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Alone

La Shy Girl got her hair did last Friday night (and it looks mighty nice, may I add). She's not supposed to drive at night, and she gets her hair done in Rancho Cucamonga, so I usually drop her off and then do my own thing for a few hours. Sometimes I'll call The BFF or The Bro and they're gracious enough to want to hang out with me. Other times, though, I kinda just like to be by myself. And this past Friday, it's what I did. I took myself out to dinner at some vegan Thai place and, I shit you not, it kinda played out like this...I got there and the host automatically sent me to the counter to either place or pick up a to-go order. I explained that I was looking to dine-in. He asked me where the rest of my party was and I told him it was just me. Only after giving me an awkward look, did he proceed to seat me in the farthest back table (next to the cleaning supplies closet). And then it took about fifteen minutes for a waiter to come over and take me drink order. Now, usually, I don't play that. Under normal circumstances, I would have gotten up and demanded that someone take my fucking order. But, my choices are limited now, so I took it. And instead of turning to my usual external anger response, I employed an internal self-conscious one. I convinced myself that I was being treated poorly because I was there alone.

Suddenly, it felt like all eyes were on me. I'd look up and I could have sworn that the people at the nearest table (about five over) were giving me looks of sympathy. So I started to fidget with my Blackberry. I even considered making a few phone calls. I figured out clever ways to place my left hand on my face so everyone could see my wedding band. It became important to me that everyone saw I was married and not some pathetic schmuck that goes out to dinner alone on a Friday night. I freaked out about being alone. After I ate, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. On the way to Barnes and Noble, I couldn't help but laugh at myself and my ridiculous reaction.

You see, I like spending time alone. If I may say so myself, I make some pretty damn good company. But the pressure of being alone in a social atmosphere proved to be more than I can handle. After dinner I spent about an hour at the bookstore alone. And then another hour at the coffee shop alone. I was fine. There was just something about being in that restaurant. And I started thinking about who that makes me. If you rewind about ten years, you would see that I had isolated myself from anyone positive in my life. I'd surrounded myself with a bunch of poisonous people and, inevitably, I too was infected. And when those people went away, I was convinced that I wanted to be alone. I was convinced that I could go on without ever making another significant human connection again. I'd pictured living alone and spending as much time with myself as possible. I was quite the dramatic lad...of course, now that would be completely impossible.

Even when I spend time alone, someone is always on mind. If I'm at the bookstore, I'm thinking of what book LSG would like. If I'm at a movie alone, I instictively lean to my right. The truth is that I have formed some amazingly strong human bonds in my adult years. I have allowed myself to let down my guard and let myself depend on others. And now I can't imagine my life without the handful of people I've come to truly value. I could never be alone.

And I think about those that have to be. The feeling of being alone can be a freakin' terrible one. I mean look at my #1 cougar Marie Osmond's son...the last words he wrote were something along the lines of not having any friends and feeling alone. Some people can't handle it. And what's sadder than having someone there, waking up next to someone every single morning and still feeling alone. That blows. Being alone can have some crazy adverse effects on us. We might stay in a shitty relationship because we don't want to be alone. We might associate with unhealthy people because we don't want to be alone. Instead we should go out to the world and find the people that will bring a sense of completion to us. No one can feed our souls if we don't seek out that much needed nourishment. (Ay guey!)

My Bad

I don't mean to suck this week. I really don't. I will make it up to you.

True In Novelas...True In Life?

Growing up Mexican, it was inevitable that I was exposed to the wonderful world of telenovelas. The Mom's and El Viejo watched those things like it was nobody's business. Sometimes they couldn't agree on which one to watch, so they'd end up in different rooms in order to each get what they wanted. And then, of course, I got sucked into a few. Sometimes you just can't help it. The truth is it really doesn't matter how many you watch or don't watch because they're all the same.

