My Life

Alternate perspective,it needs a LOT of reworking, but it’s 4 in the morning, give me a break. I’ll work on it later… But first, I wanna say something…

If you’re reading this, there’s a note for you at the end of this.

Distance

I watch as my fingers dart to the numbers of my cell phone; 4,#,6,3,3,3,#,1,3,8,4,2,3. #9,6,8,#3,7,3,3? I n-e-e-d a-d-v-i-c-e. Y-o-u f-r-e-e-?  Send. I can hardly believe how much of an instinct it is. I barely think about it.

Send to: Travis

I really do miss him. I wish things weren’t so one sided with him. If I don’t start a conversation, we don’t talk. He doesn’t call when he says he will, and I wish I knew why. He says it’s my boyfriend, but I don’t believe him. He thinks I don’t understand him, but I do, at least more than he gives me credit for.

I take a few steps toward my car, I glance back at the building I work. How did I end up here? Dealing with a boss I don’t like, it’s always so busy… At least for another couple of days. I’m already tired of this routine.

*Beep*

I open up my phone.

1 New Text Message From Travis.

I smile. I’m here for you always, dear. What do you need?

I smile as the word dear runs through my mind. He sounds like an old man. I don’t understand our relationship. We’ve never been that close, but somehow I always feel as if he’s right around the corner, waiting for me to walk over to him so he can sweep me off my feet. There’s always been something different. Something special. What is it?

I cycle through my contacts until I reach his name. I pause for a minute. Not yet, I don’t think I can talk to him.

He’s so sweet. It’s so weird to see what the shy kid I had such a big crush on so many years ago evolved into. He’s so much stronger now, more confident. I feel like I could be so happy with him, but I’m too afraid to leave…

I see myself in the mirror. Why do I look so unhappy?

I love him, I really do. There’s just been something missing for so long. Something always feels not quite right with him. I know that I need to end things, but I’m too scared. To end things would mean I am alone. At least with him I know what to expect, there is safety in that. There is no comfort in loneliness, in uncertainty, in chance. I want to take the chance, but I don’t. I don’t wanna fuck up the things I have in my life right now for the things I want but might never get.

I look around the parking lot. Where the fuck am I? I wonder if I made the wrong decision to come here. If I stayed so I can cling onto my past rather than plunging myself into the big unknown. Could I handle it? Why do we have to move on…

I wonder what I would do if Travis lived here. I’m almost scared to think about it. I would have to be with one, and it would hurt the other. I want them both. I couldn’t imagine hurting either of them. One which is an unknown mystery, full of unreasoned passion and past bonds, the other a constant, a feeling of safety and certainty. There’s something missing with him, but would there be something missing with Travis?

I glance down at my phone, the screen has turned black because I have let it sit on the same screen for too long. I already know what he’s going to tell me. Maybe I just want to hear him say it, a source of reassurance maybe. It’s nice to know if things go wrong here, I can always fall back on him. I hate saying it, but it’s the truth.

I look as someone walks out of the store. They stumble a bit as their foot gets stuck in a crack on the sidewalk, I smile to myself.

I wonder what Travis would say if I decided to move up to San Francisco. I’m not really considering it, but I wonder. It’s so hard with us to have anything serious at a distance, but could things be as perfect as I think they could in person? It feels like he’s in my mind at times, he knows exactly what I want to hear, exactly how I feel. He thinks he knows more than he does, though. There are aspects to my mind he will never know.

The phone vibrates again, then again.

2 New Text Messages. 1 From Boyfriend. 1 From Travis.

I open the message from Travis first, almost as instinct. I wonder why I did that. I smile as I begin to read what he wrote…

I guess you got held up or something. I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I hope everything is okay. I’m here for you always. If you need to talk just let me know. 

I smile. I know what I want, I just wish I wasn’t too scared to go for it…

“No, no, no… Not yet…” The weakness of her speech makes it sound as if it is more of a plea than a command.

“Ofcourse…” I say this halfheartedly, almost as a joke told to an unseen audience. My fingertips run the course of her inner arm, I watch her body shake as the chills run through her body. She doesn’t think I understand what I am doing to her. I do; I always know.

