Have I mentioned how I hate my father? For as far as my memory can provide, I don’t remember at least one time he was ever a fatherly figure. The closest he’s been would always be some kind of act while out in public, on front of family and friends. And it’s sad and quite pathetic to say that the best relationship I have with my father is with his wallet. The most fatherly he’s ever been is just as a father should be, “the provider”. He provided sperm to bring me to life, and continue to provide the funds for me to live and survive. As a kid, I don’t remember much of him (as in being around). He would usually come home late, have dinner, continue with his projects, and go to bed. I don’t know how my grandfather treated him as a child, but if it’s 10 times worse as he treats me, then I apologize. Yes, I feel sorry for my dad. I’m sorry that he never created a stable relationship with me. And thinking back about it, I guess I’m subconsciously trying to seek out my revenge.
Here’s a little story: I was once a little private school boy. Attending a private school, especially one as small as mine, the students’ parents are very well acquainted amongst each other. In fact, my classmates’ parents were the few of my parents’ friends. During my kindergarten term, my school had this mini carnival where the school parents would proudly volunteer with and spend quality time with their children. I remember an event, where each class had to be represented by the student’s fathers to play a little game of basketball. Prior to the event, I reminded my dad each day about coming to my school’s carnival. Thinking about it now, I guess my dad made his “promise” to satisfy me and to shut me up. So on the morning of the carnival, my mom broke the news that I would have to attend the mini carnival with my neighbors (they had 2 girls who went to school with me) while she and my dad went to work. I was heart broken. I went through the entire day with having to see my friends having fun with their parents, while I wasn’t. I didn’t even bother watching the basketball tournament.
Since then, to make it up to me, my parents bought whatever I wanted. Thus creating my relationship with my father’s wallet, this then in turn brought out the little brat in me. I admit that I grew up spoiled which irritated my parents from time to time, and which sometimes gets my dad’s blood pressure to boil up. Sure, I hear how he can be so kind and friendly but when he’s mad, he’s a monster. Maybe it’s just tough love? I don’t know. But when I really think about it (like now), I wonder if my dad is ever proud of me. I sometimes think if he was ever proud of me, if I ever made him happy. And for whatever I ever did in the past that really disappointed or upset him, I apologize. I’m fucking tired of thinking that I hate my dad.
#Posting this here ‘cause I’m sure no one would care on Facebook.
I should have signed up for an English class this semester. Start rushing into my English major or something. Stupid GE’s. I don’t know. It feels sort of weird not having to stress over a paper lately. I remember, oh so vividly, stressing over papers last semester, even getting sick from it. Damn. Anyway, yeah, it feels weird. I probably just miss typing on a keyboard. I always liked the sound of it. I don’t know why; don’t judge. To me, the sound reminds me of busyness. Is that even a word? Okay, I guess it is since spell check didn’t say anything. Well yeah, I miss typing. I miss sounding “busy”. I need a new laptop, first of all. No, I need a job. Damn. I suck. Oh hey, nine more days ‘til my birthday. So yeah, I feel like I miss writing [academically]. I have a little too much free time.
Watch this bite me in the butt later, then complain about stressing over papers.
As a kid, I never grasped the idea of a “best friend”. A friend who is the best? But my friends are the best. So if I were to say who my best friend is, I don’t know. I have a couple. But right now (lately actually) I’ve been wanting the presence of two particular friends. Two particular best friends. Two particular ladies.
How I’ve made it without them for almost 2 years now, I don’t know. Okay, sure I would hear from them once in a while. But to take those “once in a while”s and compare them to everyday during senior year? Yeah. It sucks. And yeah, I have my other friends still with me. It’s sometimes hard to think that you can go on without someone who has always been there with you so often. Too often, even.
And right now, as the days wire down to my 20th birthday, what I would want more than anything else in the world is to spent a day with those two particular ladies. ‘Cause right now, they’d know how to pick me right up. They’re the two who does hell of a good job at distracting me from whatever shit I’m going through. And I guess that’s something a best friend does, right?
Beverly & Lannyvelle,
Tonight is the night I miss you girls the most. It’d be very selfish of me to want you two back on island, but for once; just once, I want to go out and do something stupid with you both and share ugly laughs ‘til we piss on ourselves.
More than I ever thought I’d have. Who are you people? lol But yeah, anyway, I was just wondering why I don’t hear anything from any of you. Well sure, I get a few things, and a bunch of Anon messages. But like, since I write my blogs as if I have an audience (like now), it makes me curious if anyone actually reads them. Not that I’m saying I expect any of you to keep up with my life/posts. Or like, comment about anything or whatever. It’s just, idk. Was Tumblr also meant to have free will to interact with fellow bloggers, esp with those with comment interests? No? Yeah? Okay. (awkward pause) Maybe I’m just going on and on about nothing. And maybe none of you are reading this anyway.
Sometimes, I think that I may pass by a few of you (local followers) at places and don’t even know it. I think it’d be nice to say hi or something. No? Yeah? Okay.
Not knowing something is often more comfortable than knowing it. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.
