Family Legacies and Traditions

     Close knit families have legacies and traditions to pass onto the next generation. Some even still have heirlooms to pass down from generation to generation. I think about my family and what it has to offer my generation and the ones after.
     Divorce... is a tradition. I know, how can divorce be a tradition? Well, out of all the eight marriages in the generation before mine, six have ended in divorce. Of the remaining two, one is still a happy and strong marriage, the other is only held together because the husband refuses to give up. So, now you can see why I say divorce is a tradition- negative, but a tradition. So, I don't hold high hopes for a successful first marriage. I've accepted it.
     Strong familial ties- definite legacy. My Chinese side and my Spanish side may be different in many ways, but the one thing that they have in common is the strong belief in family and the motto blood is thicker than water. No one matter who did what, how evil, stupid, or selfish  a member is- if they asked for help, they would get it. No one believes in abandoning family on either side.
     Strong personalities in women- legacy. From both sides of my family all the women are strong. There are three shy ones, but all in all, we are all dominant and able to take care of ourself and our own.
     Traditions... I cannot think of any, but I have decided to start one. All who bear the name "Nieves" and are part of it, will tattoo a custom designed snowflake. For those of you who need explaining: Nieve in Spanish means snow. So, I was the first in the family to tattoo a snowflake on my wrist. I customized it to fit my personality. The branches end in arrows because I am a Sagittarius and there is a pagan star in the center because it is my true belief. I've already told my father, stepmother, and sister, Maria of the new tradition I am creating. They are all for it. They will design their own snowflake tattoos and carry on the tradition.  
     Heirlooms... My Spanish grandmother has many things given to her by her mother and grandmother. The oldest and probably most important to my grandmother is the Sagrada Bible. It's a bible in Spanish issued to them by a church. The bible has the most beautiful, colorful images. And, there is a section in the bible itself to record your family tree and history (baptisms, weddings, funeral, births, etc.). Flipping through the history of my family, I have learned my I have many French ancestors; and, the names Basilia and Cruz were once our family names.
     I still desire to meet the oldest of my living ancestors just to see if they would approve of me. I want to know what they would say about me. I can't explain why, but it is something I truly want. I also want enough money to hire a genealogy investigator to look up my family history and ancestors to as far back as they can. I want to know where we came from. I want to know my families' past.

Thanksgiving 2013, Texas, Reflection

     I never spent Thanksgiving with my Spanish side because we live in different time zones. My father is a gypsy, moving his home every couple of years, usually within the Texas state vicinity, but also sometimes different states such as Florida and Oregon. Since, he mostly stays in Texas, my grandmother moved down to be closer to her grandchildren. Her sister moved to Texas to follow her. And, her sister's daughter moved with her children to follow her mother. (Talk about chain reaction or follow the leader). So, basically all my Spanish family members live here in Texas, a state a despise. Yes, despise. I'm sorry, Texas and Texans. I, genuinely without a doubt in my mind, HATE Texas. It's hot; it's boring; you need a car to get everywhere; no one is ever outside because it's too damn hot. I will NEVER live in Texas.
     But visiting.... visiting is a different story. When I stay with my grandparents, I feel the most relaxed. I am accepted. I am cared for. I am left alone. I am considered in decisions they make. I love visiting my cousin Alaina, who has the hands of a god in the kitchen and the heart of a gentle saint. I love talking to her and just letting lose all the bottled emotions I had. She has always treated me as an adult and equal. She is so loving and cares for everyone, but it is rare anyone lifts their hands to help her out. So when I am on vacation, I go to her house and help her often with anything and everything she needs. And, I don't feel obligated to do so.  I do it because her company makes it enjoyable and because she NEVER once has asked me to help. In fact she tells me not to help because I am on vacation. But, I do, because I know that what little help I offer her, will be her only vacation.
     My immediate family (father, stepmother, brother, and sisters) are now divided. Maria lives with her mother (my ex-stepmother) near my grandmother. Sandy lived with my grandparents. Ashley lives with her fiancee, Robert, in Austin with his grandparents. Only Tony and Connie still live with my father and stepmother, Bonnie. Every one of them loves me and I love every one of them. Maria and I have spent the most time together. Out of all my siblings (twins included), Maria and I are the most alike. She is now at an age where I can interact with her as an equal, not an older sister who is in charge. She took me out to drive the car for practice and shopping while I was here. And, even though Sandy and I are under the same roof, we are both loners. She sticks to her room, and I stick to the dining room table. (Back in NY, I am cooped up in my room. I like the feel of being able to stretch my legs and escape a cage. So, whenever I am in Texas, I rarely stay in my designated room.) Tony and Connie are still at the ages where I am still the older sister. I cannot interact with them as equals. Tony is a rambunctious, smartass, who has some trouble with authority and keeping his mouth shut. And, Connie is a shy mommy's girl, who is also still babyed because she is the youngest of us all.
     I was never a good sister. I will not pretend to be. I cannot be. I wasn't raised to be emotional or sensitive. I was raised by a Cancer Zodiac sign. And, for those of you who don't know what that means. It means that Cancers are one of the most sensitive people out there, but they hide it, so no one knows. I was raised to be tough and keep my weaknesses to myself. My father raises his children to free with their emotions and embrace them. I actually am very uncomfortable with hugs, which is a huge problem because my father and family here are big on hugs and affection. And, I'm sure it seems like I'm a very cold person. But, I just cannot. It's not how I was raised. It's not me. I'm a better friend than sister. Which is why I love it when my siblings reach the age of sibling equality. The twins, Maria, Ashley, and I can all joke and hang out as equals. But, my younger siblings I am still at a loss at how to interact and deal with. I love them, but I cannot show it.
      I love them, and that is why I put aside my OCD at least once during the visit to stay at their home. Which is a real hardship for me. The home is not in anyway ideal for me, my OCD, or my health. So, I often leave the place with asthma. But, I do it at least once because I know it will make them happy, my being there. Even if I just sit there in silence; I am still there- it is the most I can do for now. And, I hope they understand.
     But, I came for my first Thanksgiving here, because of my LA plans. This coming year, I don't plan on going anywhere besides Mardi Gras in February. I need to start saving everything I can for the big move, and I figure I won't be fully settled and financially stable in LA for two years, so I definitely won't be traveling anywhere to visit anyone from 2014 to 2016. So, I figured this is my last chance for a definite chance in a real Thanksgiving with my Spanish family. And, I am so glad I did. I saw everyone and it wasn't a really big affair, but just to see people interact was heartwarming.
     My grandmother and her sister are hilarious sisters. They were stabbing each other with forks and calling each other fat. My father was calling our cousin Alaina, fat. Alaina said my father's facial hair reminded her of a dirty vagina. Zach, Alaina's youngest son, was on holiday leave from the army and he brought hom other Army strays (soldiers) to celebrate the holiday and he was still as crazy as ever. The soldiers ship back tomorrow and invited me to hang out, but I was too exhausted and a little uncomfortable with a group of people I didn't know. Not to mention I can't drink because of my severe asthma lately. (Total joy killer, having asthma.) I took my cousin Derek got his first tattoo. He's a 5th grade teacher and in his mid forties. He got a tribal Sagittarius tattoo on his left shoulder blade. He made funny faces of pain throughout the entire inking. My grandaunt (Grandmother's sister) Lulu, had a huge tear in the back of her jeans and she was out in public. While driving with Maria, a crazed car popped up behind me and flashed their lights. I thought for sure we were going to be killed and drove like a maniac, which I think scared Maria more. I met Ashley's fiancee for the first time and they seem happy, which makes me happy. My cousin John gave me a welcome hug of his own accord. My grandmother ran a red light. I pulled a move my mother would have done and did a fast left turn before a car could get in front of me, and scared my father half to death.
     I always have good memories when I come here and spend time with them. Watching them all makes me happy, when normally in my boring mundane life, I am just content. I enjoy it beging here, surrounded by warm love. But no matter how many times my father asks, I would never live here. I like a place where there is a deli 2 minutes walk away. I love being in a place where I can walk to work and not die from a heatstroke. I like being able to order delivery. I cannot live in Texas.
     I love my family but, I need to love myself, and follow my dream. I need to leave my family to love myself. I will cherish the memories I have made this holiday.