My right arm is wrapped around the outside of her body,my other arm is being pinned between her body on the bed. You know the feeling, the one where it hurts for the first few minutes until the blood stops flowing smoothly and your entire arm turns numb.

My slide my fingers up her arm one more time and begin to run up and down her sides. I begin using the tip of my nose to run up and down her cheek in key with my hand. My hand slides over to her lower stomach and begins to swirl in circles. I can imagine how she feels, her body begins to quiver but she tries to deny it. It’s such a peculiar feeling for her, a mixture of pain and pleasure. It feels so good it almost hurts. She wants me to stop, but wants me to keep going. I’m counting on it, my night depends on it.

My head tilts forward and my lips get closer and closer to her face. Occasionally and spontaniously I allow my lips to breifly touch her skin. Her head turns toward mine, her body language asks me to kiss her, but I won’t. “Not yet,” I think to myself, smiling as the thought passes through my mind.

My lips pass over her skin over and over, each time closer to her lips. She begins to turn toward me closer, every moment she wants my kiss worse and worse. My hand still on her tummy, I run it backwards and begin to run up and down her arm once again.  Her body is shaking with anticipation.

I touch my nose to hers, my lips inches from hers. I close in and move down toward her, but slowly pull away as she leans in closer. Once again I begin to go back and forth from cheek to cheek, each time almost touching her lips. My soft breathe passes over her cheeks sending warmth throughout her body. She wants it. But want isn’t enough.

I go on and on, over and over. My fingers moving back and forth from her arms, to her sides, her back, her stomach. Every moment the anticipation building worse and worse. I can feel her legs shaking. She wants it. She needs it.

I feel her hands grasp the back of my head and pull me into her lips and holding me there…

Her words echo in my head, “No, no, no… Not yet…”

An old man sits upon his deathbed, a few final breaths filling his lungs with air and a few heartbeats pumping the blood through his body. His eyes close. I am dying.

He looks back upon the life he had. He fell in love, took a chance on it, and lost himself. So, everything he had left, he put onto sheets of paper. He turned his emotions into words, his friends into characters, his enemies into protagonists, and his life into one large setting. In doing this, he took a chance, and lost everything else. A loveless life, many would say. A failed life. One full of heartbreak and misplaced gambles.

I tried for the two things I loved in life, and neither proved profitable, he thought to himself as his heart began to lose strength. I end it here with no one on my side, nothing to my name, and a heart which has stopped beating long ago.

The man drew one final breath, and said “But my life has been worth living.” He smiled, knowing in his head that the man who dies with nothing after trying for everything has so much more to rejoice for than the one who tries for nothing. His breathing stopped, and with a small smile on his face, the man died alone, itemless, and happy.

This is a start. It will be redone and rewritten and edited and such as a later blog post… I just needed to get my emotions down as a start. This is what I’m trying to say…

Writing is who I am. When I shut my eyes and imagine my life, I see a book. Not med school, not law school, simply a book. Maybe I will be a failure, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’m destined for greatness, maybe I’m not. But I am going to find out.

Fuck my philosophy teacher. I am going to be a writer.

Disheartened. Dispirited. Discouraged.

My white skate shoes slap on the ground, one after the other. Each step out of line, never quite perfect. The steps feel out of unison, they feel awkward and imperfect. I twist each foot in attempt to correct my faults, pleading for my body to allow me just one step of perfection.

I lock eyes with a girl. Not quite pretty, not quite ugly. One of those that is just inbetween, but right now I’ll take anything. I’m desperate for something I can pretend is right, for a moment I can lie to myself about, for a night of dishonesty I can deny. Afterall, is it not the moral duty of a person to do the immoral?

She quickly looks away and I focus on my feet. I flash a smile to the next girl passing by, I want so badly to impress. She turns away from me looking unamused. I adjust my scarf, straighten my sweater, run a hand through my hair, and try again. She does the very same. It must be my feet.

I turn them in every direction I can, make any adjustment I can imagine. I walk in different patterns, step in altered beats, vary the length of each stride. No matter what I do it feels so wrong, so obnoxiously incorrect that it nearly drives me to tears.