Sometimes, I rather want to know. Otherwise, I would come up with ridiculous assumptions or conclusions, and that really isn’t pretty. Then again, it really depends on what tho. I mean, sure, what I don’t know won’t hurt me. But then what will happen when I eventually find out? I’ll be hurt, yeah? I’ll hurt 10 times worse as oppose to living through a lie. So yeah, I rather know the truth. It sometimes makes “moving on” a lot easier. Makes sense?…
Fuck yeah! Completed and submitted my vagina monologue before the midnight deadline. The fucking moment my internet decided to lag on me during the last 10 minutes, by far the most stressful moment of this year. Ugh. But I turned it in! Even went over the 500 word minimum AND wrote about a true story. I best get that A!
Fuck no! So I pretty much missed out on the last 6 days of that damn mural painting for my art class. That’s about 18 hours worth down the drain. Fuck! I just can’t get my ass up early enough during the freaken weekends! Now, I don’t know what to expect with my professor in the morning.
Fuck no! My cousin woke up this morning with 2 puppies by her front door. They’re both fat white furry pups, with one I brought home earlier this evening. Right away, my parents (mostly my dad) didn’t want to keep it. Though my younger brother and sister wanted to. I mean, this puppy is super cute! It’s white long furry coat. And it’s chubby body with blue eyes, beyond cute! Like a freaken polar bear! :3 AND, when I came home an hour ago from picking up my Aunt from work, the puppy was no where to be found. Wtf!
Fuck yeah! So my dad just gave me this $10 gift certificate to Häagen-Dazs. If he thinks this would compensate for taking that cute puppy away from me…idk -__-
My vagina monologue assignment is due tomorrow. I have no clue what to write about. Help?
Urban Jungle/New Boyz
High school/kid affair. I went to Urban Jungle to support Dakota (and the other local artists), and yeah see the New Boyz. But it was real funny when all the kids ran up to the stage the moment New Boyz walked into the room. Danielle and I just stayed put on our seats. Cool, calm, and collected.
So I didn’t go. Bummer. Missed out on the food (even if they say that the family fiestas have better food, which I totally agree). Me hungry.
Got about 2 more weeks or so? Yeah. Still don’t know what to do. I know that I want to have dinner with a few friends, but what’s good on a Thursday evening?
Monday afternoon, I colored my hair burgundy. Or was it mahogany? Idfr. Anyway, now I want to cut it. Sometimes, I want to grow my hair out, but I really hate the awkward stage of “growing it out”. And at the same time, idk how to cut my hair this time around.
you never really know what a second chance means to someone till you yourself receive one. people make mistakes. we aren’t some kind of perfect idea of what a boyfriend or a girlfriend should be; we are humans. mistakes are inevitable. the ability to forgive and grow is what makes a relationship stronger. granted, there are some reasons why a second chances is too much but for the most part, give them one. you never know what the person who needs it might be feeling. uncertainty. stupidity. blame - all that. remember how the world works and the balance of opposites. give a second chance to get one.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable saying “vagina”. Seriously, it’ll always be a funny word to me. I don’t know why. Vagina. vah-JI-na. VAGIIIINAAAAA!!! Damn. This assignment for WG101 is gonna be hard. What’s funny tho, is that I was walking around campus with a classmate saying “vagina” out loud like it was no one’s business. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina. Motherfucking vagina.
I skipped out on a mural project this morning for my art class, so I plan on making up the hours tomorrow. Er, this morning, in a couple of hours. I got myself a ‘lil problem tho. I was told earlier that my family is going on a little beach outing in the morning. Fuck! Like really? So I’m in a rut. Either, I miss another day of mural painting and attend the next 3 consecutive days next week for the credit. Or I make my way to the beach with the family. Orrr I can swing by the mural project and leave early! Yeah, I’ll do that. Man, sometimes I give myself some great advice. *pat on the back
I googled my name and was flooded with links to my Myspace account. Yuck! Went through about five photos or so and got the fuck out of there. Then I find images from my Myspace account. Again, yuck! Then I stubble on links about a few of my, I suppose, “relatives”. So far, I found that I have a bad ass cousin who’s a local drifter/video/photographer at Las Vegas and some fat ass druggie who got arrested. Damn. Oh, I even found a Ramolete who’s apparently a bad ass Hawaiian paddler. Is my dad hiding family from me in Hawaii all this time?! Meaning I could have left this little island, moved in with them, and have finally lived the Aloha life like how I’ve always imagined?! haha
Anyway, just when I thought my mom’s side of the family was around the globe, I’m finding out that there’s just as much Ramolete’s freaking everywhere! I’m pretty amazed right now. I mean, I know more about my mom’s side than my dad’s, and mom’s side are just different branches from a massive (Visperas) clan; the reason I’m related to everyone (a joke between my friends). But now, I’m looking up a bunch of Ramolete’s. Honestly, I’ve always thought my last name was dying out. Like the relatives I know from my dad’s side are cousins from his siblings and others from my grandmother’s family who don’t even carry the last name. Idk, but this is pretty cool. I’ve always liked my last name…