9/11

I don't remember much about 9/11. All I really remember was the aftermath, and how much that specific day affected Americans everywhere. I remember all the pain that was felt on that day, and I remember the vengeance that sank into everyones hearts. I really didn't know what to feel, I'm pretty sure at that age I had no emotional influence towards being an American citizen. I'm not sure if I even actually knew what it meant to be an American. Apparently our country was already heading to shit, but once again, I didn't know. Why would a 9 year old actually care? I just wanted to live and be happy. I wanted to play with my friends and not go to school. When 9/11 actually happened I was scared, yes, only because I realized the reality of the situation. For the first time I realized what it meant to be an American. Was I proud of it? I still can't say, but I do know to this day that this idea of nationalism, coming from both sides of this war on terror is absolutely absurd. People kill other people because they believe in something others don't believe in? They feel the right to kill others, take their lives, and oppress countries through imperialistic means is a completely okay act of revenge. Even America is to blame, more so than any Islamic Extremist. Islamic Extremists are but a recent fundamentalist group that rose from an anti-capitalistic foundation. Can you blame them? Do we blame ourselves for the country that we live in? All these questions, and then you really begin to wonder, what makes you an American?
To this day, 9/11 means a day where I cannot help but mourn the loss of so many lives. Lives that didn't deserve to be taken. The workers at the World Trade Centers, the firemen searching the debris attempting to save as many as they could, the passengers of the airplanes, even the pilots who hijacked them. I mourn for them all, because they all did not deserve to die. I blame every elitist, every capitalistic asshole, and ever fundamentalist dick. They have no idea what they are doing anymore. Humans aren't humans anymore. We've turned into monsters. We're like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, except we can't change back from Hyde. We are hiding in the mist of materialism, enshrouded by ideas that one day money will exist in our bank accounts, but these are all misconceptions to what life really is. Its treasured because of the miracles we experience on an everyday basis, and when 9/11 happened, a nightmare occurred.

Have a Good One

My Diva

This post is for my Creative Writing class as a response paper to the readings of My Divas. I am supposed to write about a hero in my life based upon those readings. I had a bit of trouble trying to relate the meaning behind my hero and the "divas" written about within the many stories. You know its kind of funny, I've had so many heroes in my life, and they fluctuate as I change and adapt to the circumstances of my life. A hero that will always stay in my heart though is my dad. I know it sounds cliche like I am 5 years old again, but in all honesty, there hasn't been anyone else in my life that's influenced almost every decision I've made in my life, except for him. I remember when I was in 7th grade, I almost committed suicide. My mother didn't believe I would do it, but the things I thought and said only made me want to do it more, but then my dad interjected. He told me I had so much to live for, that my life has meaning to it. I remember in particular my dad telling me that no one can tell me what to do. He will always be that influence in my life as I try to succeed in order to benefit my family. My dad has taught me that family means everything. He has taught me more than just that, he has showed me how to spiritually be in tune with myself. I've been using the pronoun he a lot in this segment, but I don't know how else to classify him. I guess I could start each sentence with, "my hero," but what would that do? This man, my dad, means more than just the pronoun he. My permanent and personal hero will always be my dad because he listens to me, he takes my advice as I take his. My dad knows more about the world than the average man, but he doesn't have anyone that will listen to him except for me. I take everything that he says and I implement it into my life in a whole new manner. I try to make him happy by accomplishing goals that fit expectations which aren't his, but rather my own. My success is all he cares about and he trusts me with his own success even if it doesn't involve experiences he can relive through me. I live by my own accord and my dad did the same, so he relives his past through my present even though it doesn't mimic it directly. There's not much more I can say about this man, I write and write and write and all I can think about is how dearly I love him.
I realize how privileged I am to have such a supportive dad. A lot of my friends in high school didn't even have dads, some had dads, but they had divorced my friends mothers leaving them with a father they occasionally saw on the weekends. One of my friends dads had schizophrenia, he left my friend's family and in his place my friend took a fatherly role to raise his two siblings with thought out ethics and logical rationalization. I know his two siblings and I can say with confidence that they very kind and know what is right and what is wrong based upon my friends experiences fulfilling a male role within his family. My friend will turn out to be a great dad and so will I, only under different circumstances.
My dad has not only taught me how to be a good person, but he has showed me how to be a husband and a father. He is that role model in my life that will go to the grave with me. All his stories and all the growing up I did with him holding me in his arms, holding my hand, showing me the way, and then leaving me behind with all his collectables and success. I am honored to have been raised by him and it will continue to be a pleasure to be raised by him.