Shade's Children, Being Unknown, & Injustice of Experience

     As you all know, I am an author of short stories and movie scripts. My ultimate goal is to be a movie star and screenplay author. So, what is a nobody like me supposed to do to get my material out there? I'm part of the Writers Guild of America. I have scripts floating around out there, but alas, because I am a nobody, no one will want to give me a chance.
     So, I try a different path. I decide to write a screenplay for one of my favorite books: Shade's Children by Garth Nix. I first emailed Garth Nix, telling him of my intentions. I told him I wanted to write a screenplay for his book. I was a fan of the story and I thought it would be great if fans could see a live action rendition of it. I told him, since I am a fast writer I would be done with it in two months max. I told him I wanted his blessing, etc. Garth Nix never emailed me back. Undeterred, I wrote the script in less than two months. I had several friends read it, and they all loved it. I wrote to Garth Nix once again, and told him I did what I said i was going to do. I wrote the screenplay for his book. I received an email back from him saying he was flattered I was a fan, but he should have gotten permission first, and that he is currently in negotiations now with a production company to pen a screenplay.
     Of course, at the moment I wanted to kill him and myself. If he wasn't an inconsiderate person and replied to my first email, then I wouldn't have wasted my time. But, then I remembered 90% of the human population don't take others seriously when they say they are going to do something. It is only when they are in fact threatened in some way that they decide to take some sort of action. So naturally, having the knowledge that I wrote the screenplay for his book, shook him. He probably thought to himself, how dare this nobody write a screenplay for my book? But, you know what. I did.
     I wrote a full screenplay based EXACTLY on his book. With of course a few flares of my own personality in there. But nonetheless, it is a flawless script for his book. He waited until I threatened his ego as a writer to speak with me, and will guess what. I'm outing him. My blog may not be read by many people, but if someone searches Shade's Children and movie, this post is sure to pop up, and might possibly get read. So, that is enough for me.
     It's sick how people ask for people with more experience, and at the same time refuse to give people the opportunity to learn. If Garth Nix was a true genuine person who wanted to support others, he would give me a chance. The same could be said of his publishing company whom I also contacted. What is so wrong with taking a few hours to help someone who might be good?
     I would have complied in every way to get my script into production. I have no problems saying it was based on Garth Nix's novel. And, even if he wanted to change a few things in it, I would have been fine with it. I just want my name on screenplay because I wrote it and it was good. But, no. Authors with egos are just another member of pool of jerks that reside in the world. But that is fine, because I'll find another way to win and in essence get revenge. Because no one screws with me and gets away with it. I don't forgive and forget. I get even and I enjoy revenge.

1st Thanksgiving Ever, Pescatarianism, & Family

    Growing up with my Chinese side, I was never subjected to real family drama. The most drama that went around with them was that my Chinese grandmother acts like an overgrown child and annoyed the hell out of everyone. To that statement I will agree, she gets under your skin and just.... shreds your mind with her high pitched yelling voice and need to repeat everything over and over. But, aside from her... my mother and her two sisters are close and they speak and gossip everyday about all their children. There are two lost aunts who live in their own worlds and aren't really included in family functions, but that is their decision. Even so, there is no drama between anyone in my Chinese side of my family. I grew up with this life of no drama and animosity between my family members so it's always shocking when I go to visit my Spanish side of the family and see the opposite.
     Chinese people do not celebrate holidays. Sure Americanized families get together and eat a meal, but it's not the traditional American Thanksgiving of turkeys, mashed potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pies. So, in all my life, I never had a proper Thanksgiving. So, in light of my future plans of moving to L.A. and trying to settle in, I know I won't be traveling to visit any family for the next couple of years until I'm fully settled and nested in my new home. This is quite literally the only chance I have of having a real Thanksgiving with my Spanish family. As such, I have put aside my pescatarianism to consume meat, because there is no such thing as a pescatarian Spanish family. I would starve here if I continued to be a priss like that.
     And, being pescatarian isn't a religious choice. I chose to slowly cut meat out of my diet, not because it's unhealthy for you, but because I don't like the idea of eating another living thing. Because the truth is, the animals will be killed irregardless of cruelty or supply. Humans are meant to be carnivorous and also eat plants. It is our species' evolution. And, besides with all the animals being killed out there someone has to eat it. I just choose for that someone to not be me. I don't care if anyone else eats meat. Hell, I can't kick eating salmon and shrimp. I know I will eventually, but definitely not anytime soon. So, all I'd have to worry about is, eating plants, and killing them.
    Anyway, back to the Spanish family and their animosity towards certain other members. In this aspect I am the Swiss. I am Australia. I am neutral territory. I both abhor and am thankful for the way my mother raised me, because she taught me to be a proper independent child who was obedient and quiet. And, as such a child, every single family member I have loves me because I always behaved and helped around their houses. And as a such loved child, all my family members babied me and spoiled me, making me love them all in return. So, when I hear so and so dislikes so and so, it slightly bothers me. And, I know they confide their true feelings in me because I am a good listener and they want me to know the reason why they feel these emotions, and sure they can be justified to that person, but to me, even if it is true, I cannot hate any of my family members. I love them all. I may not show it, because I am not an emotional person or warm, but I do care.
     I have a divided united family. Yes, a divided united family. I have divorced parents, but a huge family who stretches across the typical social boundaries to stay united. And, yes that causes many relationships to strain, but atleast there is family so catch you if you fall. If so and so hates so and so, it won't matter because in the end, you have that one tie to keep you together and you can't sever it. And, yes, they tell me they hate so and so, but you know what.... it's not just hate. It's also love.
     I have come to the conclusion that all the rants I hear about how this family member sucks and is aweful, etc, it's out of love and disappointment. The person is disappointed that the other could be such a failure, when they could be so much more. And, they hate them because there was love, but that was strained because of all the disappointment that was felt towards that person.
     I know, I talked in circles in this post. But, I can't mention certain family members, because they could be read and I'm not opening that can of worms.

