Phoenix Musings

So I did one of those solo visits to the movies I do simply because I wanted to see a movie and I wasn't going to wait to spark anyone's interest to go with me. It was one of the perfect movies for me because it got me to think about relationships in maybe not an altogether new way, but it helped clarify a few things.

When I was younger, I watched Casper for the first time and just fell in love with the movie. I'm not entirely sure if it was because of the beautiful music that played during beautifully peaceful moments or if it was something else entirely. All I know is that I left the movie theater really happy. And when I think back on it, I remember one moment perfectly. The moment wasn't exactly sending my heart aflutter, but it was the words used that were everything. From the moment that Casper tells Kat "Can I keep you?", I knew in that moment that I was going to be someone who would always wish to be kept. That beyond the strength that my personality could reach, my basic wish would be to be held, to be loved, to be kept.

When my friend and I were talking about how much harder it must be for me in finding a guy who could like me back because I deal with more hurdles than she does, we were solely focusing on finding a guy who could like us back, love us back. In essence you can hammer a nail in with a wrench, but it won't push it in as well as a hammer will. I figured wrongly that life really only dealt with finding a guy who is gay, who is attracted to me, who wants me and wishes to be with me. All those things you look for in a person--humor, humility, attentiveness--you really do dig through all of that while you are being attracted to them. How they score on those directly affects how much you like them on the other side...whether their magnetic pull goes up or down.

And I figured all of that...sifting through all of that was enough. But I never really took into account that not everyone wishes to be kept. There are those who want closeness, who want affection, who want you to place them as your most prized everything, but wish to never be caged. And no matter how much you explain that being kept is not the same as being caged, they will forever see the shackles and the feeding dish. They don't see someone who really loves them; they see a warden instead. And I never knew some people see it that way mainly because a long time ago--14 years ago--my decision was made on how my heart sees things.

The funny thing is that with this whole "finding a connection" thing being that much harder with the addition of this category introduced into my mindset, I don't feel more defeated. I don't feel the new "oh this is great" bonus hurdle I have to now learn how to master. I feel freer. I can't control things. As much as I've tried to--even to the point of pretending that I'm not doing anything at all--I just can't. It probably is very much like what everyone else who is blissfully happy has been stating--mainly because they can't think of anything else to state--that it happens when you aren't aware of it happening. And of course if it doesn't happen, same boat I'm in now so no big diff.

But I do really like knowing more and more that I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not the strange one or the difficult one because in the whole of it, I wish to be kept. As much as I loved someone, I could never be their prison. And beyond finding someone who is so incredibly cute, slightly bashful, completely hilarious and tons of other really great traits, if the same person never could see my hand without seeing a handcuff, I'm not the person for them, nor will I ever be. Cages are for birds, not for hearts. And my story will always lead toward my willingness to give someone my heart, not trap theirs.

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There's this new ordeal that I've recently been dealing with. In the past few years or so, I have been on this "never sitting ideal" pathway. For years years ago, I used to like a guy so intensely that it was near impossible to see anyone else in my sights besides him. And I would like said guy for maybe a year, maybe longer, maybe shorter, but always so incredibly intensely.

I felt those exact overwhelming feelings for at least 4 different guys, all back to back. In fact the only thing that would make me get over one guy a little by little was the introduction of the next one. I started this whole blogging idea to somehow channel all my feelings I had for one particular guy and met my last guy in fact through here. Ever since that guy, ever since Trevor, I've never been able to jump start that part of me that gets wrapped up in the what-if fantasy of it all. Ever since I was hurt pretty badly, I've never been able to let my feelings get to the hope aspect of what a crush should be. You're supposed to draw little hearts around his name and have imagined conversations that will always make yourself slightly giggle. That's what a new crush is supposed to entail.

But having gone through the "being shot down" cycle on continuous spin, I've never let myself get there. And always I am wrong on where it could lead. Very rarely now does the reason for the no include the whole "I'm not gay" scenario. For the past 3 actual years that I've been looking, I've heard really stupiud reasons that I wasn't an interest for them. And after a handful of trying each time, I've reevaluated things and looked again. Always looked again. Up to now, I have contacted at least 200 different guys in saying hi or wishing to start a conversation that eventually leads to a fading of words. And I remember there being this part of me that would always hope that somehow down the road when I wasn't paying attention or even wanting it, those guys who turned me down would somehow want me again. And of course, I wouldn't really care at all. Their loss because they couldn't see beyond themselves when I first put forth the pairing. I mean it was a shallow want much like you wanting someone who wronged you to pay out the nose, but it was still something that my wronged self wanted to want.

