all i ever do is think.
i over think and over analyze.
is everyone like that.
or is it just me.
is it an issue.
it feels like one, or at least it has for the past hour or so, because my analytical brain becomes overwhelmed when a lot of things are happening. i lose myself. my personality becomes blank and boring in hectic environments.
maybe this is a unique condition.
if i lived in old testament times i think i would be called to go out and live in the desert. i constantly feel like i lose a sense of who i am. i don't like feeling like that - lost. i feel like a boy going through puberty. i've talked about wanting to be older and wiser just to know who i am, and stop rambling and be certain of who i am. to actually have meaningful words to write. i think that is a characteristic of older folk. i've never read anything by an older writer pathetically trying to figure out who they are. i think the best writing and art come from old people.
fake it till you make it... yes! that's what i was going to scribble about today.
WOMBOLOGY... The study of WOMBO! It's first grade, SpongeBob.
I've been thinking about how hard Christian's are on themselves... I think a lot of Christian's don't get affirming words like, "good job" or, "keep it up." I think it's a real humbling thing that goes around some Christian communities but I think that if they (or WE) did build up a little more confidence.. and knew how useful they are... the world would be a lot different.
I think it's import to remember what every children's book tells us, that through Christ, we are the hope and the light of this world.
But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
I finished listening to the John Piper CD. I liked that he said that American's always ask, "Are my children safe?" when we should be in the darkest of places shining truth. Man, I needa' wake up and stop complaining about not being able to read comfortably because my parents come in to ask a favor. Instead, I need to be grateful that it aint' someone putting a gun to my head for reading my bible.
The Truth Project film I saw Friday night at Destino was also about American perceptions. In High School, I had the biggest pessimist Government teacher. He had absolutely no hope for America, or so he said... that and taking the other U.S. History classes where we are taught about fighting savages and being an "overbearing" country made me not give two cents about my country. However, the video taught about the founding fathers, the constitution and how it all was clear about making anyone who had power know they are in no shape bigger than God...
On Wednesday morning I woke up and sat on my bed with my extra large font bible on my lap and my laptop open writing away when my mom came into my room and showed me what she had boughten to resell at the flea-market and began chatting away about the overpriced hair clips her "vecina" sells.
I was really irritated by her intrusion. Not because she was walking in on my time with God or anything like that... I just feel like every time I take one step forward into trying to get out of this stupid pit full of shame and denial, one of my family members does something to hinder my productivity. I want them to be considerate but where's my consideration for my parents?
Why do I become so aggressive and hostile when they need a favor? I hate when my dad asks me to cook something for him because I feel like he has the capability of cooking for himself and besides, he never cooked for me as a kid!
I'm such a jerk.
I want them to understand. I think a solution for this is to have study hours regularly like say 7 am - 9 am and tell them, "this is my time with God so don't bug me," but while I'm doing other things like reading a book or writing my novel, "Eastern Caracals," I can put that aside no matter what and be sacrificial with my time to serve them lovingly. Bible study reminded me of that... it reminded me of what Jesus did despite being LORD!
Who am I? What's wrong with me! I set so many standards when I know that I am not entitled to anything! I need to stop being such a spoiled and arrogant child who wants everyone to be fair and catering to his needs.
"There's good in being an introvert but you need to draw the line when you become isolated."
Last Day I attended Church was June 10th.
Last Day I attended a Destino meeting was June 4th.
Last Day I attended Summer School was June 8th.
Last Day I showed up at work was June 16th.
Last Day I went to Crossfit was April 23rd.
I don't know why I didn't feel like doing anything. I didn't go anywhere because I simply didn't want to go. I didn't want to be around anyone who doesn't care to know me. I wanted to be by myself because I can sit down and write until I figure out who I am.
I didn't go camping with my sister. I didn't go to Schilitterbahn with my other sister. I didn't go to my nephew's baseball tournament in Houston. I wanted to be home reading, writing or watching netflix.
This weekend I decided I would force myself to go with my family to a Quinceanera. It didn't feel like the traditional Quince... They had a piece of turkey with ham, a tiny sour bread roll and pasta; to drink, they poured pink lemonade. They had some wack hip-hop group for entertainment. So that sucked. Afterwards, my sister invited me to go bowling with her co-workers. I did horrible against my drunk competition. I just wanted to come home.