What do I do?

     What do you do when your family is in need?
     I know, my posts seem to have the reoccurring theme of "family". Obviously, family is my biggest problem... concern... aspect of life. But, why? Why do I care? Why should I care?
     I come off to people as a bitch- an ice queen. I don't care about other people's opinions, but for some goddamned reason I care about their feelings. Why? Because deep down, no matter how hard I try not to be- I'm a fucking nice person. Goddamnitall.
     Who is the one person whose feelings I care about the most? My mother. My mother and I clash all the time about everything. We never agree on things and I don't care what she thinks anymore. I used to- but now I don't. I get my pride from her. She is a very stubborn and proud woman. I learned to be an ice queen from her. But over the years, the ice she had melted and I began to see the cracks in her facade.
     My mother was an ice queen but she was also sensitive and cared deeply about others. So, why does she get a horrible life? Why is she unhappy? Why does life seem to pick on her out of my entire family?
     My mother is not healthy herself. A couple of years ago, she had something wrong with her spine. But, like the stubborn person she is, she refused to seek help and lives with it. I'm not sure on the details of her condition but, I believe it has something to do with shrinking ribcage and spine bones. I'm not sure. But, alas, as I said, she does not acknowledge that it exists.
     My stepfather has no job and no insurance. The having of no job is not his fault. He just had a lot of shitty stuff happen- what with the broken ankle and then the dislocating of a spinal disk. He has no insurance to go to doctors to help him heal. No insurance because he has no job. No insurance because we live in a shitty republican run country. But, now, he is sick. And, I can tell me mother is scared, even though she does not show it. My stepfather has lost 30lbs in the past month. And, has been vomiting everything up for the past few days. And, a hundred years ago, no one would be severely worried about it, because it could have been a simple flu or stomach virus. But now, in this day and age... we deal with thousands of diseases that can kill you. The biggest ones are Cancer and Aids.
     How can my mother not be afraid? The healthiest person in the world can develop cancer, while the least healthiest person lives to be 100. Life isn't fair. My mother is scared and I am worried, too. The twins are afraid. They are afraid for their father. And, I'm afraid, too. What if he does have a disease? What do I do? How can my mother cope and deal? How will she survive? How will he? Where will they get the money to pay for the expenses?
     As the oldest, I have to try and help. As my mother's confidant, I have to try and help. And, the only way I can help is by getting money in unconventional ways. Is that what I do? Do I sacrifice my life? My morals? My ideals? My body? My sanity? To help my family? Or, do I stand aside, wait, and hope for the best? What do I do to help my family? I am not afraid of what I may have to do to help. I am just sad that I may have to do things that could ruin my future. But, in this day and age, with more acceptance of the odd, whatever I choose to do may not be so bad.
     But, I am determined. No matter what I choose, it will not interfere with my dreams. I will still chase them, even if I have to sacrifice myself in the process.

Not giving up- L.A. in 2014

     My family was never really supportive of my dreams to be a famous movie actress. My mother's side of the family believe dreams are a waste of time and should not be nourished. They're instincts are to survive, no matter how miserable you are. But, I cannot follow that idea. If I am not happy in life, why bother living? Honestly? Why? If I am not happy being alive, what is the point of being alive? So, I can be miserable? I don't think so. My father's side of the family always encouraged dreaming, but never got off their asses to help you in anyway to achieve. There motto is basically, if it happens, it happens, deal with what you have and can get. Not good enough.
     I have been passive about pursuing my dreams. I blame everyone and I also blame myself. I blame my parents for not supporting me and I blame myself for being weak and not setting out on my own to do what was needed. But, that is changing. My first step in doing so, was hitting up a dude in my Japanese class and asking him to help me, because he seemed to be getting around a lot more than me. He agreed to help me and we became fast friends. Second step, was to write, write, write and write some more. I have written many short stories, started a dozen scripts, and finished a novella and a few scripts. I am on fire with my writing talent, I just need to find a way to get my good shyt out there.
     During a recent trip to Toronto, a young man approached me. He saw me writing a script and we started talking. He asked if I was willing to write his story- not a biography, but an original idea that he came up with. He said he always had trouble getting it down on paper. Well, if you know me, you know that getting ideas down on paper is NOT a problem of mine at all. So, we are collaborating. Apparently, he has a lot of hookups as well. if this collaboration goes well, which I fully intend- I can possibly get the same hookups.
     I have also made the decision to move to Los Angeles, home of Hollywood. You always here these stories that actors and actresses get roles, by simply walking into a cafe and having a casting director spot them. Now, I know I'm not gorgeous or tall or even beautiful, but I am at least pretty or decent and well- my racial ambiguity can be a HUGE plus/advantage. But, not only that, at least if I live in L.A. I can personally go to agencies and give them my work. Not to mention, I never planned on staying in New York.
     New York was never my home. I stayed for two reasons: my ex and my little brother. Since, neither are in my life anymore, I have no real solid ties to keep me in this god forsaken city. My future home is somewhere clean, quiet, and beautiful. I haven't found it yet, and I also doubt L.A. will be final resting place, but it is a start.
     And, I'm frightened. I'm so scared, of what will happen and can happen. But, I will count my blessing that I have a definite friend who is moving with me and possibly a few others who will join in the journey. But, as it is, there is a deep breath stopping fear that is gripping my insides and I want to scream, cry, and laugh all at once. The emotions I feel equal to the thrill of leaping off a cliff and falling far into the water below, frightful and exhilarating.
     Forementioned friend and I are going to take driving lessons together. Fuck going to cheap Chinese schools. I'm going to go to the school in my neighborhood and hone my skills. The plan is as follows. After she graduates in December 2014, we will drive cross country to our new home in L.A. And, even though I know she will be with me, I am still afraid to leave all I have known behind. But, I have always been brave and laughed in the face of danger. So, I will do this and keep strong.