And now, I have two guys in which I mentally stated "you'll be sorry" come back into my life and whisper things to me that somehow I was this great catch. First guy, I flirted with back and forth for weeks around the holidays one year and it looked like we were at least heading to that first date status and then like magic, he meets a guy at a party and that becomes his shiny new boyfriend. It was a nice indirect screw you. Guy two actually I talked about a while back in which he stated that I possessed all these wonderful qualities in being almost the perfect boyfriend and it seemed like we had a cute first date and then a couple weeks later, he said he only wanted to be friends. Didn't want to tell me the deciding factor because he felt it would be better if I didn't know and obsess over it. Like not knowing is so much better in the not overthinking arena. Then at least a year passes in which we kept casual text message conversations and he states one day that we totally should have hooked up. And one day, we actually do. Making out and heavy petting, then the inevitable unconscious slumber because it was so late at night and he was tired. But the thing is that the sex didn't happen. And I felt it was nice that it didn't happen. Didn't happen with guy one either.

The reason I've discovered is that no matter how much I wanted them at one point in time, I believe once I accepted the rejection and slowly moved passed it, there's no way I could go back. I mean guy two I really wanted to be with at one point in time and now, nothing. And it's not even like I wished it to be. I'm not treating this as punishment. It's neat that it happened exactly how I wanted it. It's nice to appear desirable to those who never desired you in the first place, but I honestly have no ill will toward them. My heart just isn't it. And that even includes the guy who I started this whole journal for in the first place. At one point in time, I finally got over him like I really needed to and I cannot imagine ever giving him another chance. Not because I don't believe he has the ability to change, but because I know my heart has. Once it evolves, it's really hard to go back no matter how much my past self would have wanted me to just go for it. It's a wonderfully interesting thing. Makes me know that if I was to ever meet the mastermind behind Trevor, I wouldn't rush headfirst into a hug. Who knows what the hell I would do, but honestly I gave everyone almost a chance. Once I fluttered away, that's that.

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I remember there being a time in which I couldn't go a day without updating this. Let alone updating it numerous times. And I have to say that a majority of it had to do with finding MySpace thus betraying my first stable love LiveJournal so terribly because of it. But honestly I'm not sure that was the real reason, mainly due to the fact that even in MySpace land, the entries aren't spewing forth as much as they did on here. And I think that has everything to do with me. I had so much to comment on. Every thing that a human being is supposed to experience and take with them, I had to analyze it and write about it. I had to find a reason why I, a fellow human being, didn't live it like everyone else. Why I was the one to be attracted to every guy who had the first mindset to say no to me. Why I would be the one to play an incredibly cruel practical joke on. Why it was so easy for everyone else to simply walk away from knowing me like I didn't deserve the courtesy of an explanation. Be it potential love interest or good friend...finding out that someone purposely deleted me rather than treat me with any level of respect. There was a part of me that would forever obsess about that. Writing pages upon the subject of life just existing to be unfair to me.

And now...just now in my life, one saying that always used to be displayed prominently in my Nana's house seems to ring very true. It ultimately being this: Life...is a pisser.

It doesn't get truer than that. The only difference is that I now hold the ability to really truly say Fuck It. For too long, I wanted to know why it was exactly my fault. What defect I possessed to allure absolutely unpositive luck toward me. And really, I don't think it has anything to do with me. I mean there are some things in life that are my fault and in those instances, I do swallow my pride long enough to say sorry.

Sometimes.

But the world isn't against me. Bad things don't happen around me because I simply seemed to be standing there. Ultimately, bad things just friggin' happen independent of where I'm standing. Doors close. And because of the speed in which they've closed in the past for me, I let myself forget too easily the second part of that saying. For every door that has closed, one previously sealed door swings wide. I'm not saying that each guy that ever rejected the idea of me allowed another possibility in guy land to exist. But with each badness that has happened, it seems like I've gained abilities that I never was supposed to have. Really amazing abilities that highlight my personality, making me a greater person than I ever thought I could be. Honestly I never thought I could be at a place in my life in which I was happy sans a person's hand to hold. I thought I would need to actually gain and then lose and then regain a boyfriend to make all of that happen. But I'm there. I still am boyfriendless and the longer that remains, it actually becomes more and more funny to me. Not the other way around like it's suppose to. I'm not supposed to be truly happy, giggling to myself while I go to a movie alone, but I am. I'm really enjoying who I have become because I don't know of many people who could be the result I am now having traveled the same road. A lot of bitter queens they'd be methinks. Instead I am this superpower that I continue to be amazed at. I'm even gaining the ability to really call people on their bullshit. It's not completely a superpower yet. I'm still trying to perfect doing it all the time. But those people who keep really wanting to do something with you, yet they have millions of reasons to say no, but not before they rouse themselves into a frenzy wanting so badly to be able to do what they say no to. I no longer look at it as being overly complicated and some sort of inner struggle. I see it more now as someone being full of shit and so very much being a flake. Got to say it's one of the more wonderful traits picked up from my Virgo friends: you stay here and talk about it all day; let me actually go do something about it. We'll see who gets done faster.

