you have done to the cheating husband?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Somwhere Over the Rainbow. . .
We've all got our own beliefs about a better place than the one we currently inhabit. Some dream of a beautiful paradise in the sky, living among all of those we once loved that have already passed on. Others dream of living on once more, living their new lives as either another human or life form. Others still dream of their soul moving on, selecting the trials they'll go through in the next life. Still, others, believe nothing happens. For them, we die, and that's it. Regardless of what you believe, as long as it makes you happy, that should be all that matters. Right?
For some, being happy just isn't enough. They like to spread the word of their individual religions through different mediums, be it billboards, television, or through missionary work. Now, I can completely understand spreading the word of your particular faith. However, what I dislike, is when people get pushy about it. Once a no is said, that should be the end, and then you should move on. However, there are those fanatics within every religion that simply get on my nerves.
What could possibly possess me to write this, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Friday night was Las Vegas' monthly First Friday celebration. First Friday is basically a festivals where local artists can come and sell their art work, be it painting, crafts, music, or any creative medium. I was attending the celebration with a few friends whom I hadn't seen in a few months. We were having a wonderful time walking around and admiring the art and the atmosphere, but most of all, we were enjoying each other's company.
Now, at one point during the evening, two of my friends, who are married to each other, started getting a little frisky. Now, that isn't to say they were having sex in the street or anything. No, the husband grabbed the wife's breast. Simple as that. Immediately following, an elderly lady, wearing an atrociously bright green shirt, approached us with pamphlets about God. Now, okay, I can understand what might have prompted her to do this. I stood and remained silent while she asked them if they went to church, what religion they belong to, and things of that nature. If anything, I found the uncomfortable looks on their faces slightly amusing. However, the woman decided to take it too far.
The woman in the atrociously green bright green shirt all but outright called my friend a harlot, simply because she was being fondled by a man, who so happened to be her husband. She then said a nice long prayer saying to, "Watch out for these poor unfortunate souls, so they do no wind up making mistakes that will send them to hell." She then walked off.
I was a bit speechless for a number of reasons, the first being she outright insulted a good friend of mine. My second problem was that she chose to say a prayer for us. Now, if she had said it in her head as she made her way through the crowd, then fine. The fact they she decided to, not only push her religion on to us, but then have us participate without our consent, seriously pissed me off.
Now, some of you may not know my take on religion. I call my self Agnostic. Basically, I believe that there is some sort of force that guides everything that happens, be it large or small. It is in each and every living creature and each inanimate object. It is all that was, is, and ever will be. As for an afterlife, I have a few things that I'd like to believe, but have yet to be convinced of. I'd like to believe in consensual reincarnation. Basically that means I'd like to believe we can choose when and how we are reincarnated, if at all. I'd also like to believe in a heaven. However, I don't believe in hell or Satan. I don't believe that the Devil created demons and evil, for that would mean he was a god himself, and I am monotheistic.
Now, I have no problem telling people about my religion. If you want to know, I'll tell you. I have no problem with people telling me about their religion. I've talked to a few people of differing religions and heard about them. I've read the Old Testament and the New, as well as parts of the Book of Mormon and the Qur'an. When I choose to believe in something, it is because I am educated in religions to a point, and know what I am saying no to. It's when people get pushy and try to press their religion upon me that I get angry. If you think I am wrong in what I believe, then fine. You can think I am wrong. Don't you dare try to impose your beliefs on me however. I don't sit there and tell you you're wrong and try to change you, and I expect the same courtesy.
I want to know what you think though? How do you feel when people press their religions on you? If you're comfortable sharing, what religion do you believe in?
For some, being happy just isn't enough. They like to spread the word of their individual religions through different mediums, be it billboards, television, or through missionary work. Now, I can completely understand spreading the word of your particular faith. However, what I dislike, is when people get pushy about it. Once a no is said, that should be the end, and then you should move on. However, there are those fanatics within every religion that simply get on my nerves.
What could possibly possess me to write this, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Friday night was Las Vegas' monthly First Friday celebration. First Friday is basically a festivals where local artists can come and sell their art work, be it painting, crafts, music, or any creative medium. I was attending the celebration with a few friends whom I hadn't seen in a few months. We were having a wonderful time walking around and admiring the art and the atmosphere, but most of all, we were enjoying each other's company.
