I had a blast this weekend! I forgot how fun family gatherings can be. Actually, I've been thinking that this entire month. My cousin Linday celebrated her son Jayden's first birthday party in grand fashion a week back. I don't think I even had a birthday party until I was two but I digress. In typical Colombian family fashion, that party got out of hand when the salsa, merengue and cumbias started kicking off the speakers. The hall was decorated nice and the liquor and beer were almost free-flowing. I actually took a step back and saw my family and felt ashamed that I, at one time, (just before leaving the Corps) thought of never coming back to Jersey. I love them so much! I forget just how beautiful each and every single one of them are to me and how blessed I am. I know many people that don't have anyone in the world.
Fast forward to this past Saturday night. We got hammered out of our skulls and kidded around at my cousin's barbecue. Well, there really wasn't any barbecue but we were in the backyard. There was, however, ceviche and soup. Yummy! Not that we needed it. Back in the day, we all used to party because it was Tuesday. (I shit you not!) More importantly, there was a ton of beer and, even though my uncle Gene kept saying to take it easy on the Aguaardiente for fear of it running out...IT NEVER RAN THE FUCK OUT! It was like when Jesus turned water into wine or something. Then, we went to Bloomfield and Steve busted out some steaks and more beer at around 3 in the morning! It was awesome! We hadn't done that in a long time!
I took a step back there as well and realized (aside from the fact that I have a big fucking family) that I needed to spend more time with them. So, I won't balk at invitations to family gathering anymore. Well, it's not that I ever did. The problem is working at night. I think that I may actually have to get another job with better hours just so I can relish in family activities again. Either that or win the lottery or something. Family should come first, right?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Can't Wait to Finally Snap!
One day. One day I'm going to go on one hell of a killing spree. I think I should buy a gun now so as to have it at the ready. That might sound crazy but I'd rather go on a killing spree with a gun that go buck wild with my K-Bar or Buck knife. Then again, some people might actually freaking deserve it.
Case in point: That piece of shit prick that gave me an overtime parking meter ticket in West New York, NJ while my car was still running and I was in the car! You need to go, motherfucker! You need to go in a slow and agonizing way. I'm not saying I didn't merit that ticket. The meter was at zero but guess what? The motherfucking car was on and I was sitting the fuck inside it! Did I dose off? Yeah. I work nights and I was sleepy. Two points! But if you're gonna have the balls to put the ticket on my windshield with me in the car, at least have the motherfuckin' balls to knock on the window and wake me up and tell me what happened! Fucking meter maids! Fucking male meter maids too! Those motherfuckers should be packing guns themselves because people in general always want to beat down or otherwise run over a meter maid but check themselves because they're women. If that's not the case anymore, a case could be made for those "maids" to be packing heat.
While I'm on my tantrum, could the management officials in my workplace (they shall remain nameless and anonymous but you know who the fuck you are) get their collective heads out of their asses and fix at least one thing in the building. For either the sake of the tenants or the employees! Trust me! It'll work out in the end if you can, at the very least, unfuck one thing that's wrong in that building! I don't know if any of you have ever had to work inside of a sauna but that's what it feels like working in a high-rise with no air conditioning. Then you have tenants complaining to the employees (who know even less than they do at times) about the heat and lack of pool and the endless amounts of renovations, etc., and it's a miracle someone/anyone else hasn't snapped either.
I hope it's me! I hope I lose control of the little sanity I have left first! I'll release it like hounds are released after a fugitive. It'll be glorious! I already have a killing spree and path of rage set out. I won't tell any of you where. I want it to be a surprise but you'll know when it happens. It'll be on the news. Hell! I want to do such a good job that they have to activate the emergency broadcast system!