Have to say that if I only had to trade the ability to write in a journal almost every day to feel quite like this, it was a good deal. We'll have to see where it goes from here.

I woke up the other morning pissed. There was nothing recent that did it or even a dream that caused it. I'd have to say the sensation actually was something I should have felt three years ago or so, but never allowed my head to go there. Three years ago, I should have hated Trevor's gut. Or Skylar's. Or Seth's. Whatever name the wizard actually was born with. Funny enough, I still really don't know that because the "truth" was told to me by a liar.

But I have to say that I woke up rightly feeling something that I know I should have felt before. In 2005, I felt loss. I felt betrayed and I felt sadness. I felt all these things connected to grief. I also felt victimized, then exorcised because I fought and found out all these things my victim self never would. But I never, ever felt anger. Not even when I later found out what other terrible things Trevor had done...even then, never anger.

But I feel it now. And if I was to ever be in the same room with the person who willingly fucked with my head three years ago because he was ultimately bored, I might have to keep myself from actually kicking his ass. Because that's exactly what I feel. Someone who cared for me deeply, who felt a real connection with me...that guy let me grieve. I didn't really think about that before, but I have now. I typed and cried and let everyone on here hear how pathetically sad I was. And he did nothing, but let his lie play out. All because he was too scared to actually own up to his mistakes. And six months later...after dealing with this huge "I'm an asshole" burden that he was carrying around, he tried still to save face and not let me have peace. He never confirmed that I was telling the truth. In fact, he helped state the exact opposite in a shrine dedicated to his dead masterpiece of a character. Even tried to make me feel guilty when his imaginary daddy took his life too. All probably somehow related to me being such an untrusting dick.

But exactly a year after that, the real truth is told. I was wrong and he was sorry. And I forgave too easily. Then he starts dating someone one month, becomes engaged the next and the following month, I decide I've had too much of this bullshit. I don't know what exactly was real of what he told me later, but I do know that no matter how messed up in the head he was at the time in which he played his brilliant "I'm going to make another person suffer" performance, he still didn't feel it was right to let me know anything. In fact he felt that it was all good to make me somehow suffer more because I wasn't a dumb blonde lighting candles to someone I never met.

And that pisses me off. He had almost every opportunity to be a decent guy and he passed. Whatever he suffered for playing whatever game he did, I had no reason to be the test of his antics. And I got nothing good karma-wise for it. He might have be punished, but I never got to see it. And I never got to cause it. But believe me, I still hold to the fact that if you truly care for a person you won't hurt them. Or you'll try to make amends. You don't wait a year and a half and go through a couple boyfriends before you hit your eureka moment and decide right there that you should have had a better heart. And if that truly does happen, then the guy you royally fucked with has every right to wish you the exact pain you caused him for however long you let it play out.

In another time, I would have been hated. Not for what I could say. Or what I could do. Or what I think.

In another time, I would have been hated simply because I was exactly the way that I was. I tend to talk or think about the life I had when I was younger. All of that hell that I went through. In being laughed at or being teased or generally just humiliated more than anyone should be. I tend to look at that as hell. Why couldn't every single person just been a better person? One more accepting? I hated that life.

But the thing is that I never feared death. I never feared that people would hate me so much that I would be fair game in being a target. Sure I have been called fruit and fag and faggot and every other wonderfully fluffy f-word there is to demean me. Any word that would magically erase a genuine smile from my face. I've done that; I've been at that exact spot.

But I never feared that being gay would mean that maybe at one point in time in someone's mind that would be a justification in believing I should die. That I deserved to be hanged or I deserved to be gassed. Never in my entire life did I ever fear that being gay would end my life. I only expected discomfort because discomfort is the only thing I have ever wrongly known.

But in another time, I could easily have been a police report. The same group of individuals to photograph my body could easily have beaten it to death. That would have been a reality in another time.