Now, at one point during the evening, two of my friends, who are married to each other, started getting a little frisky. Now, that isn't to say they were having sex in the street or anything. No, the husband grabbed the wife's breast. Simple as that. Immediately following, an elderly lady, wearing an atrociously bright green shirt, approached us with pamphlets about God. Now, okay, I can understand what might have prompted her to do this. I stood and remained silent while she asked them if they went to church, what religion they belong to, and things of that nature. If anything, I found the uncomfortable looks on their faces slightly amusing. However, the woman decided to take it too far.
The woman in the atrociously green bright green shirt all but outright called my friend a harlot, simply because she was being fondled by a man, who so happened to be her husband. She then said a nice long prayer saying to, "Watch out for these poor unfortunate souls, so they do no wind up making mistakes that will send them to hell." She then walked off.
I was a bit speechless for a number of reasons, the first being she outright insulted a good friend of mine. My second problem was that she chose to say a prayer for us. Now, if she had said it in her head as she made her way through the crowd, then fine. The fact they she decided to, not only push her religion on to us, but then have us participate without our consent, seriously pissed me off.
Now, some of you may not know my take on religion. I call my self Agnostic. Basically, I believe that there is some sort of force that guides everything that happens, be it large or small. It is in each and every living creature and each inanimate object. It is all that was, is, and ever will be. As for an afterlife, I have a few things that I'd like to believe, but have yet to be convinced of. I'd like to believe in consensual reincarnation. Basically that means I'd like to believe we can choose when and how we are reincarnated, if at all. I'd also like to believe in a heaven. However, I don't believe in hell or Satan. I don't believe that the Devil created demons and evil, for that would mean he was a god himself, and I am monotheistic.
Now, I have no problem telling people about my religion. If you want to know, I'll tell you. I have no problem with people telling me about their religion. I've talked to a few people of differing religions and heard about them. I've read the Old Testament and the New, as well as parts of the Book of Mormon and the Qur'an. When I choose to believe in something, it is because I am educated in religions to a point, and know what I am saying no to. It's when people get pushy and try to press their religion upon me that I get angry. If you think I am wrong in what I believe, then fine. You can think I am wrong. Don't you dare try to impose your beliefs on me however. I don't sit there and tell you you're wrong and try to change you, and I expect the same courtesy.
I want to know what you think though? How do you feel when people press their religions on you? If you're comfortable sharing, what religion do you believe in?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The Death of Innocence
I recently read an entry from someone whom I hold an infinite amount of respect for and look up to. I was surprised to find how much it matched me and my own feelings on the subject. So, I figured I'd put my own two cents in for you to read.
When I was young, I believed in fairy tales. I believed that a jolly fat man came to give me presents ever Christmas. I believed that a super bunny rabbit would come around to every house and hide a bunch of colorful eggs. I believed a mystical fairy would pay me for my teeth. However, as I grew older, I found these stories, and so many more, to be false. However, that didn't really destroy everything I had known. Sure, I was disappointed to find that some random fat guy didn't give me presents every year (however, now that I think about it, perhaps that's a good thing) and it was really my parents. I was disappointed to find that some cute little rabbit in a little vest, top hat, and manacle (my version of the Easter Bunny) didn't arrive at my house to entertain me. I was disappointed to find that the Tooth Fairy didn't want to purchase my teeth (Which, again, if I think about it, really only teaches us from a young age to sell our bodies).
All of these things were all things our parents did to preserve our innocence in the world. They wanted us to have that bit of fairy tale for as long as possible. They wanted to shelter us from the horrific world we live in. However, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the original point.
Even with the death of those stories, I still had a bit of innocence. I believed that if you really wanted something enough, you could get it. I believed that if you wished hard enough, miracles could happen. I believed that there was good in everyone. I think my innocence lasted longer than some people's, which I can either look at as a good thing, or a horrible thing. I didn't really think that truly horrible stuff didn't actually happen till probably the eighth grade. I never watched the news. I always thought the bad stuff we learned about was all because people didn't know better back then. However, during the eight grade, my grandmother died. She was taken from us brutally by cancer. It was then that my innocence came crashing down around my ears. That was when I realized that the world isn't always a nice place.