So just remember, that not only am I ready to snap, I'm not alone. We are motherfuckin' legion! Think on that! Think on that the next time you cut someone off or block an intersection because you were too fucking impatient to wait at the red light. Think on that when you don't hold the elevator for me or fuck up my coffee order. Think on that when you were a prick all throughtout dinner and ran up an $80 bill and only tipped $3. Definitely think long and hard when you're putting a ticket on the windshield of a car when all you had to do was tap on the windshield and ask for a quarter. Think and remember: We're all one bad day away from snapping and the sad part is, none of us know how close we may have already come to setting off someone else's apocalypse.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Case in point: That piece of shit prick that gave me an overtime parking meter ticket in West New York, NJ while my car was still running and I was in the car! You need to go, motherfucker! You need to go in a slow and agonizing way. I'm not saying I didn't merit that ticket. The meter was at zero but guess what? The motherfucking car was on and I was sitting the fuck inside it! Did I dose off? Yeah. I work nights and I was sleepy. Two points! But if you're gonna have the balls to put the ticket on my windshield with me in the car, at least have the motherfuckin' balls to knock on the window and wake me up and tell me what happened! Fucking meter maids! Fucking male meter maids too! Those motherfuckers should be packing guns themselves because people in general always want to beat down or otherwise run over a meter maid but check themselves because they're women. If that's not the case anymore, a case could be made for those "maids" to be packing heat.
While I'm on my tantrum, could the management officials in my workplace (they shall remain nameless and anonymous but you know who the fuck you are) get their collective heads out of their asses and fix at least one thing in the building. For either the sake of the tenants or the employees! Trust me! It'll work out in the end if you can, at the very least, unfuck one thing that's wrong in that building! I don't know if any of you have ever had to work inside of a sauna but that's what it feels like working in a high-rise with no air conditioning. Then you have tenants complaining to the employees (who know even less than they do at times) about the heat and lack of pool and the endless amounts of renovations, etc., and it's a miracle someone/anyone else hasn't snapped either.
I hope it's me! I hope I lose control of the little sanity I have left first! I'll release it like hounds are released after a fugitive. It'll be glorious! I already have a killing spree and path of rage set out. I won't tell any of you where. I want it to be a surprise but you'll know when it happens. It'll be on the news. Hell! I want to do such a good job that they have to activate the emergency broadcast system!
So just remember, that not only am I ready to snap, I'm not alone. We are motherfuckin' legion! Think on that! Think on that the next time you cut someone off or block an intersection because you were too fucking impatient to wait at the red light. Think on that when you don't hold the elevator for me or fuck up my coffee order. Think on that when you were a prick all throughtout dinner and ran up an $80 bill and only tipped $3. Definitely think long and hard when you're putting a ticket on the windshield of a car when all you had to do was tap on the windshield and ask for a quarter. Think and remember: We're all one bad day away from snapping and the sad part is, none of us know how close we may have already come to setting off someone else's apocalypse.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Keep Walking
I did a shitload of walking in the last 24 hours. Mostly through my hometown of West New York, NJ. The problem with that is that as you walk through old streets and familiar surroundings, so too do you walk that good old path of nostalgia. Sometimes, it can't be helped. Sometimes, you walk it in hopes of finding that old path. I don't know which one of the two I was trying to accomplish. All I know is that I was in another decade last night.
I left my mother's house in Union City around 10pm. on foot, so as to give myself plenty of time to walk to my job in North Bergen. (Graveyard shift.) I had crashed there the previous evening for reasons I'm embarrassed about and don't want to get into. (Forgot to pay the energy bill and my place was a sauna without the AC.) Anyway, I start walking and I start remembering.
I remembered where Time Out arcade used to be and how I used to cut class to go there and play Mortal Kombat until my eyes were about to bleed. I also remember a rainy day where me and my Crew walked there and had the time of our lives only to walk back, have some hoodlums steal my baseball cap and then introduce me to my very first right hook. Ah! Good times!
A few blocks later, I was at Memorial High School. It still looks exactly the same. God I hated that place. Still do, a little anyway. They say high school is the best four years of your life. If that's the case, I should've given a blow job to a .45 caliber the minute I got my diploma (which took me 5 years to get). I won't get into why...there are too many reasons to get into at the moment.
