miércoles, 27 de octubre de 2010

Disinhibition- I can't get no (satisfaction)

I have a long history with alcohol, when I was a kid I saw my dad getting drunk and I swore to myself I would never be like him, I would never become my dad, and that included not drinking. That line of thought carried on until I was 17, which if you ask me that was a pretty long run since my junior high classmates started drinking at age 14. However due to the list and the fact that for a long time I was pretty sure I would die young (I still think so), I decided to try it, and from then, well, I liked it.

I didn't just like the flavor, I liked the disinhibition that came with it, it made me be a different person, you know, me, but less angry, less neurotic and less self conscious, in other words a better me, also a less articulate me. Anyway, I enjoyed it, and I also discovered that drinking got rid of my insomnia, which I've had since I was twelve, and so, when I really needed a night of sleep, I'd drink till I was ready to pass out. Not the healthiest way but sleeping pills did nothing for me.

Now I'm being treated for GAD which is well, an anxiety disorder, and I'm on a different list of meds, I can't drink for a while, not that I'm addicted, I've quit for extended periods of time before, but I do like to enjoy a good beer with my friends sometimes.

The reason of this post however is that the pills are also making me lose inhibition a bit, while not drunk, which feels weird, in a good way, today for example, a teacher, that I hate for stealing our advertising group research and campaign and not giving us any recognition, was giving us a talk, so I was well... taunting him. I wanted him to throw me out of his talk, not only because I hated the topic, but because I wanted some confrontation, no one had told him anything, but I wanted him to know... I wanted him to understand that talking about respect and creativity and ideals to a group of people you stole a whole advertising campaign from just 10 months ago is not only uncool, but one of the most hypocritical things I've ever heard in my life.

I wasn't the only one talking, but he decided to make an example out of me, and I felt fucking good that he did, because as I left the classroom and he gave me one last push by commenting something about the way I left to my classmates, I got the last argument my new found disinhibition needed, I turned around and outed him as an idea thief that didn't deserve any respect from me because he hadn't earned it.

For a split second before I turned around and left, I could see everyone's faces, they were all thinking it, and none of them could believe I had just done that, the teacher himself couldn't believe I had just said that, he got pale and got cold sweat as I talked. And as I made my scene today I felt good, I felt like I didn't need alcohol anymore to be that stronger, more interesting version of me that I seemed to love, because I am becoming the person I want to be. And that, was the best thing that has happened to me all week.

I'm right on track to become the man that I want to be, a brave man that speaks the truth, that is honest, that will probably earn the hate of a lot people, the respect of some others and that will probably die young from a shot to the chest for being himself. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way, because today, I fucking rocked that room and I didn't have to stay to listen to his boring talk. Being a blunt straightforward jackass has it's benefits.

lunes, 11 de octubre de 2010

On Passive Aggressiveness

I've always had a temper, since I can remember, and when I was 10 after my parent's divorce and my short temper was well exploding as if I was nitrogen and everyone else was glycerine my parents decided to get me to a psychologist, it wasn't the last time I would see one as I admit I have way too many issues for my own good, but it was the first, and I felt like my mom and dad thought I was crazy, even though they repeatedly told me it wasn't that I was crazy, they just wanted to make sure I was okay.

My time on therapy developed two things, a strong love for psychology from there on and also that my temper became passive aggressive, I was no longer the kid that picked a fight whenever something ticked him off, but the kid that took everything in and planned his revenge quite slowly and without anyone realizing it was me. More than making me less angry, it made me less prone to show it and more inclined to plan ahead.

I hate passive aggressive people, which one would say it's hypocritical, and I would say that you can hate something that you are just fine, many people hate plenty of their personality traits, I accept me just how I am, I love my passive aggressiveness, I just hate when other people are like that.

Either way, lately, after my second trip to the psychologist I've let that personality trait go away for a more direct approach. One that doesn't involve finding an activity to vent over all the repressed anger. Although of course it still happens, I still write and I still draw which is how I let my emotions show, but also I tell people how I feel now, I try to always tell the truth no matter if people will take it wrongly and I try to not care what others think of me.