Sunday night I bumped in with my campus ministry leader outside of H-E-B and the guilt I have inside for blocking messages, deleting Facebook and not showing up to the outreach meeting I arranged in May, began to vomit promises and commitments.
On Monday, I skipped school and Destino just to be alone at my house.
On Tuesday, I forced myself to come to school. I was outside of the Communication's lab reading Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground when an old friend hissed at me and I blew her off because I was reading... but (thankfully) she came and kicked my foot and as expected, she called me out on skipping church and skipping Destino but I didn't lie; I confessed that I just didn't feel like going but I was going to force myself and go next Monday. Then, she informs me that we were going to be meeting every day this week and yet again, I commit to go.
"I'll go if you go. You picking me up!?"
"Yes," I replied to her.
Afterwards, I met up with another friend at the UTPA chapel. She asked me why I haven't gone to Destino, Church or school and what's going on because there has to be something gnawing at me inside something that provokes laziness, rebellion and isolation... and I replied... I don't know... because I honestly don't.
It was 6:50 when my friend reminds me about the promise... if I was on my way to pick her up. I went to Destino Tuesday Night. Man, an apologetics film spoke to me... it spoke about selfishness! I forgot that I can no longer do what I want to do. I know what I'm called to do and I know who I'm called to be and for that I am so sorry. As I sat in the back watching the film I looked around to see everyone. I looked and saw the faces that are willing to open up with me it was then when I was sorry for abandoning them. I'm sorry for being ungrateful for the group and to the group that has blessed me with truth for three years. I admitted to everyone that I was forced to be there but this group is great there was popcorn flying out of the butter with comments like "I frequently feel like not coming either" and "I don't feel like coming a lot of the times but everything changes once I'm out of the house."
After the meeting I wanted to go home but one of the guys said, "Worship at Bill Schupp!"
While we shifted some items from my car to another's, I spoke to our staff member. He said to me, "There's good in being an introvert but you need to draw the line when you become isolated." I smiled while looking at my car's tires... and he is right. And I tried looking for every reason I've already written down and spitting them out so quickly that some of my "reasons" or excuses for avoiding everyone were fumbling out of our conversations. I said that I was angry at myself for always straying. I said that perhaps the reason why is because I feel like I haven't really connected with anyone, that the only one I connected with from the group on a real level was the only person who showed any interest in spending time with me and she went home to Robstown and left me here... friendless. I have no reason to come anymore because I haven't shared anything with anyone else because I would be giving them power.
He shared a scenario where he had to be vulnerable because he loves this person that much... and he was right... I do love this group, I just don't want to be vulnerable with them (what a contradiction!)
On our way home, my friend asked that she didn't know who the person that was driving the car was. She said she remembers a guy that is full of joy... a guy that was the most committed of the group that was so reliable and always giving. I said I've been angry at myself because I remember who I was... and I hate myself because I don't want it. I don't like that there isn't any passion in the things that I do for Christ and asked what was the point of doing things if I was going to be doing them with an attitude that is full of misery. She reminded me that we aren't called to sit on our asses and do nothing either. She reminded me of that great love that sacrificed Himself, she said as a believer, the name Jesus will cure the deepest depression.. and I felt so much steam of angst and stress leave when I whispered the name, "Jesus" while she continued to talk.
As she leaves my car, I insert the CD my staff leader loan me. When I was driving in the comfort of my loneliness, I began to sob... it was random... I don't know why I felt like crying. Crying felt weird... I began praying while the CD began to work. It was John Piper sharing stories of stage fright. Then I began to laugh when he said he began hyperventilating when he had to take a communications class.
When I got home I struggled to sleep... I was replaying everything in my mind... analyzing everything...
Create in me a clean heart, O God, renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and uphold me with a willing spirit.
I skipped school after I promised myself I would go. Even after waking up at 4:30 am.
I was painting!
I went over my house's living room and kitchen again. On Saturday morning, my sister and I spontaneously decided to do a house makeover. We started with painting our boring white walls.
We didn't tell mom or dad because we knew they would disagree with our choice of colors. We got that deep red and dark gray. That red has been a little nipple twister. I APPLIED THE FOURTH COATING TODAY!