Anyway, I passed the school and those memories soon faded. Soon after, I took a good hard look at the town as I walked block after block and got closer to work and wondered to myself:
Besides my family and friends, I couldn't fathom why. However, they still would've been family and friends if I lived somewhere else! Why did I come back to this town where everyone walking past me gives me a hard look or a glazed one depending on how high/drunk they are; where you see idiotic things like a fat chick driving one of those economy Honda/Hyundai cars instead of walking her fat ass around to lose that weight. (That happened around 58th street. She was driving around and almost hit me as I was about to get on the crosswalk. She turned the corner and I read on the back of the car the letters F-I-T and I couldn't help to chuckle to myself, "Yeah! Just barely!" ) Where a nice little Korean couple (I can tell them apart now) actually stopped by a tree to pick the berries and eat a few. That almost made me gag considering the state we're in. I don't trust anything off of the trees in Jersey, but I digress. I kept walking the streets. Streets where a few young chicks were walking down smelling all good and dressed to the nines...in FULL HOOKER GEAR! (Yeah! I looked! Don't be stupid! You would've too!)
As I keep walking I keep wondering, "why did I come back?" And then it hits me! So I stopped around 63rd., a block away from where she used to live and I say to myself:
And as I got closer to my dead-end job, I start realizing that there really isn't anything keeping me here.
I realized, that I have to keep on walking.
I left my mother's house in Union City around 10pm. on foot, so as to give myself plenty of time to walk to my job in North Bergen. (Graveyard shift.) I had crashed there the previous evening for reasons I'm embarrassed about and don't want to get into. (Forgot to pay the energy bill and my place was a sauna without the AC.) Anyway, I start walking and I start remembering.
I remembered where Time Out arcade used to be and how I used to cut class to go there and play Mortal Kombat until my eyes were about to bleed. I also remember a rainy day where me and my Crew walked there and had the time of our lives only to walk back, have some hoodlums steal my baseball cap and then introduce me to my very first right hook. Ah! Good times!
A few blocks later, I was at Memorial High School. It still looks exactly the same. God I hated that place. Still do, a little anyway. They say high school is the best four years of your life. If that's the case, I should've given a blow job to a .45 caliber the minute I got my diploma (which took me 5 years to get). I won't get into why...there are too many reasons to get into at the moment.
Anyway, I passed the school and those memories soon faded. Soon after, I took a good hard look at the town as I walked block after block and got closer to work and wondered to myself:
Why the fuck did you come back to this town after you left the military?!
Besides my family and friends, I couldn't fathom why. However, they still would've been family and friends if I lived somewhere else! Why did I come back to this town where everyone walking past me gives me a hard look or a glazed one depending on how high/drunk they are; where you see idiotic things like a fat chick driving one of those economy Honda/Hyundai cars instead of walking her fat ass around to lose that weight. (That happened around 58th street. She was driving around and almost hit me as I was about to get on the crosswalk. She turned the corner and I read on the back of the car the letters F-I-T and I couldn't help to chuckle to myself, "Yeah! Just barely!" ) Where a nice little Korean couple (I can tell them apart now) actually stopped by a tree to pick the berries and eat a few. That almost made me gag considering the state we're in. I don't trust anything off of the trees in Jersey, but I digress. I kept walking the streets. Streets where a few young chicks were walking down smelling all good and dressed to the nines...in FULL HOOKER GEAR! (Yeah! I looked! Don't be stupid! You would've too!)
As I keep walking I keep wondering, "why did I come back?" And then it hits me! So I stopped around 63rd., a block away from where she used to live and I say to myself:
Well, if she doesn't love you anymore and you don't have a chance to get her back and you're really honest with yourself about being truly over her...then what the fuck is keeping you here?
And as I got closer to my dead-end job, I start realizing that there really isn't anything keeping me here.
I realized, that I have to keep on walking.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Answer to the Question
Understand this. I know the answer. I really do. I've known it for a long time but have chosen not to voice it because everyone will give me shit for it. Hell! Those that asked the question and heard the answer have cocked their heads to one side and given me that look. You know the one. The one that screams the question in their heads; "Are you fucking crazy?!" Sometimes, I can almost hear it in my head as if it was a psychic attack of some sort.
So what is the question, you ask? Ok. I'll tell you. The question is:
What do you want to do with your life?