Although of course it never hurt anyone to let some steam out, I used to do it with fencing, sport that I practiced for five years, though lately writing was the most active thing I had done, this weekend however I got to play paintball, it was fun, I suck when shooting people while moving, but I have great aim.And shooting feels good.

It made me remember my time in Texas, when there was an issue about letting students carry guns on campus, the Houstonian, my school's paper polled me and I answered that I thought it was stupid and really bad, cause well drunk frat boys with guns ain't the brightest idea Texas has ever had. But it shocked me to see next day in print that out of the 5 people polled I was the only one against.

Sure, shooting is fun, it makes you feel great, but I don't know, somehow, mixing guns with the college life doesn't seem like the brightest idea the world has ever had.

miércoles, 6 de octubre de 2010

Sir Elton John screwed me over

The 63 year old man probably doesn't know this, but it's because of a concert he is giving in a nearby city that today I'm facing financial problems. The corruption in the government that he is performing for is just exaggeratedly big and it's forcing the low level employees to buy the tickets, just as in the past it has forced tickets for football games, a Shakira concert, an Alizee concert, etc. Only that this time we can't afford the ticket, so my mom got fired from her work today thanks to Sir Elton John, who won't ever know this most likely, and who will spend his life oblivious to what has happened in my household today.

I'm proud of my mom for her morals and this will most likely be taken to court as it was an unjustified lay off, which she will most likely win, but I just wanted to share with the world about those things that happen that affect us.

My mom never would have thought in a million years that due to Elton John she would be without a job one day, nor would I ever imagine it, it's like someone telling me today that in 10 years Natalie Portman will have a significant impact in my life.

The concert is for a good cause, it's too bad that the organizers of the concert aren't good at all, I sincerely wished that Sir Elton John would read this, because in a way his life has directly affected mine, and that's one of those universe situations that can never really be explained to the fullest.

It makes me wonder, sort of, how many people I have affected through out my life and how different the world would be if I hadn't existed, probably not that different, but with the chaos theory in place, even the tiniest change in the initial conditions could make major changes later, but I'll guess I'll never really know how significant or insignificant my life truly is.

lunes, 4 de octubre de 2010

The pink volcano

My memory isn't what it used to be, I don't know why that is but sometimes I can't even remember what I did that morning, it's becoming a bit frustrating to be honest, the feeling that my memory is tricking me and deceiving me.Of course I'd never admit to that out loud, pride is my capital sin, the worse of the seven some say, I don't know, I just know I'm too proud to do and admit many things.

One of my strongest memories is about the pink volcano, and no, it's not an effect of any psychedelic drug, it's the title of a book, a children book that my grandpa bought to me when I was around seven. From my dad's side I'm the oldest grandkid, and perhaps I'm the only one of us all that knew our grandfather, or at least that was old enough to remember him. He passed away from a combination of Parkinson's and Alzheimer's.

I still have that book today, and perhaps I'll give it to my first grandkid if I ever have one. Who knows? But this is one of the best and saddest memories I remember. After giving me this book, which is about a giant ice cream volcano that a grandfather buys his grandkid, my grandfather took me out for an ice cream. I remember it clearly because my grandfather was usually silent when he was with me, although he always smiled, except for the last part of his disease where he wouldn't even recognize us.

I love the pink volcano because it's the strongest connection I have to the man, I mean I remember how he used to talk, how he used to walk, how he liked to drink a glass of wine every day with his meal, but like I said I feel like I have to write all of this down because of my brain. One day I won't be able to tell anyone about the pink volcano, but this way, perhaps, I will.

My grandma is well, she's one of the people I love most in the world, she's just... She's amazing and I don't think I've ever seen such a broken heart than that of my grandma when my grandpa died. Sometimes when I don't feel bad about a lot of things that I should feel bad about, perhaps because I'm a cynic or perhaps because I'm selfish, I remember the way that I feel when I think about my grandpa and it makes me feel like I'm still human and not some robot that doesn't have any emotion towards other people.