And as I've grown older, I've realized that bad things tend to happen to the best people. I've come to the conclusion that bad people really do get to be happy, that they don't get their just desserts in the end. Does that mean I'm going to go become a criminal right now? No. I still have a sense of right and wrong, even if right is the harder road to travel. I guess I've learned that, no matter where you go in the world, there will always be violence, hatred, greed, lust, and death. As long as the human race exists, this world will be filled with those terrible things. Now, I'm not saying death and violence will stop if humans are wiped out. That's just the natural order. However, lions don't go up to gazelles and kill them just because they think the gazelle has nicer things. Animals kill to survive. For them, greed doesn't exist. Lust doesn't exist. Those are things humans have brought to this planet. We are a poison upon the earth.
Okay, so maybe I've gotten off the original topic, so sue me. As I was saying, innocence is something designed to keep the young happy, until they can handle other emotions. Until they can understand (although I will never understand why one person would kill another) why things happen in the world, innocence is required. Once you are old enough to understand, that's when everything comes crashing down. That's when you become jaded and guarded. That's when you become suspicious of everyone and everything.
For those of you who have read The Host, by Stephanie Myer, I have to say, I would love for that to happen to the human race. For those of you who haven't read it, I will give you a brief over view. Basically, a race of alien creatures travels the galaxy and takes over the brains of the species of each planet they go to. They insert themselves onto the brain of their host, and essentially take over their bodies. However, they are not a malicious race. They do this to bring peace to those worlds. For that species greed, lust, hatred, and violence does not exist. They then have new generations of that species and raise them to believe the same thing. When they took over the earth, they got rid of money, war machines, and things of the like. Because they don't lie, they are allowed to take only what they need. They can cure any disease easily, they are far more advanced than us, and they bring peace to the planet. I mean, it is bad that they essentially destroy the human they inhabit, but it is for the greater good.
What thoughts do you have on the matter? Leave a comment and let me know.
When I was young, I believed in fairy tales. I believed that a jolly fat man came to give me presents ever Christmas. I believed that a super bunny rabbit would come around to every house and hide a bunch of colorful eggs. I believed a mystical fairy would pay me for my teeth. However, as I grew older, I found these stories, and so many more, to be false. However, that didn't really destroy everything I had known. Sure, I was disappointed to find that some random fat guy didn't give me presents every year (however, now that I think about it, perhaps that's a good thing) and it was really my parents. I was disappointed to find that some cute little rabbit in a little vest, top hat, and manacle (my version of the Easter Bunny) didn't arrive at my house to entertain me. I was disappointed to find that the Tooth Fairy didn't want to purchase my teeth (Which, again, if I think about it, really only teaches us from a young age to sell our bodies).
All of these things were all things our parents did to preserve our innocence in the world. They wanted us to have that bit of fairy tale for as long as possible. They wanted to shelter us from the horrific world we live in. However, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the original point.
Even with the death of those stories, I still had a bit of innocence. I believed that if you really wanted something enough, you could get it. I believed that if you wished hard enough, miracles could happen. I believed that there was good in everyone. I think my innocence lasted longer than some people's, which I can either look at as a good thing, or a horrible thing. I didn't really think that truly horrible stuff didn't actually happen till probably the eighth grade. I never watched the news. I always thought the bad stuff we learned about was all because people didn't know better back then. However, during the eight grade, my grandmother died. She was taken from us brutally by cancer. It was then that my innocence came crashing down around my ears. That was when I realized that the world isn't always a nice place.
And as I've grown older, I've realized that bad things tend to happen to the best people. I've come to the conclusion that bad people really do get to be happy, that they don't get their just desserts in the end. Does that mean I'm going to go become a criminal right now? No. I still have a sense of right and wrong, even if right is the harder road to travel. I guess I've learned that, no matter where you go in the world, there will always be violence, hatred, greed, lust, and death. As long as the human race exists, this world will be filled with those terrible things. Now, I'm not saying death and violence will stop if humans are wiped out. That's just the natural order. However, lions don't go up to gazelles and kill them just because they think the gazelle has nicer things. Animals kill to survive. For them, greed doesn't exist. Lust doesn't exist. Those are things humans have brought to this planet. We are a poison upon the earth.