I open my eyes and realize that my feet are my pen, the sidewalk my paper, the girls my readers.

Disheartened. Dispirited. Discouraged.

I know I said I was gunna stop this, I just have to get my thoughts out. My mind feels all over the place.

Sitting in class, essays are passed back, I get mine and it’s a B+. I understand that most would be happy with this grade, but I wasn’t pleased. I guess more than that… We can do as many rewrites as we want for the class, so why not have an A on every essay? After a short discussion about what I can do to improve, we began talking about my future plans.

“Double majoring in psychology and creative writing? What are your career goals?” The words fall from his mouth, I already sound how ridiculous I’m going to sound.

“I wanna be a novelist, but because it’s so difficult to stop a job in that field, I thought if I had a degree in psychology, I could use that and ease into writing.”

“Want my advice? Do not mix up hobbies with career choice.” A verbal slap in the face.

“Go on…”  I say this almost pleading him to help me.

“Well in this day and age, a BA in psychology and creative writing is not going to do much for you. You need to go to grad school. To do this, you have to change to a major which is better suited for that….”

And the conversationg went on and on. Basically, this is what was said. If I have a BA in psychology and creative writing, when will I have time to write? When will I have time to be inspired to write something great? I won’t be able to land a good enough job to write whenever I want, I won’t have the money or time to travel and see things which will help my creativity, etc.  I need to think grad school, “what’s next” in a sense. Either a PhD, or a MD I think. That way, I can land a job where I have enough money to do whatever the hell I want. If I get inspired, whatever, I can take 2 years off, go sit on a beach off the coast of Australia, and write. So if I think PhD or MD, I have to think new majors. I need balance. The arts, and the sciences, and mathematics. I need to be able to score very well on an MCAT or whatever, so what majors will prepare me for this? And at the same time, I need something that is going to set me apart from the rest, something which shows a balance.

Physics… A degree in physics entails a grasp of all math, as well as a grasp in science.

English with an emphasis on linguistics… A degree shows my roundedness. Shows an understanding of the arts, and the mathematical aspect to life. Also, I believe it will tremendously improve my writing. No one can teach you creativity, it is one thing which cannot be taught. However, English encompasses multiple other opportunities for growth. Grammar, linguistics, literature… These are the things someone can teach you.

My thoughts are everywhere, I’m sure this is hardly comprehendable. My thoughts are as follows… I think I’m changing my majors to English with an emphasis on linguistics, and Physics.

I feel like I need to work more on writing stories. I think that from now on, I’ll alternate between various perspectives and point of views. Each event will still be true, however, I will write entries from the minds of other people as well as from a 3rd person perspective. I will avoid second person narration because it seems impractical. This way, I can write multiple entries from various characters. I think it’s a neat idea because it’ll promote my creative writing, while at the same time eliminating the repetitiveness of the only character who has been in the blog (me…).I feel as if this will not only inspire new characters for my writings, but it will also help me learn how to develop them and employ different voices effectively. After-all, that is the reason I created this.

I’d like to make a point, however. I recently received an email from a reader who wanted to know if each of my blog posts are the complete truth. My answer was no. Every single event did not happen exactly how I wrote it, some did, but most did not. Some are a combination of a few events that happened at different times, and some unfold exactly as I remember them. I cannot say they are 100% the truth though. I can say that they are all based on true stories, and the majority of it is truth.

So with this in mind, I understand that many of you read the blog for the honesty and real life aspects. I respect that and it will not change. However, the emotions which will be added to another person are purely a guess on my behalf, but they will remain truthful as well.

I’ll still write random things when I feel passionately about them (EG the gay marriage post and the religion post). I’m sure no one cares that much, but I understand that a huge part of my writing is putting the things you all want to read. So if anyone is strongly opposed to this idea let me know… Otherwise, I’m going to start writing blog posts less journal like and more story like…  Most of the time anyways.

Thanks, and let me know if you care either way.