Sounds like a simple one to answer right? You could ask a number of kindergarteners that question and receive a plethora of answers ranging from highly ambitious to wonderfully amusing. Ask me that and you might get a chuckle out of my answer too. That is, until you realize I'm being fucking serious.
My answer:
Nothing.
I don't just want to wither away and die. However, I really don't have any ambition to do anything except maybe write. However, like most would-be writers, I end up spending more time daydreaming about things to write instead of actually putting pen to paper. So, to clarify, it's not that I necessarily want to do be a professional vagabond. It's just that I'm disinclined to commit to anything at the moment. Sound fucked up?
I heard once somewhere that a guy stops maturing at the age where he was truly happy. If that's the case, I have the emotional maturity of a 13 year old. I was content with writing short stories, playing video games, reading comics and chasing skirts for the first time in my life. Looking back, I can honestly say that's the "nothing" I want to do with my life.
See why I get those looks now?
Normally, I'd be concerned about this. I'd go to a psychiatrist and he or she would tell me that I have to find my inner child and give it a strong dose of Ritalin. But FUCK THAT SHIT!
I've seen far too many people who have become slaves and zombies to their jobs because they don't know how to unwind; there are people that go to college for years and get a degree in something all to say, "Hey! This isn't what I wanted to do in my life!" While I know it's foolish to waste time, I don't want to end up like that. I won't.
I'm content now. Not truly happy but content. I like my comics and my video games. I'll raise a family eventually. Maybe if I find a girl who's just as into the doing nothing as I am. Until then, I'll keep dating all the dead-end crazy chicks I seem to attract with strange mutant power. Maybe I will go back to college if it suits me. Hell! I might even pen that first novel I've been saying I'm going to start...um, penning. I don't know. All I do know is that I'm not having anywhere near as much fun as I need to be having. I also know, that I can't be the only one thinking the same way.
I wonder if there's a way to do "nothing" responsibly? Work hard and be responsible whilst not losing that precious inner child.
I know the answer to the question. I never said it was the right one but it's the only one I've got at the moment.
So what is the question, you ask? Ok. I'll tell you. The question is:
What do you want to do with your life?
Sounds like a simple one to answer right? You could ask a number of kindergarteners that question and receive a plethora of answers ranging from highly ambitious to wonderfully amusing. Ask me that and you might get a chuckle out of my answer too. That is, until you realize I'm being fucking serious.
My answer:
Nothing.
I don't just want to wither away and die. However, I really don't have any ambition to do anything except maybe write. However, like most would-be writers, I end up spending more time daydreaming about things to write instead of actually putting pen to paper. So, to clarify, it's not that I necessarily want to do be a professional vagabond. It's just that I'm disinclined to commit to anything at the moment. Sound fucked up?
I heard once somewhere that a guy stops maturing at the age where he was truly happy. If that's the case, I have the emotional maturity of a 13 year old. I was content with writing short stories, playing video games, reading comics and chasing skirts for the first time in my life. Looking back, I can honestly say that's the "nothing" I want to do with my life.
See why I get those looks now?
Normally, I'd be concerned about this. I'd go to a psychiatrist and he or she would tell me that I have to find my inner child and give it a strong dose of Ritalin. But FUCK THAT SHIT!
I've seen far too many people who have become slaves and zombies to their jobs because they don't know how to unwind; there are people that go to college for years and get a degree in something all to say, "Hey! This isn't what I wanted to do in my life!" While I know it's foolish to waste time, I don't want to end up like that. I won't.
I'm content now. Not truly happy but content. I like my comics and my video games. I'll raise a family eventually. Maybe if I find a girl who's just as into the doing nothing as I am. Until then, I'll keep dating all the dead-end crazy chicks I seem to attract with strange mutant power. Maybe I will go back to college if it suits me. Hell! I might even pen that first novel I've been saying I'm going to start...um, penning. I don't know. All I do know is that I'm not having anywhere near as much fun as I need to be having. I also know, that I can't be the only one thinking the same way.
I wonder if there's a way to do "nothing" responsibly? Work hard and be responsible whilst not losing that precious inner child.
I know the answer to the question. I never said it was the right one but it's the only one I've got at the moment.
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