I've never really gotten into the play aspect of the culture I was born into because I don't feel it's a proper progression. That's my sophisicated reasoning to it. I always thought that I was some prudent bore before I really saw this part of myself. Just thought I was very unfun. However I think the true reason is that after years and decades of being a human filled with fear, I am a human who is gay who doesn't have to be filled with that. I can endure names because I don't have to defend against nightsticks. I can stand in the face of judgements because standing inside a jailcell isn't standard anymore. It's easier to find 10 really great sushi places than it is find 10 really hateful people who would love to kick me to death because I'm a faggot. In half a century, the person that I am came from the shadows. Maybe not completely embraced in an eternal accepting glow from all, but I am someone who has never felt true fear that's connected to who I simply am.

Just being able to love is huge. Not drinking to excess. Not increasingly lengthy techno music. Not the hot shit spot that is so all about Britney. I know that mindset isn't popular because I don't think many really care about that. The guys going through school now never had to go through it as hard as I did. And I never had to watch my back as much as I would have in another time.

For that, I am lucky.

There's a part of me that really remembers the journey. A part of me that full well knows that the journey so often isn't happening right now...and all those moments of "not right now" make up everything I go back and remember.

I was taking a drive today and I was doing the math of it all. In a little more than a year's time, it will be ten years since I left high school. Before a reunion is held that I'm positive I won't be at. I was on this beautiful road today with the shards of sunlight shining through the mountains as I drove and I thought about what other people could have done with my life. Another person could have all these accomplishments there and state that every square inch of my time was maximized. He might be a lot more successful; his face and eyes might look to be the age I'm supposed to be. Heck his eyes could even look to be 40.

I can't help but think about the time. Especially when watching a movie I had no idea was that long ago. I mean the movie was diplomas ago. New babies ago. People that I loved still alive ago. All of it was ages ago. I mean even high school.

I remember one day coming home from high school and just feeling nothing in myself. I don't think the day was anything more than any other day I lived through, but I remember the exact feeling I felt. I felt like there wasn't a need for me to exist. I remember the feeling was way before I felt that true love was any type of importance. I didn't feel like I needed someone to love. I felt that my future held no weight. There was no need for me to go forward because nothing great could ever come from my words or my voice or my effort.

A friend of mine filled out this meme(what the hell a meme is supposed to stand for who knows) and I thought it was quite an interesting one so I got to thinking about it. I'm a big believer in not having this want to go back into the past to change anything. I did a number of things once in my life and with a handful of things, once was enough. But if I could, I would like to have braced myself for what was ahead.

So with that in mind....

"If you could meet your sixteen-year-old self now, what five things would you say?"

1. In two years, you will graduate. That's just a given. And even though, for a day or so afterwards you'll be in this big "I'm so lost; what will I do now" depression, 75% of the anguish you've had to deal with for 16 years and the two years remaining will vanish the day you graduate. All of who you are or who people see you as will be able to be redefined starting that day. Believe me on this one, take a calendar and start counting it down.

2. When you are 23, someone will come into your life that will mean the world to you. There will be a time in which you can barely contain your smile. And even though that description will describe many in your life, you'll know who this person is because you'll come to know sleeplessness a lot. All I can say is pay attention a little bit more. You lead with your heart; that's not a bad. But every now and again, take a random fact that you hear and check it. When all is said and done, you'll cry less.

3. If you ever find yourself liking someone a lot and you've convinced yourself that you see a lot of the good that no one else can see, trust your true gut. If one night you find yourself sitting outside a club alone because the guy you came with barely cared you were there, I know it will be difficult, but distract yourself with anything until you no longer like him. You'll arrive there on your own; I'm just trying to get you there faster.

4. One weird thing that will pop up in your list of crushes will be the letter 'E'. It won't really be a fetish; it will just be something freaky. Even though every single one of them will seem like a real possibility in the moment, you have to realize that sometimes flirting is just flirting. On your part it won't be so I'm just trying to explain the other side. You meet someone with an E beginning their name? Flirt back, but expect nothing else. Even if every other sign points to something more happening, again flirt back, but don't expect more.

5. You will absolutely hate unbalanced karma. But you have to realize it happens. Some bad people will possess the things you've always wanted while you just stand there wanting. You'll think it's very unfair, but don't become too jaded because of it. Don't stop being you because you believe the majority is winning and they are all carbon copies of one another. Let the sparkly ones sparkle and the hott ones have their heat. You singularly are an interesting soul even if those too busy listening to the beat cannot know it.

Beyond that, have fun.

