Mocha #4: Snapshot of Yesterday

Written 6 months ago… through the lens of teenage angst…

Come.

I want to show you something.

Let’s go back -I want to take you back many years ago. We can travel together.

We stumbled on an old journal that I filled while I was in high school. I’d forgotten what that time was all about.

I was fighting the parents on a regular basis while -vainly- killing feelings on a first crush who -if I remember correctly- promptly started dating an acquaintance.

Ha! I haven’t thought about him in a minute…

He was a senior while I was a sophomore, we were both imprisoned in a christian private school with a racist, religion-ist principal, namely if you weren’t of his religion (or color), you were to be despised, hated, and expelled. He kept getting sued for his treatment of people from other religions and had a sign saying he’d shoot Jehovah Witnesses if they set foot on his property. And don’t get him started on non-Causasians! Long story of a pathetic man...

Don’t worry, fate is punishing him as we speak…. I have nothing to do with it, don’t look at me like that!! He ate himself into 2 quadruple bypasses-

I call that karma.

Anyway, that was a sidebar.

The guy I had a thing for was the “bad boy”, but honestly he wasn’t that bad. Yes, he rode a motorcycle, had the darkest eyes and raven hair to his shoulders, and was built like… okay, he had muscles. He played guitar and had a beautiful singing voice, with a slight southern twang when he said certain words.

He also had a tough home life. I don’t think his mom was in the picture, and his dad was a tough love, threatening type (skewed perspective, obviously, I don’t know much about his father).

He was the type to speak his mind, and he wasn’t intimidated by the religious faction that ruled our school. Which meant that the Principal delighted in making him a target for discipline and teachers would mark him for pink slips on the daily. No lie, I don’t think a day went by when he didn’t get a pink slip/detention for stuff that, in hindsight, was quite trifling.

Collar not straight? DETENTION!!!

No kidding.

I had a massive crush plus I had a deep admiration for him since he seemed very powerful and assertive during a time of my life when I was feeling angry, powerless, and attacked constantly at my home life.

School was my weird refuge -I could escape the house and my parents with their crazy pressure to make me a better christian (yeah that worked out SOOO well). #noreligion #agnosticAtheist (I don’t care if this isn’t a thing, I question sarcastically and believe nothing that demands that proof is stated by a book via referencing that book).

Ironically, back in high school, I was already over religion. But it was like I didn’t have a will of my own, I was constantly backed into corners due to my lack of will to seize power and control. And I was sorely tempted to kill myself but I realized that killing myself meant that they would win and that it wouldn’t save me. I would need to save myself.

And I did.

But that’s another story…

So, with the darkness closing in on my life, it was a lifeline to see someone who was rising above it all, despite all the shit and flack being thrown at him.

There were moments, when I was present and tongue-tied (yeah, I was very shy back then), that he would chat with a teacher who was the only nice and sweet one around and she would try to encourage him to see it through when it got so hard he’d be angry and in tears with fists clenched with that impotent rage that frequently visits the teenage soul.

Yeah, he got angry a lot.

He got in trouble -as defined by christians who would find fault with the sun in the sky- but he survived.

And graduated.

And walked away to a better life, last I heard.

I hope he’s still kicking ass and taking names.

Anyway, I had to put my journal down, because it was quite visceral and brought back a lot of anger and memories. Now, I understand why I’m still mad at my parents -not so much, but as I reread what I went through with them….

Yes, they changed, they changed very much for the better.

But at that time, during those years, they made my life HELL.

So, no, I will no longer feel guilty that I don’t really talk to my father, or that I have a simmering resentment towards my mother. Because they earned it.

I’m not inviting back that rage or hate. But I am acknowledging that when you sow the seed, you reap the whirlwind.

Lucky for them, it’s more like a dust bowl.

They did crack my soul, but it didn’t break.

Thankfully, that didn’t poison my life. I am very happy now, I am a completely different person that who I was back then.

Back then I was miserable, angry and just making it one day at a time, hovering on the knife’s edge separating hope and death.

I’m glad I made it. To a different type of misery.

It’s so much better now.

It’s true that you forget what hasn’t been written.

P.S. Not stalking but curious, I googled him, and it looks like he got married earlier this year. Looks like he did make it. 🙂

 


Picture source

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Coffee #4: Keep on Moving Now

If at first you don’t succeed, fry fry a hen.

Hot cocoa is in a travel mug today. I’ll be brief as there’s lots to do and little time available. Let’s sit on that bench that faces the water fountain, I want fresh air today, and the gently invasive company of pigeons.

Continue reading Coffee #4: Keep on Moving Now

Identity #4: If I wasn’t, then why would I say I am?

Inspired by  All About Coming Out: The 5 Stages by XCELLUNA thank you for sharing your journey!! Also strongly inspired by my friend aunaqui who shows me what it’s like to be brave despite everything life throws at him in his blog Still Here

I struggle frequently to find the words to talk about myself. Whether it be a personal statement, or a “Who am I”, it’s a complicated answer, a rabbit warren of twists and turns, and blind alleys. I feel alien and weird all the time. I am a strange person and I’ve embraced that. I’ve embraced my fun brain, with its love of numbers, words, jokes, and random correlations. I’ve embraced my reconciliation with being a lone wolf, being the cliché in the windowpane looking in at friends and acquaintances having fun without me, that loneliness I’ve assuaged with my own company. I’ve embraced my own darkness, that there are corners  of my heart where I shine light and see nothing but ink and shadows. I’ve embraced my fear that I could easily become someone less compassionate, less human, and I’ve used that fear to tap down the voices of cruelty and remain on the straight and narrow. I’ve embraced the ice of words thrown with anger and malice, the deception, the lies. and have walked away a stronger person.

Continue reading Identity #4: If I wasn’t, then why would I say I am?

Identity #1.2: The Strait Jacket of Your Embrace

***Spoilers: If you read Shamo (manga) by Izo Hashimoto, there are slight spoilers on the story-line. Also incorporates my interpretation on character motivations.

I recently finished reading a manga (Japanese comic) called Shamo where the mild-mannered main character, on track to a life of success at a top university, suddenly kills his parents in cold blood. Multiple questions are raised surrounding the motive behind his uncharacteristic break, and the recurring motif in response is how parenthood can go wrong. How sometimes, the parental urge to protect and love crosses over into dictatorship. How parents view their children as the potential for opportunities that they missed, and how parents guide their offspring into pre-destined paths with all the persistence of a compactor cramming them into the mold of “ideal”.

This resonated with me.

Continue reading Identity #1.2: The Strait Jacket of Your Embrace