Okay, so maybe I've gotten off the original topic, so sue me. As I was saying, innocence is something designed to keep the young happy, until they can handle other emotions. Until they can understand (although I will never understand why one person would kill another) why things happen in the world, innocence is required. Once you are old enough to understand, that's when everything comes crashing down. That's when you become jaded and guarded. That's when you become suspicious of everyone and everything.
For those of you who have read The Host, by Stephanie Myer, I have to say, I would love for that to happen to the human race. For those of you who haven't read it, I will give you a brief over view. Basically, a race of alien creatures travels the galaxy and takes over the brains of the species of each planet they go to. They insert themselves onto the brain of their host, and essentially take over their bodies. However, they are not a malicious race. They do this to bring peace to those worlds. For that species greed, lust, hatred, and violence does not exist. They then have new generations of that species and raise them to believe the same thing. When they took over the earth, they got rid of money, war machines, and things of the like. Because they don't lie, they are allowed to take only what they need. They can cure any disease easily, they are far more advanced than us, and they bring peace to the planet. I mean, it is bad that they essentially destroy the human they inhabit, but it is for the greater good.
What thoughts do you have on the matter? Leave a comment and let me know.
Friday, September 24, 2010
The Beauty of Life
I just spent the past four hours or so helping my uncle's pit bull give birth. I have to say, it was one of the grossest experiences of my life. There was blood, liquids i can't even begin to describe, and much worry. However, the aftermath of all of that horror was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Do I think Mother Nature should clean up those entrances a bit? Of course; that mess was, and still is, nasty. However, the end result (nine beautiful puppies) is enough to make my heart sing. Life truly is an amazing thing. In nine months or so, a human can make a baby. In sixty-two days, ten puppies are developed, though one didn't survive. It truly is a wonderful thing.
Return of the Stargazer
So, I had said that I was going to post more often. That was about a month ago. Yes, I am well aware I am a failure at trying to keep up with this blog, however, I actually am going to keep up better now. I now have a new cord for my laptop, as well as a wireless router (which altogether set me back like a hundred dollars -_-;;). That means I will have access to my laptop daily and will be able to get up a couple of posts a week at the least. For the few of you who actually follow this blog, that should make you somewhat happy. I find that my will to write is slowly returning and I have some new ideas for short stories that I plan on posting for comments. Perhaps even a poem or two might make it in. For now however, I have a topic that I wish to discuss.
Now, as you may, or may not, know, both Stephen Colbert (of the Colbert Report) and Jon Stewart (of the Daily Show) are hosting rallies next month in Washington, DC. You may have heard of the rally that Glenn Beck had recently, which is the reason for these two new ones. Stephen Colbert has titled his The March to Keep Fear Alive, while Jon Stewart has gone with The Rally to Restore Sanity. I wonder what everyone thinks of what they are doing. If you did not catch any coverage from Glenn Beck's rally, I highly recommend that you do a quick YouTube search. If you think that perhaps these rallies that Jon and Stephen are hosting are to make fun of Beck's rally, you would be correct I think. From the little I did catch of Beck's, it was a complete and utter joke. At one point during the rally, a flock of geese flew over the Reflection Pool and Glen said, and I quote:
If I may be so bold, Glenn Beck is a bit of a self-important idiot. In my opinion, he deserves to have himself made fun of. End of story. However, I am interested in what everyone else thinks. I bid thee farewell for now.
Now, as you may, or may not, know, both Stephen Colbert (of the Colbert Report) and Jon Stewart (of the Daily Show) are hosting rallies next month in Washington, DC. You may have heard of the rally that Glenn Beck had recently, which is the reason for these two new ones. Stephen Colbert has titled his The March to Keep Fear Alive, while Jon Stewart has gone with The Rally to Restore Sanity. I wonder what everyone thinks of what they are doing. If you did not catch any coverage from Glenn Beck's rally, I highly recommend that you do a quick YouTube search. If you think that perhaps these rallies that Jon and Stephen are hosting are to make fun of Beck's rally, you would be correct I think. From the little I did catch of Beck's, it was a complete and utter joke. At one point during the rally, a flock of geese flew over the Reflection Pool and Glen said, and I quote:
“I want to show you first that miracle that happened at 10:59. There are several versions of this, or at 9:59. There are several versions of what was happening. Do we have the videotape? At 9:59, what happened was there was a flock of geese. It was a flyover if you will. Somebody caught it on tape. Here’s the flyover. This was happening just as the opening music was starting. We wanted to have a flyover, but you can’t flyover in the District of Columbia. It was perfect coordination and perfect timing. Coincidence? Maybe? I think it was God’s flyover. It was not supposed to happen. We couldn’t get a flyover. We couldn’t even get anybody dressed in a military uniform to present the flag. We tried for almost a year. We couldn’t get it done. Thank God, we had our flyover.” -Courtesy of http://www.politicususa.com
If I may be so bold, Glenn Beck is a bit of a self-important idiot. In my opinion, he deserves to have himself made fun of. End of story. However, I am interested in what everyone else thinks. I bid thee farewell for now.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Where has the time gone?