In the upcoming election in California, there is a proposition which would amend the state constitution and make it so that gay couples are ineligible to be married. Many states are going through similar battles. Morals are being spat on, protests are popping up all across the country, everyone seems to be preaching their own insight in hopes of swaying a few more minds. This moral dilemma seems to have enraptured the hearts of many, but still, many have standpoints but don’t know why and many have standpoints built on rotting foundations. It seems like too many people are willing to preach what they believe, but too many times it is without reason. In this I will attempt to present my own reasons as well as refute many of the common arguments I have been hearing.

To begin, I’d like to give a brief history lesson.

December 15, 1791; the bill of rights is ratified. In it, our founding fathers state that “congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

December 6, 1865; another constitutional amendment states that “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”

February 3, 1870; and another… “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.”

August 18, 1920; and another… “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any States on account of sex.”

 Each constitutional amendment we have passed to this point in time is one that gives people more rights; there is not one that takes any away nor limits them. 

 They tell us that one sad truth of life is that history, all too frequently repeats itself. In hopes of changing this, however, we are taught and schooled throughout the many years and lessons of our ancestors, and are told to learn from it. But what have we learned?

Around 200 years ago, Americans believed that blacks were on this planet to serve whites. According to our religions, they were lesser species. They were gifts from God himself to help us white people along in the world. We did not question this, for why should we? They were different than we were.

100 years ago, it was common knowledge that women were less than men. Things like politics were far too complicated for a woman, and we accepted this. Our churches did not tell us any differently, nor did our schools or our parents, so why should we think any differently? It was the way of life. To announce that women are on the same mental level was to doubt the very nature of things, the very nature of life as we knew it.

This all changed, however. Many people stood up and fought against the tyrannies of oppression, they were looked down upon, spat upon, and deemed sinners.  But with time, more people began to think more liberally, more began to accept differences more openly, and thus, blacks got liberty, women got the right to vote. In general, we tend to deem any difference wrong, but with time we come to accept. How accepting is America to the differences of its people? How accepting are we of gays? What have we learned from our history?

I am not writing this to blame. I am not writing this to point fingers. I am writing this to question. What have we learned?

 ”Gay people shouldn’t have the same rights,” people will say, “they are different than we are.” Almost like an echo that has bounced off of far away mountains and came back to plague our country once more. Have blacks forgotten the blood that has been spilled fighting against this very same argument? “Two people of the same sex can’t be married,” the words flow out of our churches, “that goes against the very nature of things!” Have we already forgotten the tears and the cries of our grandmothers from only 100 years ago?

Are our memories that bad, or do we just choose to ignore them?

The fundamental belief against gay marriage spawns from religion. I will not try to convince you that your religion is wrong, nor will I try to tell you to disagree with it, but first I would like to remind you that the bible also told us it was right to have slaves:

Exodus 21:20-21 “When a man strikes his slave, male or female, with a rod and the slave dies under his hand, he shall be avenged. But if the slave survives a day or two, he is not to be avenged, for the slave is his money.”

However, we overcame this belief because we all decided that times have changed. We decided that the bible, whether it was the word of God or not, was written by fallible human beings, and it is possible for them to be incorrect. We decided that He would approve of us treating others kindly rather than poorly, even if it went against the bible.

But gays and blacks are different? Fine. But who should be the final judge of their fate?

Luke 6:37 “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned, forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”

John 3:11″For this is the message that ye heard from the beginning, that we should love one another.”

Your religion tells you that He is the final judge. If you think that what they are doing is wrong, fine, but according to your religion, it is not your job to decide that.

If you believe in utilitarianism, or the belief that we should perform actions based upon the happiness it will bring to the majority, then ask yourself, who am I making happy by voting against this?  Is it not true that when they die they will be punished for their sins? If you truly believe in your religion, you know that in time they will be punished accordingly and whether it is right or wrong will be determined by God himself. Let him do the judging, and until then, judge not, condemn not, and forgive. Who are you to strip them of their happiness?

What happiness are you bringing out by banning gay marriage? It is either you believe in happiness, or you believe in gay marriage, because no one benefits from banning it. The only thing that happens is quite the opposite, really. No one gains happiness, but the gay community loses it. How can you honestly say you believe in doing whatever makes the most happiness, but also vote against gay marriage? You must ask yourself, how will it affect you?