Being the Oldest Sucks

     You don't get to pick the family you're born into. You're born into circumstances you can't change. You need to live and deal with the people you are surrounded by. Sharing blood is like a magic bind that ties you forever to those who are kin. And, if you were brave or selfish enough to ignore the call of the blood and obligations that have to be fulfilled, then you are deemed a DICK.
     I cannot turn my back on my family no matter how hard I wish. If they call, I will answer. If they suffer, I do as well. It sucks.
     As the oldest of all my siblings I was always made to be the responsible one. I was taught everything to be more mature and think for everyone. I was told the secrets of the family that are hidden from the minds of children. I was never allowed to live in a bubble of happiness like my sisters and brother.
     At 17, I was supporting my family off my Starbucks paycheck. It stopped for awhile, but then recently my mother has asked for monetary help again. But she does not know that I can barely support myself. All I can say is thank gods for credit cards with cash advance. Thank god for my good credit, even f I have debt.
     But, what are you supposed to do when the woman who birthed you, gave up whatever dreams she had to raise and support you, asks for help? Can you really turn your back without feeling guilty? I can't help but promise that if I ever become successful in my endeavors that she will be the first to receive the peace that money can buy. 
     And, of course to keep my mother less stressed, I will keep my secrets away from her. She has enough to worry about with a jobless spouse and the twins off to expensive colleges. Twins who had no thought to how our mother would pay for their education, twins who were allowed to be young.
     Am I a little mad? Yeah. Why am I always the one left to consider everyone else's well being? I'm not saying they are completely selfish, my family has come through for me when I was in emergency situations, but everyday care... everyday thought... that is left for me.

Anniversary of His Death, JMB

     When I was younger, I prayed for a little brother. I planned to love him unconditionally. I planned to take him to the park, movies, birthday parties. I vowed to be the best sister I could be. But, I only wanted a brother. I never wanted any sisters, but sisters aplenty I have. So, when my mother announced that she was pregnant with a boy, I thought my wish came true.
     The nine months my mother was carrying my little brother were a blur, they seemed to pass by so fast. And, when my younger sisters and I were allowed to go visit my mother and new brother in the hospital, I couldn't wait to hold him.
     A thing I regret now, is that my little young self didn't bring a camera to take a picture of him as a baby. But, that can't be changed now.
     The next few months he was home was amazing. My mother never had to ask me to help her with him. I willingly woke up early morning to feed and change him. I gave up my cartoons to read to him. He was everything to me. So one day when I came home and he wasn't there, I worried. My mother and stepfather didn't come home their usual time. My aunt came to babysit the twins and I. I couldn't fall asleep because back then I needed to say goodnight to my mother before I was able to fall asleep.
So, when they finally came home in the dead of night I was awake. And, I didn't see my baby brother.
I asked my mother where he was and she started to cry. I think that was the only time I saw my stepfather hold my mother (even to this day).
     I think I grew up that night. I realized my wish didn't come true and that there wasn't a "One" god who watched over everyone, trying to make them happy. I lost my faith in monotheism, shortly after.
     My brother didn't come for a over a year. He was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy Stage 3.  he needed nurses and a respirator to help him breathe. Doctors didn't expect him to live past two. My brother made it to ten years old, almost eleven.
     My biggest regret in the world, is that I wasn't a better sister. I made promises to a normal brother for a normal life, but I wasn't able to adapt that plan to his condition. I couldn't take him out to play, but I could have read to him. I could have stayed with him more often in his room and just spent time with him. But, I didn't because I was too hurt and confused and selfish. I hated the world, I was depressed. I wanted to be alone.
     The day he passed away is a day I will never forget. The whole universe seemed to align for me though, clearing the path so that I wouldn't be able to miss it. I'm not sure you would understand, but trust me when I say fate meant for it to be and nothing anyone did could have changed it.
     I miss my brother. And, I long for the life that I wished for us. But, I can only hope that in the next life I have, we are reunited and able to be together like I planned.
     There was a time when I thought I could cope with his loss; and for awhile I did. But, I was terrified of forgetting him. Because I know my mental defense-mechanism is to forget everything that hurts me and his death hurt me more than having my heart broken by my first love. (I know, what kind of comparison is that? Well, it's the only two great hurts I've suffered in my life so far.) But the truth is... now, I can't look at a photo of my brother without crying (even tough I carry a photo of him with me everywhere I go). I can't even think of him without hurting.
     A part of me will never be able to overcome the pain of his life and death. Simply because it was unfair. The unspoken rule of life and death is that the old must die, while the young live. It's the reason why adults would risk their lives to save children. The older you are, the more you have lived, isn't it fair to trade your life for the one of someone younger who hasn't lived? As the eldest of all my siblings, I would give my life to save any of them. I have not loved my life to the fullest, but I have lived and I would give my life so my siblings could do the same.
     It's never easy for a parent to lose a child. But, no one ever thinks to consider the hurt the siblings feel. We feel the pain, too. Because even though sibling bicker and argue and may even hate each other, there is bond that ties us together; and, when one of us is hurt, we all feel it.
     My brother's life and death caused many issues between our family, but the one thing that never changed was that we all loved him with all our hearts even if we didn't show or rather, sucked at showing. And, we all felt the same guilt and pain. My brother joined our family together and he will keep us that way. His life and death will be the one burden and pain we all share.

Animal Fight Club and Dante's 9 Circles of Hell

     First and foremost: there should be a special circle in hell reserved for the disgusting humans who created Animal Fight Club.
     Animal Fighting Club is, as you can guess, Fight Club without the hot Brad Pitt or any humans as a matter of fact. Animal Fight Club is a fight club where animals, not always of the same species, are placed in an enclosed ring to fight to the death as entertainment for their masters.
    
    Unlike those that believe in the book, The Bible, I believe animals have souls and spirits. Any animal lover can see that an animals have personalities. They have likes and dislikes. They feel pain. They feel emotions. If they were soulless, they would just be mindless biological machines that did nothing except stand there like a piece of terra rock.
     Nonhuman-animals have one thing we, human-animals, are not- pure innocence. Our nonhuman-animal cousins may have personalities and spirits, but they do not have a conscious as we do. Without a conscious, they cannot have the desire to do wrong, because they do not know what that means. You can say in a way, that an animal's mind lives in a world of pure innocence and naivety.
     So, what kind of sick, mental sorry excuse for a human being thinks it's morally sound to destroy that type of innocence? I'll tell you- the same kind of bastards and motherf*ckers that rape and murder people.
     You're probably saying, "Oh, Cassio, don't be so dramatic. Animal Fight Club ringleaders are not in the same category as rapists and murderers."
     Well, to that I say, "Shut the f*ck up. And, yes, they are. And, also, in fact, hurting an animal is worse than hurting a human, because at least a human can defend themselves or call out for help. An animal won't know what's going on until it's too late. Nonhuman animals aren't evil or capable of malicious intent towards others. They have no idea, the limitless evils humans can possess and do.