I also made mom ditch a Television that looks like an ancient time traveling machine (I have one in my room) but she's had a brand new flat screen since February resting in the box my sister got it in... She was too comfortable with her TV stand that is bigger than our whole living room.
She gave me the following excuse when I asked her to get rid of it last night:
Today is Monday and the fourth week of Summer School. That means there's been 15 class days and I attended the first 5 days (4 cause professor Williamson was in Paris) and the Friday of the second week which was 5 minutes long.
I'm going this week though.
I haven't read much. I've read a chapter of Notes from Underground.
He grabbed her neck like mom would get Mischief before he was dipped into his bathtub filled with cat soap.
Only a coward...
Now, I would suck at any sort of counseling dealing with abuse because the emotion that is boldest is anger. I think that digging into the psychology of the abuser is a damn excuse for the damn coward.
6/23/12
There is no excuse to fight.
I think that domestic abuse is such a disgusting thing. Whether it is physical or not.
I don't understand many things about abuse but one thing I know is that it is wrong and if anyone has witnessed their sisters, their nephews, their children being abused or abusing someone, you MUST help them.
I'm telling you first hand, if I witness my dad hit my mom, my dad would be behind bars in a damn millisecond.
If I ever see my brother hit his wife, after he gets an ass beating from me, he too will find himself behind bars.
If I know that my sisters are ever hurt by their husbands... and my nephews witnessed their dad beat their mom, I will call the cops and CPS myself.
There is no excuse for fighting. Women shouldn't fight with their husbands or lay their hands on them either.
They should treat one another with respect.
If someone doesn't know how to appropriately handle their anger, they are not ready for a relationship... and are most definitely not ready for children.
These two tall blonde white guys along with a short Mexican guy rode their bikes and decided to stop in front of my yard.
Our conversation went no where after they said they were going to unite my family... that they were the answer to my prayers. They told me to have faith that God had personally sent them to my house... I believed that though... no question that God had me sitting outside the same minute these three fellows came strollin', however, these guys were confident that they were going to solve every problem my family has so what I told them was...
Stupid smirks... my stank eyes.. It irritated me so much man and i'm mad about it... i'm mad that i couldn't reflect jesus in speach. I was angry that they talked to me like I was foolish for following "dead" Jesus. i wasn't intimidated though. i'm happy for dr. grant's theology class.
one thing i can learn from this is whenever I evangelize i need to talk to people like we are equal... because we are. even writing about these "mormons" i called them fools several times but they aren't fools... they're my brothers.
Grace... Grace sure is beautiful. We don't understand her because Grace is so pure... she is innocent... naive to anything outside of herself. We don't deserve her... but that's what she is, isn't she?
A gift that NO ONE deserves from God.
A gift to deadbeats, wife beaters, murderers, cannibals, sex addicts, drug addicts...
I worked Friday & Saturday of Father's Day weekend and man was it a different experience from Mother's Day weekend. It is almost as if there isn't any fathers in the valley.
I am not an expert in any of these issues, but lacking a father figure is a factor in: gang violence, lack of education (school drop out), teen parenting and addiction.
Dads around the valley should be appreciated for being examples.
I am grateful for my dad. I think many situations about my upbringing are unclear but I thank God for allowing me to have an Earthly father. I can't imagine having anyone else as a dad. He allowed me to do things that i'm sure many others wouldn't have; he let me express myself to the extreme when I was in High School and Junior High. His friends and my cousins looked at him oddly when they saw me.
Anyone who's known me long enough knows what I'm talking about. I'm not ashamed of any of it. I had major guts. I genuinely didn't care about anyone or anything. I miss that. In school, what made me happy was solitude. I've never had many close friends and that is why my family is such an important variable to my character.
I've touched on some of the issues I have with my dad but its all b.s. because we all have faults and I've been a worst son than he's been a dad.
We continued to work on the desk today. It just needs the shelves and another two layers of stain.... :D!
Since pretty much this whole post is about Father's Day, I was wondering why Abraham was so "blessed" if he was a deadbeat.
Was it ok because God fathered poor little Ishmael?