It seems a lot of time has passed since my last post. Originally, the plan had been to get a post in every day, even if it was a small and meager little paragraph. However, time constraints and a prematurely horrible memory saw that plan shredded into tiny pieces. So, now, my new plan is to at least try to get a post in once a week. I'm not sure why it really matters though. I have maybe one reader, and she's one of the most wonderful women on the planet and a woman I aspire to be like one day in many different ways. I'm sure you know who you are.
As I had originally planned to say, time has gone by pretty fast. It seems that, once high school ends and life begins, time goes by even faster than you can blink. Since my last post, my dad got married to one of the most amazing women on the planet, took an amazing trip to L.A. with some wonderful people (including the love of my life), I got a cool job, I got an extremely boring (but more reliable) job, and quit the original job. . . . . .sort of.
Hmm, somehow living it seemed to take so much longer. I'm not sure how it's possible, but at the time, all of those things seemed to take eons to complete. Now that I really take the time to put things into perspective, they are all just grains of sand collecting on the little patch of beach that we call life. Out of seventy years, give or take a decade or so, how many of those moments occur when time seems to go slower than half frozen molasses, then appear to be gone in an instant? Probably far too many to count. Knowing my luck, even if I did somehow manage to count all of them, by the time I get older, I'll get Alzheimer's and lose count. Just in case you were wondering, I'm pounding as hard as I can on my oak desk.
School starts up again in three weeks or so. UNLV, my college of choice, still has yet to fully process my transcript. I was able to finally get it in, after spending weeks convincing my mom to take me, three weeks ago. The man I gave it to said it would take a week and a half at most to be processed. The Internet said two weeks. I called the school and the lady I talked to said a couple more days at most. Now I'm just plain annoyed.
Another thing coming up faster than I can really comprehend, is my one year anniversary. It seems like just yesterday that I met him. Even with my horrible memory, I can remember it like it was yesterday. After a few months of talking, we finally got together. Somehow, those few months of drama and weirdness seem like seconds. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps it only was. In twenty-three more days I will have been with the man I love for a year. Even though I can remember our first meeting like yesterday, it seems like he was always there. When I think about all of the bad times I went through in life, they don't seem to hurt as much. Since meeting him, time seems to somehow go both slow and fast. I realize now I've become the one thing I most hated in the world; some one in love. As well, someone who thinks in cliches. The world seems somehow brighter and more vibrant. The bad times don't hurt as much, and when they do, he knows exactly what to do to take my mind off things. Hell, he doesn't even do anything. Just hearing his voice can make my whole day better.
At the same time though, being away from him doesn't hurt. I'm no longer a jealous person. I'm completely confident that we love each other and that there's nothing to worry about. I know a lot of people probably think that but honestly, you don't know my man. He's too much of a great, caring, honest, and loving person to even contemplate hurting me. I know that, right now, I may sound like some kind of love struck teenager, but, the truth is, I am. That's not a bad thing though. I used to think that it was pathetic building your life around another person. I used to think that real love wasn't like that. And really, is it building your life around another person. Maybe it's more along the lines of. . . . .I'm not even sure how to describe it.
How does one begin to describe how, no matter what it is that you're planning, you vaguely wonder if that person will be able to come. How can you describe your friends knowing that, whatever they invite you to, that person will be there right by your side. How can you describe an overwhelming feeling that can't even be put into words. At least, I can't put it into words. Maybe someone reading this can comment and help me out. I want to know how to describe this. I want to be able to tell people this feeling in words that can understood so they don't look at me like I'm completely insane.
