We all seem to have an arch-nemesis. Someone that knows how to eat at us and destroy us from the inside before they can hurt us on the outside. To the majority, the enemy is often our own insecurities.
Buffy had to deal with the First evil. Drew had to face his first temptation, Angel had to deal with Wolfram and Hart, and Pablo has to deal with his father, who is set on destroying him.
I feel like the Universe is splitting apart and reality has been compromised, and my family is in the middle of this battle between one and the other. It's the end of the world, well my world.
My dad is plotting to destroy me and get at me through the only way that he could: through my mom.
I was heading out of the house when my dad asked me a question that made me freeze. "Who's 'diablo'"? Diablo, aka Pablo Diablo, is the nickname on my yahoo screenname. I have had it for several years and like how it sounds. Diablo means Devil in spanish so my dad thinks that all I am to say that I want to be Satan when I grow up. Well, he has a computer program on the computer that will tell a person where they go on the web. My dad went to that source and was able to read my emails on my personal accounts. And what he found certainly was not the best news he had heard. First of all, need I tell you that these are my PERSONAL accounts. NOT HIS. Yet, he still managed to find a way into them and read all the emails.
He thinks that all I do when I go out is fuck. Well that is not entirely true. I do hook up, but it's not an every night affair--to confess, last week I hooked up maybe once. I go to my best friends house where I can let loose and feel free from gay oppression. I don't tell them that because they don't like the guy that I hang out with. So I say that I spend time at a friend's house in Pacific Beach.
When I came out to him, he was obviously not happy. he was really disappointed. He told me that I was basically a failure, a disappointment, and worst of all: a mistake. He vows that he will continue to bash me and everything that I stand for and do everything in his power to gather evidence to take to my mom to hurt her. I had to put on a face to show that I am not going to allow myself to be defeated by this man.
He has never really been my favorite person, I have tried loving him. That is the reason behind my insecurities, I never really had my father encourage me to do anything. He was always the quiet one that would always be so busy doing yardwork or cleaning up something that he never really bothered to talk to me. Now he is doing everything in his power to hurt me. And that means gathering evidence to show to my mom. TO make her cry and make everything be my fault. Something that seems to follow me like a relentless ex-lover.
When does it become right that a father wants to destroy his son? I mean, besides ANGEL. And to make it worse, I am still living in this house. This house that has suddenly turned very cold and unwelcoming. It's like they all know my secret. One thing that is for sure, even though I know I am going to lose this final battle, I am not going to stand down and let them hurt me; I am going to fight back in every possible way that I can. I am not afraid of them anymore. I have the support of my very close friends and godmother so even if two people that I have spent loving my entire life say they don't love me anymore, I have the love of other people to support me. And that is something that they can't take away.
They can take my home away, they can try to take things that are supposed to represent what I am as a homosexual, they can even take away my finances. But one thing that they can never take away from me is my Pride. My proud stance to be a homosexual. I mean if they think that playing the tough love card will help: it's not. It is actually giving me reasons to run even further away from what they taught me. It makes me love being me more. Don't they even learn this from the Bible? When a Christian martyr is well, martyred, more spring up from this. More tend to come out of this. The same can be said with me, the more pain they give me, the more welcomed I feel within the gay community. Sometimes their reasoning is not always the best. But hopefully over time, they can learn to forgive and love me again.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
My Own Worst Enemy
Strong. Fuerte. Forte. Strong Suit. The elements to relying someone. They gotta be strong. For me, this is the central aspect to my world. And the people to tell me this for the first time in my life was a gay couple.
For people that have read my previous blogs: The Virus, this will be review for you. But let me explain to the new readers.
After experiencing my first breakup, discovering a family secret, and being in trouble with the school's administration for writing graphic and offensive blogs, my physical, spiritual, and willed body just gave up. I went into a catatonic state where it was all about fighting these trios of guilt. In my head, my brain went on repeat where three thoughts in my head, all beginning with an "if only..." and ending with a "...it's all your fault."
In my identity, I have found out that I am my own worst enemy. No one can understand the pain like I can, no one can hurt me like I can. At times, I can put myself under torture without mercy. And I did that for a year. Until, I had a hook up...well not necessarily a hook up. It turned out to be more than just that.