Have a Good One

Favourite Colour

This is another post for my Creative Writing class, and this one is about my favourite colour. Growing up I have always had many favourite colours, and it all starts in the middle of the rainbow with the colour green. Green has always been influential for me, especially during the spring. My eyes are green and every season they become greener with the life that sprouts from the earth. It resembles my happiness and freedom combined with rain that brings life to the green grass. I feel a cleansing of my soul every time I see, as if, life can restart and I can be reborn into whatever I wish. Theres really not much else I can say about my favourite colour, it exists and thats that. Green is the colour that attracts my attention the most, whether lime green, forest green, yellow-green, etc.. I will always find the colour green more attractive and vibrant than the rest. It represents what life is about, growth, allowing me to feel the sense of improving. I focus on benefiting myself through giving myself the freedom of being outdoors with the colour. I immerse myself within it to feel the emotions that it can bring to me. I wear the colour to emulate all that I would like to express through it, so that people can understand what I like.

Have a Good One

My Love Life is...

This post is for my Creative Writing class, its really intriguing that my teacher asked me to write about my love life in a blog post. Its what I've been doing the whole time I've kept this blog and it has always served in a manner that helps me logically think out any romantic situation I'm currently in. Right now I'm at my best friend Alan's house thinking, where and when did my life of romance begin. Alan has always influenced my life in a positive manner, he was always telling me how I could better for myself and improve my current circumstance by merely believing in myself. When, he and I had turned 16 he decided that it was time to open up to the sexual world and lose his virginity. I remember hanging out at his friends apartment and we were all talking about the last time we had sex. I kept my mouth shut because I hadn't done anything with a woman yet. All his friends had these amazing stories and I couldn't help but feel envious every time another story was told. At the end of that night they all asked me how far I had gone with a girl, and with no shame I told them all I hadn't even kissed a girl. Then they proceeded to tell me about this book named, "The Game." Alan would always reference it when we talked about picking up women. This book was full of pick up lines, strategic ways one could approach a woman in any environment, and ultimately an array of manners of how to get with that girl. Anyways, he lost his virginity before me and from then on out he became my sensei for romance. He would tell me how I should dress when meeting women, and he would tell me how I should present myself in a confident manner. What girl doesn't dig on a confident well-dressed man? We would get into more details about what one can do to turn the tide in a conversation so that the man is more dominating and desirable. Then that would shift into mutual comfort which quickly turned into intimacy in the lightest degree, and once you've found that intimacy the next couple of steps of getting that girl into your bed was pretty simple. It was the game, and it isn't hard to play. I find myself playing all the time, but the more you play, the more prone to injury you are. Love hurts.

My story starts in Middle School, I was bullied and no one liked me. I was the smallest in the grade which made it easier for people to pick on me and not to mention I was so friendly that people could easily take advantage of my trust, which many people did. I was abused physically and verbally throughout 7th grade, the bully who would pick on me the most was named Leonard, and now we are the closest friends ever. He used to give me atomic wedgies everyday, throw me against lockers, and one memory in particular always stands out. Once at soccer practice he picked me up above his head and carried me to the end of the field where the rest of the team was, he threw me on the ground and stepped on me with his cleats. The entire team joined in and to top it all off he took an orange traffic cone and started to beat me with it. It was fucked up, I know, but from hate comes love, and from love comes hate. Its the balance of the world, any loving emotion can usually trigger the opposite feeling through care, mistrust, or even, love, and vice versa. The bullying made me into the lover I am today. I don't hold back from love, and I've always viewed myself as a martyr for love so why not keep pushing myself to join the fray that could get me hurt? Love is that fray, and I've felt what it means to be rejected on a whole other level. Any personal rejection that comes my way, or any rejection from myself towards others is usually meaningless because I cannot deny this reality, I have no right to say what is just and what isn't. Everyone is an individual with their own agenda's, and I cannot be the one to create obstacles in their personal journey towards success. I am merely an asset, and I accept this, in fact, I've always believed that it has made me the bigger man. I am not afraid to be pushed around for love. I will always show compassion to others no matter how much they hate me. This is how you conquer love, this is how you overcome the pain, but this isn't how you play the game. Love heals.

There's one thing about love that has always kept me going, and that is, the ability to love anything and anyone. It gave me the opportunity to have so many wonderful girlfriends, it gives me the strength I need to support my family, and it allows me to love my neighbour unconditionally. To me, the essence of love is people. The fact of the matter is, being alone sucks and sometimes its better to be with someone than without. Loneliness stems from love and the only way one understands love is to understand the loneliness that can come from it. My love life is people. I love people. I love being able to share this planet with you all. Love is mutual.

Have a Good One