So my friend commented the other day how much harder it must be for me to find a guy. I mean in an everyday situation, she would have to deal with just the hurdle of going up to a guy and asking him out. He might not find her attractive or he might have a girlfriend. But beyond just being out and out crazy, those are basically the blocks she needs to break through.

And then she looked at me and said it must be tons harder on me. Barring going to a club and picking up a guy there, in an everyday situation, it must suck. Aside from the completely obvious gay guy who is sprinkling fairy dust everywhere, there are a lot more mixed signals. Tight pants and multi-colored hair no longer are givens. Metro-sexuals make the world that much more difficult for the gay male. As do emo kids and the truly poetic sensitive souls out there. Who won't be against kissing a guy or many guys, saying it's not that big of a deal in the scope of the world, but they are absolutely straight. And with my track record of fabulous gaydar, I would, of course, walk up to that one cute guy in a gay club who happens to be straight. Who only came that night because his friend was having a bad day and he wanted to cheer him up. Believe me, that's just the type of sitcom stuff that would so pop up in my journey.

But back to my friend. Insert me into her situation. Just a cute guy and me with the balls to go up and say hi. Not only do I have the girlfriend problem to worry about and the "just not interested" thing, I have the "not gay" theme to consider. As well as the "you fucking faggot" response to prepare for. The "I'm confused, so I don't know where I'm heading" mindset as another option. Just a whole gauntlet of other bullets to add to that outline. It's at least twice as hard. And if you don't want to go for the completely shallow side of things, you don't go to a club. The same friend was reading a dating book and the guy she happens to be with right now broke every single rule in the book right alongside her. The sex was supposed to come much later than date three. I told her in gay culture date three is pretty much a willingness to wait. And she just told me all this stuff people who write books think about relationships. A lot of it sounded stupid because it was applying a formula to every single heart and every single heart is different.

Take my heart for example. I was always taught by the movies that there's two types of guys: the rebel and the nerd. In a more broad stance, there are the guys who will screw you over. Who will ignore you, who will mooch off you, who will put you down, who will hit you, who will cheat on you, who will do an endless list of terrible things to you to signal the little flare in your head that this is not the greatest guy out there. The nerd however was the guy who paid attention. Who was nice, who was romantic, who had a great sense of humor, who was kind, who was thoughtful, who was great with kids and puppies. He was not just the nerd. He was the good guy choice. The one the audience wanted the flighty girl to end up with at the end of the movie. It was always told to me, not just in movies, that people would be attracted to other people who treated them right.

I am not at all the culmination of every single positive adjective out there because I don't think anyone can be. But I'm not a dick. I'm not the guy on the Harley sleeping around and mistreating the youngens. I've always hated the expression that Nice Guys Finish Last because it just makes the sweet ones not want to even try. To get passed up over and over again and then get fed up with that, become a dick for a fraction of a second and alienate that one girl who wanted nothing more than to marry the sweetest guy ever. I think it's really crappy to change someone's outlook on life if it's a good one simply because all those girls want to try dating the asshole type that month. I have honestly spent a few good moment's of thinking time the past few years thinking why at any given time I remained single. And the weird thing is that I thought it was because of a problem. There have been friends of mine who were friends to me right off the bat. Who I didn't feel any type of sexual attraction to and never missent a signal that I did. I never flirted. I never gave any misdirected hope. I thought friends right from the get-go. And it's hard telling them why it couldn't work out even when you have a really good reasoning of you only ever seeing them as a friend. Right from day one, moment one. You don't want to hurt their feelings.

But now, there's this new component to things that I never really understood to exist until now. The past couple years I have gotten a few letdowns from guys who said I was really sweet, a kind guy, a cutie, definitely someone who could make them laugh, but just not what they were looking for. In which the flirting was there in the beginning, the attraction was there right away, but no sorry, they are just not looking for those types of positive qualities. And to me that's a total "What the Fuck!?!?"

In comparison, it's like looking for a good therapist and going through the process of talking to one and then stating that you don't think it's going to work out. I mean she's a good listener, brings good points to the table, has a comfy couch and generally "gets it" but yeah that's just not what I'm looking for. Yeah we wouldn't want that bitch screwing up the whole therapy vibe.

So beyond just the ability to take a chance, I now have to deal with this really real factor of the good parts of my personality just not helping me out. You know if nice and kind and cute and a charming personality just gets you demerits, then I'm pretty much fucked. You know it just gets a little bit confusing. The only thing more confusing would be the gay guy who is letting you down stating that "if he was gay, he would totally date you." I think that's when you open the door to Bizarro Seinfeld land and tell them "I'm sure you'll find a dickhead right through that door. Be safe."