These guys offered me a massage. For free. In my head, i thought they were going to be wanting a threesome. So I was shaking and nervous. When they got me on their table, I found out they were Christian. When i found that out, I word-vomited all over them, basically telling them my pain and triumphs as they were healing me of my knots and kinks in my muscles.
Three hours later, they said something that totally refined the way I work. "After hearing your story, it's clear to us that you are a strong individual. You have gone through so much pain, yet you are still standing, you are one of the strongest people we have met." It was on that day that I discovered my power...my gift. I am strong.
Looking back on my life, I never realized how strong I really am. I survived every single trial that would befall me. I would be determined and finish the challenge while blowing the smoke off my gun.
No one ever really told me that I was strong, they would only tell me the cliched phrase: "you can do it."
It reminds me of that scene in one of my favorite "comedies" The Devil Wears Prada. Andy becomes frustrated with Miranda treating her unfairly, so she vents to Miranda's creative voice. After she vents to him, he replies with a simple "so quit." She is shocked with his quick reply. He explains himself. "Millions of girls will kill to have your job, she can find another girl like that." This became the catalyst in the story to do her very best and be strong and overcome Miranda's overly ridiculous demands.
It is also clear to me that we all have a gift. We are all our own superhero and our own villian. We can be the destruction to our lives or be the one to bring us out of our own woods. I am not pushing my religion on you, but God brought me those guys to bring me out of the woods, because I was not yet aware of my power. So it would be kinda weird to say that they are my Super[Gay]Friends...I just don't seem to know which one is Wonder Woman and who is Aquaman.
For people that have read my previous blogs: The Virus, this will be review for you. But let me explain to the new readers.
After experiencing my first breakup, discovering a family secret, and being in trouble with the school's administration for writing graphic and offensive blogs, my physical, spiritual, and willed body just gave up. I went into a catatonic state where it was all about fighting these trios of guilt. In my head, my brain went on repeat where three thoughts in my head, all beginning with an "if only..." and ending with a "...it's all your fault."
In my identity, I have found out that I am my own worst enemy. No one can understand the pain like I can, no one can hurt me like I can. At times, I can put myself under torture without mercy. And I did that for a year. Until, I had a hook up...well not necessarily a hook up. It turned out to be more than just that.
These guys offered me a massage. For free. In my head, i thought they were going to be wanting a threesome. So I was shaking and nervous. When they got me on their table, I found out they were Christian. When i found that out, I word-vomited all over them, basically telling them my pain and triumphs as they were healing me of my knots and kinks in my muscles.
Three hours later, they said something that totally refined the way I work. "After hearing your story, it's clear to us that you are a strong individual. You have gone through so much pain, yet you are still standing, you are one of the strongest people we have met." It was on that day that I discovered my power...my gift. I am strong.
Looking back on my life, I never realized how strong I really am. I survived every single trial that would befall me. I would be determined and finish the challenge while blowing the smoke off my gun.
No one ever really told me that I was strong, they would only tell me the cliched phrase: "you can do it."
It reminds me of that scene in one of my favorite "comedies" The Devil Wears Prada. Andy becomes frustrated with Miranda treating her unfairly, so she vents to Miranda's creative voice. After she vents to him, he replies with a simple "so quit." She is shocked with his quick reply. He explains himself. "Millions of girls will kill to have your job, she can find another girl like that." This became the catalyst in the story to do her very best and be strong and overcome Miranda's overly ridiculous demands.
It is also clear to me that we all have a gift. We are all our own superhero and our own villian. We can be the destruction to our lives or be the one to bring us out of our own woods. I am not pushing my religion on you, but God brought me those guys to bring me out of the woods, because I was not yet aware of my power. So it would be kinda weird to say that they are my Super[Gay]Friends...I just don't seem to know which one is Wonder Woman and who is Aquaman.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Drug House
Storytime! Location. Interior. Starbucks Cafe - Day
A little girl with her grandma holding hands. They stand there looking at the menu. I turn around to fix some coffee for the soon approaching rush. When I hear a little voice speak. "Can I get a Grande white mocha with two pumps of white mocha, half-caf, non-fat, whip cream, and at 140 degrees."