     Onward to the second part of my title for this post: Dante's 9 Circles of hell. Which one of these hell holes do Animal Fight Club ringleaders and spectators belong? For those of you who don't know the definings of Dante's hell map, I'll give a brief summarization.
     First Circle: Limbo- where all good and decent souls go that do not believe in the "One" god and were not baptized.
     Second Circle: Land of Lust- where all souls that committed adultery or fornicated out of wedlock for pleasure go.
     Third Circle: Land of Gluttony- where all souls go that led a selfish life and fed their fat ass extra, not giving any to the less fortunate.
    Fourth Circle: Land of Greed- where all the souls that thought of themself and only themself in every aspect; mostly filled with politicians and notorious leaders/people of power.
     Fifth Circle: Land of Anger- souls that actively sought revenge for the cause of their anger issues and for those that let is sit deep inside to simmer but did nothing about it. It is a bit unfair that those that did not seek out revenge were punished but, hey apparently followers of the "One" god had to be immaculate to get into heaven.
     Sixth Circle: Circle of Heretics- where all those that deny the religion and belief of the "One" god go. (Guess, I'll be going here.) But, I won't be alone, because apparently even those believing of the "One" god can go here if they believe in the wrong "sect" of the "true" religion. To be clear" even if you believe in the "One" god, if you are any other religion besides Christian/Catholic you will be joining the party that's in this circle.
     Seventh Circle: Circle of Violence- where all the bastards that kill others, commit suicide, or actively destroy the earth go.
      Eighth Circle: Circle of Fraud and Lies- place where all those that plan to corrupt others go. Example: cunning politicians, pimps, leaders of conspiracy groups. 
     Ninth Circle: Circle of Betrayal- a place where those who betrayed someone they had close ties goes. Examples: cheating spouse, parents that hurt their children or vice versa.

     So, after going through the entire beehive that his hell, did you spot where Animal Fight Club ringleaders go? If you said the Seventh Circle, you are correct! According to Dante, any person committing acts of violence to the "One" god's creation, Earth, goes to the Seventh Circle. Animals are the 'fauna' part of "flora and fauna" (life of earth); to destroy any aspect of it, is to commit an act of violence against the "One" god and therefore needs to be punished. 


     We've all heard of cock fights aka rooster fights, dog fights, and even the occasional shark fights. But, I have never in my life heard of horse fighting until this week. Apparently it's been outlawed in the past because it was so popular and now, the sick entertainment is back deep in the jungles of the Philippines. Will the madness never end?
     It's sickening how humans can be so cruel. I advocate the normal fight club, where idiotic men beat each other up. Leave the innocent animals alone. 
     I can't even advocate bullfighting. You're probably asking, "Why not? The bull is twice as large as a human, that's not even fair." To which I say, "No, it's not fair for the bull. Because, here is a little known fact. The bull handlers PURPOSELY injure the bull  by jabbing them with spears before releasing it into the arena where the rider attempts to not be thrown off." The bull rider is looked upon as a hero the longer he stays on the back of the bull. Oh, yeah, hero? Try riding the pull without it being injured for you, you delusional idiot.
     In fact, i do want to see a fight club. I want to see a fight club where an unarmed and injured human is thrown into a ring with a very upset animal. Yeah, I want to see that fight. It's only fair, right? We've had every other ind of fight club except that. And, yes, that is my malicious human side coming out. But, it's coming out to defend animals so I think it's OK.

     My entire point is: it takes a really sick person to harm an animal and people who watch are demented.

Need to Feel

     As I have established before, I read a lot. I read often. I read many books in the span of one month. I honestly can say I probably go through a hundred books a year at least. I have another friend who also shares my enthusiasm for books. We don't share the exact same tastes in topics and genres but now and then we find we are able to exchange books and read each other's picks.
     In the past two days I have read four of her books all which belong in the fictional teen angst genre. And, I can just say first and foremost: I have not met anyone who has had such a dramatic teen experience as described in every teen book you come across. Which begs the question: how the hell did these authors get these ideas? It's not realistic. Sure, there are bullies and love triangles, drugs, sex, etc. But none of the situations you come across in these teen angst books have actually ever occurred. So what is it with all the dramatic bullshyt?
     Passion.
     We crave drama which is loaded with passion. In fact, passion is the main ingredient of drama. A cup of passion, sprinkle of logic, 1/4 cup of angst, tablespoon of preferred spice (sex, drugs, etc.), 1/2 cup of love, 1/2 cup of unrequited love. Mix. Bake until done. Remove from oven to cool down.
     The sure silliness of it all, me a young adult reading teen angst books. But goddamn I wish my high school life was that entertaining. Maybe then I wouldn't have hated school so much. But, what i really crave after reading those books, is not drama, but the passion that ignited it all. I want to feel passion for something. No- not something. Someone.
     I want to want someone.
     And, not in a unattainable way like a fangirl wanting a celebrity. I want to want someone attainable and real, someone who I know or maybe even just someone I happened to meet and exchanged clever, witty words like in a rom-com. And, as unrealistic as that sounds, having a rom-com moment can happen, it's just rare and not likely to happen to me.
     But, what is life without passion? All these writers of movies and books, they write about characters that fall in love after a dramatic experience and how having passion got them through to the end.
     It's only natural instinct to want that. And, if you don't you feel empty inside.
     I feel empty inside. I want to want to be in love again. I was in love once and it sucked big time. And, ever since then I guess my subconscious learned its lesson and doesn't want to go through more pain. Either that or, I'm just f*cking picky as hell and I'll be a spinster for the rest of my life, especially since the males of my generation and that before me and definitely that after suck major balls.
     I want to love someone. I think I can love someone well. I just can't find that person I want to love. All these goddamn books and movies about love basically show you that love is easy to find, but it's not. Most people nowadays don't just walk up to someone and say something cool. The lechers of this planet just make lewd comments that make a girl want to punch his lights out.
     But despite all the disappointing picks a woman has of men this day and age, they and I have the need to feel love. We want it, crave it, desire it, wish for it so hard. It's as if the knowledge that passion's fire fuels us to live is engraved in the back of our hearts and we try to seek it out. But, whether or not we find it and succeed in keeping it, is a different story. And, whether or not we keep searching after losing it or not finding the accurate one is also an issue. How many women give up hope after losing love the first time around? How many women keep trying no matter how foolish they look in their continuous attempts?
     How is it fair that men don't feel the same need to seek out love? Or to be fair, why is it MOST men don't feel the need to indulge in genuine passion that does not revolve around two or more naked bodies for a couple of hours?
     I blame society and the lack of true utopianism. Our society pressures us into searching for financial security over personal and genuine happiness? But, what the hell are we working for? Is life really work living without passion for anything? You are born to work and work to live, just to save money to grow old comfortably and die. Where is the joy in that? Sure, you MIGHT get lucky and find love for something or someone, but if you do, you can indulge in it. You have to get back to reality which is to work to survive. If we were in a true utopian society, there would be no such thing as working to survive. In a true utopian society, we work only to get what we need in bare minimum and live out the rest of our time of day seeking out our passions.
     They say that, to marry for love is a luxury and to chase a dream is futile. But why? Why can't people be joined together for love? Why can't the rich man's son become a painter or a teacher? In our pitiful existence of this era, can't we be granted this one thing? We don't have the luxury of seeking out other passions, so if we happen to find one, can't we be granted the peace of seeking ourselves into it?
     As animals, (and yes, I used the terms animals not humans, because we are animals) we need to feel. We need emotions to let us know we are alive, that our hearts beat for a reason, and not just because we happen to exist. I want to know that I am alive and not wasting my time or other considered valuable resources on this planet.
     I want to feel passion for something AND someone. I wish for it. But, whether or not I'll find it is a different thing entirely.