When I began taking creative writing classes at a University, tackling a bible story or retelling it frightened me. Fear struck because I was afraid of being unprepared; not knowing enough about the biblical passage. It wasn't until I took a Bible in Literature class when I found certain outlets for this. It was because of the way these writers dodged cares about giving wings to their imagination. It was inspiring and the techniques from writer to writer varied.
One of the writers in our class readings was the author Jorge Luis Borges. In one of his works, titled “Legend,” Borges creates an amazing story out of a biblical passage in Genesis 4:1-16. The story in the bible tells us that Cain and Abel were brothers and that God in some way accepted Abel’s offerings and not Cain’s. Ultimately, the bible says that Cain killed Abel on a field. What Borges does, however, was give a twist to this passage. He creates a narrative between the brothers after Abel’s death – perhaps afterlife. The writer goes on to make the reader imagine that in afterlife, Abel has forgotten the incident until Cain begins to ask for forgiveness. I thought this was extremely clever in many ways. In one way, Borges very subtlety hints that Abel might rethink his relationship with his brother. In another, Borges explores the guilt of the “evil” brother. It makes the reader identify with both characters because of its depiction of reality; reality being that no one is one-hundred percent good or one-hundred percent bad.
Another writer I want to mention is Dan Pagis. Pagis wrote “Autobiography,” which was a poem fictionally narrated by Abel. It begins to vividly picture Abel’s burial. “If my family is famous, not a little of the credit goes to me,” the writer paints a picture of bitterness in the character. He states that he feels like he has been forgotten (perhaps in scripture and throughout generations). The bible no longer references his death after Genesis and he writes that Cain continued to be talked about when he multiplied while his body remained in the soil of the earth. Ending the poem, Pagis taunts the readers with Abel’s intentions of getting his brother back. “His legions desert him and go over to me, and even this is only half a revenge.”
In Gertrude Landa’s “Jewish Fairy Tale: Giant of the Flood,” Landa creates an imaginary tale about Noah’s hard decision in receiving the Giant Og’s help in boarding a large unicorn. He retells the story as if Noah was faced with the decision of doing an impossible task which was to get a gigantic unicorn onto the Arc. Noah was hesitant at first because biblically, giants are demons. However, after a long mournful plea to be saved, Noah ends up helping Og be saved and Og helped Noah board the Unicorn. What I can steal from Landa’s tale is the writer’s creative imaginative story telling. The way Gertrude told the story was without fear of being wrong and wasn’t ashamed of telling the story according to his imagination.
A fourth story I was inspired to model my writing after was Itsik Manger’s poem “Hagar’s Last Night in Abraham’s House.” The bible talks about God’s promise to Abraham and a prophecy of Abraham receiving a son. In Genesis 21:14, Abraham sends Hagar – a slave woman away along with Abraham’s son out of wedlock son. Now, Manger gives his poem a twist by giving the slave woman a twist and making a villain out of Abraham. After all, Abraham did abandon his duties of being a father and raising his child. The poem projects Abraham’s wife, Sarah, as an angry wife who demands Hagar to leave. What Manger does in his poem is give the story an edge by adding elements of modern day relevance. Also, Manger writes about Hagar’s true attachment to Abraham and her sentimental state of mind while she is being kicked out.
What I believe is a solution to getting over my fear of being wrong is trying to explore the possibilities of what might have happened and being clear about my creative inventions. The writers we read about in class took on many minor incidents in the bible. They gave a voice to characters in the bible who never had one. It gave a voice to women who never were seen as more than property. I can model one of my poem’s after Itsik Manger’s “Hagar’s Last Night in Abraham’s House,” and give a voice to a woman in the bible; perhaps the female fortune teller in Acts 16 where Paul and Silas become irritated with her and banish the prophetic fortunetelling demon out of the slave woman. I think this is an amazing way of incorporating the bible into my writing; I can also attempt to model a poem or short story after Jorge Luis Borges’s “Legend” and giving a voice to a character in the bible that isn’t understood – Judas Iscariot’s feelings on betraying Jesus.
Friday was disappointing. I ended the last published blog with something around the lines of "I'm not ditching my dad." Well, he ditched me. X____X I feel pretty lame and want to put it down... butttttttttttt.... I promised myself I wasn't going to take down anything I wrote this summer.