I figured the hardest races I would have to run were when I was younger. When I had to deal with bullies and bigots and people who generally gossiped a few inches from my back. I never knew that the race I run now would be littered with uniquely disguised explosives that really blow you back when you hear them in total. The funny thing is that my friend is having one of the hardest relationships on the charts: a long distance relationship. And me having connected in the past greatly with a guy who lives in Missouri or New York or South Dakota , I really have to judge what it is to be classified as long distance. Yes a Northern California/Southern California romance is a bit of a stretch, but I have known those who didn't want to go five miles from their house in order to find someone who might matter greatly in their heart. That was just too much of a distance for them. Let alone a two hour drive which in California terms might just be 50 miles away.

It's weird how in the amazing race of life and in love, generally there are those who will only run a mile and those who are willing to go a marathon. I guess I've always been the marathon type. Even if I finish last, it's the only type of race that I know to run.

I wasn't going to post anything about September 11th. Partly because I think it's been done to death. Understandably so. It was a terrible event. But I really didn't think there was anything new I could say about it that I hadn't already said or hadn't, in the scope of the world, been said. All those posts that state for people to remember.... You'd have to be really loopy to forget. Plus seeing horrific pictures of people plummeting to their death really isn't my thing. Yes it happened and I saw it over and over again six years ago, but being reminded every year that gravity took tons of lives as well...again, I saw it once.

The one thing I remember so much about that time was the comfort barrier that existed around everyone melted away. Probably just for a week, but it was noticeably gone. Especially that day. People weren't in their own special world, talking on their cell phones, ignoring other human beings. Everyone was talking. Customers would come in and in the midst of ordering food at the job I had back then would discuss parts of the tragedy. Other customers in line or who were sitting down did the same. Strangers became only Americans. That's the amazing thing that I remember. Not the events that happened after. Not the radical patriotism. The absence of free thought or expression. The hate for people who looked like those who did us wrong. The need for more fighting and more guns and more control. The effects of that day were mostly terrible. Except for the compassion. All the way in California, people still cried. People still honored the Moment of Silence. People still held vigils.

The one memory that I do have from that time was being excluded from a vigil. It was the Friday night after and I think it was a mass candle burning session. People could light their candles and just have that sense of peace. Every single person that I worked with went outside, lit a candle and not a single person told me about it. And it could have been a whole miscommunication with one person thinking that another person had told me and they just didn't know, but I can only imagine standing outside and looking up and around and noticing someone was missing. If that had been me and even if I knew that the person inside had said that they didn't want to come out, I still would have went in and asked again. And not a single soul came in and got me. Instead the mindset must have been "Wow Raul must really be a selfish bastard if he didn't even want to light a candle for thousands of people." To those who did notice, that must have been it. Truth be told, I did at one point notice no one was around me and I went looking through the store to see where everyone was, but being that a majority of the workers were slackers and would frequently go outside to smoke or whatever, I figured I was just being Mr. Diligent. Again. When I saw them file in and realized where they had been and heard one after another say "Oh, I thought someone had told you," it just made me more pissed and more hurt. Because honestly, what can you possibly think of a person who doesn't in that instance light a candle?

I left that night thinking all these bad things. But being me--actually being the me none of those people really had chosen to see--I brought a lantern and some candles the next day. And I lit five. One facing toward each of the cardinal directions and one in the center. I found the darkest patch nearby and lit them there. I said the words I needed to say for those who were lost and wished for them and their families five things to give them resolution. Because by that night or even the night before, the barrier between strangers had come back up and it came to a matter what you individually believed. And on that night, I believed five candles were hopefully stronger than one.

You know I've always believed that Pride was and still is my great sin. The whole purpose of writing these specific posts on these very recognizable sins was to always remind myself that I am not separated from the things I sometimes wish I were. I sometimes wish I was the greatest person I knew. And knowing that I sometimes wish that, I automatically know I'll never simply be that. The greatest, most caring person anyone can know can never be self-aware of that. They never know they are that great because they are never trying to be that. They just go on living their life being a kind soul along the way and smile while they do it. I know I'm not above anything. I sleep in most days. Eat a little more than my body should allow because sometimes I don't want to waste or crave the things I could have had now. There are times in which I wish for another's life, wish I could take another's life, wish I could shackle myself to another's being or remain horizontal with someone insanely cute for hours on end.