I have this theory that there are actually only three or four original stories that just get tweaked a little bit, given a different title and thrown on the air. No doubt, the main storyline always comes down to the battle between good and evil. You have the heroine of the story trying to overcome all adversary in order to finally achieve true love. Sometimes she's poor and falls for the rich guy, sometimes she falls for the brother she never knew she had. Don't trip, it always turns out the brother was adopted or something. Anyway, I haven't watched one in years but when I used to indulge in them, my favorite character was always the villain.

You see, the villain is just always misunderstood. They too, just want happiness...and they're willing to get it at all costs. They don't always show their true colors initially. Sometimes they start off sweet and caring...the heroine never sees it coming. But as the audience, we always know (mostly because we get to hear their countless inner-monologues). We know that no matter how nice they appear, they always have a hidden agenda. And part of the fun is watching them get their way. You see, they're able to manipulate the good guy and maneuver their way into their inner circle. They learn their weaknesses and then slowly begin to break them down. All the while making sure all the pieces of their evil scheme come together behind the scenes. And they get the heroine to do all sorts of stupid shit. All while pretending that they're just trying to help.

The crazy thing is that the heroine's instincts always tell her the villain is bad. There's always something they can't trust about them. But they ignore their instincts and continue to partake in various types of silliness. And that's because the villain has done their job right. They pounce when the heroine is at their most vulnerable. Once the heroine has exhausted all other options, the villain always knows they will come to them for help. And then it's all over the heroine. Until, inevitably, the villain ends up getting a little power hungry, therefore out of control and dying an ultra-dramatic death. And it seems a bit unfair to me. If the heroine was stupid enough to keep falling for the villain's trickery...you can't blame the bad guy! And really...the heroine is usually an idiot. They put so much control over their lives in the hands of the villain, that you start to think they deserve whatever they get. Usually, by the end of the telenovela you wish it was the heroine whose car got stuck in train tracks, and inexplicably couldn't get out her car in time to avoid being hit by the oncoming train.

And so, in life, often times we make stupid decisions. Often times we trust when we know better. But we want something so bad that we are willing to overlook what our core is telling us. Our blind desire makes us do some stupid shit. And there are those out there willing to take advantage of that for their own gain. So, when we go against what we know can't be right, can we really blame the other person?

Overload

So, I've been doing quite a bit of research on food and how it eventually ends up on our table. As you know, I officially go vegan next Monday and before I fully get into it, I've wanted to just learn. More specifically, I wanted to understand the lifestyle, and learn why others have chosen it. Really...what are the benefits? And I have to tell you...I think I've gotten more than I bargained for. I have been taking in so much new information that I'm starting to feel a little overwhelmed. The whole system is so incredibly fucked. It's like that shit should not be happening...this is America for God's sake! At this point, I'm trying to make some educated decisions about the food I continue to put in my system. This is quite an interesting period for me. Definitely, one of enlightenment. But also, one that I can tell I have the potential of taking overboard. I realize that I need to take a step back, soak in all the information and then go forth.

Before I continue I want to wholeheartedly state that I am trying to not come across as preachy. The first few days I was learning, I wanted to shout the new information from the mountaintops...I wanted everyone to join my bandwagon. The truth is that no one wants to hear what chickens have to go through in order for them to enjoy their omelet as their eating it. I realized what a fruitless error that was. My bad for annoying any of you with my shit. But I now understand the plight of the born-again Christian. You've reached an intense level of personal enlightenment and you want to spread it around...just not everyone is going to give a shit. And I've learned I need to calm the fuck down.

Look, I am not a dumb man. I know how money and special interest groups control the amount and type of data from research that is released to the public. I also know that data can be manipulated in such ways that we may not always get the truth. And so I'm taking everything with a grain of salt. However, I have learned some pretty crazy shit that I can quite certainly say has convinced me to make some permanent changes. The vegan thing is an experiment. I want to see what it does to my body. Will it help me on my weight loss journey? Will it make me a happier person? Things like that. I cannot sit here and tell you that I will be vegan for the rest of my life. March could be it for me. I can, however, tell you with every ounce of clarity in my system that I will never eat another piece of meat again. Certain things I have read and seen have all but guaranteed that. Okay,fine, the following is the only preachy thing I'll say...