The most popular argument is that marriage is an act of religion. However, this argument has been outdated. In the past hundred years, marriage has also become a legal act. While a marriage can be religious, it is always legal. A marriage is not always religious, however. Marriage is the promise between two people, a bond of unrelenting love, and whether that vow is made under God or not is a decision of the couple. Many will question, “what makes it a legal issue?” Shortly after you get married, you are forced to take your marriage license in and get it signed. This form is a legal document, much like a birth certificate or a tax form. If you do not think that Gays should be allowed to marry under a christian church, that is fine. However, is it morally correct to deny them the same legal rights as everyone else?

The second common argument is that Gay marriage will shatter the churches tax exemptions. This argument is ridiculous. Gay marriages have been legal in the state of California for some time now, and no church has lost any money at all (other than to endorse political candidates perhaps). This is not even an argument, it is a simple lie.

The final argument I will address is the belief that if this law stays, gay marriage will be crammed down the throats of our children. I have two things to say about this as well. The first one being that any fear of your children being turned gay is almost a scientific impossibility. It has nearly been proven that being gay is strongly genetic and biological. It has been scientifically proven that gay men have a greater chance of having a counter-clockwise hair whorl. Yet another biological uniqueness may be found in the relative lengths of our fingers: The index fingers of most straight men are shorter than their ring fingers, while for most women they are closer in length, or even reversed in ratio. Gay men are likely to have finger-length ratios more in line with those of straight women, lesbians showed significantly masculinized ratios. Gay people have a 50% greater chance of being ambidextrous. Not enough to prove it to you? Fine. But since gay marriage has been passed, how much is being crammed down your children’s throats? When you asked them how their day at school was, have any of them responded, “we learned that it is okay for me to sleep with someone of the same sex?”

 Voting for gay marriage does not mean that you support gays. It means that you believe they should have the ability to choose for themselves and we should not judge them. It means that you believe in equality for all, regardless of personal beliefs. It means that you do not believe the government should limit happiness. It means that you do not think the government should regulate the rights and equality of any human beings. It means that you do not support the idea of the first amendment to the constitution that takes away rights rather than giving them.

We must learn from our past and our history. We must strive for equality for all people regardless of you agreeing with them. Vote no on prop 8, and help push for marriage equality for all.

I stand at the 6th seat of a blackjack table, the green felt reflects onto the dealers pale skin and it makes her look sick. She’s a 24 year old Asian, and normally I’d be hitting on her but I don’t have time for that now. My mind is racing.

King and 5 cancel, 10 and queen cancel with the 5 and the 6, double aces is minus two and also brings the ace-five count to 12 fives and 10 aces, 2 and 3 plus 2, ten and 2 cancel. Dealer has a 3. Running count’s at +17, so the true counts a little above 3. Ace 5 wizard count is still 2 in favor. Table is good. Girl hits and gets a ten, minus one more…

I hear the girl to my right asking me what to do, I try to act casually and tell her she’s supposed to stay and smile at her. I wonder if I look normal or not. It’s hard to think how normal our faces can stay when we’re under pressure. I glance back to the table, my lips parted slightly so it doesn’t look like I’m straining. I try to look at the cards and take a mental image then glance away while I add and subtract. Can’t look out of the ordinary. You gotta look just like everyone else.

Comes to me. I’ve got a 12 against the dealer’s three. I’m supposed to hit this according to all the charts and books. But the count’s too high, the decks rich with tens. I hit I bust, I stay I win. If a deck is rich in tens and the dealer is showing a 6 down and you have above 11, you stand. If the deck is rich in low cards, you hit.

I make a swiping motion rather than using a verbal. The dealer flips her down card, it’s a 5.

Fuck. Plus one… She flips a jack, minus one. Counts still good, bet large. Plus one, minus one, cancel, neutral, plus, plus, minus…

I begin listening to the conversation at the table, the numbers becoming a sort of instinct. I say a stupid joke and flash everyone a smile. They laugh. Not a hard laugh, but one that lets me know they like me. That’s the thing, you can’t stand out. Just a stupid joke that everyone else would say, a stupid smile like everyone else would flash. Nothing unusual.