In a weird way, that small yellow book lying on my bookshelf along next to the likes of Tolkien, Rowling and Brown, is what keeps me human and what will keep me sane even through the hardest of times. It's also probably the reason why I always eat ice cream when I'm depressed to make myself feel better.

sábado, 2 de octubre de 2010


I went to the opera on Monday, it's been some days since then and I guess I've started this blog, not for anyone else to read it, but to remind myself of the stuff that I'm sure I'll forget someday. I already half remember stuff, in years I don't wanna think what I'll had forgotten. Maybe I'll print all these entries for myself one day to remember the moments of the now then. A guide of how I survived teenage life and how I started to manage life as an adult.

So, the Opera, I don't believe I've told you, but I don't fall in love too often, and falling in love is not the same as being in a relationship with, and having a relationship with someone is not the same as being in a relationship, so first up we should clear all those terms up.

Thirteen is a tricky age, well around thirteen anyway, I don't think the story linking me to the performing arts was exactly covered in the period of time while I was thirteen, but it's most definitely when the event happened.

Before I speak of the event and the action that carried on a reaction that lead me to be seating for two hours last monday listening to Carmina Burana with my family, I should speak of a matter that dwells mostly on quantum mechanics, specially when theorizing about the possibility of backwards time travel. Retrocausality, this is important in physics because according to the laws, an effect cannot happen before it's cause.

This is the part where well, I question my mental sanity and the mental sanity of countless people I've talked to, not that I'm the sanest person, after all I do have a background of some psychiatric illnesses, but I could bet the most important thing in my life that the event happened.

I had a dream, about a girl, she was watching me from a window as I was locked up in a classroom. She looked from afar trying not to be noticed and smiled at me whenever I realized she was looking. One week later, I met this girl, I was doing an exam in a new school and she was peeping down the window watching curiously as I did my exam.

I never told her this, nor I think I've told a lot of people with a couple of notable exceptions, but ever since that day, she has been my dream girl. It sounds cheesy, I know, and the laws of physics say that it cannot possibly happen, but well, I'm not sure that physicists have it right just yet.

I am not a man that usually enjoys the performing arts, I rather watch a movie, or read a book, and if I had to choose from one of the arts to enjoy and be passionate about it would be a draw between writing and drawing. Not that I'm very good at either, but I do it for myself, as a form of getting to know me, as I have realized that not many people know themselves and I find that simply a bit sad.

But her, she was my dream girl. Remember a while back I told you that at age twenty one there had been three relationships that had marked me for good? Well this is number one. The mother of all traumas. And she danced ballet, and she made me feel alive every time she spontaneously appeared at my house, no one else, with the exception of the best year of my life, which I will have to cover later, has done that. And I loved it. She also had an unbelievable luck to always catch me after I had just taken a bath. And she taught me something that I haven't forgotten ever since, even if at times it's been hard. Be yourself, no matter what, just be yourself. I also had my first contact with the obscure subjects while around her and even though we only resided in the same city for a year, during which she had two different boyfriends, she made a deep impact into the making of who I am today.

Opera, Carmina Burana, there was a dancer from the Royal Ballet of London, the show was great, though maybe a bit uncoordinated at times. The lead female dancer made me think of her in her ballet outfit, I think my mind left the theater for what felt like an aeon.

I remembered the time I had to visit her ballet academy, it was well, an experience that would be completely hard to describe, but if you had to, it would be girls forced to mature too early acting like children backstage, like five year olds throwing flour and water balloons and pushing each other into the mud. It was like Neverland except with less pirates.

I developed feelings for other ballet dancers from there, I still think to this day that it's because I have unresolved issues, and I still today, can't really go to a performance act because I know that on my mind nothing will top what I felt when I was thirteen, but the opera on monday made me think back to a simpler time.

A time where the heartless didn't exist and I didn't feel like Cinderella taking my pill at 10 and having to leave crystal shoes behind. A time where Kingdom hearts hadn't showed me that my mental childhood didn't matched up with my body childhood, and a time where a surprise visit from my dream girl still made me feel the strongest butterflies I have ever felt.

Too bad she learned all of this too late. Though I don't believe in coincidences, so I guess I'll have to trust the bigger plan.