I get that animals were put here for us to enjoy. I get it. God, or whatever entity people believe in, meant for us to enjoy the other creatures he or she placed on our planet. Okay. But I am pretty sure that no God intended for its creatures to be treated in the way this country now brings meat to our stores and then into our homes. It is vile, it is inhumane. And no fucking cheeseburger will ever be worth the suffering of a cow for me again. No chicken will ever be genitically manipulated for my sake. And, furthermore, my poor beaner people will not be exploited and forced to work in unsanitory surroundings because I want to enjoy a piece of steak. And I understand that those that disagree with my decision will come at me with, "Well, what about this?" or "What about that?" and all I can say is I'm only one person. And I don't want to end up just eating fucking grass. So, take it easy on me.

This is a work in progress for me. I have been meat free for a week now, and so far so good. I've found a vegan restaurant that should fulfill my eating out needs. I can report that I am not an instant fan of tofu. I will have to get used to it. But I've already discovered how amazingly delicious vegetables can me. God bless La Shy Girl for buying recipe books to make sure I get a variety of flavors. And I promise to stop torturing her and those of you I actually know with horrible stories. I will keep things to myself. Word.

Three Years

Monday marked the three year anniversary of my Dad's death. I debated whether or not I even wanted to write about it as I kinda feel like whatever I say at this point will just be redundant. But then I thought, I owe it to El Viejo; and if it seems repetitive...so be it. It's pretty weird to think that he's been gone three years. Often, it feels like a lifetime since he passed away. And then others, it's like just yesterday we still had him with us. So many times, I've tried to forget what that day felt like...obviously, it's impossible. The day you lose a parent is one that you never, ever forget. And so when Monday came around, I chose to not even think about it. As far as I was concerned, it was just another ordinary day. But I knew it wasn't. The truth is, you can't escape something like that. Three years ago, I knew that things were never going to be the same again. I knew something had fundamentally changed not only in me, but in my family. And back then, I wasn't sure how it was all going to work out. How were we all supposed to go on knowing that a major part of us was missing? And then we just did. And, no, things are not the same...but we have a new "normal" now. We talk about my Dad every single time we're together. And I think about him every single day. No lie. One way or another, he is always in my thoughts. I hear him in certain songs, I see him when watching certain movies, he's in my wardrobe (I'm wearing one his old shirts today)...and then every time the "C" word is brought up, there he is. I always wonder what he would think of me doing certain things...would he be proud about this? Would he laugh at me for this? And there's comfort in that for me. It's lame to even write that he's always with me...because you know that shit freaks me out and I don't believe in it. But his memory is with me. His essence is with me. I always strived to be different from him. In many ways, that has helped me be a better man. But there is so much of his personality in mine. Some of it I fight, and some I embrace. You know what does suck? Is that when the memories play in my head, I see my Dad in his younger days and I see him getting older and that makes me smile. I remember his laugh, I remember how he was always whistling. But inevitably, I remember him sick. And I remember him dying. And that still absolutely breaks me each time. I mean, it gets me at my very core. And I hate that I can't shake those images. I'm not sure that time can ever fully erase that pain. All I can hope for is that the good memories can overshadow the bad one day.

Weekend Update

I'm not gonna lie...I've been lazy. Very lazy...hence, you havn't heard from me in a few days. But I wanted to make sure that I gave you a weekend update, because we had a good one. Saturday, we hit up L.A. where we were supposed to go to a roach coach food festival. However, when we got there and realized that the line was ridiculously long, we got back in the car and drove to Olvera Street for a good ole' bean and cheese burrito. I should say that I rear-ended a parked car when leaving our first stop. And the people were in the car. Rarely, do I feel like a total idiot...but I have to tell you, I felt fucking stupid and embarrassed. The irony? The other driver was a female Asian. We were so close to the car to begin with, that the only damage was a scratch on LSG's bumper. My bad.