I've got so much more to say but, I'd rather not right a novel right now. Maybe I'll post some of my current problems at a later date. Thinking this much about my man somehow makes them feel unimportant :)
As I had originally planned to say, time has gone by pretty fast. It seems that, once high school ends and life begins, time goes by even faster than you can blink. Since my last post, my dad got married to one of the most amazing women on the planet, took an amazing trip to L.A. with some wonderful people (including the love of my life), I got a cool job, I got an extremely boring (but more reliable) job, and quit the original job. . . . . .sort of.
Hmm, somehow living it seemed to take so much longer. I'm not sure how it's possible, but at the time, all of those things seemed to take eons to complete. Now that I really take the time to put things into perspective, they are all just grains of sand collecting on the little patch of beach that we call life. Out of seventy years, give or take a decade or so, how many of those moments occur when time seems to go slower than half frozen molasses, then appear to be gone in an instant? Probably far too many to count. Knowing my luck, even if I did somehow manage to count all of them, by the time I get older, I'll get Alzheimer's and lose count. Just in case you were wondering, I'm pounding as hard as I can on my oak desk.
School starts up again in three weeks or so. UNLV, my college of choice, still has yet to fully process my transcript. I was able to finally get it in, after spending weeks convincing my mom to take me, three weeks ago. The man I gave it to said it would take a week and a half at most to be processed. The Internet said two weeks. I called the school and the lady I talked to said a couple more days at most. Now I'm just plain annoyed.
Another thing coming up faster than I can really comprehend, is my one year anniversary. It seems like just yesterday that I met him. Even with my horrible memory, I can remember it like it was yesterday. After a few months of talking, we finally got together. Somehow, those few months of drama and weirdness seem like seconds. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps it only was. In twenty-three more days I will have been with the man I love for a year. Even though I can remember our first meeting like yesterday, it seems like he was always there. When I think about all of the bad times I went through in life, they don't seem to hurt as much. Since meeting him, time seems to somehow go both slow and fast. I realize now I've become the one thing I most hated in the world; some one in love. As well, someone who thinks in cliches. The world seems somehow brighter and more vibrant. The bad times don't hurt as much, and when they do, he knows exactly what to do to take my mind off things. Hell, he doesn't even do anything. Just hearing his voice can make my whole day better.
At the same time though, being away from him doesn't hurt. I'm no longer a jealous person. I'm completely confident that we love each other and that there's nothing to worry about. I know a lot of people probably think that but honestly, you don't know my man. He's too much of a great, caring, honest, and loving person to even contemplate hurting me. I know that, right now, I may sound like some kind of love struck teenager, but, the truth is, I am. That's not a bad thing though. I used to think that it was pathetic building your life around another person. I used to think that real love wasn't like that. And really, is it building your life around another person. Maybe it's more along the lines of. . . . .I'm not even sure how to describe it.
How does one begin to describe how, no matter what it is that you're planning, you vaguely wonder if that person will be able to come. How can you describe your friends knowing that, whatever they invite you to, that person will be there right by your side. How can you describe an overwhelming feeling that can't even be put into words. At least, I can't put it into words. Maybe someone reading this can comment and help me out. I want to know how to describe this. I want to be able to tell people this feeling in words that can understood so they don't look at me like I'm completely insane.
I've got so much more to say but, I'd rather not right a novel right now. Maybe I'll post some of my current problems at a later date. Thinking this much about my man somehow makes them feel unimportant :)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Post Graduation Thoughts and Feelings
Graduation was very strange. It wasn't so much the event itself that was strange, but the way I felt and thought about it. I had the overwhelming feeling before I got there that I was going to go home in tears. Instead, I stood in the back for nearly three hours and waited with a bunch of people I really don't like, only to sit in a chair with everyone staring, listening to a bunch of long and boring drawn out speeches from more people I don't even like.
Instead of having tears stream down my face because the people I was going to miss so much, I found myself staring at my phone every ten seconds wondering when it was going to be over so I would never have to see the majority of those idiots again. My reaction was just about the exact opposite of what I thought it would be.
However, this isn't supposed to be about how I felt during. This is supposed to be about the thoughts and moods I've gone through since then. In all honesty, I'm not quite sure it's all really hit me just yet. Today I was thinking about it and my heart beat increased slightly, but that's the biggest reaction I've gotten. It's all quite.....anticlimactic.....