It was "Ours" but not anymore.

     Anyone who has been in a relationship, whether it be significant or not, knows what it means when something is said to be "OUR". For those of you who don't know what "OUR" means in a relationship it basically is a stake claim on something simple like a song, movie, or place that brings forth a surge of positive emotion when you see or here it. For example, in my one almost three year relationship with the guy I thought was "The One", OUR things were: "This Year's Love" by David Gray, "Mr. and Mrs. Smith", and the Monastery Garden in Staten Island. Awesome song, awesome movie, and awesome place.
     The problem with having "OUR" things is that when the relationship is over, every time we see something that was "OUR"s, we no longer get that surge of positive emotion. Instead, we get the heart-wrenching pain in our chest that reminds us it's over.
     My EX dumped me a few weeks before our third year anniversary. It was painful, but I cannot say I didn't see it coming. He changed. I changed. The only thing I knew for certain was that I still wanted to try and make us work; and, he didn't. Nothing you can do about that. I will admit I was a huge f*cking wreck. I honestly don't know how I got through my post breakup stages. But I will also be one of the rare people that admits this, but it took me a long f*cking time to get over it, a few YEARS, to be more specific.
    What made it worse was the unsuspected moments where the things that were "OUR"s would pop into my life. "This Year's Love" was on my iPod. Why? Because it's a nice song. We first bounded over that song and vowed to sing it to each other on our wedding day. I love that song. And, when my iPod was on the rare occasional shuffle, it would come on. In fact, I remember one embarrassing moment when I was on the train and it started to play. My eyes started brimming with tears and I quickly fumbled to turn it off. Mega-Embarrassing. And, for the longest time I couldn't watch "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" because my EX and I used to watch it every day; we had so many good memories involving that movie.
     Now, I'm sitting here writing this post. It's been several years after our break-up and you know what? I own "Mr. and Mrs. Smith". I watch it on my own because it is a fun movie. It entertains me. I erased all the memories I had with my EX tied to that movie. Now, I can enjoy it without a second thought to him. And, guess what? Today at work, I found myself singing "This Year's Love". Completely out of the blue. I hadn't heard the song in five years. (I took it off my iPod after that embarrassing day on the train.) I still remembered it, word for word. And, BONUS! I didn't cry or even thing about my EX and what we had together.
     I can officially say I am SO OVER IT. I am putting that song back on my iPod and I'm going to have it on goddamn repeat because I have missed it.
     That song and that movie are no longer "OUR"s. They are MINE. And, I know I'll make positive memories involving them on my own and not with another person to label it "OUR"s ever again.

"blood is thicker than water" but i say water tastes better

     I do not have any full blooded siblings, but I am the oldest of eight. My parents divorced when I was two, so I have no happy memories of a true family for me. My mother, met a Jamaican man from work and they hit it off. Apparently, they hit if off very well since they are still together and have had three children after me. My father had a bit of a rougher time finding the next Mrs. Right. He remarried twice after the divorce with my mother. With my ex-stepmother he had three children, and with my current stepmother, I gained a stepsister and the youngest half blood sibling was born when I was eleven.
     Though I am the oldest of eight, I have only lived with my mother, Jamaican stepfather, and half-Jamaican siblings. I held no animosity towards anyone. I am not one of the children who have been scarred by divorced parents. I was two, when it happened and have no recollection of anything to be mourned about the break of their marriage vows to spend eternity together. I would like to believe that I was a good older sister. I held my younger siblings, fed them, changed them, etc. But, growing up in a home with a Chinese mother and Jamaican father does not exactly give room for a family bred in warmth and love.
     My father's side is different. Although he divorced my ex-stepmother, they continue to remain in touch and he takes care of her, because she is mentally unstable. My father is nothing but a hippie love bug. My entire family on my father's side is full of warmth and support for anything and everything you do or believe.
     My family is divided and always has been. It is the way I grew up. I don't exactly know what it is like to love a family member for who they are, rather than what they are. Does that not make sense? I feel like it is a concept a little difficult to understand. You see, I don't know if it is because history and society ingrained in us: this idea that "blood is thicker than water" or if it is genetic or just in our mental subconsious that we need to support, love, and accept family irregardless of anything.
     I bring this up because alot of what I do for my family- it's not because I want to, it's because I feel obligated. That is my point. Being in my family, you feel obligated to do things, like you have to because they are your blood. But, I don't want to. I don't want to do half the things I do. And, before you say, "we'll that's probably because you suck". I don't. I would gladly do anything for friends. I want to help friends. I feel like my friends are my real family. They see the real me, while my family does not. Which brings me to another point.
     My family doesn't know me. I come from a family of skilled liars. I knew how to lie when I was little and my skills only grew with age. I can lie to anyone for any reason anytime. And, I lie because I know if my family saw the real me, they wouldn't accept it. Already they see something in me they don't like and they try to change me, to convince me to be like them.
     I don't want to be like them. I don't want to be like anyone. I want to be myself and I can only do that with my friends.
     Blood is thicker than water. This only means they love me because I am blood, not because of who I am. Because, I know who I am upsets them all. In a family of logical thinkers and doers, I strive to be the dreamer and pursuer. My friends, though, they love me for me and not what I am. They are my true family. Blood means nothing if there is no peace and acceptance of one's self. I could live without family, but my friends, mean the world to me. They are my water, my nourishment to thrive to be who I am. They are the ones helping me to become a better person and work harder to achieve my dreams.

Terms of Endearment ?