There are facets of my being that can let all of that in on a daily basis. And honestly I do believe it should be let in. Not overflowingly, but routinely. I wish I could be a good person all the time, but I do realize that the sin is what defines us. I had a friend in high school that loved everyone. Didn't have a bad word for a single soul. And as much as I tried to get him to admit to even disliking one being that wasn't supremely evil, he just couldn't do it. I thought at the time that he was a good soul. Probably a very calm, wise person because he had nothing, but love for everybody. But through goodness I don't think you truly learn. Not about yourself at least. If everyone loved doing the best thing possible and enjoyed being a good neighbor who gave everyone the benefit of the doubt and the right of way, I think life would be so very overbearing.

And strange as this sounds, it's through sin that I've defined myself and brought forth any goodness I might possess.

I think there's a big enough gap between self esteem and self confidence. I've never been the hugest self esteem person, but I've very steadily picked up what self confidence I have and have made it very strong. There have been enough jabs that I've had to endure that has made my slight self esteem what it is today. I mean I'm never really going into a room of strangers ready to break down because no one will like me. I'm never ready to always crumble. But on the other side of things, I never wake up believing that it could all turn around for me today. That I get an energy or a vibe or a feeling I just can't explain that will usher in this amazing guy into my life who will make all those love songs heard from decades past all the stronger in my mind.

I have tones of reasons why the self esteem shouldn't be there. Years of gaps that can pretty much tell the tale. I mean I have an incredible story about a person who went out of their way to treat me as an emotional experiment and there had to be a few moments in there in which I questioned why exactly me. I think it might be parallel to the logic structure that someone who was molested or raped could fall into. Everyone states that it isn't their fault, but there had to be something. Over and over the thoughts play in your head that there must have been something about you that made you so very much more desirable than everyone else around in being the obvious victim. Others were smarter, others were stronger, others were simply not you. And truth be told, I dealt with the why longer than anyone else could imagine and I still didn't come to a great conclusion. I do know why I was sucked in so easily.

I was ready for a trade off. I was ready to be unignored. I was ready to stop a gaze and not just be a piece of scenery for someone's eyes before they got to something good. Every other person around me wouldn't have been that easily sucked in because they didn't need anything traded off. They had already gotten into the "You're a special person" cycle of life. They had already been labeled by a person who at one point in time was in love with them.

And I had never and still to this day have never been in love. And I don't exactly know what that means. I don't know if that means I'm broken or guarded or treasured or whatever verb could fit nicely to describe exactly what my status is, but I know that the self esteem isn't what it could be. I know and have accepted that knowledge. It's just there.

But there is this other part of me that remains very strong and will one day add fuel to my esteemed problem. Being alone actually allows you to be that. You're alone in the world and alone with yourself. All the things that you wish others could know, you are completely aware of it. You see you and the days in which I've seen myself with perfect clarity, I've liked what I glanced upon. At this point in my life, I know who I am. I know what I can do and what I am capable of becoming. And it's all good. I've never been afraid of who I can be or what exactly my future can foretell because I know me. I know the bruises and the bumps and the really bad days. And I know even in the middle of a monsoon, I can stand my ground and last. And I won't be there reapplying lip gloss, wondering if all the boys can see my wonderfully luscious lips. I won't be there bending over and readjusting my already tight attire. I'll be there waiting for my go.

And the part that is great is how wonderful that confidence feels. I don't really fear failure. I know that sounds stupid and unrealisitic, but I really don't fear it. The only time it trickles in is when I mimic it from another. I empathize so much that their fear becomes mine and unless it's a killer clown holding a dead rat in his hand speaking of my ill of my failed future in a very high pitched voice, I don't fear failure. I know given the right forceful push hopefully not toward incoming traffic can get me anywhere I want. I feel that. I really do feel that. And regardless of any self esteem problems that I face, I know that I'm cute. That sounds really conceited and overly self important, but I do know that I am not ugly. I don't hide in my room crying over the hideous nature of my face. I don't have a horn or a lazy eye or a promoted Jessica Simpson problem with acne. I am aware of all the wonderful things my friends have stated about me. I know that if I wasn't me, I would be so lucky to find a guy like me. Just because I haven't been in a relationship doesn't mean I don't know the right things to do in one. I can hand someone a vase when they really need to throw something instead of talking them down from anger. I can cuddle them when they need cuddling. I do get it. I get the prize I am. I've never doubted that part of myself. But I have also realized that there is a very real block that some people do not want to believe that surrounds me. It's there. It has to be there because I am not sabatoging anything. I'm not being some stubborn "I need to be lonely" type guy. I know almost every good point of me and I know there are some things I will never be because I'm just not built for it. My mind isn't quick for it or my body isn't strong for it. I just know.