I mean really? I spent four years in that hell hole and what do I have to show for it? A piece of paper saying I survived, a key chain, a cap and gown that's now going to collect dust in my closet for the rest of my life, and the knowledge that I never want to sit through one of those hellish ceremonies ever again. When I stop to think about it in fact, it's all quite infuriating. Give me some damn fireworks or something! I just went four years without dying (or killing anyone else) from the idiocy of that hell hole! I don't even get a damn air horn??? COME ON!!!
Hmmm, perhaps this is the biggest reaction I've gotten thus far.
Instead of having tears stream down my face because the people I was going to miss so much, I found myself staring at my phone every ten seconds wondering when it was going to be over so I would never have to see the majority of those idiots again. My reaction was just about the exact opposite of what I thought it would be.
However, this isn't supposed to be about how I felt during. This is supposed to be about the thoughts and moods I've gone through since then. In all honesty, I'm not quite sure it's all really hit me just yet. Today I was thinking about it and my heart beat increased slightly, but that's the biggest reaction I've gotten. It's all quite.....anticlimactic.....
I mean really? I spent four years in that hell hole and what do I have to show for it? A piece of paper saying I survived, a key chain, a cap and gown that's now going to collect dust in my closet for the rest of my life, and the knowledge that I never want to sit through one of those hellish ceremonies ever again. When I stop to think about it in fact, it's all quite infuriating. Give me some damn fireworks or something! I just went four years without dying (or killing anyone else) from the idiocy of that hell hole! I don't even get a damn air horn??? COME ON!!!
Hmmm, perhaps this is the biggest reaction I've gotten thus far.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Last Day
It's so hard to comprehend that my high school career will be really over tomorrow at 10:45 AM. Four long, and sometimes seemingly endless, years are coming to a close. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. I mean obviously I am quite excited to get out of that hell disguised as a building. However, that excitement comes with a certain measure of uncertainty that I just can't adequately describe. My whole life is changing and it's never going to be the same. It seems like the only thing in my life that has ever been constant in my life. Even the people in my life never remained truly constant. Although I sometimes couldn't stand school, it was still a safe place to go, despite the sometimes dangerous situations that the other 'kids' at school created.
Regardless of that, it was a place that I knew would always be there. Once the clock hits 10:45 AM tomorrow though, I won't have that. Nothing will be constant in my life and it's a very frightening prospect. My entire adult life is looming before me and I'm not ashamed to say that I am scared to death. Regardless of my fears though, I still have to face them and move forward. I survived eighteen years with the family I have and I'm certainly not going to end it all now. Hell, just thinking about the last eighteen years makes me want to flash forward a couple of years, just to be far enough away from my childhood.
Regardless of how much I write, regardless of how afraid I am for the future, regardless of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that says something is wrong, tomorrow will still come just as fast as if I didn't have any of that. I just have to accept that and move forward with my head held high, all of those fears and feelings locked away safely in the back of my head.
Regardless of that, it was a place that I knew would always be there. Once the clock hits 10:45 AM tomorrow though, I won't have that. Nothing will be constant in my life and it's a very frightening prospect. My entire adult life is looming before me and I'm not ashamed to say that I am scared to death. Regardless of my fears though, I still have to face them and move forward. I survived eighteen years with the family I have and I'm certainly not going to end it all now. Hell, just thinking about the last eighteen years makes me want to flash forward a couple of years, just to be far enough away from my childhood.
Regardless of how much I write, regardless of how afraid I am for the future, regardless of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that says something is wrong, tomorrow will still come just as fast as if I didn't have any of that. I just have to accept that and move forward with my head held high, all of those fears and feelings locked away safely in the back of my head.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Birthday Musings
Eighteen is supposed to be one of those milestones in life where everything changes. Sometimes things get better and sometimes they get worse. I've never heard anyone say, "Oh. I turned eighteen and nothing changed." Does that make me abnormal? Things are exactly the same, but the way I feel is slightly changed. I somehow feel different. Perhaps it's all the hype that goes along with the big one-eight. Maybe that' what's different. Maybe it's a distorted sense of disappointment that has me in it's grasp. Will I ever find out for sure? Probably not.