After being at Matt's Cash & Carry, Lowe's and The Home Depot since 3:oo pm, we came home at about 5:3o pm and ate bowls full of mom's Caldo de Res. Howevah, before I was even done eating, he (dad) took off and said, "te miro alrato," and closed the door. I resumed... (well, I never really stopped) eating.
Once I got an extra corn and potato, I sat outside with my panting dog and my sleeping dead fat cats and waited for my dad to come home.
6:oo pm
6:2o pm
6:45 pm
7:1o pm
I got up off the swing chair and gathered all the equipment: hand saw, hammer, pencil, ext. cord.
By 7:3o pm I grabbed my sweat soaked phone from my pocket and called him... (I'm not going to drag this out anymore cause it's starting to piss me off again.) He was with his rancher friends probably watching his rooster get the shit beat out of. Anyway, a tantrum later ~~~~ which included me throwing the nailed boards, throwing cages and freeing enslaved chickens (idiots didn't go anywhere cause they've never been out of their 2x2 sq ft cages & it was getting dark) and wondering why he's always ditched me, why he's always ran to father my elder cousins, why he coached them and never tried to push me to join a sport, how he was super anal about me and my mom caring for my nephew when he was here, why I always make up things to do to spend time with him (like this stupid ass desk project which made me spend over 2oo dollars and the Spurs season tickets) ~~~~ I decided to try and build the desk myself. I blasted up music in the garage and flipped the desk into its place and began mapping out the plan.
Sat. 6.16.12
I woke up at 8:oo am to open up the store.
Got home.
Napped.
Repented and prayed about my anger.
After this, my dad asked me to help him with the desk. I was angry and said, "no." I recut almost everything I cut by myself yesterday and was stuck again. I swallowed my pride and asked dad to help me... I'm glad I did!
We've been meaning to build a desk for quite some time... (I bought supplies in March!) I made him get out of bed Tuesday morning when he heard the table saw turn on. I skipped school Tuesday and Wednesday but it was well worth it.
The fear of losing my parents is always there and I want a hand full of knowledge to be passed down to me.
My mom is a beast at gardening, sewing and a master genius in the kitchen! I've spent so much time with my mom growing up that I've adapted some of her art. I put together a little shirt for my dog using her sewing machine in April and I've known how to make flour tortillas for years.
However, I haven't learned a lot of things from my dad. I was raised primarily by my momma. Up until I was five, my dad wasn't around much. He was always at my cousin's games. (I'm probably an awesome uncle cause of my dad, huh?) My dad was a full time carpenter, plumber, gardener, extinguisher... He's always had a job, the same one. He worked for an older man named Don Hartshorn and his chinese wife Shinshaw Wakamoto.... kidding she's from Singapore but her name is Nancy.
Anyway, so when my dad got home around 4:30 pm, he was always dead tired. I had the opportunity to learn things from him during the summers right after sixth, seventh and eighth grade. Those summer days were spent working/painting a fence that was about two miles long. It was awesome. I got to spend it with my dad's co-worker's sons and my childhood/neighborhood best friends. There, I learned how to use a nail gun, how to paint and everything there is to know about how to make paint brushes last long.
My dad has been unemployed since my senior year of high school and since then, I've gotten to know him better. I bought 2010-2011 season tickets for the Spurs and when we had gas money we went. I invited some friends a couple of times but I ended up ignoring them because I couldn't ditch my dad. Sorry.
The sun's morning rays didn't hit the covered walkways at the Flea Market in Alamo, TX when the redheaded Latina employee, Olga, struggled to lift the rusty roll up doors. When she was in, she busted out a large bowl and placed it in the sink while she allowed hot water to run, she squirted soap and some clorox into the bowl. Once the bowl was full, she threw in a towel in it and with it began to wipe down her cutting board that had dead flies and fried roaches.
"Buenos Dias, Vecina!" she told the 1300 B sellers who were displaying big plastic flower hair accessories. "Como amanecio, Vecina?" Julia replied while she walked away towards her stationed truck avoiding a reply from talkative Olga.
Mariana, Olga's heavier co-worker, was walking by and bumped Julia's table with her big hips.
"Estoy bien cansada," Mariana told Olga.
"I am too, I've been up since three in the morning getting my viejo's lonche ready," Olga replied while scrubbing the greased grill.