I turn around to write the order down. I look at the grandma as I am writing the order down on the cup. I pass the cup and take the order and replied "okay ma'am. what is your granddaughter getting?"
The grandma replied: "That's not my drink, it's hers. I just want a regular coffee."
I looked at the little girl and she gives me a cheery little cute smile. The kind that you see in the Limited Too posters.
I am probably one of the many people to say that I am appalled at how addicted to coffee we have become. We have become so dependent on that extra boost to get us through the day that without it, we are just sluggish, grumpy folk. And the sad part? I am encouraging this to continue.
Starbucks has become the Legal Drug House in America. I am not a barista, but a drug dealer. Except instead of making a Benjamin for an ounce of drugs, I make 8.25 an hour, plus tips.
You go to AMPM and see a whole fridge window dedicated to Monsters, Rock Stars, and Red Bulls. Sure it gives you wings, but it also comes with an S+M chain that makes you the caffeine's bitch.
People are no longer driven on the high of life, but on the high of the latte. Sure it's okay to have it every now and then, but three times a day? No way.
A little girl with her grandma holding hands. They stand there looking at the menu. I turn around to fix some coffee for the soon approaching rush. When I hear a little voice speak. "Can I get a Grande white mocha with two pumps of white mocha, half-caf, non-fat, whip cream, and at 140 degrees."
I turn around to write the order down. I look at the grandma as I am writing the order down on the cup. I pass the cup and take the order and replied "okay ma'am. what is your granddaughter getting?"
The grandma replied: "That's not my drink, it's hers. I just want a regular coffee."
I looked at the little girl and she gives me a cheery little cute smile. The kind that you see in the Limited Too posters.
I am probably one of the many people to say that I am appalled at how addicted to coffee we have become. We have become so dependent on that extra boost to get us through the day that without it, we are just sluggish, grumpy folk. And the sad part? I am encouraging this to continue.
Starbucks has become the Legal Drug House in America. I am not a barista, but a drug dealer. Except instead of making a Benjamin for an ounce of drugs, I make 8.25 an hour, plus tips.
You go to AMPM and see a whole fridge window dedicated to Monsters, Rock Stars, and Red Bulls. Sure it gives you wings, but it also comes with an S+M chain that makes you the caffeine's bitch.
People are no longer driven on the high of life, but on the high of the latte. Sure it's okay to have it every now and then, but three times a day? No way.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Resolution
January Second. The gym is packed. It pisses me off sometimes with these people that make half-serious proclamations that they are going to lose weight and fit into the size six or their little yellow-polka-dot bikini by summer.
New Year. A new resolution. To some, a resolution is a revolution that contains half-true promises to help you not drink yourself to death. The gym right now, is full of these people going with the most popular half-true promises: getting in shape. The club attendance almost doubles as hopefuls come into the gym looking to fulfill their promise. And it pisses me off.
First of all, let me say this about myself: I am an honest person. If you are pissing me off, you will know. If you see me getting close and telling you confessions, you will know. But seriously, these people do not know how to work out.
I give it about two weeks before they come crawling back to their McDonalds while sipping on their Starbucks latte joking to their friends: "Better luck next year right? I mean I am dieting right now, I have a Caramel Frappichino Light. Next year...next year..."
New Year. A new resolution. To some, a resolution is a revolution that contains half-true promises to help you not drink yourself to death. The gym right now, is full of these people going with the most popular half-true promises: getting in shape. The club attendance almost doubles as hopefuls come into the gym looking to fulfill their promise. And it pisses me off.
First of all, let me say this about myself: I am an honest person. If you are pissing me off, you will know. If you see me getting close and telling you confessions, you will know. But seriously, these people do not know how to work out.
I give it about two weeks before they come crawling back to their McDonalds while sipping on their Starbucks latte joking to their friends: "Better luck next year right? I mean I am dieting right now, I have a Caramel Frappichino Light. Next year...next year..."