But for love, I know I'm not made to skip it. As much as I know that given the right amount of will I can rearrange my world.

I remember when I was younger I watched this movie Feds in which Rebecca DeMornay goes to town in this pizza eating contest. Just box after box empty with all these pizza crusts. The toppings didn't look particularly appetizing since I was and still am a pepperoni man, but the premise was there.

One day I wanted to eat as much pizza as I was led to believe she did.

I didn't know this premise yet in my early stages of pizza consumption. One of my earliest memories with the delicious dish was sitting at my Nana's counter wanting another slice and she telling me that I couldn't get another piece until I finished the crust on my first piece. I felt this was blasphemy. There was no cheese left, no sauce. Just brown, get-in-the-way, flavorless crust.

The thing was that I really wanted that extra piece. So I don't know how. I don't know the power that flows into children that makes them do the thing they really don't want to do, but I ate that crust. The pepperoni slice after that really didn't register as a memory for me, but that crust will always be implanted right there. Seeing Feds after that confirmed my suspicions that the crust is very much a toss-away item on your plate. At least it is when you're trying to win a food eating contest.

That crust memory as well as probably a dozen other food memories were prominent gluttony moments for me as a kid. I was a chubby kid; food had to be a big factor in there somewhere. The thing is that food now really isn't that huge of a deal with me. Sometimes I don't eat as much as I should because time doesn't allow for it. How grown up is that?

The funny trade-off thing now is the most gluttonous focus for me is that of time. I just seem to crave more and more of it. Three years ago, I had a busy schedule. Beyond busy. On top of a tremendous college work load that was my last quarter of classes, I had a crew schedule to keep that was a corequisite. I had a job like everyone else does as well as a family member that wasn't doing so well. My Nana who taught me to enjoy the crust of a pizza was fading pretty rapidly. I had all these thoughts. A majority of them were scheduling thoughts and ways of keeping me awake during the moments I need to be conscious. But a good handful of the thoughts were how I was going to schedule life in. I was so close to graduating. My classes and my crew credits fit just so into that last quarter that I really didn't take anything unneeded and everything that I was doing then, I needed in order to get my major and my minor completed.

But a major focal point for my family was my Nana's sickness. She was the glue. And everyone wanted time with her. It was probably the one point in the history of my family that feelings for others really weren't paid attention to. Everyone did what they needed to do in order to say goodbye. At least the older adults in my family did. This was their Mom; they needed that time. And because of that time still members of my family aren't speaking with one another. It was a terrible year--that entire year. Well the thing for me was that I already had given into the fact that my Nana was going to pass. I couldn't spend really all that much time with her like everyone else could because I had all these major chunks filling up my time that I needed to go to. It came to a point in which I felt like in order to give my Nana the proper memory that she deserved, I was going to have to not graduate. She would have understood me not being able to attend her funeral if it was for my schooling, but honestly no one else would have let me forget it. I would have been selfish and the bad seed because of...supply any reason. They would have let me know each and every one. So near the end, I kept hoping that my Nana died in a way that I could be there for my family and still be able to graduate.

Honestly that's where my head was. I wanted my Nana's death to fit into my schedule. And that sounds horrible. I had known for months that this was the end for her even though there were others in heavy denial. I just didn't want to miss anything. Miss anything more than I had already. And my Nana died. And it fit into my schedule. She died the week of my birthday and the thing was I slightly forewent my birthday that year. I didn't have the time really to celebrate it so I didn't. My cousins gave me a cake with candles on it and there was someone that year that I knew who had their birthday on mine who was going out to party and celebrate and she wanted to know what I was doing to celebrate mine. I think I said nothing much. Because after I went to school and then went to dress rehearsal, I had to drive to my cousin's house because I had to wake up early the next morning to attend the service. Honestly my birthday didn't matter that year. It actually started a 3 year trend.

But at the end of it, that's what I noticed. It feels most times that I have no time. I'm constantly doing this or that and when I do have a day to myself, I want to veg. But I feel like I'm committing this gigantic sin because I should be doing all these other things that people would see as important. I should be writing 20 books or working for a newspaper or finding a boyfriend because that's as easy as finding a colored egg at Eastertime. I shouldn't have time to rest because for whatever reason I really want it. And for whatever reason rest is just a little beyond reach. It's through that next hoop, over that next hurdle and after that next unwanted piece of pizza crust.