Perhaps maybe that isn't a bad thing though. Maybe it's just one of those things in life that we aren't supposed to know. I know plenty of people that say we are well on our way to knowing all of the secrets of the universe. I'm not so sure that it's even possible, and if it is, if it's really a good thing. As humans we think we are the biggest thing to ever hit this galaxy. The truth is, if you really stop to think about it, we are the most insignificant things in this universe. As far as we know, the universe is endless. If you think about how big an atom is to us, that's about how big our planet is in the grand scheme of things. It's enough to make a person feel pretty....well, insignificant.
Hmm, these were the kind of things that I was hoping to avoid thinking about for my birthday. Ah well, maybe it's healthy to think about these kind of thing. It's enough to bring even the largest ego down a few notches. So, here's to you Hollywood stars and starlets. Perhaps someone should print out a copy of this post and show it to you.
Perhaps maybe that isn't a bad thing though. Maybe it's just one of those things in life that we aren't supposed to know. I know plenty of people that say we are well on our way to knowing all of the secrets of the universe. I'm not so sure that it's even possible, and if it is, if it's really a good thing. As humans we think we are the biggest thing to ever hit this galaxy. The truth is, if you really stop to think about it, we are the most insignificant things in this universe. As far as we know, the universe is endless. If you think about how big an atom is to us, that's about how big our planet is in the grand scheme of things. It's enough to make a person feel pretty....well, insignificant.
Hmm, these were the kind of things that I was hoping to avoid thinking about for my birthday. Ah well, maybe it's healthy to think about these kind of thing. It's enough to bring even the largest ego down a few notches. So, here's to you Hollywood stars and starlets. Perhaps someone should print out a copy of this post and show it to you.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Musings of a High School Senior
I had briefly considered using this blog solely for poetry, but today has made me throw that idea out of the window. I have twenty-five days till my last day of school and thirty-one till my graduation.Another important thing to remember is my birthday thirteen days away. When I think about the typical seventeen year old high school senior, I picture a lazy kid who goofs off to much, has the perverted mind of a twelve year old, and is falling behind in his studies due to a bad case of senioritis, especially this close to the end of school. Looking at myself however, I see someone different.
I see a boy afraid to grow into a man.
I see someone who is tired of the immaturity and stupidity of high school, but is deathly afraid to move on with life.
I see a boy faced with the realization that things aren't okay like they used to be. Perhaps they never were okay, but he was just to sheltered to notice.
Most of all, I see someone faced with the overwhelming immensity of life. College is quickly making it's way here. Plans are falling through. Friends are leaving. People who were once friends are burning the bridges that got them through high school. The most treacherous and cut-throat time of my life is drawing to a close. From here on out I'm the one responsible for my mistakes. I'm the one who takes care of myself. Sure, my parents will be around if I ever truly need them, but unfortunately, I'm too proud to admit to them I'm terrified. Growing up is a daunting task that all but rich heirs and heiresses have to deal with. Where are my millionaire parents?
I'd say unfortunately they aren't here but it's not really unfortunate. The ones who aren't forced to grow up at some point are crippled for the rest of their lives. They'll lead a hollow existence and never truly accomplish a thing. So, perhaps it's a good thing I'm going to have to fend for myself. Everyone but the heir and heiresses face growing up. It must not be too bad because I see plenty of adults walking around. I know I'll get through it, but that doesn't stop the fear. Then again, isn't that what courage is? Having fear but still moving forward despite it? I will survive as I have for the past nearly eighteen years. I will grow up, get married, have kids, grow old, and live a long happy life. In that time I'll go to college, have a successful career, and leave a lot for my children and their children. Maybe it won't exactly happen like that, but that's what I'm aiming for and God help the one who tries to get in the way of that.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Stargazing
Stars dot the midnight sky
A cool breeze through my hair
A star shoots across
Another follows
A game of cosmic tag
To hold my
Fancy
Two eyes dart across the universe
One mind trying to keep count
Failure is inevitable
But isn't that what life is all about
Even if failure seems eminent
You keep going just like
That
Lightning bugs slowly paint the air
Their light bringing a lovely glow
an attention diverted to the wonder of
Life
So many things coming together as one
Astronomical odds resulting in us all
From the lightning bugs to me
All that was and all that
Is
Some may think these fancies are
Far too advanced for someone my age
The pondering of life depresses some
All it does is fascinate me
The wonders of life are all, well,
Wonderful
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