     Couples often opt to call their significant others by terms of endearment rather than their given birth names. Such terms of endearment range from the sophisticated old school "Darling" or "Dear" to the Ghetto "Ma" or "Shorty" to the food inspired "Pumpkin" or "Muffin" to the cutesy "Sweetie(pie)" or "Honey" to the confident, yet unoriginal "Babe".
     My thoughts on this are as follows: what is wrong with your significant other's name? Well, their name can be ugly. Yes, names can be ugly i.e. Dick, Bob, Curtis. Be honest, if you can't call their name out without cringing or turning red from embarrassment, then they definitely need a nickname. Or, maybe their name is just one of the hundred common names out there i.e. Michelle, Sarah, Ashley, Brian, John, Michael, etc. If they have one of these common names, obviously you wouldn't want to call them by it because god forbid you are in the middle of the street and you call their name and 5 heads turns your way. However, the same can be said of the common terms of endearment I listed above.
     Basically, there is no winning with terms of endearment. I am guilty of calling my ex "Sweetheart" and he of calling me "Babe". My father and stepmother use cutesy names "Honey" and "Sweetheart." One of my best friends terms of endearment for each other were "Mr. and Mrs. Babe".
     But, most of all, nothing is worse than using Ghetto terms of endearment. Firstly, Ghetto language makes no sense half the time. A legitimate word is taken and used in a way that has nothing to do with it's original meaning. Take "Shorty", for example. "Short" is the opposite of tall, a synonym for small, especially in reference to the height of something. In most relationships, the female is usually shorter, so I guess that is why the term "Shorty" was thought up. However, calling your 5'11 girlfriend "Shorty" is just plain stupid. "Ma",  in Ghetto speak, is short for "Baby Mama" or "Mamasita"(little mama). Now, I'm not sure how well you are familiar with psychology, but the underlying intent and meaning for these names are very clear and since you may not get it, I will tell you. Statistically, the parenting styles of the lower class New York families are very poor. As such, the children of now and the future are growing up without genuine mother and father figures. Ghetto males seek out the repeat images of their mothers, young women who made bad choices and got knocked up. They are also subconsciously looking for someone to take care of them. Hence, they search for their "Baby Mama" to mother their children and "Mamasita"s to give them the love and care they crave.
     While, nothing is worse than Ghetto terms of endearment, nothing is more sickening and embarrassing as food inspired names. Why call someone "Pumpkin"? Are they shaped like one? Do they resemble a genuine pumpkin in some way? Why "Muffin" or "Cookie"? Are these their favorite snacks? If that is the case, then what if the person's favorite food is chicken or papaya? Point blank, food inspired terms of endearment are ridiculous.
     If you must use a term of endearment, make it original and mean something to you. For example, my father's personal term of endearment for my stepmother is "Tweak". Not because she does drugs! She is called Tweak because she has a squeaky voice sometimes and used to drink coffee five times a day to the point where she was always shaking from the caffeine overdose.
     Come up with a personal term of endearment for your current loved one. Of course, it is expected that the term may very well end up something mundane and simple like "Cookie" or "Teddy", but the point is that it should mean something to you and them. It is a simple symbol of your endearment for one another.

Mercedes Strollers

     What is it with mothers and the designer strollers nowadays? You know what I'm talking about: the gigantic strollers that take up the entire sidewalk. What ever happened the good old-fashioned $30 strollers that fold up like an umbrella? Those strollers meet the needs a stroller is supposed to be for: baby transportation. Who decided those weren't good enough anymore? And, who decided that only these expensive designer strollers aka Mercedes Strollers (as I dubbed them) were the new thing every mommy needs?
     They're annoying! They get in the goddamn way. If I'm walking down a street, I want to be able to continue my path, not dodge out of the way of an incoming stroller. That's just ridiculous.
     It's even more ridiculous because these mothers spend hundreds and, possibly, thousands of dollars on these Mercedes Strollers so they can look rich and sophisticated, when in over a year that baby they bought the stroller for is going to be walking all on their own. They won't need the stroller anymore.
     Ok, so they might save it for their future babies if they are planning on having them. Or, since they were rich enough to buy that stroller, I'm going to go ahead and say- they won't save it. Rich people have no sense of preservation. They want fresh things, new things, all the time. Do they donate their strollers when they no longer want them? Maybe, maybe not.
     All I know is that I would never get a Mercedes Stroller. I would be so embarrassed pushing that gigantic thing around. It's obnoxious.
     Why can't these rich moms carry their babies? Is it because their babies are not fashion friendly? Is that it? Is it not fashionable to carry your baby? No, that can't possibly be it, because if it is fashionable to carry a miniature dog in your designer bag, it must be fashionable to carry your baby- all you have to do it dress it up in expensive fashionable clothes.
     Lady, you carried your baby around for nine months. I'm sure you can carry your baby around for another year while they are learning to walk. Besides the baby lifting will burn the calories of pregnancy-weight you gained, it'll be helpful to get your pre-baby body back.
     If you're too lazy or weak to carry your own offspring, don't buy an expensive stroller. Buy a $30 stroller that does the same exact thing as the Mercedes ones. Use the money you were going to spend on that stroller for something better like more baby supplies, or a college trust fund for your bundle of joy, or a charity of some kind.
     Rich moms please stop buying Mercedes strollers and getting in everyone's way! I'm sure it's a hassle. I see you struggling to push the damned things. Save yourself the humiliation and money. Be cheap and stay a little more richer, while also keeping the streets a little less crowded without your gigantic hassle in the way.