You all know that I am not a believer of Valentine's Day, but I have to say that I had quite a lovely Sunday. We got to spend time with both The Besties and The BFF. Had breakfast (which some of us regretted later) and then headed to the Pasadena Flea Market at The Rose Bowl. Like every other time we've gone, we bought nothing, but still had a great time hanging out with our friends. As the icing on the cake, we ended our afternoon together by having lunch at Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles. I was set to have my last hurrah with meat, so I wanted to go out with a bang. And I love me some chicken and waffles! However, my joy was quickly put on hold, when poor little LSG got sick on us. I'm not gonna lie, I still ate...but, I have to say...it wasn't as good as I remembered. And so now, I shouldn't miss it so much.

And that was that, another splendid weekend with LSG and the bonus of spending time with some of our favorite people. Plus, I ate what will hopefully be the last bit of meat I ever eat (I can't begin to tell you all the horrible things I've learned in researching the vegan lifestyle. But I'll try later.) It was a good weekend.

Push

I had a brief instant messenger conversation with The Female Bestie about knowing when to let go. You know, how much can we possibly take from one person until we've finally had it? I know I've written about that before, so I want to focus a little bit more on how whether or not we recognize it, sometimes the decision is made for us. Sometimes we want to hang on to something or someone that does nothing but push us away. It's like this: I've had plenty of good friendships throughout my life...plenty of people that I click with and just think that they're overall awesome. Then they start dating someone that takes that awesome level down. At that point, I have a choice. I can either continue to try and hold on to that friendship and deal with how pathetic my friend is becoming or I can walk away. I've tried both...but you know what? The walking away part is always inevitable. You are pushed into it.

I still haven't been able to create that disconnect between who that person is as my friend and who that person is in a relationship. And that's where the problem is created in my mind...and my heart. I love my friends. I want my friends to be as happy as I am. And when they go and date some loser, it breaks my heart. Because I KNOW they deserve better. But the longer they stay, the more I KNOW they then deserve to be in that bad relationship. Does that make sense? I should say it's not always like this. The BFF has found a wonderful man in The Persian. I mean, really, a truly wonderful man. And my friend is the happiest I've ever seen him. That in turn, makes me happy. I feel like I've known The Persian forever. And if this guy recognizes what an incredibly awesome man The BFF is and treats him accordingly...we are going to be good. And there's The Besties...who I consider our relationship equivalents. They make me happy and I love them. I could go on and on. In fact, I'm surrounded by freakin' awesome relationships all the time. And these are the relationships I want around me.

What I truly hate is having to watch someone belittled in front of me all the time. I hate someone telling me how shitty their boyfriend or girlfriend is and then act all gaga around them...like everything is okay, like I'm supposed to forget what they just told me. Why in living hell would I want to be around that? Right? And so, it is my belief that by constantly throwing that in your face...by constantly telling you stories that they can't recognize as bad...those people are pushing you away. They push you away because you know better. You know when something is not right. And when you know something is not right, how can you possibly stand by it? And then you cannot fathom why they can't see it. And you lose respect. And without respect, there can't be friendship. And I'm not friends with idiots. It's not how I roll. Word.

The Man Card

You know that I don’t strive to be the manliest of men. It is by far not one of my goals to be an alpha male. I mean, I have absolutely no shame in admitting that I’ve watched every episode Sex and the City at least twice. And I proudly feature Kellie Pickler on my iPod. Absolutely no shame. I’ve grown up with women, I’m surrounded by women on a daily basis. I’m the guy that gets the best of both worlds. I have true friendships with a bunch of chicks who all, in one way or another help me be a better husband. And I have some awesome guy friends who are completely non-judgmental about my less than macho likes. I am just as comfortable learning about sports from my boy T-Fresh as I am consoling The Blondie when she’s surfing the crimson wave. It’s just what I do.