I look down at my stack, I started with 500 and am up a little over 750. If everyone knew I were counting they’d think I should be at a few thousand, but that’s not how it works. I have a 2% advantage over the dealer. That means every 100 I bet I should make 2 chips profit. It’s slow, hard work. People don’t realize it.

Minus one, neutral, neutral, plus one, minus one, minus one, plus one, minus one, ace five count is 4 in favor…

I look down at a blackjack below. The dealer pays me one and a half and smiles at me.

“Must be my lucky night,” I say as I place the new chips on my stack.

I sit up in my bed and lift my knees to my chest. My arms wrap around them so that it doesn’t feel like I’m alone. As I turn to glance at the clock I stop myself; what’s the point? I can’t sleep, it’s too late, and I need to wake up soon. I begin rocking back and forth looking out the window, the faint humming of my fridge echoing inside my ears.

I shudder at the thought, but I have forgotten what silence sounds like. Everyone is asleep in my dorm building, no one is making any noise, but still, there are sounds. There are always sounds. We may not realize it, but there’s always the distant song of a grasshopper, the snoring of a neighbor, a dishwasher turning on, buzzing coming out of the television, wind in the trees. It’s not that it is quiet, it’s just that we just ignore it.

I cover my ears with my hands, but the loud thumping of my heart pounding back and forth inside of my chest overcomes my mind. There is never silence. I feel like I’m chasing after something which can never be caught.

I begin thinking about my problems. My inability to let go of the past, my eagerness to find someone new, my overwhelming tendency to come off as arrogant; I’m sure if I cared I could fix them. But why don’t I? Why can’t I?

Maybe I don’t want to get rid of my problems. Maybe if I forget, it leaves too much room for the future. Maybe I’m too scared of letting something else come into my life, so rather than allowing the past to be erased, I hold onto it, somewhere deep inside of myself, like a starving person clinging to a final piece of bread. I look in front of me, why do I not see a feast? Is it not there, or do I just refuse to see it? If I could see it, would I be able to eat it, or would I be too afraid to let go? I feel like I’m clutching onto my past as if it is my only hope to survive.

I think about everyone else. I think about all the advice I’ve given and how most of it isn’t followed. I think to all the conversations where people cry to me saying they wish they would have listened and that they’ll listen next time. I always know they won’t. People don’t want to fix their lives, because if they do, they have no idea what will happen next. The unknown breads fear, fear breeds hesitation, hesitation breeds ill results.

I set my head down onto the pillow and close my eyes. The refrigerator fan turns off and the humming fades. The sound is replaced by the sounds of a TV someone fell asleep to. There’s always something.

My eyes drift across the psychology text book as I try to retain some of the information for my test in two days. I begin to read about memory. I skip over the majority of the nonsense to a part about ineffective encoding. I think back to an earlier definition, I remember that encoding is how our brain organizes the memories inside of itself. I stop concentrating on the text for a minute because a song comes on I don’t like on my Ipod. I push the skip button a few times till something comes on which I feel like listening to. I glance back to find the definition.

“If the information is not encoded properly—such as if the student simply skims over the textbook while paying more attention to the TV—it is more likely to be forgotten.”

Great.

I look toward the next definition, something about the Decay Theory. The book says that many people believe that time will help to forget or eliminate memories, but that this is a common misconception. I begin to worry a little bit, but read further.

“Decay explains the loss of memories from sensory and short-term memory. However, loss of long-term memories does not seem to depend on how much time has gone by since the information was learned. People might easily remember their first day in junior high school but completely forget what they learned in class last Tuesday.”

My mind flashes toward a memory of a close friend telling me to give it time and it won’t hurt so badly. I recall that this memory retrieval is caused because the definition served as what they call a retrieval cue.  I laugh to myself as I realize that time will never make this pain go away, but I need to forget so badly. What will? How can I do it?

I read the next paragraph.

“Interference theory has a better account of why people lose long-term memories. According to this theory, people forget information because of interference from other learned information.”

I read this paragraph a few times over and over. I look around my room and see a book. I start trying to memorize the first chapter of “The Sun Also Rises.” Please let this work, I think to myself.