Saturday, August 20, 2005

my new blog

Here's the link to my new blog:

Thursday, August 11, 2005

moving my blog

Damnit, I fucked up my template too much and lost all your comments! Fuck! Sorry, you guys...I guess I'm gonna have to start a new one and not mess with it. I'll let you guys know soon, ok?


Tuesday, August 09, 2005

sir real

Sir Real

It's been seven months. No more secrets. I'm as naked and whole as I could ever be. Shh...don't tell. Let me embrace more of this I can have more...and tell you more. I'll whisper them to you, and you'll be so close that my lips will accidentally brush against yours, and there'll be no more hopes and fears...just a moment where questions are answered without a word. You'll tell me that this is real, and I'll believe you. Or tell me that this is a dream and I'll also believe.

Will I be wrong again? Does it matter? I know what I miss whenever you say goodnight. I don't curse what I haven't tasted. Do you?

Somewhere between choices, between blindness and light, there is still a place to be a believer.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

catapult me's good to be home after five days of working in L.A. My new patient lives in the San Fernando Valley; on some days the temperature can get as high as 110 degrees or more. Somehow she can't feel the heat, so I have to beg her to turn the AC on.

She spends most of her time in bed, so I'm free to do whatever I want. I should read or study for the entrance exam, but in the last few weeks I can't seem to do anything but sit in front of a window and stare. There is something about being in a sunny, spotless living room of a butter
yellow house of a 91-year-old blind woman who says "I love you" to each of her caregivers before she goes to bed that makes me wish I was in a roller coaster, a fighter plane, or anything that moves. Fast. Faster than anything that makes me think. Faster than the growth of feelings. Faster than an apology that tries to catch up with regret. Catapult me.

Good night, lady of the valley. I hope dreams will color your night the way memories once did. In two days I'll see you again, waiting for me, not knowing my name, waiting for me to say "I love you" back. Next time I won't let the silence of the butter yellow house you built with him sadden me. I promise.

Friday, July 29, 2005

the big lie

Four years ago, when I moved from San Bernardino to Orange County, I created a lie. I told everybody that I was younger than I really am. All the friends (except two) I made after leaving San Bernardino think I'm 21 or 22, but the truth is I'm 30 years old. I'm sure I'll disappoint some people by this revelation, and for that I'm sorry.

I didn't lie because I worry that my skin's elasticity will start whispering sayonara soon or because I don't want younger guys to stop hitting on me. It wasn't about the seven signs of aging. Defying gravity was the least of my concerns. I lied because I didn't want to explain the life I tried to forget. There are many ways to waste a life; some are more TV movie-friendly than others, and the way I wasted mine was not obvious to most people. I hid it well, but I can never forget the pain of knowing that the prison I thought I could break out of was my own creation, and I stopped trying to escape because I believed that there is nothing outside of it. I lied because I thought telling the truth meant pulling out the one block of Jenga! that would end the game. I was used to being alone for a long time that I didn't realize that I've invited people in and I do want them to stay in my life.

Some people say I can be too honest sometimes, but that's because I've been living a big lie these last four years. I'ts a kind of lie that keeps me going and makes my life better but it's still a lie. There were times when it didn't feel like a lie, because since I turned 21 my life was put on hold, and I have very little in common with those my age because I'm just beginning to experience things that 21-year-olds are experiencing. Except for the change in my metabolism, I have no idea how it feels like to be 30. I'm still trying to catch up.

I don't regret starting a new life as someone younger and the discoveries I've made in the last few years. I know my vulnerabilities but I'm a lot stronger than I was before. I spend half of my day cursing but I still love this new life. The only thing I regret about trying to bury my old life with a lie is the feelings I've hurt. Some secrets are meant to be shared between two people from the moment they met. I've been so obsessed with protecting my new life from the old one...I guess I forgot that I can share both lives with someone. I hope it's not too late.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

all I want for christmas

no, not Napoleon...just the time machine.

Today's quote: "The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past."-William Faulkner

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

it hurts to remember

Have you ever told a lie because it feels more true than the truth? I have. I thought I was the only one who decides what truth is, but now I don't know anymore. I've hurt those I care about by not telling the truth sooner. Why couldn't I?

My life is a lot better than it used to be, but recently I was reminded that I'm still responsible for my past. I have spent the last four years trying to forget it, and I thought I have, but no matter how many fresh starts I get, I will always know who I was. It hurts to remember, but maybe I need to. I want to believe that remembering how it felt to be barely alive is important. I want to know how it feels to actually celebrate my birthdays. I want to believe that I can still live and love as if I had never given up. Maybe someday I will believe. Today it just hurts too much to know that a "little" lie turned out to be the biggest lie of my life. It's my only lie, but I can't stop it from bringing me closer to my past and further away from the "new" life I thought I have successfully built.