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Superheroes
As a writer, I am to be honest and open to talk about whatever comes on my mind. I am to expose myself like Britney Spears coming out of a limo. It may feel uncomfortable at times, but it's in times that we are left vulnerable and bleeding do we become stronger. Don't get me wrong, I am not implying massochism or cutting yourself. I am implying to be open and honest with one another. Something that I was trying to convey in my last blog that got me in trouble.
Life is too short to hide yourself in a closet, a purse, or from the rest of the world to see. I know that for a fact, considering the demons I have had to encounter.
When you are born into this world, you are faced with alot of hardship. You have to endure the hardships of not finding a peach crayon but finding too many orange ones; not getting enough candy for Valentines, getting socks for Christmas, or having the kids torture you mercilessly with taunts and jeers. As you encounter the double digits in the teen years, your body goes through changes and you get the shit scared out of you when you find hair in unexpectedly; discovering your new ability to yodel as your voice changes almost as bad as Peter Brady in the Brady Bunch; having your first crush and learning the pain in learning that although she likes you, she only sees you as a friend and nothing else. We live during these years first loving our parents (varies within each life though), you see your parents as being the superheroes in your life. In your teen years, you hate your parents because they just don't understand; when they try to understand, you think they are dorks for dressing up hip and are embarrassed by what legnths they are trying to go to to open a channel of communication between a child with father/mother.
Then you hit your twenties, you think you are indestructible. Nothing can get to you, because, hell, you are twenty one and you can drink and stay up all night nailing all the sex partners possible. You can cum multiple times in one night (not speaking from personal experience of course). But it can all end in just one flash.
I realized this in several ways. A couple of months ago, one of my friends was killed in a motorcycle accident. Although I was not as close to him compared to the others attending his funeral, but death felt really real that day. In relations to my own identity, death is something that is very much apart of me. Not saying that the people I love are going to die, but rather saying that it is inevitable part of me that I can't avoid but learn to deal with. Just because I am twenty-two does not mean I am some superhero flying around. Even superheroes die, look at Captain America and Superman. They all have weaknesses. But in the meantime, learning that as being apart of my own identity, I learn to have fun and learn to get as much from life as I can. Hence the reason why I am blogging, so that those that are reading can not make the same mistakes that I have made in my life.
Life is too short to hide yourself in a closet, a purse, or from the rest of the world to see. I know that for a fact, considering the demons I have had to encounter.
When you are born into this world, you are faced with alot of hardship. You have to endure the hardships of not finding a peach crayon but finding too many orange ones; not getting enough candy for Valentines, getting socks for Christmas, or having the kids torture you mercilessly with taunts and jeers. As you encounter the double digits in the teen years, your body goes through changes and you get the shit scared out of you when you find hair in unexpectedly; discovering your new ability to yodel as your voice changes almost as bad as Peter Brady in the Brady Bunch; having your first crush and learning the pain in learning that although she likes you, she only sees you as a friend and nothing else. We live during these years first loving our parents (varies within each life though), you see your parents as being the superheroes in your life. In your teen years, you hate your parents because they just don't understand; when they try to understand, you think they are dorks for dressing up hip and are embarrassed by what legnths they are trying to go to to open a channel of communication between a child with father/mother.
Then you hit your twenties, you think you are indestructible. Nothing can get to you, because, hell, you are twenty one and you can drink and stay up all night nailing all the sex partners possible. You can cum multiple times in one night (not speaking from personal experience of course). But it can all end in just one flash.
I realized this in several ways. A couple of months ago, one of my friends was killed in a motorcycle accident. Although I was not as close to him compared to the others attending his funeral, but death felt really real that day. In relations to my own identity, death is something that is very much apart of me. Not saying that the people I love are going to die, but rather saying that it is inevitable part of me that I can't avoid but learn to deal with. Just because I am twenty-two does not mean I am some superhero flying around. Even superheroes die, look at Captain America and Superman. They all have weaknesses. But in the meantime, learning that as being apart of my own identity, I learn to have fun and learn to get as much from life as I can. Hence the reason why I am blogging, so that those that are reading can not make the same mistakes that I have made in my life.
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