How to be the Worst Customer

     Working in a fast food industry is always a pain. You get paid minimum wage to overexert yourself, deal with all assortments and levels of pricks (and I use this word as a non vulgar synonym for a**hole, not the European slang for penis), and smell terrible at the end of your shift. But out of all the three things that suck about your food industry job, the worst is dealing with the non ideal customer.
     In short, what is the ideal customer: someone who knows what they want, how to order it, and has their money ready. They get bonus points for being polite and speaking the same language. What do these "bonus" points earn you? Well, they guarantee that the employee won't curse you out when their back is turned getting your food. And besides, everyone should know the golden rule with dealing with any food industry: DON'T F*CK WITH PEOPLE WHO HANDLE YOUR FOOD. If you have to ask why, then I'm sorry to inform you- but you're an idiot.
    So, let's go through a list of the things customers in a fast food industry should and should not do:
    1.) Don't be on the phone. It's rude. You went to the store because your wanted to ingest something. The employees are trying to service you and here you are on the phone. It takes less than a minute to order what you want. If you don't want to call someone back, simply tell the person to "hold on a minute". Then you cover the phone with your hand and order your food and drink. DO NOT WHISPER your order. It may sound nice and quiet on your side of the counter but on the other side, where there are hard working employees, there exist MANY LOUD MACHINES. These loud machines make it difficult to hear whispered orders. So speak up unless you want to be charged the wrong thing. Also, DO NOT MOUTH your order. Fast food industry employees do not moonlight as government mouth readers, nor are they psychic. They don't know what you want. Use your voice and tell them what it is you want and then be on your way.
     2.) Don't stand on line if you're not ready to order. Do not waste anyone's time by standing in front of the register staring up at the menus trying to figure out what you want. Stand back, look, and figure it out- then proceed to the register.
     3.) Don't stand on line if you are not ordering. If you are simply there with a friend, DO NOT STAND ON LINE. Great. Cool. You're an awesome friend. You came with them to order food and keep them company. You deserve an award. If you want to waste space and insist on being with your friend every step of the way to the register, then stand BESIDE them, NOT BEHIND. Standing behind your friend signals to the employees that you want to order something as well, so they will focus on you. If you are not ordering something, don't make them waste their precious seconds on you. Remember: BESIDE, NOT BEHIND.
    4.) Pay attention! Whether you be on your phone, with a friend or friends, or just daydreaming, while waiting on line- PAY ATTENTION. Too often have customers zoned out while they where waiting on line and created an even longer line because they failed to notice they were in fact next to order. ALSO, PAY ATTENTION TO THE ORDER YOU ARE PICKING UP. Make sure it is in fact what you ordered and not what you assume is yours. Because, you didn't pay attention and took the wrong order you single-handedly have disrupted the flow of service and wasted time, effort, and resources. If you have done so: Congratulations, you are a d*ck.
     5.) Please have your form of payment ready. By the time you get to the register you should have your wallet out, ready to purchase your items. If you don't, you have failed at multi-tasking and proceeded to waste precious seconds and even minutes of several people's lives. It takes time to get the correct amount of cash out of your wallet. It takes time for the employee to count it. Please, don't waste anyone's time and have your payments ready.
     6.) Don't throw or put your payment on the counter. First off, it's f*cking rude as hell if you just throw the form of payment. Second, if you put the payment on the counter, it's a hassle to pick back up. Employees will extend their arm out to you and accept the payment. Put it in their hand. Employees are courteous and hand your change back to you by placing it in your hand. How would you feel if they just chucked the card or change onto the counter at you? Yeah, not great. You would think they had an attitude problem. Well, that's exactly how they think of you when you toss your sh*t onto the counter.
    7.) Don't get mad if you don't speak the language. I get it. You're a tourist and you don't speak the language. That's fine. That is ok. Take your time and try to explain what it is you want. But, do not get upset with the employees because you are having communication issues. They will take the time to understand what it is you want, so long as you take the time to explain and understand to the fullest what it is you want. But once you get mad, that's when all the patience of the employee disappears, because if anyone should be mad- it should be the employee. You are the foreigner that came to their country without speaking the language (not a smart move). So if anyone is at fault- it is you.
     8.) Don't have an attitude. I don't care how bad your day was. I don't care if someone in your family died or you caught your spouse cheating or whatever else. It is not the fault of the employee of the fast food industry that you JUST walked into. This employee, who probably was up at 5am in morning and is working a double shift, has been on their feet for hours, walking back and forth, talking nonstop to get other customers' orders, and doing more things than they are rightly getting paid for. Basically, they are working harder than you. Yeah, I said it. They are not sitting in a central aired cubicle unit in spiffy clothes that will probably still smell good at the end of the day. They are not sitting on their ass for their entire shift. These fast food industry employees literally have to sweat for their money. And, before you came along with your attitude, they probably already had their sixth b*tch of the day come in and cause trouble. They don't need you and your insecurities with yourself and life to further ruin theirs. So, do yourself a favor and take a breather before you barrel into the place and demand your orders because one of these days, an employee might just snap and poison you.
     9.) Don't throw a fit if your order is wrong. Sh*t happens. People make mistakes. The employees taking and making your orders are humans and even if they aren't (machines make mistakes, too) there is no reason to cause a scene like a drama queen. Just calmly go back to the counter and inform the employee that there has been a mistake and your order is wrong. They will, of course and without a doubt, fix it. Problem solved.
     So, there you have it. Follow these rules and you are basically the golden customer. Don't follow them and well, I can only hope that you do get poisoned to teach you a lesson.

Love of Reading and Writing

     I figure it's only fitting to have my first blog ever about how I got here. Here meaning, here at this moment writing at my desk on a blog I thought I'd never have.
     I come from a family where the divorce rate is four out of five and all the mothers have custody over their offspring. My aunts and mother all employ different parenting styles: The Tight Leash 1 (never allowed to go out), The Tight Leash 2 (you must call me every hour), Free Range (do whatever you want, just be responsible), and Abandonment (I know I gave birth to you, but I'm just going to move across country and leave you here so I can go live with my internet boyfriend who I have never met before).
     My mother was a huge fan of the Tight Leash 1 method. I was never allowed to go out with friends when I was younger. It wasn't until 10th grade when I finally began to lie to my mother about where I was going and what I was doing that I actually made friends and hung out.
     So, what did I do prior to all my pent-up shenanigans in 10th grade? Well, if you haven't guessed from the title of this blog then you must have some logic issues.
     I read. I read a lot. I read fantasy and science fiction books. I was always reading something when I was younger and even now, I am always reading (several books at a time if you can believe it, and no, it is not impossible). And, from all the imaginary ideas I consumed from the books I read, I began to make my own characters. From there I made a world they belonged in. I created situations they needed to deal with. I became a writer at the age of nine.
     Unfortunately, I don't have anything from way back then. My teachers and professors had a habit of not returning creative writing assignments... Odd...
     But, I also have a long standing love-hate relationship with computers. Before laptops and USB storage units where as common as they are now, I did type my stories on a DELL desktop. Did I expect my desktop to get a virus from the crappy dial-up service that was our only option at the time? No, I did not. And, because I did not expect that to happen, I did not save my work on a floppy disk. So, what happened when the only solution to fix the sick desktop was to erase the entire memory board? I LOST EVERYTHING.
     I don't know about other creative persons, but when I lose a piece of work, I feel like I literally lost a tiny piece of my soul. No, I am not exaggerating. A crappy desktop and virus had ruined my life two more times after the above mentioned experience. And, each time, I lost a piece of myself. It's not easy to recover what was lost. When you create something, you put your heart into it and a fragment of your soul flows into your piece. Your achieve a sense of accomplishment, a sense of immortality- you are leaving your mark to be remembered and known, to express yourself. For an artist to lose something of theirs (not sell or given away, lose), it's like being thrown into the abyss, not knowing where to go or what to do. You can't heal the loss of a piece of your soul. You just learn to deal with it.
     So I'm dealing with it. I now have a MACBOOK and five USB storage units so a virus and crappy computer will never ruin my life ever again. Take that you immature computer nerds who had nothing better to do with your life than create viruses to ruin other people's lives! You can hurt me no more! (Hopefully.... these losers are clever...)
     So, why fantasy and science fiction or just fictional stories in general? Easy answer: Reality is depressing and boring enough. I live in life. It's not fun or exciting. A dragon egg isn't going to appear in my house, my carpet isn't going to suddenly develop floating powers, and my ring doesn't rule them all.  I didn't grow up in a warm and happy household. I hated school. I work forty hour weeks to just barely survive. And, I live in a world where war over a stupid issue is an ocean away. So, the real question is: Why would I NOT read fantasy and fiction books to escape this less than pleasant world?
     Fantasy and fiction stories allow one to escape and go on adventures that are not possible. They can help a person grow and mature in a safe way. Fantasy and fiction books are for me what movies, cartoons, videogames, extreme sports, and television series are for other people.
     Now, I'm not delusional and I don't see imaginary characters or things. I simply read about them and write about them because it makes me happy and calms my inner being- otherwise I would be out there becoming a serial mass murderer.
     So, there you have it. The long version of how I came to be here writing this blog. But, I also want to give a shout out to the customer that is basically the reason I am here attempting to get myself out there by blogging. He is a customer of mine that I see when I work on Sundays in his neon green bicycle outfit getting a breakfast sandwich in a bag. I'm sorry I don't know your name, but I want to thank you for taking an interest in me and what I do. Thank you.