Rarely…very rarely, do I feel like something I do is not up to my own specific man rules. Well,  then yesterday I joined The Work Mom and The Blondie for a Pilates class. And I literally felt like I handed my balls over at the door. It wasn’t that I was the only guy in a room with about 20 ladies...it was just how silly I felt in some of those poses. I had to keep looking out  the window to make sure none of my work homies would see me in there. And I never feel that way. It is my understanding that this particular teacher adds a bit of dance element to the class, which would explain why I felt like freakin' Nomi Malone half of the time. And so, as much I as enjoy spending time with both The Work Mom and The Blondie, I must say that I will never go back to this. Even I have limits...and you know that it's gotta be pretty girly if I feel ashamed.

If Only I Owned A Hundred Taco Bells

I didn’t grow up with much. I certainly never went without anything, but I never really lived a life of excess. The Mom’s just always made sure we were okay. Even now, the woman will go completely out of her way to make sure The Brothers, La Shy Girl and I are okay. She has gotten us out of plenty of tight squeezes. And I know that if anything were to go ever go wrong, we could all turn to her for help.

I tell you this because I met a young man today that made a significant impact on me. He lost his father a few years ago to liver disease. He then lived with his mother until she passed away from Lupus last year. After that happened, a series of other unfortunate events led him to become homeless and live out of his car. He is 21 years old. Every day he manages to collect enough money to come and shower at our facility so that he can arrive presentable to his part-time job. The part-time job that barely pays him enough to get him to and from. I feel wrong even sharing that much about him, but just know that his story absolutely broke my heart.

I’ll tell you why. I think of Brother #2 who is only 22 years old. And I think about how much (whether or not he wants to admit it) he still depends on The Mom’s. And, although, I know that if we lost the Mom’s this very day, the kid would survive, it’s still nice to know she’s there, you know? I can’t imagine what this young man is going through. I hope to never know what’s like to be that alone in this world. But he’s a fighter. And I liked that about him. So many people that come through my office are so quick to blame the world for their misfortunes. You’d be surprised how many people I meet in crisis that are completely incapable of accepting any type of responsibility. And this 21-year-old kid did. It made me want to go all Blind Side on him and bring him home and feed him and give him a warm place to stay.

There aren’t too many people whose lives I get to make a difference in. Yes, I might help them get over a minor hurdle, but I never get to fully get my hands dirty and do some hardcore work with anyone. Not at my current job anyway. Meeting this kid today made me miss the days when I truly was making an impact on young people’s lives. I’m very limited to what I can do now…but at least I can offer him some guidance. Who knows if the kid even wants my help. For all I know he’s just fine as he is. But all I can think about is my baby brother…and if he were to ever find himself alone, I wish someone would be there to help him. That’s it.

Sick Shit (Literally)

I'd like to dedicate today's post to every parent who has ever had to take care of a sick child. I've never had to...but I got a preview of what it might be like last night. And it wasn't fun. We came home after the Super Bowl to a bunch of chores we had to complete. We left Little Farrah B. in her crate as we didn't want her having any accidents in the house since we couldn't walk her immediately after getting home. As I ran around taking care of things, I heard her let out a new cry. It was quite different from her "let me out of here" whimpers, but I ignored her regardless. So about, 45 minutes after we got home, I finally went to Little Farrah B.'s crate and saw that not only had she barfed all over the place, she'd also had a mad case of diarrhea. Fucking ey! I grabbed her and took her to the bathtub so she could get a good scrub down from LSG. Wouldn't you know it? The poor thing got a mad, mad case of the squirts. All over LSG's bathtub. So after some sick ass cleaning and hardcore disinfecting, all was back to normal. Until we woke up this morning to find another squishy surprise. Obviously, we aren't going to be mad at Little Farrah B., she can't help being a dog and eating shit she's not supposed to. But it's not been fun taking care of the mess. So, anyway, Big Up's to all of you who've had to deal with an actual sick kid...I know that kid barf is far more gross than dog barf. And I know it must be quite tiring. I'm pretty tired from just two or three accidents. I just truly, truly hope Little Farrah B. is good by the time we get home. It's actually quite sad.